tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23407651238446947222012-02-11T03:40:45.939-08:00God is good, that's my story and I'm sticking to itArt of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.comBlogger941100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-7491410320314006952010-02-17T05:57:00.000-08:002010-02-17T06:05:18.125-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20100217;15520100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/S3v3iOPheeI/AAAAAAAAANY/0m00G2MqbRM/s1600-h/illuminati.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 380px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/S3v3iOPheeI/AAAAAAAAANY/0m00G2MqbRM/s400/illuminati.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5439213142290823650" border="0" /></a> <br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">Ladies &amp; Gentlemen</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">It is Time...</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">For...</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">The...</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">L Rate Show.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">All the words that you see below are anagrams to my name, Tshwarelo (L Rate Show). Enjoy knowing me better, just like God.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:85%;">Hale Worst <br />Hale Trows <br />Hale Worts <br />Heal Worst <br />Heal Trows <br />Heal Worts <br />Haler Stow <br />Haler Wost <br />Haler Tows <br />Haler Twos <br />Halters Ow <br />Slather Ow <br />Lathers Ow <br />Whalers To <br />Halter Sow <br />Lather Sow <br />Whaler Sot <br />Heals Trow <br />Heals Wort <br />Shale Trow <br />Shale Wort <br />Leash Trow <br />Leash Wort <br />Hales Trow <br />Hales Wort <br />Halest Row <br />Lathes Row <br />Wealths Or <br />Whales Rot <br />Whales Ort <br />Whales Tor <br />Wheals Rot <br />Wheals Ort <br />Wheals Tor <br />Lathe Rows <br />Whale Rots <br />Whale Tors <br />Whale Sort <br />Wheal Rots <br />Wheal Tors <br />Wheal Sort <br />Earths Low <br />Earths Owl <br />Haters Low <br />Haters Owl <br />Hearts Low <br />Hearts Owl <br />Wreaths Lo <br />Rewash Lot <br />Washer Lot <br />Hawser Lot <br />Heart Lows <br />Heart Owls <br />Heart Slow <br />Hater Lows <br />Hater Owls <br />Hater Slow <br />Earth Lows <br />Earth Owls <br />Earth Slow <br />Wreath Sol <br />Lea Worths <br />Lea Throws <br />Ale Worths <br />Ale Throws <br />Salter Who <br />Salter How <br />Staler Who <br />Staler How <br />Alters Who <br />Alters How <br />Alerts Who <br />Alerts How <br />Wastrel Oh <br />Wastrel Ho <br />Alter Show <br />Alter Hows <br />Alert Show <br />Alert Hows <br />Later Show <br />Later Hows <br />Leas Throw <br />Leas Wroth <br />Leas Worth <br />Sale Throw <br />Sale Wroth <br />Sale Worth <br />Ales Throw <br />Ales Wroth <br />Ales Worth <br />Seal Throw <br />Seal Wroth <br />Seal Worth <br />Weal Short <br />Wale Short <br />Tears Howl <br />Rates Howl <br />Tares Howl <br />Aster Howl <br />Stare Howl <br />Wares Loth <br />Swear Loth <br />Wears Loth <br />Tare Howls <br />Tear Howls <br />Rate Howls <br />Wear Sloth <br />Ware Sloth <br />Seat Whorl <br />Sate Whorl <br />Teas Whorl <br />Etas Whorl <br />Eats Whorl <br />East Whorl <br />Tea Whorls <br />Eat Whorls <br />Ate Whorls <br />Eta Whorls <br />Ah Trowels <br />Ha Trowels <br />Halo Strew <br />Halo Wrest <br />Harlots We <br />Harlot Sew <br />Lash Wrote <br />Lash Tower <br />Shalt Wore <br />Halts Wore <br />Laths Wore <br />Shawl Rote <br />Shawl Tore <br />Halt Worse <br />Halt Resow <br />Halt Sower <br />Halt Swore <br />Lath Worse <br />Lath Resow <br />Lath Sower <br />Lath Swore <br />Hora Welts <br />Horas Welt <br />Torah Slew <br />Rah Lowest <br />Rah Owlets <br />Rah Towels <br />Rash Towel <br />Rash Owlet <br />Wraths Ole <br />Wrath Oles <br />Wrath Sole <br />Wrath Lose <br />Wrath Sloe <br />Has Trowel <br />Ash Trowel <br />Hats Lower <br />Hats Rowel <br />Hast Lower <br />Hast Rowel <br />Shat Lower <br />Shat Rowel <br />Swath Lore <br />Swath Role <br />Thaws Lore <br />Thaws Role <br />Whats Lore <br />Whats Role <br />Hat Lowers <br />Hat Rowels <br />Hat Slower <br />What Loser <br />What Roles <br />What Lores <br />Thaw Loser <br />Thaw Roles <br />Thaw Lores <br />Oral Whets <br />Oral Thews <br />Orals Thew <br />Orals Whet <br />Solar Thew <br />Solar Whet <br />Laos Threw <br />Also Threw <br />Alto Shrew <br />Trawls Hoe <br />Trawl Shoe <br />Trawl Hoes <br />Trawl Hose <br />Salt Whore <br />Slat Whore <br />Last Whore <br />Awls Other <br />Awls Throe <br />Laws Other <br />Laws Throe <br />Slaw Other <br />Slaw Throe <br />Law Others <br />Law Throes <br />Awl Others <br />Awl Throes <br />Taro Welsh <br />Arts Whole <br />Tars Whole <br />Tsar Whole <br />Rats Whole <br />Star Whole <br />Straw Hole <br />Warts Hole <br />Wars Helot <br />Wars Thole <br />Wars Hotel <br />Raws Helot <br />Raws Thole <br />Raws Hotel <br />Tar Wholes <br />Rat Wholes <br />Art Wholes <br />Wart Holes <br />War Hostel <br />War Helots <br />War Hotels <br />War Tholes <br />Raw Hostel <br />Raw Helots <br />Raw Hotels <br />Raw Tholes <br />Sat Howler <br />At Howlers <br />Aw Holster <br />Aw Hostler <br />A Welsh Rot <br />A Welsh Ort <br />A Welsh Tor <br />A Shrew Lot <br />A Threw Sol <br />A Welts Rho <br />A Welt Rhos <br />A Erst Howl <br />A Rest Howl <br />A Set Whorl <br />Ah Lest Row <br />Ah Lets Row <br />Ah Welts Or <br />Ah Slew Rot <br />Ah Slew Ort <br />Ah Slew Tor <br />Ah Let Rows <br />Ah Erst Low <br />Ah Erst Owl <br />Ah Rest Low <br />Ah Rest Owl <br />Ah Strew Lo <br />Ah Wrest Lo <br />Ha Lest Row <br />Ha Lets Row <br />Ha Welts Or <br />Ha Slew Rot <br />Ha Slew Ort <br />Ha Slew Tor <br />Ha Let Rows <br />Ha Erst Low <br />Ha Erst Owl <br />Ha Rest Low <br />Ha Rest Owl <br />Ha Strew Lo <br />Ha Wrest Lo <br />Lash Re Tow <br />Lash Re Two <br />Lash Re Wot <br />Lash Wet Or <br />Lash We Rot <br />Lash We Ort <br />Lash We Tor <br />Shalt Re Ow <br />Shalt We Or <br />Halts Re Ow <br />Halts We Or <br />Laths Re Ow <br />Laths We Or <br />Shawl Re To <br />Halt Re Sow <br />Halt Res Ow <br />Halt Sew Or <br />Lath Re Sow <br />Lath Res Ow <br />Lath Sew Or <br />Rah Lest Ow <br />Rah Lets Ow <br />Rah Slew To <br />Rah Let Sow <br />Rah Welt So <br />Rah Set Low <br />Rah Set Owl <br />Rah Wets Lo <br />Rah Stew Lo <br />Rah West Lo <br />Rah Sew Lot <br />Rah Wet Sol <br />Rah We Lots <br />Rah We Lost <br />Rah We Slot <br />Rash Let Ow <br />Rash Wet Lo <br />Rash We Lot <br />Trash We Lo <br />Harts We Lo <br />Hart Sew Lo <br />Hart We Sol <br />Has Let Row <br />Has Welt Or <br />Ash Let Row <br />Ash Welt Or <br />Hats Re Low <br />Hats Re Owl <br />Hast Re Low <br />Hast Re Owl <br />Shat Re Low <br />Shat Re Owl <br />Swath Re Lo <br />Thaws Re Lo <br />Whats Re Lo <br />Wash Let Or <br />Wash Re Lot <br />Haws Let Or <br />Haws Re Lot <br />Hat Slew Or <br />Hat Re Lows <br />Hat Re Owls <br />Hat Re Slow <br />Hat Res Low <br />Hat Res Owl <br />What Re Sol <br />What Res Lo <br />Thaw Re Sol <br />Thaw Res Lo <br />Haw Lest Or <br />Haw Lets Or <br />Haw Re Lots <br />Haw Re Lost <br />Haw Re Slot <br />Haw Res Lot <br />Haw Erst Lo <br />Haw Rest Lo <br />La Eh Worst <br />La Eh Trows <br />La Eh Worts <br />La He Worst <br />La He Trows <br />La He Worts <br />La Her Stow <br />La Her Wost <br />La Her Tows <br />La Her Twos <br />La Hers Tow <br />La Hers Two <br />La Hers Wot <br />La Shrew To <br />La Threw So <br />La She Trow <br />La She Wort <br />La Hes Trow <br />La Hes Wort <br />La Whets Or <br />La Thews Or <br />La Shew Rot <br />La Shew Ort <br />La Shew Tor <br />La Hews Rot <br />La Hews Ort <br />La Hews Tor <br />La The Rows <br />La Hew Rots <br />La Hew Tors <br />La Hew Sort <br />La Erst Who <br />La Erst How <br />La Rest Who <br />La Rest How <br />La Strew Oh <br />La Strew Ho <br />La Wrest Oh <br />La Wrest Ho <br />La Wets Rho <br />La Stew Rho <br />La West Rho <br />La Wet Rhos <br />La We Short <br />Trawl Eh So <br />Trawl He So <br />Las Eh Trow <br />Las Eh Wort <br />Las He Trow <br />Las He Wort <br />Las Her Tow <br />Las Her Two <br />Las Her Wot <br />Las The Row <br />Las Thew Or <br />Las Whet Or <br />Las Hew Rot <br />Las Hew Ort <br />Las Hew Tor <br />Las Wet Rho <br />Salt Eh Row <br />Salt He Row <br />Salt Her Ow <br />Salt Hew Or <br />Salt Re Who <br />Salt Re How <br />Salt We Rho <br />Slat Eh Row <br />Slat He Row <br />Slat Her Ow <br />Slat Hew Or <br />Slat Re Who <br />Slat Re How <br />Slat We Rho <br />Last Eh Row <br />Last He Row <br />Last Her Ow <br />Last Hew Or <br />Last Re Who <br />Last Re How <br />Last We Rho <br />Awls Eh Rot <br />Awls Eh Ort <br />Awls Eh Tor <br />Awls He Rot <br />Awls He Ort <br />Awls He Tor <br />Awls Her To <br />Awls The Or <br />Awls Re Hot <br />Awls Re Tho <br />Laws Eh Rot <br />Laws Eh Ort <br />Laws Eh Tor <br />Laws He Rot <br />Laws He Ort <br />Laws He Tor <br />Laws Her To <br />Laws The Or <br />Laws Re Hot <br />Laws Re Tho <br />Slaw Eh Rot <br />Slaw Eh Ort <br />Slaw Eh Tor <br />Slaw He Rot <br />Slaw He Ort <br />Slaw He Tor <br />Slaw Her To <br />Slaw The Or <br />Slaw Re Hot <br />Slaw Re Tho <br />Law Eh Rots <br />Law Eh Tors <br />Law Eh Sort <br />Law He Rots <br />Law He Tors <br />Law He Sort <br />Law Her Sot <br />Law Hers To <br />Law She Rot <br />Law She Ort <br />Law She Tor <br />Law Hes Rot <br />Law Hes Ort <br />Law Hes Tor <br />Law Re Shot <br />Law Re Host <br />Law Re Hots <br />Law Res Hot <br />Law Res Tho <br />Law Erst Oh <br />Law Erst Ho <br />Law Rest Oh <br />Law Rest Ho <br />Law Set Rho <br />Awl Eh Rots <br />Awl Eh Tors <br />Awl Eh Sort <br />Awl He Rots <br />Awl He Tors <br />Awl He Sort <br />Awl Her Sot <br />Awl Hers To <br />Awl She Rot <br />Awl She Ort <br />Awl She Tor <br />Awl Hes Rot <br />Awl Hes Ort <br />Awl Hes Tor <br />Awl Re Shot <br />Awl Re Host <br />Awl Re Hots <br />Awl Res Hot <br />Awl Res Tho <br />Awl Erst Oh <br />Awl Erst Ho <br />Awl Rest Oh <br />Awl Rest Ho <br />Awl Set Rho <br />Arts Eh Low <br />Arts Eh Owl <br />Arts He Low <br />Arts He Owl <br />Arts Hew Lo <br />Tars Eh Low <br />Tars Eh Owl <br />Tars He Low <br />Tars He Owl <br />Tars Hew Lo <br />Tsar Eh Low <br />Tsar Eh Owl <br />Tsar He Low <br />Tsar He Owl <br />Tsar Hew Lo <br />Rats Eh Low <br />Rats Eh Owl <br />Rats He Low <br />Rats He Owl <br />Rats Hew Lo <br />Star Eh Low <br />Star Eh Owl <br />Star He Low <br />Star He Owl <br />Star Hew Lo <br />Straw Eh Lo <br />Straw He Lo <br />Warts Eh Lo <br />Warts He Lo <br />Wars Eh Lot <br />Wars He Lot <br />Wars The Lo <br />Wars Let Oh <br />Wars Let Ho <br />Raws Eh Lot <br />Raws He Lot <br />Raws The Lo <br />Raws Let Oh <br />Raws Let Ho <br />Tar Eh Lows <br />Tar Eh Owls <br />Tar Eh Slow <br />Tar He Lows <br />Tar He Owls <br />Tar He Slow <br />Tar She Low <br />Tar She Owl <br />Tar Hes Low <br />Tar Hes Owl <br />Tar Shew Lo <br />Tar Hews Lo <br />Tar Hew Sol <br />Tar Slew Oh <br />Tar Slew Ho <br />Rat Eh Lows <br />Rat Eh Owls <br />Rat Eh Slow <br />Rat He Lows <br />Rat He Owls <br />Rat He Slow <br />Rat She Low <br />Rat She Owl <br />Rat Hes Low <br />Rat Hes Owl <br />Rat Shew Lo <br />Rat Hews Lo <br />Rat Hew Sol <br />Rat Slew Oh <br />Rat Slew Ho <br />Art Eh Lows <br />Art Eh Owls <br />Art Eh Slow <br />Art He Lows <br />Art He Owls <br />Art He Slow <br />Art She Low <br />Art She Owl <br />Art Hes Low <br />Art Hes Owl <br />Art Shew Lo <br />Art Hews Lo <br />Art Hew Sol <br />Art Slew Oh <br />Art Slew Ho <br />Wart Eh Sol <br />Wart He Sol <br />Wart She Lo <br />Wart Hes Lo <br />War Eh Lots <br />War Eh Lost <br />War Eh Slot <br />War He Lots <br />War He Lost <br />War He Slot <br />War She Lot <br />War Hes Lot <br />War The Sol <br />War Lest Oh <br />War Lest Ho <br />War Lets Oh <br />War Lets Ho <br />War Let Hos <br />War Let Ohs <br />Raw Eh Lots <br />Raw Eh Lost <br />Raw Eh Slot <br />Raw He Lots <br />Raw He Lost <br />Raw He Slot <br />Raw She Lot <br />Raw Hes Lot <br />Raw The Sol <br />Raw Lest Oh <br />Raw Lest Ho <br />Raw Lets Oh <br />Raw Lets Ho <br />Raw Let Hos <br />Raw Let Ohs <br />As Threw Lo <br />As Welt Rho <br />Sat Her Low <br />Sat Her Owl <br />Sat Re Howl <br />Wast Her Lo <br />Swat Her Lo <br />Twas Her Lo <br />Was Her Lot <br />Was Let Rho <br />Was Re Loth <br />Saw Her Lot <br />Saw Let Rho <br />Saw Re Loth <br />At Welsh Or <br />At Her Lows <br />At Her Owls <br />At Her Slow <br />At Hers Low <br />At Hers Owl <br />At Shrew Lo <br />At Slew Rho <br />At Re Howls <br />At Res Howl <br />Aw Her Lots <br />Aw Her Lost <br />Aw Her Slot <br />Aw Hers Lot <br />Aw Lest Rho <br />Aw Lets Rho <br />Aw Let Rhos <br />Aw Re Sloth <br />Aw Res Loth</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-749141032031400695?