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#idols
I feel ashamed to come to you again father Even as my sin drives us apart farther With the same ***** hands, I Bring them together in praise As if I wasn't a hypocrite who comes to you in spite I blame a hateful world for my sinful endeavor And yet I wish to be with you forever and ever How my idols laugh knowing the point of my needs And twisting it so a basic object fills my heart with greed An internet bastardizing beauty to sell it for a quick fix And the time wasted, repeatedly, coming to nix "Forgive me", "I was so alone", "I had a bad day." "They wronged me.", "To hell with them!", "Father don't leave me this way!" Everything is a catalyst yet the bible has dusty prints Turned brown from inactivity, yet screen time is infinity True betrayal isn't in asking forgiveness, its entitlement to grace We wouldn't be so sinful, had we met him face to face Imagine if each time you sinned Jesus Knocked at your doorstep Gently opened the door, greeted your pet, hugged you and had respect Cordial enough to ask "What do you lack?" even as your hand cramps Polite enough to say "I forgive you" before you even speak As you keep your mouth shut, pretending it must reek The lies escape via your eyes and he wipes them individually He comes up to cup your face, with love and divinity This image isn't to scare you, but you make you well aware That the burning forever in hell isn't the truest despair While eternal damnation is permanent, its name reveals true punishment Imagine the face of the truest love, who died for your atonement The blind can't lead the blind, but allow me with one eye To tell you of the savior who lives beyond the skies We betray him daily by even thinking of future sins And he knew well in advance before time had a chance to begin The cross is heavy, but the pain on your face is heavier to him Rapture is only delayed, so that he can help see you win Forgive me father, this poem isn't true atonement And its a fancier way to ask for your forgiveness May others alike me, come to respect your commandments And learn to give the respect and commitment you express Oh heavenly father
0
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 5:38 PM UTC
Relapse to the father
I feel ashamed to come to you again father Even as my sin drives us apart farther With the same ***** hands, I Bring them together in praise As if I wasn't a hypocrite who comes to you in spite I blame a hateful world for my sinful endeavor And yet I wish to be with you forever and ever How my idols laugh knowing the point of my needs And twisting it so a basic object fills my heart with greed An internet bastardizing beauty to sell it for a quick fix And the time wasted, repeatedly, coming to nix "Forgive me", "I was so alone", "I had a bad day." "They wronged me.", "To hell with them!", "Father don't leave me this way!" Everything is a catalyst yet the bible has dusty prints Turned brown from inactivity, yet screen time is infinity True betrayal isn't in asking forgiveness, its entitlement to grace We wouldn't be so sinful, had we met him face to face Imagine if each time you sinned Jesus Knocked at your doorstep Gently opened the door, greeted your pet, hugged you and had respect Cordial enough to ask "What do you lack?" even as your hand cramps Polite enough to say "I forgive you" before you even speak As you keep your mouth shut, pretending it must reek The lies escape via your eyes and he wipes them individually He comes up to cup your face, with love and divinity This image isn't to scare you, but you make you well aware That the burning forever in hell isn't the truest despair While eternal damnation is permanent, its name reveals true punishment Imagine the face of the truest love, who died for your atonement The blind can't lead the blind, but allow me with one eye To tell you of the savior who lives beyond the skies We betray him daily by even thinking of future sins And he knew well in advance before time had a chance to begin The cross is heavy, but the pain on your face is heavier to him Rapture is only delayed, so that he can help see you win Forgive me father, this poem isn't true atonement And its a fancier way to ask for your forgiveness May others alike me, come to respect your commandments And learn to give the respect and commitment you express Oh heavenly father
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38
Ordinary moments: sitting on the couch, reading, watching TV, But behold the backdrop, turquoise waves: the vast sea, And family, all ages, different generations; pure pleasure. Moments make up the album of life: captured in photography, Gratitude to the One who connects all these squashes idol worship, the heart blooms with glee, Yes, tensions tighten, pain parts, and obstacles obscure; but in the end let that not be the yardstick of measure.
0
Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 5:34 PM UTC
Lent Collection #38 - Ordinary love: extraordinary
I am fury, and I rage. I jump up and down, Attempting to disengage. From the idols, The expectations, And internal damage, The oppression. I am scorn, and I lash out, I scream: Those ******* idols’ I shout.
0
Apr 24, 2024
Apr 24, 2024 at 7:02 PM UTC
Rage against the idols
I look up to you greatly Thou art an amazing lady In you, do I see a fire That refuses to die, no matter what You lay your soul threadbare Wit, is one of your greatest assets Never do you back down from a fight In a tunnel full of never-ending darkness Are you the light Which keeps emptiness and depression at bay And puts us firmly on the path to happiness Come what may! I look up to you greatly Your writing is so fiery That it can spark a raging inferno Full of righteous anger Against all the injustice perpetrated by the Indian State The lynchings that refuse to abate Poor and underprivileged children dying of hunger People being denied homes due to their caste While the government has the sheer nerve to boast About its so-called achievements Your poems are a testament To the famous saying "The pen is mightier than the sword" Very hard-hitting indeed, are your words!! I look up to you greatly Never dost thou fail to amaze Every story of yours is a maze Full of character arcs and plot twists Ensuring we get hooked very fast And by the time we finally put the book down Our minds would have been blown!! I look up to you greatly Never dost thou fail to raise your voice When it cometh to social justice Yet, somehow do you manage to maintain your poise In the face of never-ending malice Which is constantly thrown your way The way you keep your detractors at bay Is something we must all learn Thanks to people like you, have I gradually started to unlearn Certain things I once considered gospel truth Excel do you, at transforming the narrative When it cometh to our Hindu myths For your community, do you live Not yourself Hopefully, more books of yours may soon adorn my shelf!! I look up to you greatly Thou art a wonderful role model Bestsellers, are your novels You love your profession As much as Israel loves to lie You yourself are an institution And always do you aim for the sky So much have you done for our society With an absolutely brutal honesty That beggars belief Your writings provide some much-needed relief In these dark and difficult times Where even mere dissent is often treated as a crime!! I look up to you greatly For you, is impossible nothing And social justice, everything!! By the Grace of God May all your dreams come true And may you have nothing to rue Finally, must I say More power to you, Meena!!
