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Sat February 23, 2019 02:38:18Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 12345678[9]10 ]


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Date Posted: 20:27:40 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"... (IN BAR FORM)... delete the shit below, Stice...

I planted the pit of my stomach and the tree of knowledge has risen up from it.
Each branch represents a freelance bit of my tongue’s wit.
I’m done writing with these hands.
From now on 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. Pat’s.
Ignore the masses.
Form a pact with your anatomic corpus.
Fast with those who slow the speed of life, and feed their soul with catatonic courses, not with plastic forks. It’s,
a last resort to think the Lord, if that’s 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, you’re genuflecting just in case.
Guessing games are less insane.
Understand, on the land of the devout man even chanting hallowed chants can’t sprout plants in the fallow sand.
Clamped hands, entranced in silent dialogue with God.
It’s kind of odd but you can’t stand feeling alone to die, a lost lamb.
So you try Allah.
No answer… 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,
I’m binding all the things you THOUGHT with why things caused, effectively,
can also be reminders of the REAL divine Being…
directly leading thought to question,
even cross off some eclectic teaching taught to us once doctors saw our chest was beating…
Let’s proceed.
In frauds, Ideals are manifested, sealed, and man is left with mannah breakfast meals and Santa’s checklist.
Land where death’s appeal is grand,
where fans of zeal band and protect the land He left them,
steel is brandished.
That’s the deal!
His Hand will steal their hearts in spades!
Their damaged real estate is WRECKED! That’s reeeeal protective… (sarcasm)
Can it stop? Can it? Not unless God grants it,
and the Dome of the Rock’s planted atop this rotten planet’s granite in a spot that has “God-damn it” jotted so deep in its plot,
bums sleep in it.
God coming’s the least of their problems.
Plus, none read the shit!
The plot that’s done on paper strictly contradicts the one that comes from nature’s 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.
Take a walk, and turn your laser disc off.
For Heaven’s sake, EXIST, or pay the cost of wastefulness… loss.

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