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Wed March 20, 2019 01:58:18Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 12345678[9]10 ]


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Date Posted: 19:03:24 01/20/03 Mon
Author: INTOX
Author Host/IP: pcp02328294pcs.summit01.nj.comcast.net / 68.84.56.159
Subject: "Those who spoke on the Truth of this choked on their Eucharist"... this is some spoken word type shit. You may or may not take kindly to this... feedback APPRECIATED

I planted the pit of my stomach and the tree of knowledge has risen up from it, each branch represents a freelance piece. Iím done with these hands writing, from now my gray matter will spray grammar and relay my brain patterns onto stray pads, stained glass window pains shatter after my raised aura displays horror scenes in the corridor of St. Patís. Ignore the masses. Form a pact with your anatomic corpus. Fast with those who know to slow the speed of life is done through catatonic courses, not with plastic forks. Itís, a last resort to think the Lord, if thatís the force that crafts the forms of things absorbed by human eyes to their present states, was born, then raised, and heaven waits for your misplaced spirit to levitate and ask Him for a blessing. Still, youíre genuflecting just in case. Guessing games are less insane. Understand, on the land of the devout man even chanting hallowed chants canít sprout plants in the fallow sand. Clamped hands, entranced in silent dialogue with God. Itís kind of odd but you canít stand feeling alone to die, a lost lamb. So you try Allah. No answerÖ did you dial wrong? Why the long face? Did I, a law abiding, thought-providing guide across the often winding state of mind we all have hiding locked inside our brains, enchained by tribal law, change the way you see the Cross/Divine thing? Naw, Iím binding all the things you THOUGHT with why things caused, effectively, can also be reminders of the REAL divine BeingÖ directly leading thought to question, even cross off some eclectic teaching taught to us once doctors saw our chest was beatingÖ Letís proceed, in frauds, Ideals are manifested, sealed, and man is left with mannah breakfast meals and Santaís checklist. Land where deathís appeal is grand, where fans of zeal band and protect the land He left them, steel is brandished, thatís the deal! His Hand will steal their hearts in spades! Their damaged real estate is WRECKED! Thatís reeeeal protectiveÖ (sarcasm) Can it stop? Can it? Not unless God grants it, and the Dome of the Rockís planted atop this rotten planetís granite in a spot that has ďGod-damn itĒ jotted so deep in its plot, bums sleep in it. God comingís the least of their problems, plus, none read the shit. The plot that comes on paper strictly contradicts the one that comes from natureís script. Wrong misconceptions are the text on which you base your shit, so save your spit, dogg. And question what it was that made your lips talk.

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