0
Apr 11, 2024
Apr 11, 2024 at 12:44 AM UTC
I Look Up To You Greatly
I look up to you greatly Thou art an amazing lady In you, do I see a fire That refuses to die, no matter what You lay your soul threadbare Wit, is one of your greatest assets Never do you back down from a fight In a tunnel full of never-ending darkness Are you the light Which keeps emptiness and depression at bay And puts us firmly on the path to happiness Come what may! I look up to you greatly Your writing is so fiery That it can spark a raging inferno Full of righteous anger Against all the injustice perpetrated by the Indian State The lynchings that refuse to abate Poor and underprivileged children dying of hunger People being denied homes due to their caste While the government has the sheer nerve to boast About its so-called achievements Your poems are a testament To the famous saying "The pen is mightier than the sword" Very hard-hitting indeed, are your words!! I look up to you greatly Never dost thou fail to amaze Every story of yours is a maze Full of character arcs and plot twists Ensuring we get hooked very fast And by the time we finally put the book down Our minds would have been blown!! I look up to you greatly Never dost thou fail to raise your voice When it cometh to social justice Yet, somehow do you manage to maintain your poise In the face of never-ending malice Which is constantly thrown your way The way you keep your detractors at bay Is something we must all learn Thanks to people like you, have I gradually started to unlearn Certain things I once considered gospel truth Excel do you, at transforming the narrative When it cometh to our Hindu myths For your community, do you live Not yourself Hopefully, more books of yours may soon adorn my shelf!! I look up to you greatly Thou art a wonderful role model Bestsellers, are your novels You love your profession As much as Israel loves to lie You yourself are an institution And always do you aim for the sky So much have you done for our society With an absolutely brutal honesty That beggars belief Your writings provide some much-needed relief In these dark and difficult times Where even mere dissent is often treated as a crime!! I look up to you greatly For you, is impossible nothing And social justice, everything!! By the Grace of God May all your dreams come true And may you have nothing to rue Finally, must I say More power to you, Meena!!
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68
goon in love too soon to trust that's my inner dialogue, just a fire moving along gazing above wondering what watches over me as I repeat the mistakes set out forth for me generational trauma, nature works in cycles generational drama, focus on plastic idols daydreams in the white room unfaithful to the divine fruit
0
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 1:06 PM UTC
Sonder Soul
There are many ideals upon the earth, Who're praised for utmost truth, without a flaw, Taught to the ignorant childeren since birth, Meant forever to be a sacred law. Today they said, "it is forever going, It can't be wrong in this lasting design!" A thing that history is never showing, Which displays the ruins of church and shrine. I can't follow idols of fickle men, Adjusting agendas each day and night, Not written down by light-scattering pen, And not commanded by Divine Might. Let the world spin, again a thousand years, And they will fade away, from hopes to fears.
0
Nov 29, 2021
Nov 29, 2021 at 7:20 AM UTC
Ideals like Idols
But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see. They have ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell. They have hands, but cannot feel, feet, but cannot walk, nor can they utter a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.” Psalms:4-8 Who knows? Who knew? Marched, dragged, ordered, bottom line, taken, to the synagogue was I abducted, every Sabbath; on the Festivals, this Psalm recited, catching the child’s eye, the words symmetry, the conceptual contained, struck and stuck, and seven fingered decades, he stumbles once again upon it, this time in his file of poems yet unwrit, aging along with the poet, for almost the last five years. the prayer book, black covered, thumbed well worn, by father-supplied, periodically page number is whispered, my childlike eyes gravitate to the English translation, though Hebrew versed too, the English verses whip my attention, the concept of the Lords invisibility, a super power in my mind, early taught by storied Abraham’s idol smashing, and the futility of idolatry, since invisible God is everywhere these days of memes and trolls, idol worshiping grows strong, the fast thirst to recognize, admire, yes, to worship; plaster, alabaster, clay, marble, even gold & silver pay them no mind, trained early on to covet only what we cannot see, *sources of the pieces within of the divine surreal that perfect our flawed shapeliness, the electric human touch, the simple kindest gesture, the tender embrace, the ineffable softness of child’s cheek an old man’s childish innocence, the love of all carved-by-hand woodwork for beauty only, the artistry of good, mastery of emotion, all to perfect your vision to witness what only the heart can envision* You do not understand the contrast contradictory? You will. ______________ *Silvio Silver and gold Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold Silvio I gotta go Find out something only dead men know*       SILVIO: WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN AND ROBERT HUNTER                                                                                                                                                  <> *Said the shepherd boy To the mighty king Do you know what I know? In you palace wall mighty king Do you know what I know? A child, a child Shivers in the cold Let us bring him Silver and gold Let us bring him Silver and gold Let us bring him Silver and gold Do you know what I know/ So you see what I see? Do you hear what I hear?* “**DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?” LYRICS LEONARD COHEN**
0
Jul 18, 2021
Jul 18, 2021 at 11:29 AM UTC
“ But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands”
