(Taylor, Let Us) Love Like Angels #TaylorDateTony

Taylor, oh Taylor OH BABY!!! I don’t need no marriage to you Taylor….understand me my one day soon-to-be-snookums….lets forget about marriage, or being boyfriend/girlfriend….I can love you MO BETTER!!! #TaylorDateTony

--------------/Love Like Angels; ANGELS DO IT BETTER! #TaylorDateTony

Taylor, you have angel’s hair and your voice

like wind bearing angels’ wings

so why would I want otherwise, to lessen

to palliate our shared passion and deprive our hearts

of their very sustenance? Matrimony is but limitation

these heterosexual relations with barriers of flesh,

your lips like luscious barriers, our conversation (if and when we speak)

the gate barring entry into truly understanding our intellect

because authentic, real union is but a look.

When I stare at your CD covers, into your eyes I know all

instantaneously

and all I want to convey will only be antiquated with time

your skin, my skin so frustrating

this blog, my futile literary overture just stymied transmission of emotion:

lovers’ dialogue can only be spiritual fusion.

We speak celestial tongues, psychical, excluding physicality

our explosive sex radicalized, shared on new planes of being

not cheap, tawdry, or bawdy but pure like

streams of living water flowing…riverbanks in the City of God

nourishing white doves of charitable intentions.

If I put my hand on your wrists I could never feel

or intuit your pulse, your relations with Harry Styles, John Mayer

the most inconsequential drivel for even they could enter  

into this modality, a community shared not risking dilution of passion.

I want you bad, albeit with a motive not possessive or selfish

not laying claim to your personhood or identity,

my soul just wants our two souls’ immersion.

You and me together, absent touching flesh,

a fully understood intimacy reciprocated

unity for eternity – like we lived with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit

and loved it

  

-----------Matthew 22:23-33

The same day the Sadducees, who say there is no resurrection, came to Him and asked Him, saying: “Teacher, Moses said that if a man dies, having no children, his brother shall marry his wife and raise up offspring for his brother. Now there were with us seven brothers. The first died after he had married, and having no offspring, left his wife to his brother. Likewise the second also, and the third, even to the seventh. Last of all the woman died also. Therefore, in the resurrection, whose wife of the seven will she be? For they all had her.” Jesus answered and said to them, “You are mistaken, not knowing the Scriptures nor the power of God. For in the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels of God in heaven. But concerning the resurrection of the dead, have you not read what was spoken to you by God, saying, ‘I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob’? God is not the God of the dead, but of the living.” And when the multitudes heard this, they were astonished at His teaching.

Taylor Swift, My Abishag #TaylorDateTony



--------------/Taylor Swift, My Abishag #TaylorDateTony

Taylor Swift, my heart, once crowned vibrant and expectant

like an Israelite King suffused with joy aspiring to subdue the world
artful in his swag, Joab as his confidant

is getting old and brittle in your absence: I cant get warm

the biting chill, the frigidity of singleness has become

for me

over thirteen excruciating years

this incurable ill. Covers of shallow consolations put on me:

“love happens when you least expect it,”

“don’t love with your passion, choose a girl based on formula"
“try online dating willy nilly,” do NOT help

they do nothing to stop the chattering teeth of angst nor

the frozen tears of loneliness, me sobbing underneath moons

of lost opportunity. I have dispatched my desires

like feverish servants desperate to save their master,

to pursue the best, most beautiful woman in the land, full of intrigue

hair golden like the sun, a voice angelic sprinkled with zest

finally settling on the tribe of blonde, beguiling women

with exquisite song writing and senses of impeccable fashion-

the tribe of Swift, also known as the Shunammites.

You, indubitably are very lovely and suited for royal arms;

Please care for me, a ladle of warm soup to the mouth

like dating, sweet serenading lullabies before sleep like texting

deep warm embraces while staring into your beautiful eyes

like exchanging emails.  

Even though I do not know you, just having you here

would be like redeeming the scepter

and take the sharp acrid sting

out of being alone

(TAYLOR SWIFT PLEASE DATE ME (ILL BE YOUR KING DAVID –AS BEST I CAN)!!!! I NEED YOUR WARM COMPANY TO INSULATE ME AGAINST THE SHIVERY BANE OF SINGLENESS!!! #TAYLORDATETONY)   

-----1 Kings 1:1-4

Now King David was old, advanced in years; and they put covers on him, but he could not get warm. Therefore his servants said to him, “Let a young woman, a virgin, be sought for our lord the king, and let her stand before the king, and let her care for him; and let her lie in your bosom, that our lord the king may be warm.” So they sought for a lovely young woman throughout all the territory of Israel, and found Abishag the Shunammite, and brought her to the king. The young woman was very lovely; and she cared for the king, and served him; but the king did not know her.

The Upper Room of My Weekend Bonfire: To My Future Wife

[My future wife is Thomas and I got scars - one of them is a redhead I just met]

----------------------/The Upper Room of My Weekend Bonfire: To My Future Wife

I picture my love as a savior of sorts,

a man eager to die for your attention and affection,

a sacrificial propitiation for all the men who cheated on you

chased into a stilted, suffocating room huddled, shoulder to shoulder,

with your deepest fears of unfulfilled romance like traumatized disciples

censuring each other for talking out too loudly;

the prospect of Pharisaical persecution, the armed guards of rejection

marching for romantic bloodshed - looming tensely.

As for me, the jeering and the nails, the betrayals of women in my past life

barbarous like Roman centurions with spears who would lance a dead body

hanging, have crucified my weakened flesh

and hardened my resolve to find the right woman to marry.

(I no longer wilt when spurned or cry when disregarded)

My resurrected hopes of finding true love, amidst the vitriolic hate,

are like prophetic vindications of all that I am,

reaffirming  the beauty and symmetry of my humble intentions

as a young boy with manger-like aspirations to woo

the most beautiful woman in the world.

And I dont heed walls anymore, the barriers and impediments

that try to predetermine the failure of my prospects to win you over –

your age, my race, or my socioeconomic status,

I promise, when the time is right I will instantly appear before you

like I waltzed through rooms with locked doors of opposition, invisibly

miraculously

and you will only have to touch the scars I’ve accrued over the years,

feel the cumulative adversity I’ve have had to endure

to know my commitment for  and to you is eternal. Specifically:

these lacerations on my side, the deep prints of nails in my hands

were given to me by a girl with red hair this past weekend

while talking at a bonfire.

(It hurts that I cant have her, but I guess it just wasnt meant to be - this pain will only sweeten the marital bond between me and my future wife I assume!?) 

 ------------------/John 20:24-29

Now Thomas, called the Twin, one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. The other disciples therefore said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” So he said to them, “Unless I see in His hands the print of the nails, and put my finger into the print of the nails, and put my hand into His side, I will not believe.” And after eight days His disciples were again inside, and Thomas with them. Jesus came, the doors being shut, and stood in the midst, and said, “Peace to you!” Then He said to Thomas, “Reach your finger here, and look at My hands; and reach your hand here, and put it into My side. Do not be unbelieving, but believing. ”And Thomas answered and said to Him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Thomas, because you have seen Me, you have believed. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.”

Into A Bosom Forever [Dedicated to the Boston Bombing Victims]

* Saint John pray for me

* Dedicated to Keane, Somewhere Only We Know
http://youtu.be/Oextk-If8HQ 

* Dedicated to the victims of the Boston Marathon Bombing Massacre

Now there was leaning on Jesus' bosom one of his disciples, whom Jesus loved. – John 13:23

-------------/Into A Bosom Forever; John’s Thoughts Resting On Jesus’ Bosom

In between lamb and bitter herbs candles sway

slowly as if dancing synchronistically. I lay my head back

intentionally savoring this moment

gleaning memories, and stories, from dialogues and smiles

and laughter and singing from everyone –

 this magical, amazing ambiance of twelve romantics

on a wild, wily unpredictable path. Of death and life we hum in chorus

fondly recalling all the inconsequential minutiae along the way,

red wine euphoria, razzing each other in turn for foibles and faux pas:

snickering at the near drowning in Galilee,

razzing about the inability to expel irascible demons, we bellow in unison

“NOT WITHOUT PRAYER AND FASTING!!!!!!” guffawing, unsure

whether or not fate would have us withstand all that is to come.

Trading grapes, unleavened bread for reverent accolades

praises for a man rife with baffling healing, miraculous feeding and purging temples

- our Savior who makes all seem easy and effortless. As if he were born for improbability

a baby born amongst sheep with claims to Kingship

wreaking of dung insisting on heaven and holiness, bleating sheep are trumpet blasts…this man

esteeming outcasts and tax collectors as royalty

brings me to tears. Its warm outside tonight,

the luminescent rays of the moon give the room a white glow, hallowed,

like Elijah must have looked in his chariot, and Enoch resplendent

before they went to be with God.