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-24363900953715835842010-02-05T03:09:00.000-08:002010-02-05T03:09:56.060-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title>Shepherds &amp; Sheep</title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="AUTHOR" content="Modise Mogakane"><meta name="CREATED" content="20100205;16550000"><meta name="CHANGEDBY" content="Modise Mogakane"><meta name="CHANGED" content="20100205;16550000"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>Shepherds &amp; Sheep</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Composed by Modise Mogakane</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Written by Dido &amp; Tshwarelo Mogakane</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Produced By Modise Mogakane</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Mastered by Modise Mogakane &amp; Bentar Sibuyi</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Recorded @ 1335 Studios</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Arranged &amp; Mixed @ 1335 Studios</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Published by MegaMak Muzik</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><b>Track</b></i></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><u><b>Dido</b></u></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I will go down with this ship,</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And I won’t put my hands up, and surrender</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">There will be no white flag above my door</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I’m in love…</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And always will be… x 2</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i><b>Intro</b></i></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">(Aha</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And I can see you baby girl, and how you feel</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">You’know, those hundred feelings</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Of bitterness, desperation, confusion</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Yeah</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ribelatti’s here</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ribelatti loves you</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Shepherds and sheep</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ah)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><u><b>Ribelatti</b></u></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>Verse 1</i>:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the blanket of night, he creeps in her room</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">He’s sick, the creep trade-marking her doom</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Takes off his pajamas,</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Everything on the floor, including his tangas</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">In the other room sleeps her mama</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The death of world peace, sorry Mr. Dalai Lama</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I’ve got to speak it as I see it</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">If they ban me from talking my mind, so be it</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I got beef with motherfuckers who murder chickens</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As they say it in they drama, the plot thickens</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I think this kinda shit sickens</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">His dick on Viagra, so nothing weakens</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Alright Majita let’s talk this walk</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">You might be a globe-trotter</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But don’t ever cross this border</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">What kind of a father</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Sleeps with his own daughter?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ke re a le none le a bola</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A ke repe eke a sola</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Yo useless, ga le na mohola</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Le madimoni, kefa ba e rola</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Even the devil shakes in his boots</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">During the day, y’oll dressed in you suits</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Fela boshego, le di asshole</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">How you gonn shove yo penis in yo girl’s hole?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Explain it to me</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Be an artist, motherfucker paint it for me</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It might be nothing to you, but it’s a pain for me</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">What you call drizzle, is nothing but rain to me</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And I can see tonight it’s raining (tonight it’s raining)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And my heart is paining</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Yeah, Ah</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><i>Chorus</i></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><u><b>Dido</b></u></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I will go down with this ship,</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And I won’t put my hands up, and surrender</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">There will be no white flag above my door</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I’m in love…</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">And always will be… x 2</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><i>Verse 2</i></b>:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><u><b>Ribelatti</b></u></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Now…</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">She’s 25 feeling ready to date</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But the monster already decided her fate</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Her friends don’t know</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Today Mr. Boyfriend wants some more</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But she feels violated and dirty</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">What she gonn do when she turns 30?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Only God knows what goes on in the potholes and the pits of her heart</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But I’ma sing these hundred feelings into something Mozart</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Baby girl please smile</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Forget yo dad, just delete his file</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Permanently remove his ass from the recycle bin</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I know it’s hard dealing with this cardinal sin</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Even Social Development ain’t put money on it</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Where them politicians is at?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">What do I call it?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A crisis, a syndrome, a disaster?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Worse because one of these porn-star fathers is a pastor</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Daddy took her panties off</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">You tell mommy and all she can do is laugh</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Scold you and rough you up</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Hey people what the fuck is up?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Did you bring children into the world just to fuck ‘em up?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">For them to die?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">For them to keep quiet and protect the lie?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">This is a family matter</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">You tell that little girl</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I swear it would have been better</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Had she been born in hell</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><i>Outro</i></b>:</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">(Yeah,</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Dedicated to all the girls… who slept with they fathers</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Imagine shepherds having sex with sheep</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Leaders attacking followers in sleep</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Doesn’t it bother that this happens under yo nose?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Right under yo nose</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It’s not a secret, everybody knows</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Because the truth is strange</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">But it’s time for a change…</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Ribelatti…)</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">– ends –</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2436390095371583584?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-56676223785999595182009-07-13T23:00:00.000-07:002009-07-13T23:00:29.200-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title>Chiloane also spelt Chilwane/Tshilwane (grinding stone)</title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="AUTHOR" content="Eskom"><meta name="CREATED" content="20090713;10040000"><meta name="CHANGEDBY" content="Eskom"><meta name="CHANGED" content="20090713;10050000"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><b>Chiloane</b> also spelt <b>Chilwane/Tshilwane</b> (grinding stone) <br /> <br /><b>Dibakwane/Dibakoane</b> (those who quarrel) <br /><i>Ke Dibakwane wa matlhatse a khumo a tshwane a mmelegi <br />Ke motho wa tshema a lala kgotla <br />E bonwa ke motsoga pele <br />Motlaletsatsi a sa e boneng</i> <br /><i>Kua segodi seitsha maeba go sela <br />Kua phashaphasha a mmata <br />Kua mabele matsoga ntlong <br />Tshuri, tlhaka di se gona</i> <br /> <br /><b>Dilebo/Dilebe </b>(the looks) <br /><b>Kgwedi</b> (moon) <br /><b>Lebyane</b> <br /><b>Letswele</b> (Breast) <br /><b>Malele </b>(spyro gyra) <br /> <br /><b>Mashile </b>(The grinders) <br /><i>Re ba Mashile a Segodi sa Malekane <br />Mokibane wa monesa morale <br />Ngwana wa lepulana pula ga a tshabe <br />Ke matshaba tladi serutha ka mosela <br />Ntheng ya thaba magale a serorobele <br />Re Matshilwane a shibe <br />A shila naka la moshidi <br />Ka moso a shila tlhogo tsa batho <br />Rena ba maswika maramaga <br />Ekego mae a tshilwane</i> <br /> <br /><b>Mashego/Mashigo</b> ( they of the night/Mother of a night) <br /><i>Re Batau ba Phaageng a Malala a moenyane <br />Wa Mahlogo a sekwebe sa mmu ya Ngwalane <br />Re ba Malala segwete se mela ntsweng <br />Seroba thoka tsa bashimanyana <br />Re na ba Mashego a Sefeefee sa Mpuru wa Ngwalane <br /> <br />A variation of the above is: <br />Mashego wa malala sekgwete <br />Sekgwete wa mela ntsoeng <br />Serobo thoka tsa badisha <br />Madishanyana le maditla <br />Maditla ke marwala tshwele marwala <br />Tshwela motshagata <br />Re boya Shakwaneng <br />Shakwaneng ga kgomo go phalang <br />Go phala motho ba sa djyin <br />Kgomo ma lela teng <br />Moloko keo tsibela kae? <br />O iye le beng ba kgale <br />Ba geshu ba ga Mashego. <br /> <br />Other groupings of Mashego who are an offshoot of Matšie say <br />"Ke Mashego 'a thogane ya Matšie, <br />Seoka moeba, <br />Segodi sa malekane, <br />Batau ba sa tshabego, <br />Baja tau ba shiya moboko". <br /></i> <br /><b>Matšie/Matšia </b>(They of the locust/mother of locusts) <br /><i>Re ba Matšie a pooshwa diboko le Chiloane <br />Re batho ba Shakwaneng <br />Shako la motho le kgomo go phalang? <br />go phala motho go ba kgomo re lla re djya</i> <br /> <br /><b>Makhubedu</b> (the red ones/mother of reds) <br /><b>Malumane/Malomane</b> (He who bites) <br /><b>Mawele</b> (those who fall) <br /><b>Malope</b> <br /><b>Marule</b> <br /> <br /><b>Mogane</b> (those who refuse) <br />*BagaMogane assimilated into Mapulana in the 1800’s. Their forefather, Ngobeni, came with the White gold miners who came to Pilgrim’s Rest. Ngobeni was a Shangaan. Amongst Mapulana he was called Kobeng as they could not pronounce his name. His nickname was Mogane. Because of his privileged position as a translator, and with the help of his masters he assumed chieftancy of a group of bagaMashigo which was under Kaishang. Their praise poem Mogane o edja togolo ya Mashego attest to this peculiar arrangement. The poem means that bagaMogane eat a type of mielie porridge which belonged to Mashego. <br /><i>Ke Mogane a edja togolo a Mashego a Malale <br />Wa segwete semela ntsweng <br />Se se apegago ke badia le badithla</i> <br /> <br /><b>Mogakane </b>(those who confuse) <br /><b>Moganedi</b> <br /><b>Morema/Moreme</b> ( a chopper/cutter) <br /> <br /><b>Nonyane/Nonyana</b> (bird) <br /><i>Ke Nonyana wa Sheibe a Matlabishe <br />Wa lebalela la mmala wa phaga ya Moenyane <br />Nonyana e kgolo Serufse maila go shupiwa <br />Ke ba batho ba Sekurukuru se tsebeng</i> <br /><b>Sedibe </b>(pool/lake) <br /> <br /><b>Phosa/Maphosa</b> <br /><b>Segage</b> <br /><b>Mapaela</b> <br /><b>Mphokane/Phokane <br />Makutu</b> <br /><b>Mokwena</b> <br /><i>Kwena ya madiba a magolo</i> <br /><b>Shakwane</b> (they of the reeds) <br /><b>Segodi</b> <br /><b>Selekane</b> <br />Selekane (Mokone who become assimilated into Mapulana) <br /><i>Ke Selekane wa sefala tlhaga a Maubane <br />Ke Mokone wa go befa mmele, tlhaka la nko la ologa <br />Ke mokokona pola ka pedi, e nngwe a shieyela bana</i> <br /><b>Phoku</b> <br /><b>Sehlabelo</b> <br /><b>Tsatsi/Tjatj</b>i (sun) <br /><b>Thibela</b> (stoppers) <br /><b>Theledi </b>(slippery) <br /><b>Theko</b></span>span style="font-size:14">(Price) <br /> <br />Theko wa mankobole <br />Mokoni wa mokokona phola ka pedi <br />Yengwe ke ya beya peu <br />Le ya Shatleng mokokotlelo mohobo ele mokokotlelo <br />Re batho ba maila hlako ya moriri <br />Re batho ba Mankob</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5667622378599959518?