B*itch Please!

Human beings are emotional creatures; we make emotional decisions as opposed to coming to logical choices, thus the emotional reaction, to an understanding of a worldview knows exactly what the f**k the worldly vista looks like, and the interpretation remains a sensitive one, it is expressive, it is demonstrative, it is reactive and it is weepy, and as grown as manhood is it cries quite often, while it mourns the state of a cultural nation it cries tears of helplessness as the youth of this nation are subjected to a parenting style that bares no fruit, a parenting style that yields resentment therefore allowing a bitterness to thrive, and prosper whilst the embellishment of f**k these immoral bitches ring-out a frustration of which far too many men care to echo. And good men, great Fathers, condemned daddies whose only fated crime is their hearts were once under the impression God put an angel on earth just for you.

This particular worldview is well aware of the transgressions of men against women, well aware that women, all around the world have been subjected to family support structures that are rotten to the root, well aware that some of their male counterparts, happily, and recklessly do nothing but perpetuate the negligent distrust prevalent between men, and their female counterparts, an awareness that is generational in its longevity, and seemingly full of gusto as time proceeds whilst irresponsible opinion digresses, without beating around a discreet bush such understandings relentlessly pain existences. Nevertheless, this particular point of view is well aware of the flipside to the latter empathies, thus these particular women needing to understand that these good men, these great Fathers, these same condemned daddies have frankly had enough of the emotional shortcomings these women portray as a morality to be respected, or a decency to take note of, when these women are the very source of the problem of many a’ children’s emotional shortcomings, not when their very nature of being is at the root course of ‘single-parent’ households becoming a badge of honour to wear proudly, on the base of a pumping chest, a badge somehow kept clean and shown-off at any, and every given opportunity.

As a child, once, of this particular household it’s fair to say these women suck the childhood out of you, they drain the humanity from your very veins, and they are the worst kind of lovers, they no not of love, for their children or for themselves, and judging by the amount of times men have been blinded by the light of these badges, these women have no right to the claim of being a parent, not when straight from the shoulder they are double agents, agents who lay in wait on the frontline giving the impression that they’re there to fight for a likewise cause, they give the impression that their side-by-side, in battle, fights for a unified cause when the reality is caught-up in their own selfish burdens they cannot, and do not want to see beyond the failings of their own shameless insecurities. Thus, the current perception of the view dictating that everything about them is not so, not when they’re there to sabotage the supposedly unified efforts, not when they secretly, and knowingly or subconsciously work for a different cause, especially when they fist their right hands and talk of pride as if it’s something for the first time they themselves unearthed. And sometimes they call themselves ‘sistas’, or women with pride, pillars of the communal village even, if you take the saying: ‘it takes a village to raise a child’ into consideration’, bottom line is all one ever has is their soul, and frankly too many women have lost theirs whilst giving the impression they can feel the love of God in their hearts, and good men, and great Fathers are hungry now, hunger for a taste of fairness is the only thing on their menus and these women need to learn how to cook, acquire the very nature of the same skill when their male counterparts cook so well, and their children starve when they deserve to feast on parental delicacies that some are dying for.

All things emotional, all the things no matter what, echoes of b*itch please! are grounded on a guarded heart, the fierce resentment portrayed is only an indication the lengths these good men will go to, to be heard, to be recognised, to be considered, and while honesty prevails it’s worth saying they want to know what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy, they’d love to know what it means to resonate a sonnet in her name, no joke, beneath the tough exterior that the world requires these men really do exist, and they understand that love of self, love of the woman in their life, and the love for their children is the only few things that essentially matter, the only few things that life requires of its very existence, and they’ll be dammed if that true love goes to waste, they’d be dammed if they are to continue living according to evermore of the same, the very same wretchedness that children, in these households articulate so very well, they be dammed if they let these immoral bitches rip my fucking life apart, these good men, great Fathers, these condemned daddies whose only fated crime is their hearts were once under the impression God put an angel on earth just for you.