So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

When I’m gone like the shadow from the night walkers moving around with their legs on a stake boards. Don’t  say a word about my past life when  you and I were together or How I love acting, its makes me happy and sign of tears must not be seen on your face as you remember special memories with me. Memories of us makes my soul stronger  and braver  as my desire of you and i comes into play.
when i am gone and it’s time for the funeral service .Every one should put on a green  dress code like you are turning my funeral ceremony into  green land of grown trees.
As its Ending ,Play my songs  and everyone must sing a track of their favorite artist with my favorite microphone. Don’t forget to eat and drink until the bill is worth my memories, Either should anyone of you, allow my wife to see my body when the priests place Gold coin of one dollar cent  on the right eye and Silver quarter dollar coin on my left eye and Quarter dollar coin on my forehead, wait did she see me when I was born from birth, OH NO.

Every time, I spend inside the wave is a minute spend in heaven.
Let my  grave to 25.3 thousand  feet deep and 18 million square meters , so my body could  moves “To and fro”  without interfering  with  the boundaries of the Upper world or Earth world.
At the Beginning of the Ceremony ,If  sun raise and shining at the event then be ready for the raindrops as a sign of honour from heaven  and if ,its rains on my body alone then be ready for the sun shine as a sign of fate from heaven.

I am happy about the way I laid down as my back did not touch the evil floor, then put my body inside a glass box of unbroken meter at each edges to avoid cracking with the iceberg on the sea, I came into the world   with  no clothes on me, so I deserve no clothes on  me but remember to put a Pencil, Eraser in my right hand and Shaper ,Book in my left hand then Bible on my chest as sign of loyalty to God, As they pull the glass box  with a ropes holding it through the four edge within the meter hooks  , quietly insert me into  the sea until its 76.7ft deep then eject the ropes  as the  reason for my selfless act and watery mind while i was on earth.
Don’t let my funeral be short because I need more  Entertainment from Eminem ,Hillsong worship and Jesus Culture presenting their  songs as sign of  celebrating a beautiful and self-made man on earth.

Each month, My kids and Wives will pay visit with rose Flowers with chocolate cake  to the sea as they speaks life  and sweet moments of their lives without me  into the sea as to keep  awareness of my spirit alive with the sea world ,if not,  I will lose my place in the sea ,might  walk out of the glass -box into the earth world  and start roaring around like one of  the  fallen angels in the sky awaiting his judgement from God.
The  manner of death was desired by me and I will happier that my lovers are happy about the possibility of lifespan  in the Sea recreating life for the next generation to feed.
      Each moment pass by, as years decay away remember I will be here in the sea keeping your memories refreshing
each time you take your shower  with my smooth liquid flowing through your skin, I will be with you in the cold and hot times as I am watching over your naked Good and Evil minds, Don’t be scared of awareness because we were once naked together during my existence with you in the beginning walking as fading shadows from the night walkers moving around with their legs on a stake boards.

In pace of mace ,we end up in a race involving the wave.

My funeral service will.

In one of my favorite worship songs, Like an Avalanche by Hillsong United,
One of the lines goes like this-
"Caught up in grace like an avalanche,"
It always made me wonder exactly what grace is.
And according to google this is what grace means-
"the free and unmerited favor of God, as manifested in the salvation of sinners and the bestowal of blessings"
The favor of God, that is free and unmerited.
The salvation of sinners and bestowal of blessings.
What a great and graceful God we have!
Happy Good Friday.

I have no plans for after high school,
And man, I've got no fuel,
Sitting round' the house lazy,
Imma' end up in a whirlpool,
Letting the tide take me,
Letting the bride break me,
Letting the pride wake me,
Letting the guide make me,
The tide carries me to danger zones,
In this water, there's too many stones,
And all these crazy hormones,
Tryna' take me to ladies' moans,
Tryna' get me stuck and distract me,
Making me a schmuck avoiding reality,
I've been struck with insanity,
I'll let these waters pull me through humanity,
And now we're onto the bride,
That chooses not to abide,
By the law of love and life,
Which clearly states the following,
"Don't go out on dates for love you're just borrowing.",
Because there's no way to give it back,
That would just leave a hole or a crack,
In the heart of the one you stole from,
Leaving them broken, hurting or numb,
And then the pride tries to take over,
But I never let it get closer,
To my control panel,
Cause it would mess up the channel,
That my life is playing on,
From Saudi Arabia to the Amazon,
Worldwide, we all let the guide make us,
But don't let it take over, it'll break us,
It's the system, it's a down,
It's Hillsong, it's Chris Brown,
It's anything that can be imagined,
And anything that can't,
It could even be a dragon,
It could be an eggplant,
It grows on our thoughts,
So, we're all at a loss,
Because we won't stop thinking,
And we won't stop blinking,
And we won't stop drinking,
And we won't stop sinking,
In this well that we're digging,
But we still keep grinning,
And my eyes are stinging,
And my ears keep ringing,
Because something keeps on trying to tell me,
How to escape reality when I'm ready,
But I'm blind and I'm deaf,
And my mind is a chef,
That cooks up these thoughts,
That brings me fantasies,
Things that I'd rather not,
Keep in my mind, it's a fallacy,
And all it does is bring me agony,
See how fast the subject changes,
The thoughts flow, all these rearranges,
I better stop now, I could go on for ages,
Talking about nonsense, the pain and the painless,
But it's so hard to end these things,
That's why sometimes I end abruptly...

