{Where Do Storytellers Go When Truth Gets Redacted?} They go to God for guidance. They research what the ancestors did. They develop a code that only “family” understands. A language not unlike ebonics. And create lyrics in song since thats how we memorize. And they teach these “songs” to our descendants like hymns, so they’ll be passed down like recipes. Vetting against potential overseers that may be incog-negro, from blowing our cover in sustaining and preserving our history. Back the recordings up— Burning them on cd’s etc. Place some in a time capsule. Carefully guarded— Leaving map-like clues like a scavenger hunt to our Library of PROGRESS— unlike the “con”gress which try to bury our contributions. Thats the length storytellers should go— When truth gets redacted.

The final vote is when you’re going through you find out who’s for you and who means well. Action or inaction is revealed. And that is as MONOVALENT than a Muthaf¥<$3r!

@M. a. Dennis congratulations

Faith After Vile Obstacles Reign

@M. a. Dennis 🎯🎯🎯🎯

Where do wishes live when they have nowhere to go? They reside on stagnancy Boulevard— Between Maybe not for Me and Perhaps Later streets. Especially when so. many years are behind you. And devastation appears to constantly be on redial. Or maybe butt dial. Because lately I’m overwhelmed. The adulting has taken a turn beyond whatever I could’ve imagined. But nobody died. It’s just you find out who really got your back. And that’s what’s really hurtful. You also come to realize that many times things don’t make sense. People don’t do their jobs with efficiency. And it appears that things will get worse before they ever get better. So my wishes fall to the bottom of my list of priorities because there’s always new fires to put out. Without a hydrant in sight. So I stand here with nothing to do except watch ashes, pop and flit around… With its scorch-like fragrance— haunting— teasing my nostrils. Reminding me that my desires are just beyond my reach. 31August26