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I was thinking it is over;
Jesus made a way for me.
God took it over for me.
I was thinking it is over;
In him, every challenge is a walkover.
I am ready to give this one to him.
I am ready to give my life to him.
I am ready to live for him until it is over.

God Almighty never fails;
He always conquers.
My life success is not personal.
I trust him, he never fails.
I know him, he always conquers.
This is God's success, it’s not personal.

Written by: The Senior 07/09/2019
single release
Brad  Apr 2013
What is real?
Brad Apr 2013
The questions are what drives us to seek answers. Or better put, the answers give us the questions to lead us to it...

What is real?
How do we define real? Things by which we can touch?
By definition real is something that has an object existence and not being imaginary...
Radio frequency, is invisible yet very real when we have the right receptor.
Love, too is invisible, yet you feel it when a loved one is there when you need them most.
Having a dream where it alerts you to a situation in your waking life, is supposed to be imaginary, yet it manifests itself just like the dream showed you.
God, good fortune, passion...the list goes on...

The definition of real is actually a joke when you cross examine it with the things I stated above.
Isn't it moronic to try and squeeze the entire existence that is out there into a fundamentally wrong description of real?

Open your eyes, Stand on your own two feet... you call the shots, you decide what you want from your life.
Nobody has lived your life for you so go out there and go do what you love.
Make it your mission to wake up everyday with your vision of what you want your life to be, your driving force.
Know, that no matter who you are there isn't a person alive that is better than you.
When you connect with your true path, the universe will do everything in its power to help and guide you.
Remember that only you can throw in the towel. Only you can give up what you love.
Love with all of your heart... for we only have one life on earth.
Be a person of honor, be truthful yet tactful.
Hold yourself in high regard, yet be grateful for the kindness you receive.
Don't be a walkover because you are all special.
Will your life not be more fulfilling when you are living the life you love?

"without a vision the people will perish"
Every building, every triumph, every achievement was first a vision before it became reality!
The dream starts with you.
Your visions are real...use your energy to make them reality.
After a friend told me, that i should become Prime Minister
I decided, after a few minutes of quiet deliberation, and contemplation
Why not?
So off i trundled, and put myself up as an independent candidate for the next general election
I won my sear hands down, a landslide victory was mine
The general public, obvious fed up with current availability
And perhaps yearning for some fresh blood, and someone new to blame
Took to me, like a duck to water!
Now all the other political parties took note of my success, especially as i was currently an independent. and such was the narrow margins of possible voters
They festooned me with much praise, and the party that was currently the opposition, wanted me the most. i know this, as they offered me the best bribes, which i was happy to accept
Within a few weeks, they elected me as their new leader
When the current government's leader Prime Minister resigned, due to a *** scandal, involving a camel. the new Prime Minister stepped in, and full of arrogance of his self worth, decided to cement his standing, by holding another general election, convinced it would be a walkover
Unfortunately for him, all it proved, was how much out of touch, he truly was,
and that he was not loved by anyone. but i was, and within a very short space of time, after that conversation with a friend, i was now Prime Minister!
This received global attention, so much so, i was made world leader of the free world (wherever that may be?)
In my office, there were various buttons on my desk
and the person explaining their individual uses to me, had really bushy eyebrows, and i was so focused on these, that i wasn't really listening, especially the part where he said "under no circumstances press this big red button, unless, you think there is going to be a nuclear strike!"
I only know this now, as everything said in this room was recorded
the very first phone call i received, came from the commander of all the free world forces. who happened to have his telly on quite loud, and happened to be watching a news item about some union action, and someone shouting through a megaphone "Strike now!"
I remember thinking "Oh crap!" and slammed my hand down on the big button
Unfortunately, this caused World War Three! and if that wasn't bad enough, i also sprained my wrist!
But the headline in the last newspaper ever published read
"She Meant Well!"

by Jemia
Mateuš Conrad  Sep 2021
ЧЦШЩ
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2021
i couldn't learn Russ even if i wanted to...
not because i can't speak favourably of
the people: a most hospitable folk...
although: as a ****** in Moscow...
dating a Russian girl... things had to be on
a: hush-hush... i had to "pretend"
to be English...
which wasn't hard since... i have a generic
accent: if an accent at that...
only in Essex could it be know:
by an inquisitive 14 year old girl...
in the middle of the night having left a ******
party looking for a friend... instead
finding me first... walking out of the darkness
of a park to inquire: where, was, i.... from?
we sat near a roundabout...
i rolled her a cigarette...
a black cat came towards me...
picked it up, stroked it... blah blah...
all of a sudden i was a warlock while
the girl did runners... to and fro...
50 metres ahead... 50 metres back...
like she was trying to shake me off but couldn't:
since i promised her that we would
find her friend... which we did...
lying face-down at a bus stop...
i took off my hoodie attired the poor shivering
thing and... we walked to a designated
pick-up spot so one of the girl's father
could pick them up... which he did...
of course... we had to take a group selfie
before all of that...
- a strange hallucination:
i sometimes feel i have a spider crawling around
behind my right ear...
petty architect of... beside the cobweb...
for a 14 year old: i'm stabbing in the dark
she might have been older...
it's not like i didn't think about her
*******, which were: of course... pronounced
while i rolled the tobacco and asked:
my spit... or yours?
so i gave her the roll-up so she could
lick it herself...
          the things that happen in the night:
it's no wonder i find the formalities of
day so... pedestrian...
oh but you can get away with being English
in Russian... they love these people
over there...
not so much the Polacks...
       - again... to reiterate... i would never learn
that language: perhaps i'm just fonder
of the Greek writing script than i am of
the Cyrillic...
(no... that sensation of a spider behind my
right ear was not a hallucination...
a happy home is a home filled with spiders...
some... ancient proverb or... something...
caught the little ****** crawling on my arm...
dangled him on his string and placed
him on the windowsill)...
- i really have bigger things to worry about
than a discrepancy in Cyrillic that
i simply can't ignore: it has been burning
in my mind since yesterday...
- ******... oh sure i'll complain...
the cat thinks he can own the night and prowl
and prance all he likes:
that's the problem with cats...
they teach you the unattainable bewilderment of:
they have free will:
while you too, have, free will...
but it's only illusionary...
or worse... it's more than an illusion...
it's a bad... b'ah b'ahah joke...
a little h.m.v. (his master's voice) moment
in the calmness of the night:
quorus! quorus!
quo... where is russian?
i can't take credit for the name...
the breeders conjured it up...
i would be more inclined to: qua-rus...
i.e. as being: russian...
maine ****... ginger... it could have
worked... so i'm writing this to calm myself...
could this 10kg little Colossus take
on a fox? well... he is a house-pet...
not a wild animal...
its legs are more flexible... it too can bite...
but... little pockets of anxiety and
the debacle of... KBAC...
i.e. KVAS... a popular drink in Russia...
sort of: a better version of root-beer...
malty... & sweet... carbonated...
perfect for eating fast-food pancakes... with...
orange caviar...
- i sometimes walk through the garden
and a single cobweb thread covers my eyes...
i must be dreaming when awake:
sometimes... eh... most of the time
since i'm so dream-starved...
Freud couldn't make a shilling out of me:
what is there to interpret when
all you dream about it a great big...
black yawn of a void?!
i guess this brings me to the schematic:

                                   north
                                  północ
                  ­                    Ц

    east                                  ­                        west
  wschód                            ­                       zachód
      Ш                                                   ­          Щ

                                    south
                    ­             południe
                                       Ч

a "lesson" in etymology: shrapnel...
pół: half... noc: night... i.e. half is night...
i'm guessing: of the year...
but why isn't south: half is day?
po: after... -łu- is sharpnel...
dnie: days...  dzień: day...
   it's still one and the same however much
the word morphed... half-day for south
half-night for north...
  wschód (rise... an all-encompassing
reference to: sunrise) - east...
likewise with: west:
sunset: zachód...
                 etymologically?
eh... chłód: a coldness... an eerie coldness...
zombie-esque...

hell... i didn't sit down to write this...
i came for the Cyrillic letters that bother me...
i.e.
    why isn't Ц: Ч
     and vice versa - why ins't Ч: Ц?
when...
     Ц looks like... the better half of: Щ?

i mean: it seem logical, or phonetically authentic
that half of Щ
                                             Ц
would encapsulate half of the sound
most associated with my Slavic terms:
szczeka: (it) barks...
szczerość: honesty...
oh i can hide the "confusing" Z and bring out
the English H... one surd for another...
SHCH:
        sharp is szkic...
cheap as: czerń...
          i could go one step further and employ
Czech orthography: style...
the aesthetic of writing: encoding sounds...
and hide both the Z and the H
in a caron: a crown hovering above the letters C & S...
but then... it would appear congested
with a word like honesty:

       ščerość...                    no? too much baggage:
from on high...
but it's not like the English language
has any concerns for this...
even Charles Dickens dared to summon
the term: orthography to a sound encoding "system"
that didn't employ... summon...
any diacritical distinctions...
one ought to be intuitive about the excesses of:
tatters... one ought to remember THat: THought...

it doesn't matter: i'm asking the Russians...
if half of Щ (šč)
    is Ц... it looks that way!
then why doesn't Ц denote: č-chequers?!

hell... have your: Ш... i'll be... haha... "brave"
and say... it deserves to almost resemble a
crown hovering above a serpent... š...
how a Y (igrek) might behave if
asked to be treated for geometric purposes!
instead of crafting rivers!

i'm not "confused": i'm just *******!
Ц ought to denote entombed in Ч
and... vice versa... at worst!
Ц is one ******* half of Щ!