Hi
I’m anthony brandy
And I’m a quarter filipino
Or at least, that’s what my dad tells me
And I’m inclined to believe him because
When I look at the curvature
Of the bones around our eyes
I think I can see it

That somewhere deep down I’m not just a white guy
With a white name
And a whole lot of privilege that comes along with that
But you can’t see it,
And I think that’s what matters

We judge people by who we see they are
And then they become who we say they are

You can’t see it, but I speak Spanish, too
But not because it’s my heritage
Because my white heritage doesn’t have anything to be proud of

I learned Spanish to communicate with others

It all started out as a way to check if people were talking behind my back
And I never even realized that that was a form of guilt-presumption
But as I learned to conjugate and put my words in the right order,
I found out that there are people on the other side of that language barrier
And they have warmer hearts than you could ever imagine
And their arms give the best hugs
And their eyes tell the toughest stories to hear

Like when they came over here, and people heard their accents
They were teased and told to go back to where they came from
And everytime an ******* said that to them,
That home they were told to go back to was always Mexico
Even though Mexico’s not the only country south of Texas

You see, we judge by what we see
And if we’ve never seen or noticed anyone from other countries
We overgeneralize

You can’t see it, but I’m also encumbered by years of religious restrictions
That tell me that my ****** feelings are not allowed
That my doubts have no place near my faith
That my eyes must always bounce
That my vocal cords were meant only for ****** Hillsong songs
And my hands were made to pluck easy four-chord songs
And three-chord songs if you’re lucky

You can’t see it, but there is resentment under this shirt, welling in my chest
And it seeps out of my skin even when I don’t want it to
And I sometimes think it’s best left unexpressed,
But I know, even deeper down than that resentment, that that’s not true

You can’t see it, but I so often feel unnoticed by my peers and my family
Because those doubts that I mentioned before are dangerous,
And my family has wasted no opportunity to tell me that it’s not okay to be who I am,
Having introduced dynamism to my faith
So I am left with only one option:
To hide those things, and keep my mouth shut

What you don’t know, family member, is that when you put on that bumper sticker that said God doesn’t believe in atheists,
You told me you don’t care for me
And what you don’t know, family member, is that when you voted for Trump,
You told my immigrant friends that they should stay away, and that it’s better for them to dwell in their oppression than to even remotely acknowledge it
And what you don’t know, family member, when you tell me how sad it would be for me not to be a Christian,
You tell me it’s not okay to be who I am

But nevertheless, I am who I am
And I will be what I will be
And who I am is a quarter Filipino, privileged white guy who’s trying to do his part
And I wish you could come along with me for that journey
But you are so deeply invested in remaining static,
That I am unsure I can ever help you at all

Telling you stories about my relationships with immigrants can only get me so far into showing you that these people
Are in fact people
And my college education can only get me so far into a conversation with you before you notice that I’m one of those people you call a “libtard”
And you disregard everything I say

I still have my foot in the door, but how long can I keep it open?
When will I blow my cover and be authentic?
Should I have ever kept things a secret in the first place?
Am I just trying to avert inevitable growing pains?

I could not tell you, and I cannot either
But I am nonetheless growing,
Dynamic,
Laden with doubts,
And struggling to make something good come out of my life
I hope you can see that
I hope you can understand
Why I do what I do

Stricken with black and white
For these brittle bones
Refuse to bend with all the ways
I live my life
With Death’s advance gambling away with my addictive tendencies
And these golden eyes shine bright
With silver hopes
Laced with tidbits of salt
Grounded in constellation smiles
Treading ever so playfully on my heart
Liplocked straight razors
Slicing through my every dream
Locked away in some far off
Hillsong forest
Benevolent to yours truly
With a guitar, bottle of whiskey
And a bullet.

What would Barbi wear,
If she went to Church?
Would it be white?
Would it be a modern mini
skirt, or would it be a pantsuit?
Could she be the new high priestess,
or would she be relegated to the sinners
confession box to cast all cares?
Or would she be Hillsong's worship
redeemer, belting out blessed
croons to lull our sins'
anxiety-inducing tunes?
It would be a shimmering
rainbow-sequenced number
flowing with loving kindness.
Maybe Barbi could save the Church,
elevating it to a new perch.