But their idols are silver and gold, made by human hands. They have mouths, but cannot speak, eyes, but cannot see. They have ears, but cannot hear, noses, but cannot smell. They have hands, but cannot feel, feet, but cannot walk, nor can they utter a sound with their throats. Those who make them will be like them, and so will all who trust in them.” Psalms:4-8 Who knows? Who knew? Marched, dragged, ordered, bottom line, taken, to the synagogue was I abducted, every Sabbath; on the Festivals, this Psalm recited, catching the child’s eye, the words symmetry, the conceptual contained, struck and stuck, and seven fingered decades, he stumbles once again upon it, this time in his file of poems yet unwrit, aging along with the poet, for almost the last five years. the prayer book, black covered, thumbed well worn, by father-supplied, periodically page number is whispered, my childlike eyes gravitate to the English translation, though Hebrew versed too, the English verses whip my attention, the concept of the Lords invisibility, a super power in my mind, early taught by storied Abraham’s idol smashing, and the futility of idolatry, since invisible God is everywhere these days of memes and trolls, idol worshiping grows strong, the fast thirst to recognize, admire, yes, to worship; plaster, alabaster, clay, marble, even gold & silver pay them no mind, trained early on to covet only what we cannot see, *sources of the pieces within of the divine surreal that perfect our flawed shapeliness, the electric human touch, the simple kindest gesture, the tender embrace, the ineffable softness of child’s cheek an old man’s childish innocence, the love of all carved-by-hand woodwork for beauty only, the artistry of good, mastery of emotion, all to perfect your vision to witness what only the heart can envision* You do not understand the contrast contradictory? You will. ______________ *Silvio Silver and gold Won't buy back the beat of a heart grown cold Silvio I gotta go Find out something only dead men know*       SILVIO: WRITTEN BY: BOB DYLAN AND ROBERT HUNTER                                                                                                                                                  <> *Said the shepherd boy To the mighty king Do you know what I know? In you palace wall mighty king Do you know what I know? A child, a child Shivers in the cold Let us bring him Silver and gold Let us bring him Silver and gold Let us bring him Silver and gold Do you know what I know/ So you see what I see? Do you hear what I hear?* “**DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR?” LYRICS LEONARD COHEN**
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71
No devil may care for me tonight' roaming, hunting a soul. It is only a tinge of light illuminating these corridors; filled room to room with confessions, murmurs adorn each one of their frames.
0
Jun 1, 2021
Jun 1, 2021 at 4:14 PM UTC
Idols
Truth be told I cannot tell why people, each and all still fail to see the twinge, the strain of their neighbors bear, blinded by prejudice and leaders they declare?
0
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 4:23 AM UTC
Sympatheia
The journey is so harsh and long A test of your mind and might A test you can not pass, if you think you’re always right If you make it, you will be strong Earning your place, you’ll now belong You aced the test and put up a fight From now on they will see your light Immortal, they will sing your song Immortal, you can do no wrong
0
May 6, 2020
May 6, 2020 at 10:33 AM UTC
Immortalized
If you can have idols Be your first one Otherwise you wont be you anymore
0
Jul 9, 2019
Jul 9, 2019 at 7:35 PM UTC
Idols
The Beatles are your jam, I like pink Floyd. I see the music scam, Controlled and devoid! My idols, once much loved, Such talent, what sounds! Their ***** hands once gloved, Their lows know no bounds. How epically great they are. How cool and unique, Each one such a shining star. Now I see how they're weak. They'll no doubt be exceptions, Won't follow the the rule, Most built on deceptions, I'll sing and dance like a fool! Can't unhear such lyrics, Nor forget their beats. Won't break into hysteria, Nor allow such defeats. To whom would I get my groove on? What song would I belt? Ok so it's all just such a con, Songs I've grown up with and felt...
0
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 9:25 AM UTC
Musical nightmares
The members Renounce in peace The idols are there Still staring In silence Monsters beware We are now Violent
0
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 8:44 PM UTC
Monsters Beware
#*It's at the point of desperation that the soul finds its deepest desire, and in that desire lies everything of which true life is made. Perhaps the first and central question concerning surrender ought not to be, “What am I willing to give to God?” but “What am I willing to receive from Him?” For it's only in the realization that I have nothing to give Him and He has everything to give me that true humility and surrender come. If I would simply receive all He offers me and let Him fill me up I would have no room in my hands to hold onto anything else.   But how often it is that we won't receive it until everything else is lost. It's the secret and inexpressible dreams of the soul which are the hardest things of all to let go and the last to go. When they are finally gone we have nothing left to run to but Him, and when we do we find that He is the beginning, the end and the center of every secret dream. Ah, blessed Peniel—that mysterious and holy ground where heartache collides head-on with romance, that deep and shadowed land where we struggle with God and with men and we overcome, that painful yet glorious place which we may leave limping with a wrenched hip but we do not care, for we have seen God’s face— like Jacob, may we not pass you by without being forever changed.*#
0
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
Wrestling at Peniel
"The Struggle for Love" "The Longing for Home" So desperate to prove That our hearts aren't alone While death looms wherewith To make dust of our flesh We seek in a myth Our souls to enmesh With a hero of hope A rescuing source To widen our scope And give pith to our course An unshakable tie An attachment at core Which might silence the cry That our hearts are at war With a pure set of eyes Full of fire and proficient To dispel all the lies That our souls aren't deficient But it's not our mere lack Which causes most dread It's the earth-shattering fact That our spirits are dead Cut off from their Source In a black alienation Humanity's curse For its rank ins'bordination We just want our own way And to write our own story So we plunge on astray To seek our own glory To play artist or muse Or idol or chief Any self-styled ruse To assuage us of grief Any measure to show A lasting signif'cance So that someone would know Our unique magnif'cence For our beauty's been marred And we crave a redemption Of souls twisted and scarred By fulfillment's exemption But, alas, we will find That search hard as we may There's not one of our kind Who can carry the tray Upon which the weight Of our souls has been laid For who can e'er tolerate Its gross debts unpaid? Such suff'cating mass Of defects and ills Pressed 'gainst delicate glass Of egos and wills Still more ghastly to bear Is devotion unbound For with millstone to wear Its master is drowned 'Neath a sea of foul yeast And becomes the enslaved To a hungering beast To a worship depraved For the heart is a tiger And must have its fill So it raises a man higher With a kiss before the **** Not intentionally, of course, Does it slaughter its idol But of hurricane force Is this longing so vital And as pedestal turns So quickly to altar Our wounded pride burns When our gods and alms falter And the fire of its rage Turns upon its obsession Tiger breaks out of cage To reclaim self-possession It bites and it tears What it once so adored And pride no longer cares If it kills its false lord But upon such demise The soul screams in terror For it's broken its prize And can't take back its