- and what is Ч: the western slavic C: it's not an aesthetic
substitute for either K or S (there's no... cedilla
attached, last time i checked...)
or for that matter... Q...
CKQ... no?
                           i clearly don't quiet, belong among
these people:
with their mundaneness practiced so well:
they dream! oh god they dream!
i'm the one dream-starved while they
dream-out their little-by-little: belittling fetishes
of power-gambling the toppling
of peaceful hierarchies...

i'm the antithesis of the celebrated Barbarians
of the American counter-revolution...
sure... i'm banging at the gates...
screaming: let me out! let me out!
i don't want to be in this custard mess
when it truly: properly... falls to ****!
i'll leave with my feet stinking from sweat...
even though i wouldn't have ran a mile!
let me out! let me out!
for man's ruin and for anything even remotely
god-as-man... give me air!
give me cognitive air! i can't breathe:
let alone think!

- i'm growing tired... more and more tired...
of plotting: nicety... along the vein
of thought of the English...
i'm just more and more salt grain
from teasing at the wound of:
perhaps i'm here as a pet project:
for "my" people...
to get the feelings associated when
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth
was carved upon...
or a lesson in how the Roman Empire
imploded... so too..
how Britain buckled...
how Britain buckled...
fell on its drunken-face wishing it was:
"somehow"... Victorian: sensible...
sober... augur-prone...
well... it's too late for all of "that"...

it's happening: and i don't have a stop button:
quick & easy to solve the problem...
i like to drink gin
as a solo project: on the ice...
the fascist in me: is always
the fascist in everyone, anyone...
i'm digging trenches with my writing:
conjure up a better imagery:
i bet you won't...
but am i... "somehow"... this...
easy... "walkover"... prized asset of cuck?
sure... the women are rampant...
i don't mind... i'd rather ****
a ***** than a nun any other day
than... today...

we're having a debate about how
russians have encoded: poorly...
well... confusingly...
it just doesn't make sense... what i already stated...
i'm no longer looking towards America...
it's a dead... a dead & wasted land...
it's a predictable land...
it's a horrid little: my why we never might:
reach it...
culture-wise...
   some... "oops": didn't jazz die so soon?
i thought so too...
i'm looking for the peacock feathers atop
the armour of the Teutonic Knights...
the failures of the 3rd Crusade...
broken pride... escapade to an "elsewhere",
no?

sorrow, me... how i'm tattooed with
history... i can only imagine the fate of the
modern... western... secular... man...
freed from both history and religion...
i almost admire him...
i admire him: in that i speak his tongue...
i admire him...
but then i see his bewilderment...
and i think to myself...
"my" people: being so reclusive probably
have it right...
we have no colonial heritage to...
we didn't have the expediency of the sea
before us...
why do i... or my brethren get to luggage...
these jumbo-afro queries?!
i once had a key-chain that read:
the only way to tell someone to *******:
is to... tell them to *******:
in such a way... as they might be...
awaiting the: ******* transit...
so they might await the trip...
women sold us... women sold us into
this *******...
i kid you not...
            
i will not sell my heritage upon
a post-colonial bend-over past...
i'll sooner side with the Russians as i insult them!
i'll grind my teeth on stone
and spit out a *******: well-rounded pebble
than side with these... fakeries of freedom!
give me freedom! give me the supposed
bread! the songs! the... what's it called?
diabetes?!
          fat *****...

i'm one with the Kabul patrol...
i'm mad enough to try not being gesticulated at:
as being fake...
like i might cry that this canvas is not made
available to me...
ergo... you're going to turn off my water-supply...
my electricity-supply?
you're going to cancel my...
like i want to care about a dying culture
where only the bogusly: blatant rich
are... left?!

such weakness in a dying kind....
i cannot not... drawn parallels within the confines
of the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth...
i can't!
   jeg kan ikke!

if "their" history breathes through them!
    så gør mínë...
all is "European":
              ******* cotton-muffin... afro
riddled... tarts... ****-boy-ohs...
ha!

who's not... Caesar?!
            bread wins the: paint?!
what's more cooking
than what's more... *******...
drying?!
oh sure... my shoelaces definitely stink
of bacon... but...
n'ah... n'ah... you're on your
own with that pseudo-king-Solomon..
sort of crap...
me... kind Davie...
surah riddled... psalm bashing...
sort of "crap"... i need a woman like...
i a need an anecdote...
oh god...
          so 'ere one comes....
no... it's not funny...
how.. unexpected... the opposite ***
tends to... behave... without having....
white boy... insurance policies...
oh... wow!
           *******... *******.
now the bread winner: brown- boyo...
better be... the... bread--- basher!... ah... ha...
ha... his alias: also: no.

— The End —