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-55407228458520883722009-03-11T04:40:00.000-07:002009-03-11T04:47:10.896-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20090311;11242900"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Sbej8Yc2tVI/AAAAAAAAALs/mruBVRV4_tw/s1600-h/wright.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Sbej8Yc2tVI/AAAAAAAAALs/mruBVRV4_tw/s320/wright.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311894543257744722" border="0" /></a> <br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>Reverend Jeremiah Wright</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>A.K.A – RJ WEEZY</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I leave masepa on yo faces as my sermons dive-bomb yo congregation</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">it's abomination as they question “why bomb this conversation on conservation?”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">but yo definition of indoctrination is pure defecation</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">my lyrical dispersion leave you bitches incinerated in utter ululation</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">trojen horse in yo system yo data needs reconfiguration</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">but you can't figure razing</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">as my deep-seated pyro-disequilibrium keeps on blazing</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">not for rhyme's sake but my poetic selenium's just amazing</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">coz though my flock, in the valley, I'ma keep 'em grazing</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">coz though I walk, through this valley, I'ma reap 'em paper-chasing</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I cure ill mc's' pure disease like it's a leper phrasing,</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">if Obama's really hanibbal rising, then Lekgema got eyes on a rapper raising</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">feed my curiosity and tell me why you wanna fuck with a holy nigga?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">it will take damn sheer luck for you to be a phony Jigga</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">yo're in the bush, ass nigga, yo meagre than Rah Digger</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">forgot you was a re-pub-licker</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">fake or real yo're a sucker mc</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">you can't even emulate emminem you can't annihilate me</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">you don't qualify to be</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">ask me to nullify you'll see,</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">heroes become zeroes in milliseconds</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">you'll see billions become millions that's where the sex ends</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">cd4 counts lowered in single low cuts</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">upper cuts quickly turned into faster darts</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">hitting like Reapley, I let them go from umshini wam'</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">release them like when a bitch see me cum</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">when I F U C K yo lips</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I'ma nuke y'all CIA audio clips</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">ke le muur ka di khoro bricks</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">yes, yo chicks that I saw in porno flicks</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">yo're the former</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I'm the suicide bomber</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">you couldn't find Osama</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">so you passing batonto Obama</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">yo dream is to see this republic a banana</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">but a banana's what I give to Jenna</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">the nuts I leave for Barbara</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">put her on a pill or rubber</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">to avoid my sons calling you grandfather</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">coz sex with yo daughter</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">is as fucked up as a dance with a cobra</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">everybody know yo the snake that was chased from the oval o--------ffice</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">now bend over, as I shake like a sheik be a pain in yo orifice</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">it's all over, God damn America forget about world peace</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I bring the sword paint yo dreams black like ludacris</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">if I'm Jeremiah then my prophecy's Wright</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">think you can battle a man of God, yeah right! </span></span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5540722845852088372?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-24977470741361129172009-01-22T21:49:00.000-08:002009-01-22T21:51:17.891-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/SXlavgx8GnI/AAAAAAAAALM/6uTEZ2V0t10/s1600-h/garvey.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 247px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/SXlavgx8GnI/AAAAAAAAALM/6uTEZ2V0t10/s320/garvey.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5294362609250474610" border="0" /></a><br /><p><strong>MAN KNOW THYSELF </strong> </p> <p>For man to know himself is for him to feel that for him there is no human master. For him Nature is his servant, and whatsoever he wills in Nature, that shall be his reward. If he wills to be a pigmy, a serf or a slave, that shall he be. If he wills to be a real man in possession of the things common to man, then he shall be his own sovereign. When man fails to grasp his authority he sinks to the level of the lower animals, and whatsoever the real man bids him do, even as if it were of the lower animals, that much shall he do. If he says "go." He goes. If he says "come," he comes. By this command he performs the functions of life even as by a similar command the mule, the horse, the cow perform the will of their masters. For the last four hundred years the Negro has been in the position of being commanded even as the lower animals are controlled. Our race has been without a will; without a purpose of its own, for all this length of time. </p> <p>Because of that we have developed few men who are able to understand the strenuousness of the age in which we live. Where can we find in this race of ours real men. Men of character, men of purpose, men of confidence, men of faith, men who really know themselves? I have come across so many weaklings who profess to be leaders, and in the test I have found them but the slaves of a nobler class. They perform the will of their masters without question. To me, a man has no master but God. Man in his authority is a sovereign lord. As for the individual man, so of the individual race. This feeling makes man so courageous, so bold, as to make it impossible for his brother to intrude upon his rights. </p> So few of us can understand what it takes to make a man - the man who will never say die; the man who will never give up; the man who will never depend upon others to do for him what he ought to do for himself; the man who will not blame God, who will not blame Nature, who will not blame Fate for his condition; but the man who will go out and make conditions to suit himself. Oh, how disgusting life becomes when on every hand you hear people (who bear your image, who bear your resemblance) telling you that they cannot make it, that Fate is against them, that they cannot get a chance. If 400,000,000 Negroes can only get to know thesmelves, to know that in them is a sovereign power, is an authority that is absolute, then in the next twenty-four hours we would have a new race, we would have a nation, an empire, - resurrected, not from the will of others to see us rise, - but from our own determination to rise, irrespective of what the world thinks<div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2497747074136112917?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-42599398414220085172009-01-19T00:42:00.000-08:002009-01-19T00:43:05.861-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20090119;8140300"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b><i>MegaMak Entertainment (ME) </i></b>releases super sermons</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Good news everyone. After a long time strategising, <b><i>ME</i></b> has released two powerful DVD's in association with <b><i>Divine Construction Ministries</i></b> leader Awesome God. The inspired products were released through <b><i>Films by ME</i></b>, a subsidiary of <b><i>ME</i></b>.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">These are the following products:</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>1. Stop Effing Around: Success is yours</b></i></span></span></p> <ul><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">In this hot DVD the Awesome God helps you discover God's Detailed Plan For Your Life. Many times Christians believe that only giving their money to preachers will help them become successful. Unfortunately they end up losing money and making no profit. So, the Awesome God challenges the believer to ask himself why offering leads him/her to suffering when it should lead them to prosperity. God's plan is not to harm you but to prosper you. The question is, what is that plan?</span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Price: R49.00</span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Contact: Ntate J Modise @ 073 078 2319</span></span></p> </li></ul> <p style="margin-left: 0.64cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>2. The Problem ke Pipi Ngwaneru</b></i></span></span></p> <ul><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">In this hot offering Awesome God introduces a controversial concept: PIPI. Narrating biblical stories, he shows you how this PIPI (proudly inherited personal immobility) has destroyed many men and women of destiny. He helps you gain the understanding that in Christ you have new genes and that you don't have to be like your natural father or mother, but like God the Father. He opens you up to the truth that you are a junior God and that you were born of an incorruptible seed, no matter what your natural inheritance is.</span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Price: R49.00</span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Contact: Ntate J Modise @ 073 078 2319</span></span></p> </li></ul> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">PS: <b><i>PRODUCTS by ME</i></b> are meant to <b><i>Provoke</i></b>, <b><i>Inspire</i></b> and <b><i>Motivate</i></b> you to <b><i>Perspire</i></b> in order for you to attain your own success. In association with <b><i>Divine Construction Ministries</i></b> we believe that (rhetoric) faith without (meaningful) action is dead (James 2: 17).</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Upcoming <b><i>Products by ME</i></b> include Kasi Movies and other inspired DVD's. Look out for:</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <ol><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>Sekorokoro So (Movie)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>Get rid of dead things in your life (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>The King, The Son and The Question in Between (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>After Goliath, Then What? (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>The Deadly Power of Faith in Reserve (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>How to destroy the Senyama in you (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>Why God wants you to have plenty of money (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>The 9 Controversies of Jesus Christ (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>The 3 Valleys v/s The 3 Villas (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>Le Bafiti Mo Lefaseng (Sermon)</b></i></span></span></p> </li></ol><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4259939841422008517?