No Woman No Cry – Rape In America
Sneaking in her room when her momma’s knocked out, Trying to have his way and little Lisa says ouch…. – Luda
We all love sex, it is the primal connection between male and female, this sacred bond is a dance between souls, but some can make it a nightmare starring a monster that would make Freddy Kruger look like Tweety Bird. It’s called Rape. On Wednesday The Pentagon reported sexual assaults involving US Military increased by 24% in 2006 over the previous year. I like to think that this has something to do w/ the fact that our young men and woman having being over seas in a stressful situation for 5 years fighting a war, they don’t know they are fighting. Please don’t get this confuse w/ a rough good old fashion whooping w/ the ManXilla. I mean sure some angry violent make up sex is good every now and then, very passionate, very forceful, and extremely intense. But when you cross the line and the fake soft no’s turn into loud powerful blood curdling screams for help something is wrong.
The Establishment would like you to believe that the increase is due to the change in military policy allowing victims to report alleged assaults confidentially. In total, 756 reports of sexual assaults were made confidentially in 2006 compared to 435 the previous year. While this may have something to do w/ it, I think it still stems from fears, fears of embarrassment, ridicule and being portrayed as a gold digger or someone who “deserved it”. I hear stories all the time of females who said they have been a victim but never reported it, never went to the authorities or placed the proper charges. Why is that, now I’m no expert in this field I just wonder what leads a woman to keep stuff like this bottled inside, and hold it and take it around with them for the rest of their lives. Normally a crime like this, can effect a young girl in ways that will change her for life, she will grow up to be fast, or emotion less when it comes to the “grownup” and this bother’s me, I find it that most of the sexual intellectuals I have come across have been victims before.
Think
He walks over to his closet and opens the door, his eyes scans the rack decorated w/ vintage t-shirts, jeans and sweaters hanging neatly in color order. He reaches in pushes his clothes to the side exposing some cardboard boxes, he walks the box over to the dresser and as he opens the box to digs inside he pulls out his treasure. One which his closes friend, turn imaginary enemy reminded him of, and as he blows the dust off of a possession which was once so beautiful he realized how the friendship began. As the dust settles he is reminded he has a job to do, and he can not stop until the job is complete.
