anthony, tony chabaputa

Spiritual hashishi is what gets me so high
That no one can pray and take me down
The treasure of light and sound
Turning me into the only one figment of my own mind
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Its either I smoked weed a lot or am just mistaking myself for someone with spirits so high
Only the most high and nobody else tells me why
the mind can’t really die
They can’t stop me they can’t try
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Beyond the mount zion uptops
Where the smoke of sacrifice goes
The risen lion roars
Like a messanger of God that calls
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Blessed be this glorious moment
Peace of mind is all ours and we are so much ready to reason with the prophet
Deep into the Holy of Holies
We humble our souls to join the praying Highpriest
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To be agnostic is as dumb as failing to realize that you have been a fool of the lowest class
For God would consider it a sin
There is n o reason why you must fail to recognize this natural religious entanglement of the human mass
2 of the 7 questions of religion would be, where have you been?
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Vital for life on earth are mountains.
Climb the mountains and set their good tidings
Nature’s peace will flow as sunshine flows into trees
As the swift bees gather Jah Children are gathered among mountains
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Who chooses not to dwell in love?
Has he got wisdom?
Is he part of the one who dwells in heaven above?
A set on love will do no wrong
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Will you sing with me my merry songs of love?
Whose lyrics I found written on walls of the heavens above
If I beat the drum of my heart
And it makes me so warm
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Into your clean-handed life i commit all esteem and bestowment,
My most thoroughgoing aristocrat and acquiescent child of exceptional home run.
Your prestigious form and chain of hereditary,
Are but a section of my lionized line of ancestry.
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'When you sleep and know it not
The grey dog creeps among you.
In your sleep, you twist, your soul hurts you.
The grey dog is chewing your entrails.
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THE ART OF WAR
When troops are allotted to get moving and enter the battle zone,
Generals assemble, in their tounsands, worshiping the god of war and awaiting the battle call.
At black carries on, like clones under the sick lord's All-Seeing-Eye control.
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THE ART OF FIRE.
In defiance of the trembling,
And the dancing,
And the excruciating,
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man of full discernment and holy orders,
Comes to us from round the burning of alters.
Through his lips, the smoke predominates and the truth is uttered,
Mortal-sustaining rites of baptism and sacrifice,
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At the starting lineof my condition of living,
That lumbering cross,
Under which only one she-self suffered
The endurance of calling forth what men call and see
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Its not corpse
Until the thick scarlet fluid ceases to run through it,
Here, in the compounded soul of the world
Where still there is enough room
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What a man is to fear about computers is that, hereafter,
These god-machines might make advancements and take over the universe,
And we humans would have to be revivified and maintained and repaired by these automatic lords of the world.
Strong rulers of the cosmos of high tech are computers themselves.
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