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-57038317842630394482008-11-17T22:23:00.000-08:002008-11-17T22:25:52.063-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20081117;11384800"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --></style> Proclamations that the African National Congress (ANC) would rule until the return of Jesus Christ were nothing but premature ejaculation. I call this the Maahlamela Effect. For those who don't know the pre-legendary David wa Maahlamela, he is a poet who lives in Limpopo (yes, the famous garden of Eden where former president Thabo Mbeki was forced to eat the forbidden fatal fruit of defeat). Maahlamela will go down in the history of my thinking as a guy who won the battle way before it began. In one of his myriad of militant poems, Obituary for Maahlamela, the fearless word smith wrote that “Di retwa di etswa mokatong, fela nna ke etheta ke saya.” For those who are not familiar with the legendary Sepedi language of the Limpopo people, this would transliterate as “Don't count your eggs before they hatch, but I set up a whole chicken run before brooding is over.” In other words, Maahlamela is saying I jump before the drum beats and still waltz with rhythm. <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So what does this have to do with the ANC and the Zumalema-Shikota face-off? Well, everything. The ANC is the best party in the country and is an emotionally recognised liberation movement, not just for Black South Africa, but for all who live in it. However, I started smelling a rat, which many have confused for flame-grilled chicken, when pronouncements were made during imbizos that the party would rule until Jesus comes back. As you might have seen, volunteer convener of the Congress of the People (COPE) party, Mbhazima “Sam” Shilowa, has said that “Jesus is back, so it's over for the ANC. The tricky part is that COPE is ANC in a different wardrobe (remember Kanye West's “If the devil wear Prada/ and Adam and Eve wear nada/ I'm in between but way more fresher/ with way less effort)? It would seem to me that indeed COPE is way more fresher, what with the myopic ANC Youth League's failure to understand that arrogance from another doesn't go down well with arrogant youth. They also seem to forget that the culture of respect is still a cherished illusion among adults and the young who aspire to salvage the little that they have left. So, outright rebellion and militancy can guarantee you fame, but there's no warranty of scooping votes. I guess somehow the ANC is not aware how much people have had it with it. People see Zuma's meetings being attended by scores of people and they assume well, that's a landslide victory. However, the same people must understand that all those who follow Zuma do so under the scattered mentality that they will receive R20 000 each when he ascends the rickety throne in the Union Buildings. All this at the coercion of campaigners hoping to be the next corrupt councillor of a ward who earns a whopping salary for ensuring that there is no freedom of speech within the community against the ruling party. Day by the day the truth is ringing true to the ultimate power holder, the voter.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The problem the ANC is faced with is that if Shikota scoops 20% of the vote, with the DA having rebranded their logo, ANC will not enjoy the two thirds majority that they wasted in the past. While Shikota is the old ANC, the fact remains that the new ANC, or the ANC, will lose a number of voters to the new formation. It doesn't matter whether it's to perpetuate the infamous Mbeki Xhosa-Nostra or accelerate the speed of capitalism's gravy train, the fact is votes will be lost to another party. When this happens, a possible coalition might see the ANC crumble to its knees without believing. Even if the ANC wins the election, they face a serious threat from its Alliance partners in the labour formations. I predict that should the ANC be in power, COSATU will once again go on its strike pilgrimage and this time threaten to defect to COPE. Unlike in the previous years where bowing to a striking menial worker meant losing power, the ANC government will be forced to bow and blow-job a bunch of labourers just to keep power. Once this happens, power has been lost. The ANC must then live to please. The Zumalema outpost will be filled with wounded cadres who must cower to militant civilians. Come 2014, the Democratic Alliance (DA) might as well surprise the hell out of everyone.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As for the DA, their only hope is indeed to break the perceived racial barriers that they face. When their zealous leader Helen Zille came to town, I sat down with her to check if she had plans of changing the race factors within her party, as the fear of Apartheid days will be used in the Zumalema campaign for the Union Building last year. She said the demographics in the DA were changing rapidly, which I must say I doubted because we spent a whole Saturday with the Mbombela/Nelspruit constituency, where I happened to be the only nigga on that day. I felt quite holy and sanctified (separated). The problem I identified with the DA leadership was you either stick to white loyalty or you sacrifice that for broader power. Zille has seemingly chosen the latter. The fact is that while Obama convinced America that Yes they can, he was nevertheless a compelling candidate. Before his colour was his charisma and ability to persuade without just being critical of the Bush administration. In the same way, if the DA ever decides to have a black leader, which is more likely, that leader won't catapult them to the UB. He or she will also need to be compelling.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">As for the ANC, maybe Jesus has come or maybe not. Only time will tell.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5703831784263039448?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-47894051232745444412008-11-04T22:35:00.000-08:002008-11-04T22:36:08.335-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20081105;8291100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Obama The Main Man</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I take off my hat to the American people, whose majority is white in skin colour. You have proven once again that the human spirit does not recognise colour, but sees the treasure bestowed on all humanity, especially those who seek to better the lives of all, not just the lives of an ethnic group or creed. America is indeed the land of dreams.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">God Bless America!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Viva Barak Obama, the new state president of the superpower. For the first time in American history, the First Lady shares the same skin colour as my mom. We thank Americans for the validation that black is not foul. I hope all South Africans take something from this great nation, a superpower.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">God Bless America!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So says Tshwarelo.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4789405123274544441?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-37121022851251095842008-11-03T00:12:00.000-08:002008-11-03T00:18:15.949-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20081103;10062100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Get me</span> Barack Obama</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">If Obama wins the election tomorrow, it will be a win for myself as well. While I don't believe in racial divisions, I believe our society still needs to know that it good, and possible, to be black and powerful. In all honesty, I believe in three types of racial profiles (although there are many). In my book, there are Black People, White People and Monied People, which race do you prefer? <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I just pray <span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);">they</span> don't <a href="http://ap.google.com/article/ALeqM5jsCEnrVzDQoU5tg63njLNy0UTDNAD94345F01"><span style="font-style: italic;">gat</span></a> us Barack Obama.<span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"><span class="down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"><img src="http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif" alt="Link" class="gl_link" border="0" /></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">_________________ <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">PS: Wait for my Black Economic Awakening Revolution (BEAR). <br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-3712102285125109584?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-27713652697071727992008-10-12T23:28:00.000-07:002008-10-12T23:30:11.832-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20081013;8575000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Blog Action Day is <a href="http://blogactionday.s3.amazonaws.com/mailout/index.html">Here</a>.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2771365269707172799?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-19063318497668676622008-09-19T01:01:00.001-07:002008-09-19T01:11:58.970-07:00* <br />* <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080919;10262600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:DirtyBaker;"><span style="font-size:7;">Tshwarelo</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:DirtyBaker;"><span style="font-size:7;">Ka Y'1</span></span></span></p> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />* <br />* <br /> <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080919;10302700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Guys, if your name is Tshwarelo, I got good news for you. It's time to celebrate your own name. I want to throw a Mega Bash for everyone who's name is Tshwarelo. This is a concept I call Ka Y'One. It means in the near future I want to go around the country throwing parties for folk who share the same name. It won't be for free of course. I will charge my DJ, Wine and Boere Wors fee. But imagine celebrating your own name with people who share the same name. To make it interesting, each Tshwarelo can bring someone to the party so they can meet all the other Tshwarelo's. Imagine a thousand of us, with a thousand invited others.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Coming Soon</span></p> <br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1906331849766867662?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-84853392408622985062008-09-19T01:01:00.000-07:002008-09-19T01:08:20.418-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080919;10262600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --></style><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080919;10262600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color:#000000;"><span style="font-family:DirtyBaker'sDozen;"><span style="font-size: 60pt;font-size:7;" >Tshwarelo</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><span style="font-family:DirtyBaker'sDozen;"><span style="font-size: 80pt;font-size:7;" >Ka Y'1</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"> <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080919;10302700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Guys, if your name is Tshwarelo, I got good news for you. It's time to celebrate your own name. I want to throw a Mega Bash for everyone who's name is Tshwarelo. This is a concept I call Ka Y'One. It means in the near future I want to go around the country throwing parties for folk who share the same name. It won't be for free of course. I will charge my DJ, Wine and Boere Wors fee. But imagine celebrating your own name with people who share the same name. To make it interesting, each Tshwarelo can bring someone to the party so they can meet all the other Tshwarelo's. Imagine a thousand of us, with a thousand invited others.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Coming Soon</span></p> <p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8485339240862298506?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-29041387618540865922008-07-23T01:39:00.000-07:002008-07-24T01:30:31.893-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title>Ladies and gentlemen, I greet you in the wonderful name of Jesu</title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="AUTHOR" content="victor"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080722;19590000"><meta name="CHANGEDBY" content="victor"><meta name="CHANGED" content="20080724;7450000"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Part 1</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Time To Rise To A New Life</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(While sleeping in the midst of noisy folk)</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">By Tshwarelo</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ladies and gentlemen, I greet you in the wonderful name of Jesus Christ, who is our Lord and saviour. It is an honour and a privilege to deliver this particular message on this particular day for this particular audience. It is also a belief deeply entrenched in the farrows of my heart that God has manifold purposes for women in this country. So, as we celebrate women’s day, I want us to visit a biblical story that adequately addresses the needs of women in the midst of their surroundings. I am talking about the woman as an individual being, and the woman as a crowded person.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Crowdedness has become a normal life for so many women in our society as they believe it is their role to do everything for everyone while neglecting who they really are. They give everyone what they want but they can’t give themselves the very little they need. Women have become overcrowded. However, I want to assure you women today that God only intended you to be a helper meet for the man, but not to become a slave-horse meet for pulling every chariot that moves wherever it lists. God wants you sane and focused. Just because Jesus taught us to love our neighbour as we love ourselves, women have taken it upon themselves to love everyone while neglecting to love themselves. That’s wrong, you are misreading the great commandment. I feel so overwhelmed that women have learned to sacrifice all the time to the extant that they even sacrifice who they are. They compromise their principles just to please someone else. Sometimes they even let other people’s principles become their own principles. And they become shell-shocked when the robes of these principles don’t seem to fit. Whatever they try to do in order to please someone they can’t seem to do it right or to enjoy doing it because deep down they know that’s not who they are. It’s all done in the name of love, sacrifice and principles. In the name of love women have committed social suicide. In the name of sacrifice women have offered themselves to men who don’t love them equally. In the name of principles women have missed out on the kind of relationships they want and in the name of compromise they have become victimised. In the name of selflessness women have missed the best years of their lives.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Now how do we celebrate Women’s Day when it means another woman will continue to suffer abuse in the hands of her husband, in the hands of her boyfriend, in the hands of her parents, in the hands of her relatives, in the hands of her siblings, in the hands of her friends, in the hands of her colleagues or bosses? How do we proudly stand up and celebrate women when they still suffer sexual harassment at work, at home and yes, at the church? Doesn’t it shame us that we still perceive women as domestic workers who are only paid for their trouble by staying and taking insults? How do we say thank you God for creating women when we treat them like punching bags? It’s a mammoth task, really, to hail women Queens when we relegate them to the duties of a common concubine. Obviously, gender equity is still a problem in this country. Many women have given up on dreaming because they have attuned themselves to believe the deceptive words of those who tell them that their dreams are fantasies that only happen in soap operas. Women are no longer receiving flowers, unless it’s way to say I’m sorry for beating you up last night. They are no longer going out on dinner dates unless it’s a new man who is still trying to get in her pants.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It is said that behind every successful man there’s a strong woman. But men have become less and less successful because they have weakened their women. That’s why we have unsuccessful leaders and a serious leadership crisis in the country. It’s because wise women have been told to shut up. But as I said before, we don’t need to despair. God is in the business of building people’s lives, everyday. Today he will build our women, by strengthening their faith. I wish to keep the speech short, but there’s just so many precious elements found in women that won’t allow me to just rush through the message without going into details. However, time won’t allow for everything to be said. So, we will share whatever we can for today.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Let’s turn our bibles to the book of Ecclesiastes chapter 3: 1&amp;2, to get the title of our message. According to the King James Version (all verses are in this version), verses 1&amp;2, we are taught a very important truth that will impact our lives, whether as men, women or children. I must emphasise, I am not talking to women only, but I am specifically talking about women. It is interesting to note that the book of Ecclesiastes itself has blamed women for some of the things that go wrong in life, but today I will use it to defend women. I am aware that these two verses have been used mostly at funerals, where families are grieving the death of a loved one, but let us take a better look at them.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven; A time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Clearly these verses sound like they would work better in a sermon meant to comfort bereaved souls. But I know that everything works together for good to those who love God. Everything includes strange verses, even the two we just read above. There is indeed a season, a time and purpose for everything that happens under the sun. Birth is usually beautiful and promises new life and boundless opportunities and a curious future. Yet, death signifies the very end of that new life that came through some form of birth. So the two, look more like enemies than cosmic opposites. But a further read of the bible will teach you how the negative aspects of something can be viewed from a far much positive view. The writer here continues to teach about the manifold seasons and times, and purposes. After putting the fear of God in us by evoking the scary thought of death, he talks about a time to plant and a time to pluck (pick) up that which was planted. He talks about a time to reap that which was sown. The bible further teaches us that as long as the earth shall stand, so shall the time for sowing and harvesting. I want to talk about a different form of harvesting today; a new way of plucking up that which was planted. The book of Revelation chapter 14:15 tells a story of end-time angels reaping the ripe fields f eternal harvest while Matthew 9:37 illustrates how plenteous the harvest is, but with only few labourers. Verse 38 encourages us to pray to the Lord of the harvest to send harvesters to the field. Well, we have prayed.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Today, I believe that we are at the field, and we shall harvest, we shall pluck up and we shall reap that which was sown. That’s why my message today is titled, “Time to arise to a new life.” Yes, I believe it’s time for our women, and men, to rise to a new life. It is time to be plucked up from the dry ground of death, where we have failed to grow and become fruitful in our societies for such a long time. Time to come out and become fruitful; time to become the people our God destined us to be. The title of the message is, T<i>ime to arise to a new life;</i> and in brackets, (<i>While sleeping in the midst of noisy folk</i>).</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I fully believe that it is time to rise to a new life while we are sleeping in the midst of noisy folk. The writer of Ecclesiastes, possibly King Solomon, says there <i>is</i> a time to be born and a time to die. But did you know that Jesus taught us that there is a time for the dead to rise? So, from Christ’s point of view, death is not the end, it could in fact be the beginning. Although I won’t refer to the story of Lazarus, who was raised from the dead by Jesus while his sisters thought he was talking about the resurrection when Christ would return in a white horse, I will touch some aspects of his story. Of course his sisters thought Jesus was talking about something that would happen some thousand years to come when he said Lazarus would rise, but they were shocked when he raised Lazarus from the dead that very same day. Today, I’m talking about women rising to the opportunities that await them. In the book of 1 Corinthians 14:42, Apostle Paul talks about the resurrection being like planting and plucking up that which was planted. When we compare this verse with Ecclesiastes, we see that there is a season to pluck up, and for this purpose God is calling us to rise up. There is an appointed time and a divine purpose to do so. This helps us see that even though there’s a time to die, there is also a time to rise. Jesus says we must pray for such a time in Matthew 9:38 because he believes the harvest is plenty; the only problem is labourers.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>1. Time to pray like Jairus</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">To go deep into our topic, I want us to use a fairly famous story in the bible. It is the story of a father named Jairus and his daughter, un-named. Jairus was a leader of the Old Testament church, called a synagogue in Jewish practices. Jairus knew the Old Testament and its laws. However, knowing scriptures did not help him when real problems confronted him. One day his daughter became sick, very sick, to the point where she was almost dead. Being a great leader and man of the law, Jairus must have been raising his daughter well and hoping that she would grow up to be a responsible, God-fearing woman, who would also get married while she was still a virgin. In those days women who lost their virginity before marriage were stoned to death in public. And according to the law, your father was supposed to lead the people to stone you to death because you had broken the law of God. This kind of law brought grief to many parents as they dreaded the thought of leading a mob to kill their own children. However, Jairus’ daughter was not facing an angry mob of religious fanatics who wanted to kill her for breaking the holy canon – she was facing physical disease and death in the eye. So, Jairus was about to lose that which he loved most. His religious teachings had not prepared him for his daughter’s unannounced disease. They had merely made her a good daughter, which made it a worse feeling to lose her at such a tender age. Jairus was in trouble, but he knew that Jesus was in town. Let’s read the story. Go to the same Matthew 9, but back it up to verse 18.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">While he spake these things unto them, behold, there came a certain ruler, and worshipped him, saying, My daughter is even now dead; but come and lay thy hand upon her, and she shall live.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">What great faith. Lay your hand upon him, and she shall live. When you look at the verse above, the ruler fell down and worshipped him. How many rulers can do that today? How many BEE’s can put aside their Hummers and Q7’s, just for a moment and worship God? How many of us, in whatever position we are in life, can swallow our pride and admit that we need Jesus to lay his hand on our situation so it can become better? Jairus knew how to pray, but he only knew how to pray to the Old Testament Jehovah who demanded burned sacrifices and sackcloth, not to Jesus who just wanted faith. However, during his moment of confusion, Jairus did not look at who he was, he looked at who Jesus was, and like John the Baptist, he believed that, “This is my son, in whom I am delighted.” He believed that Jesus was a man sent from God to come and help those who were in a mess. Jairus was in a mess, but unlike many, he knew where to go. Do we know where to go when our daughters are at the verge of death? Do we know whom to call when our young women are dying of AIDS? Do we know what to do when our little girls are running all over the world with strange men they met through Mixt? We need to remember that all women were little girls yesterday. She can look and act like she’s all that, but deep down she is still a little girl who needs her daddy’s love and protection. She can act tough when she’s out there in the world, but it’s because she was taught not to trust anyone, and to use all the defence mechanisms in the book to cover up her weaknesses and fears. But Jairus knew exactly what to do. The book of Mark 5 says he fell on his knees and worshipped God. It is <i>Time to pray like Jairus</i>. Time to pray like Jairus. There’s a time for everything; you can act bold and all, act like you are not afraid of the situation you are facing, but there is a time to fall down and pray. Jairus prayed a prayer of faith, believing that God will restore his little girl. Mark 5:23 explains the same attitude of prayer that was displayed by Jairus, who was not ashamed to admit in front of a large crowd that he needed help. It is possible that among the crowd were some of his synagogue members and followers. He didn’t care; he just wanted Jesus to help him. Can you imagine, someone like an MEC, or premier, or president (Robert Mugabe) admitting before people that they need God; admitting that they are not as smart as they appear to be. Imagine the scientists coming forward to say that they don’t know what HIV/AIDS really is or how to cure it, and admitting that they need prayer, that they need God. It’s unthinkable, yet here is a man who claimed that he knew God. He’s admitting before the world that his religious experience and his church-going activities are worthless when it comes to saving his daughter’s life. Do our women know that there is a girl inside of them, a woman of dreams and a virgin of pure innocence? What do you do when that little girl is in trouble? What do you do when your innocent dreams of romance and happy-ever after are about to die forever because of the things you have learned about marriage? Do you sit on top of your high horse and claim that you know everything or do you go before God and tell him what you need? Do you rely on the low statistics of happy couples and rising statistics of single women to tell you that you will never be loved in your life? Do you rely on your education and independence while forgetting what you really want in life? Do you rely on the hurtful words that your partner or friends keep on telling you to define who you are? It is time to pray like Jairus. But let us look at how Jesus responds.