error It begs and it pleads To restore what's been lost But at end knows it needs To consider the cost Of the damage untold It has left in the wake For hearts can't be controlled With a gush or a shake No, men's hearts are like bombs Which so easily explode Once the pin is removed All past wrongs will re-load So the prey becomes hunter When the tiger attacks For he does not want her To see what he lacks As he, too, had put Her up in wrong place But now steps his foot Upon her shamed face To now pulverize As his own heart's been crushed To blind out her eyes And to see her lips hushed For with words idly spoken She'd stabbed at his soul And had left his pride broken By her judgments so cold She had not meant to harm Knew not e'en that he heard But one cannot disarm A thought put to word Worse than not knowing this She no longer knew him And her once imagined bliss Proved a nullified whim Oh, what games and delusions We play and we build Upon empty illusions And dreams unfulfilled Yet strangely it's when Our worst fears come true We can finally transcend All those old tales we grew Out of ego and void Out of sorrow and pain When our nerves felt annoyed And our hearts felt too vain 'Cause when ego is puffed It is primed, too, to pop And with pinprick is snuffed Like a pest-blighted crop So imagine much more When a venom's injected Right into its core And its heart is rejected But can you also not see How it needs such a burst To begin to get free From its self-absorbed curse? Except now feels the matter Of our soul's isolation Fiercer still with the shatter Of our pet consolation So we wait and we wonder If we've missed the true meaning Of the frightening thunder In our heart's constant screaming Whether homesick or lost Whether lonely or grieved Locked in bleak Winter's frost We find little reprieve Yet we know we've been made For the glory of Spring Some card's still to be played Some grand song still to sing Inexpressible yearning For some secret we know But can't speak for the burning Repercussions of woe Not some mere melancholy Nor nostalgic forlorn Not the musings of folly But a sense that we're torn From primordial root And from headwaters fresh Yet much deeper to boot From our spiritual breath 'Tis an ache not for wares, Appreciation or fame But a fight just for air Against strangling shame For we're naked, we know And with all we devise Our most flawed parts still show To a pure set of eyes Like we're walking around With no covering intact But thin hospital gown With wide split up the back So we hide our true face Aim to be what we're not Work our blots to erase Lest our schemes should be caught Be 't by friend or by foe We dare not risk the pain Of humiliation's blow On top of our stain But instead of relief Anguish grows louder till This life's loneliest grief Paralyzes the will And last hope all but dies On doubt's bed of despair While embittered heart cries That its lot's too unfair Yet on outside we play Through our unconscious mind Man's collective charade That everything's fine Like some pact we'd all sworn To uphold and obey To protect from the scorn Of society's sway If we run with the flow 'Stead of strive 'gainst the tide We might make enough show To salvage our pride We forget that conceit Is what caused all the mess Through a serpent's deceit And a couple's wrong guess 'Twas they first tasted shame And then hid in a garden Sewing fig leaves as claim To secure their own pardon Yet in horror they knew They had squandered the Prize And must flee from the view Of a pure set of eyes Now same state of awry Runs through each of their seed Inborn and borne by Like the thorniest **** Whose nettles pierce deep And infect every part While roots tangle and sweep Through the mind and the heart It mocks what we've lost Torments every dim hope To constrict and accost Like a noose-tightening rope Still, hope won't be decayed Smold'ring fires yet burn Sparking hints that we're made For bright Eden's return This redemption we crave Is no phantom's false plea But as crestfallen wave Hides itself in the sea It's been veiled in plain sight Big as all of our stories Deep as mankind's full plight And as high as its glories Cloaked in every ambition That we have to get in To some exclusive coalition For its favors to win Lurks a bleeding predilection Frustrated from birth A desire for election To bestow on us worth Lured by scent of a promise To be chosen and known Like the warmth of a mom's kiss Given only to her own We search tree after tree For sweet intimacy's nectar From a fruit that will be Our secret connecter To hope's nourishing breast To life's honey from comb To an undying rest To a straight way toward home One to wipe away tears And allay deepest doubt Which proceeds from worst fears Of our being locked out Of a garden again Cast from pure tree of life Dim remembrance of when Mankind first entered strife All our conflicts, comp'tition, Confusion and blame Find first cause in perdition That's invaded our frame Like the foulest disease The most cankerous rot Grown by monstrous degrees Hatched by Lucifer's plot This story's no prig's attack Nor archaic folklore But the earth-shattering fact That our hearts are at war With a pure set of eyes Full of fire and proficient To dispel all the lies That our souls aren't deficient And it's not our mere lack which causes most dread But the earth-shattering fact That our spirits are dead Cut off from their Source In a black alienation Humanity's curse For its rank ins'bordination And yet... This is also the story Of how those same eyes The Possessor of Glory Looked with love and heart cries On the crown of creation His reflection of Self Made His own treasured nation The heirs of His wealth Now broken and lost All banished from Garden And He knew the full cost To grant them His pardon Had known long before He had e'er even made That first man of yore Yet handcrafts anyway For His love is so strong And He wanted to share His intimacy with a throng His own children to bear So with souls in convulsion From their rebellious misdeed Just before their expulsion He promised a Seed One untainted from sin Who could take its great boulder And the weight of His kin Upon His own shoulder A Hero of hope A rescuing Source To widen our scope And give pith to our course An unshakable tie An attachment at core Who would silence the cry That our hearts are at war With a pure set of eyes Full of fire and proficient To dispel all the lies That our souls aren't deficient For those eyes are His own And He'd pay the full fee By His body alone To set our hearts free He's hope's nourishing breast He's life's honey from comb He's our undying rest He's our straight way toward home He will wipe away tears And allay deepest doubt Which proceeds from worst fears Of our being locked out Of the Garden again Cast from pure Tree of Life Dim remembrance of when Mankind first entered strife But 'twas on another tree That sweet intimacy's nectar Was secured tight when He Became sacred Connector And the thorns of our curse Were pressed onto His head With not one there to nurse As the Son of Man bled Then the wrath for our sin Was absorbed as He cried And the foul curse was broken When the Son of God died But death couldn't keep Him long Nor His glory dispose And we found our lost song When the King of kings rose! The debt had been paid He had finished the work The tide 'gainst us was swayed We weren't left in our lurk And we've only to now Just repent and believe To open and allow Our hearts to receive Our Divine Fountainhead Our covering complete To sup from His bread And to sit at His feet To worship the One For Whom we were made By Whom we've been won Whom forever we've craved The One Who can bear Our hearts' full devotion The One Who won't tear At our souls' raw emotion The One Who will be Sweet eternity's song Who with lasting decree Will...right...every...wrong
