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Mrs Robota Jan 30
Got Tupac in my ear
Singing “I ain’t mad at cha”
And I feel it
Cause it was my fault
I ****** up again
but all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

Yeah I know you're tired of hearing it
The excuses and sorry's
But it's all I have
and all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

Got Tupac in my ear
Singing, “I ain’t mad at cha”
And I need it
Cause I know I don't deserve forgiveness
And all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

One day I'll make it all right
But for now
all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
So don’t be mad at me

I ain't mad at cha
To my friends, family, and everyone
I'm sorry I'm such a ******* ***** up
Jesus A Nov 2018
chu chu
cha cha chu chu
You've got to have some rhythm if you're going to boogie down.
At the latest tango hotspot at the Roxy in the town.
The principles of foxtrot and the sways of swing will show.
That dancing with your heart will always make your passion flow.

When the bossa nova starts and the lady sings the blues.
The time is now to shake your hips and don your dancing shoes.
You trip the light fantastic, your shoulders shake in time.
Your fingers snap and feet will tap along to mambo rhyme.

The rumba stirs the frenzy of your heart in Latin beats.
You feel the crazy samba in the footsteps on the streets.
Your ready for your spotlight doing cha cha cha and jive.
You can never stop the lindy hop to keep your soul alive.
ConnectHook Sep 2015



Cruciform character;  flowering daughter of orient Wisdom’s delight

A hymn to thee, beloved bush and Tree of Life, I raise.

May thy plucked leaves forevermore renew their gracious budding

Even as thy captured progeny produce, in death, thy praise

Like captive Hebrew exiles driven far from Zion’s hill

Loving still their Judge and punisher, recalling golden days…

In this cup of glorious elixir, infusing life with cheer

Asia’s attributes unveil, while I upon her marvels gaze.

Serenity enfolding, I forget all those before

In a rapturous caress I swiftly yield to her embraces

Nevermore to recall the ****** bean of Abyssinian lore

Ethiopian witch and desert hag, dark seed of nomadic races!

Now I hail the truth, whose leaf I love: L’chaim to the brew I adore

So sit with me and sip some cha. Let us kiss her myriad faces.

I scribe these lines in gratitude to that plant who soothes and inspires

Sweet Camellia, my love…  I read in the leaves
                                your ascending triumphant traces.
No HEBREW root so well can suit ;
More quickly taught, less dearly bought.
Yet studied twice a day.

This leaf, from distant regions sprung,
Puts life into the female tongue.
And aids the cause of love.

Phillip Freneau

— The End —