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>2. Time to let Jesus arise</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Matthew 9 verse 19 tells us what Jesus did when the man fell down and worshipped him. It tells us that Jesus rose up to help the man.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And Jesus arose.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I want you to know that when you call upon Jesus, he will arise to help you. See, Jesus is not the kind of dude who watches while his own people suffer. He’s not like a mother who will ignore her daughter when she tells her that “daddy” is molesting her. Jesus arises from his seat of comfort to your level of conquest. You don’t need to act like a martyr when you are nothing but a victim. When Stephan was being stoned for preaching the good news in the book of Acts, he started praying in the spirit and saw Jesus standing on the right hand of the Father. But the bible doesn’t say Stephan asked Jesus to help him, he instead asked Jesus to forgive those who were hurting him. We call this martyrdom. It is when you are prepared to die for the Truth. But unfortunately many women are prepared to die for a lie. They rather die in a miserable marriage than admit that it is a mess. They would rather die having an abortion than admit that they are pregnant. They would rather die from debts because they want people to esteem them highly when they can simply admit that they can’t afford this or that. Women would rather die from acting as if they are strong when they could admit they are at the verge of a breakdown and need some urgent help. Jairus could not let his little girl die. He was prepared for the stigma that would come with him worshipping Jesus than continue to live with the pain of losing a daughter. He chose to go to God than to stick around in his position of power just to prove that he was the man. He believed that when he tells Jesus his predicament Jesus would arise to his rescue. <i>Time to let Jesus arise</i>. Time to let Jesus arise. It’s your time to do what you know will help you, not what your friends expect from you. King David wrote in one of his psalms that we should Let God arise and his enemies be scattered. It is our time to allow God to work on our situation. This we can understand by keeping his Word close to our hearts, and to keep it flowing through our mouths. It is the time to let Jesus arise. He did not tell us to fight our enemies, he taught us to pray for our enemies and to bless those who curse us. This did not mean that he wanted us to become victims. He was telling us to place our faith in him, to trust him to deal with those who seek to do us harm. Jairus had faith in Jesus and trusted that he would deal with the disease that had put his daughter on the verge of death. He was asking Jesus to help him confront his demons. Now you must understand that there are many ways to let Jesus deal with your enemies. Jairus asked for Jesus to place his hand on his daughter, and believed that this method would save her. To some people Jesus used a different method. Remember when he used mud and spit to open the eyes of a blind man? With other blind men he just spoke words and their eyes opened up. With the woman with the issue of blood, she just touched the hem of his garment and became healed. When God arises to help you out, don’t expect it to be in the same way that he helped your friend. God will use whatever method best suits your belief system. If it’s prayer and fasting for you and like Jairus you believe “she shall live” then you got it. If like Thomas you want to feel the holes on his hands for you to believe, then you got it. It’ between you and Jesus, like it was between Jairus and Jesus, not between Jairus and the crowd. Do what works for you, as long as you know that you need Jesus to come to your rescue. Time to let Jesus arise.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>3. Time to beware of the opposite word</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When we continue the story in Mark 5:35&amp;36, we learn that on his way to help Jairus, Jesus was stopped by a certain woman who also needed help. However, sadly for Jairus, when Jesus was now ready to attend to his daughter, some servants came and told him some bad news.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">While he yet spake, there came from the ruler of the synagogue’s house certain which said, Thy daughter is dead, why troublest thou the Master any further? As soon as Jesus heard the word that was spoken, he said unto the ruler of the synagogue, Be not afraid, only believe.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Can you see that? Can you see what happens sometimes when God arises to help you? There are certain who will arise from your synagogue, from your social circle, from your neighbourhood, from your workplace, from your women’s club, from your very home, yes, even from your church, where you fall down and worship. You will recognise these people by the kind of word they speak. They always speak a negative word. They are bearers of bad news. Indeed, these people sound practical in their approach of the problem when you are trying to be spiritual about it. You will notice that they won’t encourage you to find a way; they will persuade you to give up on the situation. They will tell you that it is over. They will tell you that God won’t help you out in this kind of situation; they will politely ask you not to trouble God. They will sway you by all kinds of reports to get you to stop bothering God. But only those who bother God will be able to receive help. Even when the disciples were afraid of a storm in the middle of the sea, they received their help when they asked Jesus for it. Jesus embarrassed them of course when he asked why they were bothering him? But at the end of the day he arose and delivered them from death. The bible puts it clearly that those who call upon the Lord shall be saved. It doesn’t matter how little your faith is, if you believe that calling upon God to arise will save you, do it, you will grow your faith later. Jesus was a master of faith, and Jairus knew that he could do anything for him. But certain people believed Jesus was too much of a master to help Jairus. It is <i>Time to beware of the opposite word</i>. Time to beware of the opposite word. They gave Jairus the bad news, but Jesus gave him the good news. He said don’t be afraid, only believe. We must not only believe in God, we must believe God. The certain people called Jesus the Master, but did not see how relevant that was to Jairus. Every time you hear an opposite word to what God promised you, go to the word again, and you will hear, don’t be afraid, only believe. It is when you stop concentrating on your worst fear that your faith becomes a reality. When you read the book of Job 3:25, we understand why God allowed Satan Job to harm his servant Job. Many preachers can’t explain why God allowed the devil to harm his children while he said through Jeremiah that “My plan is not to harm you, but to prosper you.” Let us look why Job was in trouble.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">For the very thing which I greatly feared has come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come true.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Fear put Job in the mess that he was in. And as you read the story of Job you will see certain which come to him. They don’t encourage him to be strong; they tell him that God was punishing him because he had sinned. But the truth is that Job meditated too much on fear instead of meditating on the testimonies of God like Kind David once wrote in a psalm. You need to meditate on how he was able to save people from the Old Testament through to the New Testament to the present day South Africa. Job’s fear became a factor (the fear factor). But Jesus is warning Jairus not to fall for the same trap because Jesus knew it when Satan was speaking. At other instances he told Satan to shut up, at this instance he tells the believer not to listen to Satan (fear). Women tend to believe their fathers more than they believe God. They tend to believe their husbands when they tell them that they are as good as dead. Some men tell you that you are nothing without them and you believe what they say, and you stay in an abusive relationship because you believe there’s nothing for you out there. Don’t be afraid, only believe. When some people look at you, they see a dead person, but Jesus says, don’t be afraid, only believe. Maybe you don’t have a job, and your friends and family have turned against you. The situation looks very severe; it looks like it’s all over for you. The report that you are listening to is clear, she is dead. Don’t be afraid. You must understand what Jairus was going through. He went to fetch Jesus although he was a leader of a Jewish sect, which rejected Jesus and called him a child of fornication. Now here he was, here are certain from his synagogue, here is their report. But when Jesus heard the word that was said, he said to him, don’t be afraid, only believe. Jesus understood what fear does to a person. He knew that Jairus could also faint to his death from being afraid. Many people learn they are HIV positive and they become afraid and die from their fear. They believe it is over with their lives, but Jesus thinks otherwise. Look what Jesus does from there</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>4. Time to choose your allies</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As soon as Jesus reassures Jairus, he stops everybody else from coming along with him, except for three disciples he could trust to believe with him. Mark 5:37.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And he suffered no man to follow him, save Peter, and James, and John the brother of James.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Jesus could tolerate many things, but he was impatient when it came to negative people. He immediately told the certain, and the crowd which followed him, to stop where they were as he headed to Jairus’ house, where the daughter was. He stopped negative people in their tracks. The great lesson to learn here is that there comes a time in your life where you have to keep negative people away from you. Mind you, this is not just something I’m saying for the hell of saying it. I mean it. You can’t afford to have negative people in your life when you are faced by serious problems. Such people will lead you to committing suicide or to dropping dead due to high levels of stress. Choose your friends carefully; choose who must come with you to the place of faith where God must perform a miracle for you. Some of you women have changed for the better but you still hang with people who won’t stop reminding you of the bad you have done in the past. They won’t let you forget that you had an abortion. They won’t let you forget that you had sex with a married man. They won’t let you forget that you slept with your boss to get a promotion. They won’t let you forget that you once did hard drugs. They won’t let you forget that you once stripped for a living. They won’t let you forget you were promiscuous during your days. They just won’t let it go. Every time you spend a moment with them you are going back to the past. They won’t let you rise up; they want you buried. They want to pull you down, the proverbial pull her down (PHD) syndrome. You better believe it, PHD existed even in the days of Jesus. They told Jairus that it was over with the little girl. They are telling you that you will never regain your innocence. You believe them. You believe that since your uncle raped you years ago it means you are dirty, and you deserve to die. But that is not true. Stephan would never die for that. What happened has happened; it’s in the past and should stay there while you move on with your life. Living in trauma won’t help you. I was once attacked by robbers in Bushbuckridge, but I was able to run away from them. They attacked me during the night and that left me traumatised. Every time I thought of the incident I crept under the bed of fear in my mind. Although they were no longer there, I still felt under attack. I felt vulnerable. My freedom was taken away from me. But one day I said enough is enough. I was tired of being their slaves. I let it go, totally. I left the past and moved on with my life, not as a victim but as a victor. I was free at last. What happened to me might not be as severe as rape, but believe me, trauma is trauma, and it is our greatest enemy. Our memories are what we need to fight. We can only do so by having a fresh vision for the future. There is a time to die yes, but there is a time to rise. But for you to rise, some times you need to choose the people who can support your vision, not those who are pulling you down. Choose your friends, choose your memories. You can’t move on when you are still hung up on the past. It is <i>Time to choose your allies</i>. It is time you choose your allies. Choose whom you want close to you in your walk of faith. Choose which thoughts you want. You are not dead, it is the past that is dead, don’t bring it back to life. Avoid those who try to tell you that there is no more hope for you. You are a new person now. The bible says for everyone who is in Christ is a new creature. You are fresh from the ground. Everything about you is new; the enemy is trying to tell you that you are old news. You need to know that people who pull you down are just afraid that you will leave them behind when you go up. So, don’t let their fear, or the way they see things cloud your faith in God. The time has come for you to leave them behind; it’s for the purposes of God. I wish all women could hear this Truth. I wish all women could learn how to choose what is best for them, not what is best for the people around them. Let’s see how Jesus makes it to the house of Jairus.