0
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
A Weight on Each Shoulder
"The Struggle for Love" "The Longing for Home" So desperate to prove That our hearts aren't alone While death looms wherewith To make dust of our flesh We seek in a myth Our souls to enmesh With a hero of hope A rescuing source To widen our scope And give pith to our course An unshakable tie An attachment at core Which might silence the cry That our hearts are at war With a pure set of eyes Full of fire and proficient To dispel all the lies That our souls aren't deficient But it's not our mere lack Which causes most dread It's the earth-shattering fact That our spirits are dead Cut off from their Source In a black alienation Humanity's curse For its rank ins'bordination We just want our own way And to write our own story So we plunge on astray To seek our own glory To play artist or muse Or idol or chief Any self-styled ruse To assuage us of grief Any measure to show A lasting signif'cance So that someone would know Our unique magnif'cence For our beauty's been marred And we crave a redemption Of souls twisted and scarred By fulfillment's exemption But, alas, we will find That search hard as we may There's not one of our kind Who can carry the tray Upon which the weight Of our souls has been laid For who can e'er tolerate Its gross debts unpaid? Such suff'cating mass Of defects and ills Pressed 'gainst delicate glass Of egos and wills Still more ghastly to bear Is devotion unbound For with millstone to wear Its master is drowned 'Neath a sea of foul yeast And becomes the enslaved To a hungering beast To a worship depraved For the heart is a tiger And must have its fill So it raises a man higher With a kiss before the **** Not intentionally, of course, Does it slaughter its idol But of hurricane force Is this longing so vital And as pedestal turns So quickly to altar Our wounded pride burns When our gods and alms falter And the fire of its rage Turns upon its obsession Tiger breaks out of cage To reclaim self-possession It bites and it tears What it once so adored And pride no longer cares If it kills its false lord But upon such demise The soul screams in terror For it's broken its prize And can't take back its error It begs and it pleads To restore what's been lost But at end knows it needs To consider the cost Of the damage untold It has left in the wake For hearts can't be controlled With a gush or a shake No, men's hearts are like bombs Which so easily explode Once the pin is removed All past wrongs will re-load So the prey becomes hunter When the tiger attacks For he does not want her To see what he lacks As he, too, had put Her up in wrong place But now steps his foot Upon her shamed face To now pulverize As his own heart's been crushed To blind out her eyes And to see her lips hushed For with words idly spoken She'd stabbed at his soul And had left his pride broken By her judgments so cold She had not meant to harm Knew not e'en that he heard But one cannot disarm A thought put to word Worse than not knowing this She no longer knew him And her once imagined bliss Proved a nullified whim Oh, what games and delusions We play and we build Upon empty illusions And dreams unfulfilled Yet strangely it's when Our worst fears come true We can finally transcend All those old tales we grew Out of ego and void Out of sorrow and pain When our nerves felt annoyed And our hearts felt too vain 'Cause when ego is puffed It is primed, too, to pop And with pinprick is snuffed Like a pest-blighted crop So imagine much more When a venom's injected Right into its core And its heart is rejected But can you also not see How it needs such a burst To begin to get free From its self-absorbed curse? Except now feels the matter Of our soul's isolation Fiercer still with the shatter Of our pet consolation So we wait and we wonder If we've missed the true meaning Of the frightening thunder In our heart's constant screaming Whether homesick or lost Whether lonely or grieved Locked in bleak Winter's frost We find little reprieve Yet we know we've been made For the glory of Spring Some card's still to be played Some grand song still to sing Inexpressible yearning For some secret we know But can't speak for the burning Repercussions of woe Not some mere melancholy Nor nostalgic forlorn Not the musings of folly But a sense that we're torn From primordial root And from headwaters fresh Yet much deeper to boot From our spiritual breath 'Tis an ache not for wares, Appreciation or fame But a fight just for air Against strangling shame For we're naked, we know And with all we devise Our most flawed parts still show To a pure set of eyes Like we're walking around With no covering intact But thin hospital gown With wide split up the back So we hide our true face Aim to be what we're not Work our blots to erase Lest our schemes should be caught Be 't by friend or by foe We dare not risk the pain Of humiliation's blow On top of our stain But instead of relief Anguish grows louder till This life's loneliest grief Paralyzes the will And last hope all but dies On doubt's bed of despair While embittered heart cries That its lot's too unfair Yet on outside we play Through our unconscious mind Man's collective charade That everything's fine Like some pact we'd all sworn To uphold and obey To protect from the scorn Of society's sway If we run with the flow 'Stead of strive 'gainst the tide We might make enough show To salvage our pride We forget that conceit Is what caused all the mess Through a serpent's deceit And a couple's wrong guess 'Twas they first tasted shame And then hid in a garden Sewing fig leaves as claim To secure their own pardon Yet in horror they knew They had squandered the Prize And must flee from the view Of a pure set of eyes Now same state of awry Runs through each of their seed Inborn and borne by Like the thorniest **** Whose nettles pierce deep And infect every part While roots tangle and sweep Through the mind and the heart It mocks what we've lost Torments every dim hope To constrict and accost Like a noose-tightening rope Still, hope won't be decayed Smold'ring fires yet burn Sparking hints that we're made For bright Eden's return This redemption we crave Is no phantom's false plea But as crestfallen wave Hides itself in the sea It's been veiled in plain sight Big as all of our stories Deep as mankind's full plight And as high as its glories Cloaked in every