You baptized me
in the shadow of the sun,
the water made
from Angel's weeping.

The church bells ring
with the Devil's laughter
as they blind themselves
and call me
God.

A fallen idol
is a wounded bird which sings
and tries to fly on paper wings

The all attractive mighty-
Blue-skinned idol deity,
Grasping all suffer and misery
Call himself The Hari.
Even a leaf can symbol a devotee
Being natkhatlal is what Maiyaa worry;
His existence is an endless rath,
Knowledge is what defines Jagannath.
The Lotus-Eyed he is-
Lord of Love whom we wish,
Charioteer to Arjuna
Raas and Kanhaiyya,
Together we say-
Hari! hari!

Star soldier with the rocket arm,
you bleed silver, gold,
and product placement.

Smile big for the camera,
the media will sell its soul
for a new bankable face.

Party hardy, Heisman candidate,
******* your semi-steady's
sorority sister,
then ask to see her again
sometime after the **** kit.

It's quite alright,
so long as you have talent
beyond this hemisphere.
Why even the fatherland, ESPN,
will gladly call you "son."

As much as the **** female is central to underground society, she comes to me in my bedroom.
Those sources of her pulsate with the richness of her beauty.
How many geniuses have been subverted from thought by her.
How many have plunged into desire's depths, reliant on her picture to allay their suffering.
Without sensuality they derobe as if to go to battle. With her in one hand and their shlong in the other, they make their towel wet.
Now with their desire fed, she looks as a mere distraction.
Just another human body she is now.
Her image has been worshipped and they have found no god.

Through life's toughest moment's, fantasy characters show more strength and durability than many of the people who watch and strive to be like them.
Now that's not a bad thing, in-fact it's an incredible thing to do. To better yourself to become better. But lot's of people lose motivation to keep pushing themselves. Something that the Channel Unnus Annus taught me, was that you only have a limited time to live and that death happens sooner than later.
So why must we strive to become something that we idol?
Why must people break down who they are and mold them into something that they see all the time.
Why waste the time changing who you are entirely and make yourself into some sort of Hero or perfect citizen when in the end most people will give up and end up in a worse situation (either mentally or physically) than they were before trying to be some-one else?
Don't live trying to be like someone else. I'm not saying to simply stop idolizing people or trying to be similar to them.
In-fact, what I'm saying is,
Try to be something better than what you are now, try to live like your next day is another day isn't your last, but instead, another day to learn from those idol's.
Push yourself to become better than those idol's, push yourself to become the person that YOU want to be, not a person that already exists in the mind of one other person (the creator).
Cause in the end, if you try to be just like your idol, you'll either achieve this and become someone different entirely, or you'll end up worse off than you were originally.
Many people don't know where to start, and everybody will have a different answer as to where. "Start on what you hate, work on your emotions, or start on your body". But to people who are lost in their journey, this won't always help, in-fact, it can push them further back past where they started. That person must discover their own path, their own journey.
All that matters, is that you're at the very least starting
With a simple step.

He fancies himself a cowboy
In line at the corner store
Concealed carry snug on his hip
(He secretly hopes someone gives him some lip)
The cashier hands him his change without meeting his gaze
He’s surprised and aroused.
She knows her place.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

He fancies himself a nonconformist.
A free thinker
The sheep will all do what they’re told
And he’ll be ****** before he goes peacefully to slaughter.
It was easy, he figured it out
Demanding proof is just an excuse to hide behind doubt
A warrior,
he wields the flaming sword of truth
His wife asks a question; he breaks her front tooth.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else

Somewhere a fat man is checking the math as he’s being served lunch
Picking through numbers, looking for nibbles
He dribbles drool onto his chin,
as he dials his guy in The Caymans
His stomach is rumbling, it’s never enough!
To deepen ones pockets, one first must make cuts.

The determinant cause for the silver mine fire
Will read “Accident: faulty electrical wire; Company denies liability
per signed agreement at hire.”
And the cowboy free thinker won’t laugh at the joke,
he’ll just choke
There will be no survivors

But today, The Cowboy nurses his hate,
while Somewhere a fat man is writing the fate of the cowboy in pen,
pleased to be Great Again.

Selling your soul’s not a deal with the devil
Selling your soul is a deal with yourself
Make the choice over and over
To shake your own hand
And pretend that it’s somebody else