I couldn't root me into his geniology in this lifetime, after he'd offered it; so my twinsoul, found a madly in love couple among his elite Irish geneology in his world to implant the star seed Aries of me in their heart and womb and I was reborn around April sixteen AM RH-O negative again with beauty galore fair of skin! starry looking eyes with my heart of gold too born of a couple's love as before Mom & Dad's the happy couple nick named me Karijini Angelina SanGutier by name cherished and adored a star seed reborn rooted protected not forlorned among the very best geneology and all ~~~~~~ By:Karijinbba All rights reserved
Honoring the Cunn-ham geneology in PA and Texas USA may all good things come to them may they find eternity and beyound for they possess holiness are wise sucsessful generous with unquestionable integrity a geneology who values their word honoring another persons well being befor their own interest long live the Killough Cunn-ham geneology most holy of Earth after Christ.
Her love was too big for his man "She is a masterpiece" he stated Out of all the women he loved She was the elite She was the paint in his canvas They look good together They make art together But things were hard The pain was there The paint was washed out through the canvas She left, carrying all the colors And the canvas was left waiting They thought "We had our time"
Have you seen the Master Magician around lately? He who shows you a mirror with his right hand While he picks your pocket with his left hand He whose tongue tells you tales of a bogeyman As his eyes induce you to part with your keys He who wears the most beautiful of masks To hide the psychopath that lurks within
Have you seen this Master Magician around lately? He who will empty your pockets and ask for more He who will become the master of your home He who will convince you: *“its all for your own good!”
All of you. Where do you get off making a name for yourself out of the mockery in fallen heroes’ hearts? What’s in a name; that which we call "a genius" by another label would be found on the front page of the obituaries.
And now, what? Where do you go from the top, looking down on those you trampled on the way with some false sense of humility? How we perceive you now is like that of a crime lord; envious, never aspirational.
Might as well call it a day and take note of the fallacy that is fame and fortune.
I hear your words through the confusion of the bubblegum jungle Exploding and annoying syllables layered helplessly on the walls of graffiti infused concrete trees
The Rush St. preachers wailing sounds of the end of world "The apocalypse is coming, GOD be with y..." Abruptly interrupted by another city ant walking by.. "Go to hell, you *******!!" The preacher whispers to himself "May God have mercy on his soul, Amen"
White City elites with turned up noses on their Michigan Ave stroll "Snobs" central passing by the homeless as they whisper for change sitting next to their leaky cardboard mansions
******* clad ladies of night selling their *** to married men, to whom are seeking to expel their worries between the legs of the fallen "Take that harder, harder" Echoes of moans from the alley way Cash for a minute of pleasure and gone
This bubblegum jungle will chew you up and spit you out It doesn't seek retribution It's only seeks hunger Feeding off the weak and nimble Leaving your bones on the bent and deserted sidewalks of the White City
Steps into infinite the beat of soles mountains, canyons trees, and holes The heartbeat of Philmont the feel of freedom smelling of pungent odor no beating of drums Stomp in the dirt pound the rocks crack the boots and rip your socks Cinch your pack on keep it tight trudge on scout and you just might Make the cut the dwindling few the mighty ones the Philmont Crew.
Written at Ponil Camp at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico.