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Killah Priest
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Rest on the weekend Garden of Eden The carbon I’m breathing with oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen Leviathan rise from the sea while I absorb the sun’s vitamin, which is the light of men Libations to the divine Cave excavations, migrations of the nine Indwelling principles, my mother’s name is in the shrine Extended continents, flames around my mind Object of adoration, spiritual ascension through extension The miracle of [Kidman?] The mirrors drew attеntion Imperial dimensions We’rе grafted into the spiritual roots then fashioned into our physical suits Left the wild trees, strange fruit, the valleys rain produced, sugarcane juice Book of angels Near a brook, a volcano The pillars shook and became loose, and out of the fog, came a moose Like the fairytale of mother goose, it spoke, and camouflaged within the smoke like a ghost The hand of God grabbed my coat, then we float The Land of Nod I awoke and I wrote on these tablets broken up in fragments Placed them in the basement, put some in the attic Rolled them up in fabrics Took them to the labyrinth and the secret pa**age Reaching the weekend of the sabbath The cave ground steepens then leaking with gases Maybe fatal and that man may be Gabriel hovering over the baby’s cradle Helen [Kova?], the lady angel, talking to herself in a low tone Morph into an elk Walking by himself above the crow flown The cross is skull and bones All alone being the object of contempt Distrust destroys my desire This is baptism or a rinse Mom, you’re my everything and I never will forget No regrets as we lay her to rest Me and Paulette was blessed, had us both on the sixteenth day October and August was next We love you, mama, with some much honor You were the greatest, we hover your spaceship You snuck away in the silence Every day is a challenge It’s hard for us to embrace it She went far above the space weightless Balance I wonder if it’s ever struck you how curious a thing it is that most of the things that we experience we regard as things that happen to us which we ourselves do not originate, which are events expressing some sort of power or activity that is external to ourselves
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