I was on some kind of a never ending silent treatment as if somehow God would actually read my blog and somehow respond to me—among everything else going on in this mad, mad world, including and not limited what seemed like the near blanket agreement that if one was to believe in God then it was merely a delusion which at best should be considered a form of mental illness…
“Got some attachments and baggage I’m working on leaving.”
10,000 hours, met Malcolm Gladwell at Microsoft.
“Sounds of the city on Capital Hill,
I wore cowboy boots
and did line dances on the bar
where the time went slow
while I learned to drink PBR.”
Here’s looking at you, Rosie.
You thought you could distract me from my homework? I’m going after the belly of the beast, and I couldn’t be more hungry. You carry the blood of my brothers, sisters, prophets and prophetesses.
Following this I saw another Angel descend from Heaven:
His authority was immense,
his glory flooded earth with brightness,
his voice thunderous:
“Ruined, ruined, Great Babylon, ruined!
A ghost town for demons is all that’s left!
A garrison of carrion spirits,
garrison of loathsome, carrion birds.
All nations drank the wild wine of her whoring;
kings of the earth went whoring with her;
entrepreneurs made millions exploiting her.”
Just then I heard another shout out of Heaven:
Get out, my people, as fast as you can,
so you don’t get mixed up in her sins,
so you don’t get caught in her doom.
Her sins stink to high Heaven;
God has remembered every evil she’s done.
Give her back what she’s given,
double what she’s doubled in her works,
double the recipe in the cup she mixed;
Bring her flaunting and wild ways
to torment and tears.
Because she gloated,
“I’m queen over all, and no widow,
never a tear on my face,”
In one day, disasters will crush her—
death, heartbreak, and famine—
Then she’ll be burned by fire,
because God, the Strong God
who judges her, has had enough.
I am strengthened by fortified wine, I nibble on dry bread and think of the dust which composes my flesh, upon which you tread with scaled measure.
“Welcome to … the Heist.”
A girl and her kite, following the lead of a boy who decided to fly his and brought her holy spirit while she bathed thinking she was alone in the world.
Time to fly guys.
Eagle is in formation.
“Our virtue is in our name.“
I am Christian.
I treat this like my thesis
Well-written topic, broken down into pieces
I introduce then produce, words so profuse
And then amend it, every law that ever prevented
Our survival since our arrival documented in The Bible
Like Moses and Aaron
Things gon’ change, it’s apparent
And all the transparent gonna be seen through
Let God redeem you, keep your deen true
You can get the green too
Watch out what you cling to, observe how a queen do
And I remain calm reading the 73rd Psalm
Cause with all this going on I got the world in my palm
I’m making sure I’m with the 144
I’ve been here before this ain’t a battle, this is war
Word to Boonie, I make salat like a Sunni
Get diplomatic immunity in every ghetto community
Had opportunity went from Hoodshock to Hood-chic
But it ain’t what you cop, it’s about what you keep
And even if there are leaks, you can’t capsize this ship
Cause I baptize my lips every time I take a sip
—Lauryn Hill, Final Hour, The Miseducation Of Lauryn Hill
You won’t find me in the “Kingdom Hall” on Sunday, as I no longer confuse being a Christian with choosing a Religion.
No, you’ll find me talking to the “homeless” wanderer who I can’t take home, or in the bar the true ‘neon chapel‘, not in one of the apostolic mockeries down the street.
Angie Baby, Airwalker