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>5. Time to shut out the noise</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When you look at Matthew 9:23&amp;24, you can see how long Jairus’ journey to a miracle has become. Every time he believes it’s about to happen, something else tries to block it. Just when he gets to the place where his miracle should take place, there’s something else that he has to deal with. Have you ever been stuck in a situation for a long time, and every time you are about to have a breakthrough something happens to stop it? Is it witchcraft? Let’s see.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And when Jesus came into the ruler’s house, and saw the minstrels the people making noise, He said unto them, Give place, for the maid is not dead, but sleepeth…”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Jesus found people making a noise at the gate of the synagogue leader. He did not proceed to save the little girl. The miracle was postponed. He first had to deal with their noise. And Jairus had to wait for Jesus to deal with the noise. So whatever Jesus was dealing with, Jairus was also dealing with. Noise is one of the problems, and Jesus knew it. Today, noise is still a problem, and Jesus knows it. Every time God is ready to raise you up, there is folk making noise around you, while you sleep. In verse 24, Jesus tells the crowd not to play their instruments of death as the girl is not dead, but asleep. Many of us mistaken sleep for death. We immediately rush into thinking that you are dead while God thinks you are asleep. We don’t see what God sees when he looks at you. We see what we want to see. People want you dead, but God wants you awoke. They need to learn to see things from God’s point of view. We need to learn to see things from God’s point of view. Don’t rush to pronounce people dead on arrival. Don’t issue out the death certificate as yet. Don’t make noise, this girl is not dead, she is just sleeping, but she is sleeping in the midst of noisy folk. Have you ever tried to sleep and Ntate J Modise is playing music aloud at a party next door? You can’t sleep when there is noise around you. Rest won’t come, when you wake up, you will still feel like going to sleep, and the mourners will make noise again and declare you dead. Noise is indeed a problem in our society. Noise affects both men and women on their day-to-day lives. That’s why when men are having problems today, they decide that it’s over, but they don’t want to go alone, they want to take their wives and children with them. It’s there in the newspapers every week. It’s the noise that has invaded their heads. It’s the debts, the in-laws, the bosses, the neighbours, the morticians, the folks. It is the noise. Just when God is trying to work on you, noise! Just when you are trying to be happy, noise! Just when you have chosen the people you want around you, noise! Just when you start thinking positive thoughts, noise. It is noise day and night. And indeed, mind studies have revealed how noise affects our focus. We have what we call psychological noise in the fields of mental studies. Noise can disturb you from taking good advice from someone because you believe they are worthless. It doesn’t matter how much valuable their advice is, as long as it comes from them, you won’t take it. Who the hell does she think she is to give me advice? It is the noise in your head that is blocking you from seeing the value. You know, I always get advice about how to live my life and make my dreams come true. I hate it, but I listen. And it always helps me to listen. You won’t receive help from people when you believe certain things about them. You won’t let this pastor pray for you because you once saw him doing one, two, three and four. You won’t ask for help even though you know you need it. The noise stops the voice of reason to speak to you. The noise can stop you from recognising the voice of the Holy Spirit. The noise of sexual molestation as a child can block you from enjoying sexual intimacy as an adult. The noise can plunge you into a depression, into a coma; the noise can turn your sleep into death. But Jesus says, it is <i>Time to shut out the noise</i>. Time to shut out the noise. You need to chase away the noise-makers. Maybe you need to go back to your primary school days and write down the noise makers so that the teacher may deal with them when she comes back in. I want you to note this: There are always noise-makers standing between you and your miracle. Jesus says you are sleeping, but the noisy people say you are dead. The noisy people will go to the extant of quoting the bible, “there is a time to be born, and a time to die.” Okay, fine, but there is also a time to rise and come back to life. There is a life after the noise. All Jesus is saying is that don’t bury her, she is alive. But the noise-makers won’t leave you alone. And that’s why when Jesus went to raise Lazarus, he prayed to God, not because he doubted his own faith, but because he wanted to deal with the noise. He said Father, I pray, not that you have not heard me before this, but I pray for the sake of these people who are surrounding me. Jesus could not work with all the noise. He needed a peace of mind. He needed some space, that’s why he says, Give place. In the name of Jesus Christ, I address all your noise-makers, Give place. Your innocence is not gone forever, it is just asleep. Your dreams are not gone forever, they are just asleep. Your future is not doomed, it is just suspended. But give place. Be still and know that I am God. Observe a moment of silence. Chase away these noise-makers, chase them away; because she is not dead, she is just sleeping. Now why did Jesus shut out the noise? Why should you shut out the noise?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>6. Time to see through people</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Jesus demanded that the noise-makers be chased away because he could see through them. They were not mourners, they were hypocrites. Verse 24 says they laughed at Jesus when they heard him say the girl was asleep. That’s strange. A few seconds before, they are crying, mourning the death of Jairus’ daughter. A few seconds later, they are laughing at Jairus’ God. People cannot share in your pain but still be bold enough to laugh at your God. To mock your faith, no., hell no! Jesus knew that these people were not serious. They were hypocrites, pretending to be mourning with you, and then laughing as soon as they hear the word of God about your future. It is time to see through people. Time to see through people. You need to be careful because these people sound and look like they share in your pain, but deep down in their wicked hearts, they are rejoicing. They think they got you where they wanted you. They just wanted to see your face when you learn that your faith has failed. You need to see through them and chase them away. You can only chase them away when you are surrounded by people who share your belief, people like Peter, James and John, your allies. It is true that sometimes friends are just spies; the closest person to you could be the same person who sells you out. Your real friends will help you out. In Mark 5:38-40, you will see how much the people were crying. And in verse 40 you will see how much they were laughing. They were laughing their lungs out. To them the fact that God could turn the situation around was nothing but a joke. The noisy folk will always refuse to believe that God can wake the precious girl inside of you. They will always believe that you are broken beyond repair. But God has something in store for them. Yes, the young girl in you fell asleep some years ago due to reasons known by you and those who did what they did to you. Yes, some have even forgotten that they did something to make the girl in you fall asleep. Maybe your parents don’t even know what happened that sedated the cheerful girl in you. Maybe your friends don’t know what put out the warm flames of dreams that you had in high school. Maybe your pastor doesn’t know why you are losing interest in the church. Maybe you don’t know what happened to you too. But trust me, Jesus knows and he is dealing with it. That’s why he is telling these noisy hypocrites around you not to judge you. He’s telling your enemies to shut up and not make silly pronouncements about you. He is telling you to hold on. Don’t falter, hold on to his word little girl, don’t be afraid, only believe. Let’s see what happens as soon as the noise is shut and the noise-makers are chased away.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>7. Time to speak the word</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">When you go back to Matthew 9:18, you will remember that the ruler asked Jesus to go to his home and lay his hand on the little girl because he believed that she shall live. Now notice what happens in Mark 5:41. </span></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And he took the damsel by the hand, and said unto her, Talitha Cumi, which is being interpreted, Damsel, I say unto thee, arise.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Young woman, I say today unto you, arise. Time to arise to a new life. Time to see yourself as God sees you, not as the world sees you. It is your time to claim that which is rightfully yours. You have been asleep for God knows how many years. But resurrection power has come upon you, for the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead, that same Spirit, shall vitalise your mortal bodies. Be vitalised. Be optimistic. Look to the future with a new pair of eyes: The eyes of faith. Today is your day, Talitha Cumi. What a powerful set of words, two words that can bring you back to life. It’s not an easy road but it is a possible road. That which is impossible with man is possible with God. Talitha Cumi. Young girl wake up. You need to dream again. You are the head and not the tail. You have to like it – God is calling you to a resurrection. You were just asleep, you were not dead. But now, but now, but now, you no longer need to sleep, young girl, I say to you, arise and shine. The world is waiting for your ideas. The world is waiting for your contribution to economic development. The world is waiting for your leadership. Rise to your new life and reign. However, I want you to notice that Jairus asked Christ to just lay his hand on her, but Christ knows that’s not really how it works. He can lay his hand on her, but he wants to do more. He lays his hand on the girl, but then speaks the word of God upon her life, Talitha Cumi. Imagine the girl, hearing the voice of Christ from far-away, in a strange land. It is only the word that can call her back. You see, God doesn’t just want to touch you, he wants you to hear his word and come to life. It is when we hear the word that we live. Jairus believed it would happen by the laying on of hands alone, but Jesus knew that man also needs the word of God to live. So when he spoke the word her, indeed the girl was no longer dead, but asleep. The bible says for those who hear his voice today, must repent. You are hearing the word of God, so don’t harden your heart like the Israelites in the wilderness. Faith cometh by hearing and hearing by the word and the word by preaching. A word is being preached into your life right now. God has already dealt with the issues around your life that made you fall asleep. It is <i>Time to speak the word</i>. Time to speak the word. Speak it like God spoke it about you. He said be fruitful, multiple and have dominion. Be productive, make things happen. He is not waking you up so you can sit and watch the sun. He is raising you up for a purpose. For everything has its own season, its own time and its own purpose. You have been sleeping for too long. You have been suppressing your talents and gifts for ages. You have been depressed it’s enough. You have been living in fear and silence, and I say enough! Talitha, Cumi. Talitha, Cumi. Talitha, Cumi. Young, girl, wake up! Rise to a new life while sleeping in the midst of noisy folk. You don’t need to sleep no more. Those who were judging you are gone. It’s your time, use it now. It’s your moment of revelation, busk in it and find out what God has in store for you.