The God whose bosom feels like home

a place only we know ….and never want to leave.

[To all the victims of this unspeakable tragedy, my prayers are with you - may we all rest in the Bosom of Jesus together one day soon....away from all the madness, and hate]

------------Somewhere Only We Know Lyrics

I walked across an empty land

 I knew the pathway like the back of my hand

 I felt the earth beneath my feet

 Sat by the river and it made me complete

Oh simple thing where have you gone?

 I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

 So tell me when you're gonna let me in

 I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

I came across a fallen tree

 I felt the branches of it looking at me

 Is this the place we used to love?

 Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?

 I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

 So tell me when you're gonna let me in

 I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go

 Talk about it somewhere only we know?

 This could be the end of everything

 So why don't we go

 Somewhere only we know?

 Somewhere only we know?

Oh simple thing where have you gone?

 I'm getting old and I need something to rely on

 So tell me when you're gonna let me in

 I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin

And if you have a minute why don't we go

 Talk about it somewhere only we know?

 This could be the end of everything

 So why don't we go?

 So why don't we go?

Ah-ah-ah

 Ah-ah-ah

This could be the end of everything

 So why don't we go

 Somewhere only we know?

 Somewhere only we know?

 Somewhere only we know?

Just What I Am (Lets Do This St. Peezy!!!)

* Dedicated to St. Paul

* Dedicated to Kid Cudi, Just What I Am

St. Paul, what up son???? St. Peezy how you livin fam? Ahhh, Im so excited dawg! I don’t even know what Im bout to write for real! St. Paul, Im Catholic, riiiiiiiight? So you know I believe in the full unbroken, living and active communion of the saints, werd! So concomitantly dat means I have full license to pray to you son! SO IM PRAYING RIGHT NOW THAT YOU WOULD SPEAK TO ME! SPEAK WORDS INTO THIS POEM SON! LETS GO!!!!!! WOOOOO!!!! (Can I get an Amen?!!!! Amen!!!!)

----------------/ Acts Chronicles Chapter 22 (Part 1): All That I Am, No Longer Can Be; Paul’s Thoughts On Being Interrogated By the Jews Enveloped In Dust

Dirt plumes have a way of mimicking nebular haze  

a burst of thickened mass (before fading)

into which we externalize fears, euphorias and utopias

visioning the life we always thought we should’ve lived,

the duration of which seems to extend

forever. I was a Roman Jew straddling two worlds

trying to embrace both, warmly, cleaving to one

passionately kissing the other wryly avoiding

jealousy; fine wine flowing down my chin

wiped with hands cloaked in blasphemers’ blood,

sneering drunkenness of the damned misguided.

I distinctly remembering sleeping soundly each night.

I wanted, at that time, to fashion myself piety’s paragon,

wielding the same Roman knife that

protects citizenry against both insurrection and unorthodoxy

wearing Caesar’s olive wreath and riding Elijah’s chariot

in the sky. Yet this selfsame dust spurs delusional difference

with mixed opinion amongst my detractors,

it accentuates a visage in stark contrast

to the maddened fanatics that dispersed it enraged,

in it they see in me the face, and silhouette, of a Philistine resurrected

amassing the courage of David to beat with false accusations

that ping like rocks that impale with spears

of a centurion. As the cloud dissipates my eyes focus

with clarity

(on all I once was and just what  I am now)

my two worlds spurning me, two lives of prestige

wrenching themselves from my body like a cruel dissection,

a certificate of divorce issued from the beloved,

of torture at the hands of those who hate me.

Saul the Pharisee, Saul the citizen of Tarsus

enjoining their voices with the cacophonous calls for murder:

Kill Paul...he is no longer worthy

to be one of us

--------------------Acts 22:22-23

And they listened to him until this word, and then they raised their voices and said, “Away with such a fellow from the earth, for he is not fit to live!” Then, as they cried out and tore off their clothes and threw dust into the air,

----------------Just What I Am Lyrics

[Verse 1: King Chip]

I'm just what you made God

Not many I trust

I'mma go my own way, God

Take my faith to wherever you wanast

I'm out here, on my son

Won't stop 'til I get me some

Club-hoppin', tryin' to get me some

Bad b*es wanna get me sprung

Early in the morning, I'm wakin' bakin', drinkiExplainn', contemplatin'