ambition That we have to get in To some exclusive coalition For its favors to win Lurks a bleeding predilection Frustrated from birth A desire for election To bestow on us worth Lured by scent of a promise To be chosen and known Like the warmth of a mom's kiss Given only to her own We search tree after tree For sweet intimacy's nectar From a fruit that will be Our secret connecter To hope's nourishing breast To life's honey from comb To an undying rest To a straight way toward home One to wipe away tears And allay deepest doubt Which proceeds from worst fears Of our being locked out Of a garden again Cast from pure tree of life Dim remembrance of when Mankind first entered strife All our conflicts, comp'tition, Confusion and blame Find first cause in perdition That's invaded our frame Like the foulest disease The most cankerous rot Grown by monstrous degrees Hatched by Lucifer's plot This story's no prig's attack Nor archaic folklore But the earth-shattering fact That our hearts are at war With a pure set of eyes Full of fire and proficient To dispel all the lies That our souls aren't deficient And it's not our mere lack which causes most dread But the earth-shattering fact That our spirits are dead Cut off from their Source In a black alienation Humanity's curse For its rank ins'bordination And yet... This is also the story Of how those same eyes The Possessor of Glory Looked with love and heart cries On the crown of creation His reflection of Self Made His own treasured nation The heirs of His wealth Now broken and lost All banished from Garden And He knew the full cost To grant them His pardon Had known long before He had e'er even made That first man of yore Yet handcrafts anyway For His love is so strong And He wanted to share His intimacy with a throng His own children to bear So with souls in convulsion From their rebellious misdeed Just before their expulsion He promised a Seed One untainted from sin Who could take its great boulder And the weight of His kin Upon His own shoulder A Hero of hope A rescuing Source To widen our scope And give pith to our course An unshakable tie An attachment at core Who would silence the cry That our hearts are at war With a pure set of eyes Full of fire and proficient To dispel all the lies That our souls aren't deficient For those eyes are His own And He'd pay the full fee By His body alone To set our hearts free He's hope's nourishing breast He's life's honey from comb He's our undying rest He's our straight way toward home He will wipe away tears And allay deepest doubt Which proceeds from worst fears Of our being locked out Of the Garden again Cast from pure Tree of Life Dim remembrance of when Mankind first entered strife But 'twas on another tree That sweet intimacy's nectar Was secured tight when He Became sacred Connector And the thorns of our curse Were pressed onto His head With not one there to nurse As the Son of Man bled Then the wrath for our sin Was absorbed as He cried And the foul curse was broken When the Son of God died But death couldn't keep Him long Nor His glory dispose And we found our lost song When the King of kings rose! The debt had been paid He had finished the work The tide 'gainst us was swayed We weren't left in our lurk And we've only to now Just repent and believe To open and allow Our hearts to receive Our Divine Fountainhead Our covering complete To sup from His bread And to sit at His feet To worship the One For Whom we were made By Whom we've been won Whom forever we've craved The One Who can bear Our hearts' full devotion The One Who won't tear At our souls' raw emotion The One Who will be Sweet eternity's song Who with lasting decree Will...right...every...wrong
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401
Living Gods My God we’re Gods, see no matter what we do we’ll leave behind a legacy, working forward with the tools we’ve got, without getting worked up or caught up realizing that everything’s only energy, which is why we take in stride the fact that we’re modest aristocrats, I mean after all how much money does one man need, I mean we’ve got millions which is plenty enough to live on, plus we’ve got friends who literally have billions, I mean I don’t even need that much, I mean I’m more motivated to feed the needy than dominated by being greed, plus billions is a lot of money I’d even wager to say it’s too much, & I don’t want nor need that kind of responsibility, I mean I don’t even need all the money I already have, don’t really care about jewelry or cars or the name on name brand tags, I just want to be with good friends in good weather eat healthy & live comfortably, plus I’m not impressed with how much you take my interest is more about how much you give back, because true wealth is about having good health in body mind & soul, & giving back to the world in kind is usually a good sign of that, plus I see God’s work more in the Philanthropist than in the Evangelist, & we’re Gods which is why I give every dollar I make from my art back, I don’t need the money I mean I make more on the interest in my saving than I spend on living, plus I’m not having kids & I’m giving everything away to charity when I pass anyways, so when I die please burn my body send my ashes to the sky & donate my money to worthy causes, & don’t ask why just realize or at least accept that it’s all part of The Prophecy that I am and it’s great, because honestly, we’re Gods, & I don’t mean that in any way that’s blasphemous, I mean that in the past there was Isis there was Mercury & there was Horus of course, & we’re the modern day incarnations of greatness shining so bright they can’t ignore us so they ask for us, see the truth is that we are the new Buddhas & you could be the new Zeus ‘cause, energy never dies it just changes form as it always has for all of infinity, & I honestly used to wonder what my roll was, but now I see I’ve been nominated to be the scribe that writes these verses faithfully, so I type away on my laptop instead of throwing back mad shots, because someone’s gotta scribe these vibes so that our legendary lives’ will live in Eternity eternally, & now that I’ve got that out of the way let me get back to what I was saying, about how we’re Man Gods not at all unlike the Pharaohs that used to exist in Rome & Egypt, which makes sense & is appropriate given that one of the kids at the event I was at tonight, wore threads that were from the King of Morocco only difference is there’s wheels on our chariots, and our horses are under our hoods, but we still have Tridents as our emblems, that’s a Maserati reference not that it makes a difference, because when we die our bodies all return to the same essences, saw another guy at that event, which was at a house on The Hampton’s biggest estate property, he wore the Caduceus around his neck, which is the symbol of the God Mercury, it was then that it occurred to me, or rather was reaffirmed to me, that we are all Gods which is not at all odd, given the position that we sit in currently, & I asked him, if he knew what the symbol around his neck meant, & he replied as he stared at me with stars in his eyes “Of course I do, it’s