I Cried Out for You, My Beloved - Part Nine
Poem By: Patricia McGurk Martin
I won't always be young or middle-aged.
The Black Priest poured oil on my head as a child, usurping me and setting me up for future crucifixtions and celebrations someone described as "flesheating".
I objected vociferously and was brutalized at birth, while others proceeded processed wearing my robes and pouring from My Goblets designed in child slavery as catalogue items for the church.
Oil and sex degradation mixed for me, never to separate as oil and water do not mix, I told the groups in front of me through childhood's time.
Blackness became mine although I was a Pope and not a Priest. I heard he took the Pope's rights disenfranchising me and humanity at the same time. Forcing me into blindness and also dragging me into and from prisons I was forced to build.
"Us Evils never had a Pope before", the man (not a child) said to me last year. "Only the 'John Martins'(I believe John Martin is my Episcopalian Church name in England deriving from France, but he didn't mean me) have a Pope and I will take the name for myself, if need be, to have one for our people. We have never had a spiritual leader or advice to guide us on the dark roads of this life."
Rat Sewes are inhabited all too often by offspring of the Alsations, with sometimes Subterranean Underground Roots.
Labryinthes, Castles and the Spanish Bull ties into my childhood with White Sands, Fat or Big Boy the nuclear bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki - the 1950's decade and my innocence.
Interpol wanted an example of one of my abstracts - couldn't respect me the writer enough to speak to the American Citizen respectfully.
"Natural Earthquakes and Unmonitored Missiles Testing in the U.S. and Former Soviet Union (FSU)- Are They Acts of God?". This topic is one for my future updated writings on meteorology and nuclear explosions with impact on the environment - and is not an ABSTRACT. NONE OF THEM WAS AN ABSTRACT FOR PHD'S TO STEAL, but topics for my writing during child slavery.
Who was the Black Priest pouring oil on my head while I was also under the Vatican in boats in cells subturranean (subterranean) with hooks on the walls. They became actual dungeons with hooks in child slavery.
Who was the holy man cutting inside my rectum and later clitoris more than once in public? putting sacs with artificial breasts under my child's skin, cutting me open most of the time, others leaving the wound open for "future use"?
Leaving pain that never goes away, and I seemed to walk as a ghost near the Unwanteds, the Illegals and Evils of this world. Near the women and children, but no one else.
While you sold portions of my Holy Body Innocent around the world.
I told them this, My Beloved, while tied up in trances over the past two years and holding you inside me, protecting you, My Beloved Fatima You are Me, the American Citizen with rights, a Genius in this World.