Ain't no such thing as Satan, evil is what you make it

Thank the Lord for that burning bush

That big body benz I was born to push

On my way I'm burning kush

Nigga don't be worried 'bout us

Neighbors knockin' on the door, asking can we turn it down

I say, "Ain't no music on" she said, "Naw, that weed is loud"

Nigga, we ballin', straight swaggin'

Lost Hawk, but I'm maintainin'

I've been told that I'm amazing

Make sure keep that fire blazin', weed livin'

[Hook: Kid Cudi]

I need smoke

I need to smoke

Who gon' hold me down now

I want to get higher

I want to get higher

Need it to get by, ya

Can you get me higher?

I want to get higher

I want to get higher

Need it to get by, ya

Can you get me higher?

I'm just what you made God, I'm just what you made God

I'm just what you made God (Nee-need it)

I'm just what you made God, what you made God

I'm just what you made God

[Verse 2: Kid Cudi]

Let me tell you 'bout my month y'all

Endless shopping, I had a ball

I had to ball for therapy

My shrink don't think that helps at all

Whatever, that man ain't wearing these leather pants

I diagnose my damn self

These damn pills ain't working fam

In my spare time

Punching walls, F*ing up my hand

I know that shit sound super cray

But if you had my life you'd understand

But, I can't fold, some poor soul got it way worse

We're all troubled, in a world of trouble

It's scary to have a kid walk this Earth

I'm what you made God

F* yes I'm so odd

Thinking 'bout all my old friends

Who weren't my friends all along

Hm, when it rains it pours

Whiksey bottles of the six and fours

Everyday the first things a chore

Amidst a dream with no exit doors

[Hook]

[Outro]

Need it to get by, ya

Willy

Aaron’s Dreams and Nightmares

* dedicated to Meek Mill, Dreams and Nightmares

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S8gfqs1-NuE

-----------------------/Aaron’s Diary [Part 1] – Aaron’s Dreams and Nightmares – Thoughts While Moses Is Away

Scarab beetles pinch, jackals growl advancing towards me

howling

their eyes glow and mouths froth heralded by foul breath, the stench of death

horrid, the proof of a rich heritage of biting.

They, projecting their thoughts of blood telepathically to me

as emissaries announcing their intent;

a short distance behind them a crescendo builds: the war horn of Egyptian soldiers in lockstep

determinedly follow as I start to hyperventilate yet my limp limbs leaden

are so heavy I cant move, and my voice is so petrified it goes mute…..I cant signal for help.  

On the other side of consciousness my sweet Elisheb

cradling my convulsing body singing– the promises of Moses –

tender cadences of assurance that his return is imminent….

Glory has not forsaken me so I can return to sleeping.

Yet the people beyond my tent, and the tabernacle murmur insurrection

(in my dreams, my nightmares and my waking)

the perilous insecurities of back scars, anger of rebels,

welts on chins from punches from tyrannical warlords, and the shrill screams,

sickening, of babies in continuous squalor haunt them,

and I fear they are one more night from delirium and I one moon removed

from suicide. We need a totem of hope

in the face of adversity to stand strong and resolute like a bull made of gold,

to cultivate an honorable rapport  with the nations flanking us rebuffing

our former oppressors’ rebukes of intimidation – that for those daring enough to defect

there are only skeletons beyond the Red Sea.

As a boy I knew Yahweh not, my scabbed feet callous from building pyramids in hot sand

forty days in his absence has supplanted the bellowing of Pharaoh on opposite shores

exhilaration of impossible feats, the newness of our liberation;

trust in a new God

paranoia is replacing painful patience in the face of an unruly mob of Hebrews…

questioning Moses… (and needing to be placated)

without faith and guidance and prayer and hope we all must return

Im sorry

to the foreign pagan gods we once knew

and may only ever know.

(maybe we were foolish to hope – obtuse to smile)

---------------------Exodus 32:1-6

And when the people saw that Moses delayed to come down out of the mount, the people gathered themselves together unto Aaron, and said unto him, Up, make us gods, which shall go before us; for as for this Moses, the man that brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we wot not what is become of him. And Aaron said unto them, Break off the golden earrings, which are in the ears of your wives, of your sons, and of your daughters, and bring them unto me. And all the people brake off the golden earrings which were in their ears, and brought them unto Aaron. And he received them at their hand, and fashioned it with a graving tool, after he had made it a molten calf: and they said, These be thy gods, O Israel, which brought thee up out of the land of Egypt. And when Aaron saw it, he built an altar before it; and Aaron made proclamation, and said, To morrow is a feast to the Lord. And they rose up early on the morrow, and offered burnt offerings, and brought peace offerings; and the people sat down to eat and to drink, and rose up to play.

