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Let the truth blow like a hurricane through me. Deeper than bones.
Say shit, say death, say fuck the father, Satan says, down my ear. The pain of the locked past buzzes in the child's box on her bureau, under the terrible round pond eye etched around roses, where self-loathing gazed at sorrow. excerpt from Satan Says by Sharon Olds Most recent entries. Links
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song: Ghetto Gospel artist: Tupac feat. Elton John Hit 'em with a little ghetto gospel [Chorus: Elton John] Those who wish to follow me (My ghetto gospel) I welcome with my hands and the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold And peace to this young warrior Without the sound of guns [Verse 1] If I could recollect before my hood days I'd sit and reminisce thinkin of bliss of the good days I stop and stare at the younger my heart goes to 'em They guessed it was stress that they under And nowadays things changed Everyone's ashamed of the youth Cuz the truth look strange And for me it's reversed We left them a world that's cursed and it hurts Cuz any day they'll push the button And all good men like Malcolm X and Bobby Hutton died for nothin Don't it make you get teary, the world looks dreary When you wipe your eyes see it clearly There's no need for you to fear me If you take your time to hear me Maybe you can learn to cheer me It ain't about black or white cuz we're human I hope we see the light before it's ruined My Ghetto Gospel [Chorus] Those who wish to follow me (Ghetto gospel) I welcome with my hands and the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold And peace to this young warrior Without the sound of guns [Verse 2] Tell me do you see that old lady, ain't it sad? Livin outta bags But she's glad for the little things she has And over there there's a lady Crack got her crazy Guess who's givin birth to a baby I don't trip and let it fade me From outta the frying pan We jump into another form of slavery Even now I get discouraged Wonder if they take it all back Will I still keep the courage? I refuse to be a role model I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottles I make mistakes but learn from every one And when it's said and done I bet this brotha be a better one If I upset you don't stress Never forget that God hasn't finished with me yet I feel his hand on my brain When I write rhymes I go blind and let the Lord do his thing But am I less holy? Cuz I took a puff of blunt and drink a beer with my homies Before we find world peace We gotta find peace and end the war on the streets My Ghetto Gospel [Chorus] Those who wish to follow me (Yea, ghetto gospel) I welcome with my hands and the red sun sinks at last into the hills of gold And peace to this young warrior Without the sounds of guns Lord can you hear me speak? | Nothing burns the bridge, and then it burns. Thursday. 7.28.05 12:26 pm Suspension Maggie Smith Once you cross, as you must, you cannot go back. There is nothing to retrieve: when the bridge catches fire, leave it all. Your hair, your hands may be lit; if you take photographs into your arms, they too will burn. You can see the lights of the city you left behind, but in miniature from the distance, a diorama. When the bridge falls, the smoke of its scaffolding hangs in the air, burning our eyes. This is architecture in the new world: the mere shadow of structure, the suspension bridge refusing to suspend. To be light enough to cross, you must be less of yourself. Remove everything down to your wristwatch. Whittle yourself to transparency. Cross the bridge as it burns, sparks in the wisps of your hair, and don't look back. It is already turning to smoke. Soon it will not hold you. 0 Comments.
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