the symbol on the staff of the God Mercury.”, to which I answered, “Yes”, & then he said he made music, after which I told him I write books to leave my mark, & mark my words he’s going to be famous and so will he shout out to Billa, because for those that are chosen to be shown the path is already known in the stars, so if you want to know where I am just look up, & you’ll know I’m always close as long as you can see the sky, & when I’m gone you’ll still have these books Love, because art is the only thing man creates that stands the test of time, plus these body’s we have are not all that we are in this life, we are Love & we are Light & although we might look like mortal kind folk, that’s only our disguise so we can hide from immoral rivals see we’re actually Immortal Idols, & we try to stay humble but it’s tough to stay modest to be honest, when you’re Gods & Goddesses that feel so good you can’t hide the smiles, smile, my God we’re Gods, see no matter what we do we’ll leave behind a legacy, working forward with the tools we’ve got, without getting worked up or caught up realizing that everything’s only energy… ∆ Aaron LaLux ∆ Hamptons July 2018
0
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 11:42 AM UTC
+ Living Gods +
Living Gods My God we’re Gods, see no matter what we do we’ll leave behind a legacy, working forward with the tools we’ve got, without getting worked up or caught up realizing that everything’s only energy, which is why we take in stride the fact that we’re modest aristocrats, I mean after all how much money does one man need, I mean we’ve got millions which is plenty enough to live on, plus we’ve got friends who literally have billions, I mean I don’t even need that much, I mean I’m more motivated to feed the needy than dominated by being greed, plus billions is a lot of money I’d even wager to say it’s too much, & I don’t want nor need that kind of responsibility, I mean I don’t even need all the money I already have, don’t really care about jewelry or cars or the name on name brand tags, I just want to be with good friends in good weather eat healthy & live comfortably, plus I’m not impressed with how much you take my interest is more about how much you give back, because true wealth is about having good health in body mind & soul, & giving back to the world in kind is usually a good sign of that, plus I see God’s work more in the Philanthropist than in the Evangelist, & we’re Gods which is why I give every dollar I make from my art back, I don’t need the money I mean I make more on the interest in my saving than I spend on living, plus I’m not having kids & I’m giving everything away to charity when I pass anyways, so when I die please burn my body send my ashes to the sky & donate my money to worthy causes, & don’t ask why just realize or at least accept that it’s all part of The Prophecy that I am and it’s great, because honestly, we’re Gods, & I don’t mean that in any way that’s blasphemous, I mean that in the past there was Isis there was Mercury & there was Horus of course, & we’re the modern day incarnations of greatness shining so bright they can’t ignore us so they ask for us, see the truth is that we are the new Buddhas & you could be the new Zeus ‘cause, energy never dies it just changes form as it always has for all of infinity, & I honestly used to wonder what my roll was, but now I see I’ve been nominated to be the scribe that writes these verses faithfully, so I type away on my laptop instead of throwing back mad shots, because someone’s gotta scribe these vibes so that our legendary lives’ will live in Eternity eternally, & now that I’ve got that out of the way let me get back to what I was saying, about how we’re Man Gods not at all unlike the Pharaohs that used to exist in Rome & Egypt, which makes sense & is appropriate given that one of the kids at the event I was at tonight, wore threads that were from the King of Morocco only difference is there’s wheels on our chariots, and our horses are under our hoods, but we still have Tridents as our emblems, that’s a Maserati reference not that it makes a difference, because when we die our bodies all return to the same essences, saw another guy at that event, which was at a house on The Hampton’s biggest estate property, he wore the Caduceus around his neck, which is the symbol of the God Mercury, it was then that it occurred to me, or rather was reaffirmed to me, that we are all Gods which is not at all odd, given the position that we sit in currently, & I asked him, if he knew what the symbol around his neck meant, & he replied as he stared at me with stars in his eyes “Of course I do, it’s the symbol on the staff of the God Mercury.”, to which I answered, “Yes”, & then he said he made music, after which I told him I write books to leave my mark, & mark my words he’s going to be famous and so will he shout out to Billa, because for those that are chosen to be shown the path is already known in the stars, so if you want to know where I am just look up, & you’ll know I’m always close as long as you can see the sky, & when I’m gone you’ll still have these books Love, because art is the only thing man creates that stands the test of time, plus these body’s we have are not all that we are in this life, we are Love & we are Light & although we might look like mortal kind folk, that’s only our disguise so we can hide from immoral rivals see we’re actually Immortal Idols, & we try to stay humble but it’s tough to stay modest to be honest, when you’re Gods & Goddesses that feel so good you can’t hide the smiles, smile, my God we’re Gods, see no matter what we do we’ll leave behind a legacy, working forward with the tools we’ve got, without getting worked up or caught up realizing that everything’s only energy… ∆ Aaron LaLux ∆ Hamptons July 2018
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76
#*It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security, freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence— out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden— that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves. Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise, taking away our fear and shame and isolation. We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there. We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it, and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter. He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us. Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods. When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated, for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds, and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us. It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out, that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything we have been so desperately wanting. It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them, pleading with Him to come and capture us, crying out to Him to possess us fully.*#
0
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
The Long Way Home
