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Stop Selling Your Sovereignty for Seasoned Scraps

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Let’s stop sugarcoating our economic reality: far too many of us are spiritually well-fed while remaining institutionally owned. We love the illusion of "making it." We love the shiny corporate perks, the frictionless one-click delivery, and the luxury goods financed on credit. But let’s call it what it is—a gilded feeding trough. We have traded our self-determination for seasoned cuts at a master’s table, operating under the dangerous delusion that convenience equals prosperity. The Malawian proverb strips away every excuse: “It is better to eat mushrooms in freedom than to eat meat in slavery.” Predatory systems don't need to put iron on your ankles when they can hook you on predictable comfort. They dangle the "meat"—steady rations, brand validation, and disposable distractions—in exchange for your sovereignty, your creative genius, and your labor. Then, like clockwork, we take the wealth generated by our sweat and dump it right back into corporate machines t...

Final GoodBye III- Writing for Healing

His Story is Mine

His story is mines,
Better yet my story is his,
For now I can no longer deal with what was,
Now I have to deal with what is.
A great tree has fallen in the forest of life,
A tree that provided shade for many and a shelter from strife.
But this is not the end of his tory for his story is mine,
And his story will live through his bloodline for all time.
His story is not over because his story is mine, and I need for his loved ones to read between the lines.
Although his body is gone his spirit is strong, that explains why through the pain and confusion he lived so long.
Fear not because his story is not over because his story is mine,
He has made it to peace and he rest with the divine
We are the seeds and saplings grafted from his tree and now he can rest in comfort for his story can be told by we.
His story is not over, because his story belongs to me
For I am a proud branch on his family tree, I will always remember those that came before, those that struggled like no people before.
Like Miles Brown and the lady known as Ms. Ann their stories will live because it was passed to my hands
Like Herman Brown and Rosa lee
Like Geneva and Herman brown the second, and Cleven Brown now can peacefully join their essence
Although his body has now been returned to the earth
His story and their story has been cemented  in  time by Cleven Miles Brown's birth.
His story his mine, his story is ours, his story is ours.
Now tell it.......

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