The demons have plans for the angels some spanning decades and resolved in their deviousness hoping and depending on their numbers and failing stilll. I watch in smile while I type and seeing these Yoruba people carrying bags, gas cylinders and planks on their head trying to make heavy and dislocate my shoulders (ofe gbe eru, wa gbe eru)
Cruelty make servants of men, I watch this catwalk and perambulation with interest looking at how devious a mind can really be.
Some carry bags, packs of water, half bag of cement. Babies. Pregnancies and I just watch every done for my notice and look away
They notice a blank in my direction and I war h them bite nails at the failure of their wickedness
How can I tell them that I see all their ploy and feel sorry when they reenact it over and over.. wait i did, they just feel they know, and haven't read my blog. Or pride Will not allow them see their own foolishness with me.
They continue, knowing I'm always reading suttas and constantly recalibrating my brain
The truth is wickedness like greed makes a man daft and anything that is steeped in wickedness can never trump love, because love always finds a way. Because their effort is focused on wickedness, they will just keep suffering and punishing themselves for nothing.
When your whole ploy depends on a sim and google Id and the person writing and listening to music is without a sim on that phone and occasionally clear his app datas. It is love that still allow me to tell you so you can stop.
But they won't listen, or ever see me trying to help me, they only see my capitulation, an ignorant cling onto a comeuppance, trying to give me stroke and join in a mediocre jubilance as god's judgment it is a sad that can't be described.
I can only like Fela look and laugh, watching comedy, acting differed when I know that they are of one mind, One coming this Way the other going that way, I just shake my head and feel sorry for them.
I just light my cigarettes and completely see the wicked ignorance of an entire race, praying silently for their enlightenment especially when I see the old ones among them involved.
As I laugh, one might say Im flirting with death. I just sneer and continue writing, if not wickedness why will someone carry a deep freezer, grunting and looking at my direction with the intent to crush me for refusing their witchcraft.
And I point to my chest, like me? He n.. no he could't nod, it's comedy.
e5
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