My Face Book Post

The person that was bullying me on the internet is back. He posted on my blog and made a joke about the FB post I put on here that I had been in contact with the FBI that I had added in the comments to my poem Sycamore Sunday Service. For his benefit this is the FBI Internet Crime case number I1301282006372381 and the Phoenix Police Report number is 2013-176580. I did what this bully asked but since then things have changed, if he wants to continue to harass me the I will pursue what I already have in place. A few Wednesdays back on the day he went ballistic and was threatening to ruin my reputation for life, he was so full of himself he thought I would just roll over and do whatever he was demanding. When it first started I contacted Cox Cable. They transferred me to the FBI Internet Crime division, I did not even have to call them on my own. At the same time I contacted the Phoenix Police and they came and were watching what was happening as it was happening. I was told if I did not remove all of my posts about Barry …… ┬ábeing a fraudulent Buddhist priest that could not produce his credentials on my blogs and remove my review of his book on Amazon he would google bomb the internet that I was a child rapist in Nebraska and Pennsylvania. I never lived in Pennsylvania and I have never committed a crime against a child. He threatened to go to our employers. Since then our employers have been notified plus we have put many things in place if this should continue to happen. At first I was very scared because I didn’t think there was anything I could do to stop him but since then I know differently. So for Barry, or his friend who says he is doing this on the behalf of Barry, I am no longer afraid of you. You should cool it, I told you I did not want anything more to do with you but if you insist I will start where we left off. I am sorry facebook friends you have to read this but I want to get the word to him loud and clear. Never put up with internet bullying!

sycamore sunday service

we met in the desert.

shared a pipe,

and the sun stripped us

naked.

i was a gypsy,

superstitious and free.

my cock was cursed

to tangle with his tongue.

boulders in the sycamore,

were cool to the touch.

his balls were warm

with delicious sweat.

we invented our religion,

without murder and mayhem.

no one was blind.

my fingers found the path

to his ass.

we begun to pray,

the morning was breaking.

oh my god, fuck

we chanted all day.

the waterfall tumbled.

planting seed

along the way.

like the sycamore flowed,

inside us.

my holy intention

was to enter him.

surrounded by high water,

and the anonymous.

happy love everywhere.

nipples were the stars,

his navel was the moon.

his enlightenment,

i fed upon.

as my communion,

with the saints.

our flesh,

burned in the sun.