The Prisoner of Life

I asked myself every day why I am a target of government and industrial terrorism coupled with enslavement. I haven’t a clue; welcome to the machine. I figure it’s because I am a witness to their crimes and in their eyes, I must die or remain silenced and condemned for their protection before I might find real justice against them. Justice which has been outright denied locally and nationally under the threat of my life’s end. Yes, I went to the authorities and they threatened my life with death or lifelong imprisonment, right here in Mobile, Alabama, USA if I continue to seek justice. No lawyer in America will even hear me. And terrorism? Between Kansas City Southern and CSX railroads, I have been real time stalked and attacked with terrorism over 50,000 times in only 15 years.

When I first came to this state, it was an old Jesus freak who was the first to inform me that this was likely the most or one of the most criminally corrupt counties in America. My mistake was not believing him. Unbeknown to me at the time, from this point on, my life would become a living hell of suffering intentionally inflicted by a system of crime. Yes, hell is here, intentionally inflicted by government and industrial personnel attempting to protect themselves against the witnesses and victims of their crimes.

All this did not even start here. I’d already traveled the nation sharing music with others experiencing similar treatment in most places by the same people. My lifelong dream of one day seeing the Grand Canyon was ruined by those waiting for my arrival to attack me publicly with slander and out loud laughing ridicule. The whole time, I remained faithful and kept creating and singing songs of most genres.

Life on the roads of America was hard but I endured for a hopeful future; a future I had no idea would become unbearable. There was never any terrorist attacks from railroad or government tyranny, least not yet. That all started years later the first time I set my sore blistered foot on the state of Alabama. I walked from coast to coast in poverty sharing music with the poor, homeless, and street people, sharing with them a God which I truly believed in and loved. There certainly are many good pickers living on the streets of America. I find that most guys know a little something on the guitar, nearly everyone likes to try. Only the concern of strangers and their love of my music kept me able to continue. There are good people in the world. They are just hard to come by and rare in this land. None were churches! rescues another damsel in distress. rescues another damsel in distress.

So just what is my crime which lands me in a life of industrial enslavement? I, in my heart believed in a real God and prayed to it, sang praises to it, and loved it, only to be condemned to their systematic hell. Apparently, there is no such thing as forgiveness in this circle of self appointed Gods; real evildoers orchestrated this system of evil and crime for monetary corporate and self gain with protection by paid government personnel.

What about now? I’ll put it this way: I do not believe that a real God or even a devil is the thief of my lifelong musical works nor that I have somehow received some miracle blessing or punishment through the publishing of my songs which I fully intended to make my living from by selling or performance. Even being so good at creating songs that they want to steal them, I won’t be recruited or hired, certainly never paid for my musical works. One simple fact remains through it all for many many years serves as solid proof to me that it is surely no blessing from any God: They kept all the money.

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