#*It is out of the heart’s cavernous longing and furious search for love, significance, acceptance, approval, identity, security, freedom, belonging, innocence, intimacy and transcendence— out of its primordial memory of what was lost to us in the Garden— that we begin to ***** idols for ourselves. Unconsciously we hope they might restore to us a taste of paradise, taking away our fear and shame and isolation. We yearn to go back but, alas, we cannot get in from there. We ache to connect to beauty, to be desired by it as much as we desire it, and Jesus is the only door by which we may enter. He is the Beauty, and all the rest are simply there like pealing bells to arouse our hearts to Him and tell us that He is coming for us. Still, as if we haven’t quite yet heard and believed the message, we keep aimlessly trying to forge a false righteousness through our false gods. When they are lost or the dreams of them unrealized we are devastated, for the shadows, echoes and reflections we had supposed would finally make us feel good about ourselves have been exposed as frauds, and once again we are left to feel naked but without fig leaves to cover us. It is at these precise moments, when the bottom of our false hope falls out, that we are best prepared to encounter Christ in His intimate fullness and most apt to recognize at last that He alone is everything we have been so desperately wanting. It is our boiling point, where the unbearable weight of failed expectation so crashes in on us that we are finally begging God to lift our idols off of us and deliver us from them, pleading with Him to come and capture us, crying out to Him to possess us fully.*#
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27
#*Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life? Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?  Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable? Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name? Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself? Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind? Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things? Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights? Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself? Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe? Can it know you through and through and still desire you? Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened? Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table and spread its banner of love over you? Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing? Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself? Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?  Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning? Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes? Can it turn your wailing into dancing? Can it flood you with peace like a river? Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions? Can it know the way to lead you home? Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?  Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free? Can it ever truly be your Everything?*#
0
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 12:47 PM UTC
What Can Your Idol Do?
#*Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life? Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?  Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable? Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name? Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself? Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind? Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things? Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights? Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself? Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe? Can it know you through and through and still desire you? Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened? Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table and spread its banner of love over you? Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing? Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself? Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?  Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning? Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes? Can it turn your wailing into dancing? Can it flood you with peace like a river? Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions? Can it know the way to lead you home? Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?  Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free? Can it ever truly be your Everything?*#
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27
A message to the past and the future not for the faint of heart, crass. A lonely whisky bottle made for rapture now floating towards capture enraptured for the cycle of life. Cyclical and lyrical mysticism, lyricists binding ciphers, skinning with a knife ride through a maze with the pied piper, don’t fight. We idolize with holy reverence what a reference, follow around with perseverance and benevolence. I got a secret for you that might kick up some dirt, But, hush, don’t get too constipated *** this might hurt, Listen, here is the deal: Head towards your following, amass your biblical seal, but you’ll get knocked down with zeal, and you’ll feel the loving embrace of fear! Cyclical and lyrical mysticism, lyricists binding ciphers, skinning with a knife ride through a maze with the pied piper, don’t fight.
0
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Idolization
we've taken our salvation into our own hands it's no wonder we've turned to worshipping alcohol and *** you see, the Godless are never truly godless we just become our own gods wrap every beautiful thing around your wrists draping like precious stones until it becomes unholy we bruise any purity with our splintered hands raising our empty buildings cathedrals where we all stand we pledge our allegiance to "self" and to flags adopting false idols raising them to be like us until they start looking just like us well, a god just like me would be a fearsome being that god would have killed everybody including itself inheriting my self-destructive tendencies i've built myself up so much in my attempt to feel worthy it's a wonder my spine doesn't snap from all the weight an altar with one too many golden statues adorned wasn't i supposed to be past everything wasn't i supposed to be reborn i guess we're never so far from our mortality that we can truly be safe without our boundaries
0
Jul 6, 2018
Jul 6, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
idols,
I live like a ship on a wave Dragged by the deep, still paving a way A slave for the day, Set sails north and I let the force of the wind take me away Take me away, sight's on a star What's outside's inside who we are What's inside's outside who we are So who am I to define who we are? Or who we're really not But they all get ill and do the Millie Rock They all sell souls at a mill-a-pop That's a millipede, running Hip Hop One thing I know, I am not them I'm not slipping cuz I got Him Lucy’s gripping cuz she got them They ain't tripping cuz they balling
0
Jun 6, 2018
Jun 6, 2018 at 8:30 AM UTC
Idols