-----Dreams and Nightmares Lyrics

Ain't this what they've been waiting for?

 You ready?

I used to pray for times like this, to rhyme like this

 So I had to grind like that to shine like this

 In a matter of time I spent on some locked up s*

 In the back of the paddy wagon, cuffs locked on wrists

 See my dreams unfold, nightmares come true

 It was time to marry the game and I said, "Yeah, I do"

 If you want it you gotta see it with a clear-eyed view

 Got a shorty, she tryna bless me like I said, "Achoo"

 Like a nigga sneezed, nigga please before them triggers squeeze

 I'm gettin' cream, never let them hoes get in between

 Of what we started, lil' nigga but I'm lionhearted

 They love me when I was stuck and they hated when I departed

 I go and get it regardless, draw it like I'm an artist

 No crawling, went straight to walkin' with foreign cars in my garage

 Got foreign b* m*, f*', suckin', and swallowin'

 Anything for a dollar, they tell me get 'em, I got 'em

 I did it without an album

 I did s* with Mariah

 Lil' nigga I'm on fire

 Icy as a hockey rink, Philly nigga I'm Flyer

 When I bought the Rolls Royce they thought it was leased

 Then I bought that new Ferrari, hater rest in peace

 Hater rest in peace, rest in peace to the parking lot

 Phantom so big, it can't even fit in the parking spot

 You ain't talkin' bout my niggas then what you talkin' bout?

 Gangstas move in silence, nigga and I don't talk a lot

 I don't say a word, I don't say a word

 Was on my grind and now I got what I deserve f* nigga

 Hold up wait a minute, y'all thought I was finished?

 When I bought that Aston Martin y'all thought it was rented?

 Flexin' on these niggas, I'm like Popeye on his spinach

 Double M, yeah that's my team, Rozay the captain, I'm the lieutenant

 I'm the type to count a million cash then grind like I'm broke

 That Lambo, my new b*, she'll ride like my ghost

 I'm ridin' around my city with my hands strapped around my toast

 Cause these niggas want me dead and I gotta make it back home

 Cause my momma need that bill money and my son need some milk

 These niggas tryna take my life, they f* around get killed

 You f* around, you f* around, you f* around, get smoked

 Cause these Philly niggas I brought with me don't f* around, no joke

 All I know is murder, when it comes to me

 I got young niggas that's rollin' I got niggas throwin' b's

 I done did the DOAs, I done did the KODs

 Every time I'm in that b* I get to throwin' 30 G's

 Now I'm hanging out that drop head, I'm riding down on Collins

 They let my nigga Ern back home, that young nigga be wildin'

 We young niggas and we mobbin', like Batman and we're robbin' (Robin)

 This 2-door Maybach, with my seat all reclinin'

 I'm like real nigga what up, real nigga what up

 If you ain't about that murder game then p* nigga shut up

 If you diss me in yo' raps, I'll get your p* a* stuck up

 When you touchdown in my hood, no that tour life ain't good

 Catch me down in MIA, at that heat game on wood

 With that Puma life on my feet, like that little engine I could

 Boy I slide down on your block, bike on twelve o'clock

 And they be throwing deuces on the same nigga they watch

 And I'm the king of my city cause I'm still calling them shots

 And these lames talking that bulls* the same niggas that flock

 I'm the same nigga from Berks Street with them nappy braids that lock

 The same nigga that came up and I had to wait for my spot

 And these niggas hating on me, hoes waiting on me

 Still on that hood s*, my Rolls Royce on E

 They gon' remember me, I say remember me

 So much money have ya friends turn into enemies

 And with these beef I turn my enemies to memories

 With them bricks they go from 40 ain't no 10 a key, hold up

 Broke nigga turn rich, love the game like Mitch

 And if I leave you think them pretty hoes gon' still suck my d*?

 It was something 'bout that Rollie when it first touched my wrist

 Had me feeling like that dope boy when he first touched that brick

 I'm gone