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">However, don’t forget to thank Jairus for being patient with God while you were asleep. You are rising because Jairus approached God on your behalf. Jairus can be anyone who has been praying that God raise you up. It can be your parent, relative, friend, teacher, pastor – you need to bless God for Jairus, for this is your miracle more than it is his. Before we conclude, let us read one more portion of scripture so that we don’t miss something important.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;"><b>8. Time to support the newly restored</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It is exciting when God gets you out of the pit and lifts you up from the mud to the king’s highway. It is worth celebrating when God blesses with a better job, a better house, a better marriage, a better relationship, a better family, a better life. Yes, it is excited, but before we get too excited, let’s look at the instruction that Jesus gives to Jairus and his wife.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Mark 5:42&amp;43</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="justify">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And straightaway the damsel arose, and walked; for she was twelve years. And they were astonished with a great astonishment. And he charged them that no man should know it, and commanded that something be given her to eat.”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">How amazing what the word of God can do in our lives. Jesus told the girl to rise and she did it straightaway. Most of us don’t rise straightaway, we first wait for our friends to respond, or our neighbours, or the bishop of the church. If he doesn’t rise, then we won’t rise. Well, the bishop won’t rise because God did not tell him to rise; he only told you. God speaks to us individually. We can be gathered in one prayer meeting or conference, but you need to hear him when he speaks to you because at that time he is speaking to you alone, not to your friends. Rise up to a new life straightaway. But then Jesus warns the parents not to tell anyone about what happened to the little girl. Why did Jesus not want them to testify? Well, let’s look at Mark 5:18-21, just before Jairus appeared on the scene.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“<span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And when he was come unto the ship, he that had been possessed with the devil prayed him that he might be with him. Howbeit, Jesus suffered him not, but said unto him, Go home to thy friends, and tell them how great things the Lord hath done for thee, and hath compassion on thee. And he departed, and began to publish in Decapolis how great things Jesus had done for him: and all men did marvel”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:New Century Schoolbook,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Now notice the two different miracles. Is this a contradiction? Jesus tells a man to go home and tell his friends about his miracle. But then a few hours if not minutes, later, he tells a family not to tell any man about the miracle was Jesus confused? Why does God tell people to do different things, won’t this divide the church? Good questions, but the answer is no. Jesus knew what he was doing and what he was talking about. From the story of the young girl you can see that God wanted us to learn something about women, how they are perceived to be dead from a very young age. How the world sees them as worthless. How there is always so much noise around them, so many pretenders. But this girl is very young. The bible says she woke up straightaway and began to walk, for she was twelve years old. God is forbidding a testimony about a miracle that was experienced by a child. When you are still young in the Lord, you don’t just walk immediately. You don’t go about pitching tents and testifying to people. You are still young. You need to be given some food so you can eat and be strong, so you can grow in the Lord. If you start testifying to early, the devil may trap you. People may ask you difficult questions. The noise might come back and haunt you to permanent death. There are people who have experienced unquestionable miracles in their lives, but today have lost all faith, because they were not given food. They rose and walked, and went to the streets to preach faith. But Jesus is warning the parents. Jesus is warning the church leadership. Don’t let a girl who has just woken from sleep go about publishing about how God helped her. Let her study about God. What if she tells people who she was and they flood her with judgement? Will she handle it? You don’t just scream that you were selling your body yesterday and that Jesus has saved you. No, you need to grow up before you can say anything to anyone, otherwise you are opening yourself up to danger. Imagine an alcoholic who was saved from a near-death experience three months ago going around telling people that he is free from alcohol. Don’t let him say such things. Give him food. We have seen many people who believed that they were no longer alcoholics going back to the bottle after two years of abstinence. We need to be careful. Those who must testify must be mature enough. You get a job for the first time in your life and now you are pledging to give half your salary to the church every month. Don’t be in a rush, or you will end up hating God. You need to be rooted in the word that raised you so you don’t go back to where you were before. That’s why Paul says to the church of the Galatians in chapter 3, that having started with faith, now you want to end in the flesh? Some people grow too fast. I have more than 10 years studying the bible seriously. I have had my fair share of falling, and I can guarantee you that anyone can fall from grace. Anyone can give up on the faith. Even John the Baptist, who prophesied that Jesus was the Son of God ended up questioning his revelation when he was locked in prison. He said, Are you the one or do we look for another? You can read the Old Testament. It will show you that the most powerful prophets came to the point where they doubted God. So, imagine a twelve-year-old, somebody who is not even a teenager yet. Paul says he stayed away from other apostles for fourteen years while he was still in private training by Christ. He did not just start telling them about how great God had been to him. He waited for his time, when he was sure about what he was doing. You can’t tell people that God saved you from womanising five months. The reason you stopped is because something happened that shocked you, but shock does subside. You need to eat the word; it is like food to your flesh, according to the book of Proverbs. Just because you are up it doesn’t mean the challenges are over. He commanded them to give her something to eat. Her testimony is great, but she still has a long journey to go. Your testimony is great, but you still have a long way. He did not raise you so you can die tomorrow and go to heaven. He raised you in this season for a reason. He raised you at this time for a purpose. Start searching his heart, his will for your life. Don’t over-commit yourself too soon; take each step at a time. When you are ready, God will tell you. Jesus gave the man who was possessed by the legion publishing rights. If from being mad the man immediately remembered where home was and who his friends were, he was ready to be a publisher. It means he was mature. But we are not encouraged to rush into maturity because we grow from glory to glory, from baby steps to running. Time to rise to a new life, but don’t keep away from Jairus, he is the one who prayed for your miracle; let him give you some faith lessons. It is Time to support the newly restored. Time to support the newly restored. If we don’t support them, the devil will come back for them. We need to speak the word to them, admonish them and correct them wherever they err. They are still children. They are still growing. Just feed them, feed them until they are fit for the work of God. I know what I am talking about because I have seen many young preachers rushing into the gospel of prosperity before knowing about the realities of finances, and when they get hold of a few hundred thousand Rand, they go crazy; and how great the fall of them. It is my wish that you understand that faith is not a get-rich-quick scheme. It is a walk where others fear to walk. It is not by sight, but it is by the eyes of a trained spirit. Put children in the Sunday school, and let the adults do the teaching. We will stop right here. Watch out for Part 2, where we look at Jairus the man of God, not the father of a dying girl. For now, Thalitha Cumi, rise to a new life.</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2904138761854086592?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-37541430438977205972008-07-16T02:54:00.000-07:002008-07-16T02:55:10.408-07:00Good Day Bloggers <br /> <br /><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080716;11270300"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Ain't wrote a post in a while. Might have y'all thinking that maybe I had followed our blogosphere's beloved <a href="http://www.allaboutolive.com.au/">Olive Riley</a>, who beat our grannies to the click of the mouce by becoming the world's oldest blogger. Poor Riley died in her sleep this past weekend. </span></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">But still on the dying tip, I might go out on a limb and say I almost died this weekend. But almost doesn't count does it? Well, just when me and my girlfriend were celebrating our passionate reunion, some suckers had to put us on a high speed chase around Shatale. It was a matter of road rage. Me and my girlfriend (look for me) were on our way to her mother's house when these motherfuckers who were coming from behind us decided I was short-driving them. The car stopped on me when I was going over a speed hump right near my grandmother's place, but no, the motherfuckers in a Ford bakkie thought I was wasting their time. They overtook me as I tried to drive on, and stopped in front of me. The driver came out, and his friend followed from the passenger seat holding a quart of beer. They shouted infimities at me, threatening to do something. It was night and dark, I panicked and hit reverse. Motherfuckers rushed to their bakkie, turned it around and tried coming straight at me. I drove towards them and the cars faced each other. I swerved quickly and ducked a head-on collision. By that time my woman was wondering in her mind if we got back together to die together. I was in escape mode. The motherfuckers pursued right behind. I thought of Kasiekulture's house in Zone 1. I took a rough swerve at the 4 way stop, went down to the Anglican church like a jet on drugs. I will pretend that I was not listening to my woman when she begged me not to go that fast – but I wasn't gonna let these motherfuckers fuck with me, let alone her. If we had to die, let it be – I thought.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As the chase got hot, I took another swerve from hell at the Anglican church, almost hitting another bakkie. Lights were flashing from behind, motherfuckers were hot on my heels, but these were not Archilles'. I sped past the corner and decided, fuck Kasie, nigga might be in Joburg coz he love to travel, giving people taste of his damn vommit. Everything was really happening fast. I thought oh no, I'm not gonna get shot by some punk motherfuckers – I am this close to becoming a millionaire – in fact I am already a millionaire, in paper, yeah a couple of millions (you'll read about it in the press). So I went past Kasie's home and took a killer swerve into the dust road right next to the old resource centre, headed toward the unknown. By this time I could no longer see the lights behind me because of all the dust that followed me. The little car was just taking as much beating as it could with all the potholes and the assholes making my weekend of bliss a living hell. I dug on, took a left and got on the tar road en route my woman's home. I overtook two cars in a matter of seconds and almost crashed into a Golf trying to make a corner. If it wasn't for my beautiful woman's words of caution I probably would be hanging at some dreary hospital or mabye chilling in the mortuary. Luckily I had not been drinking that day, hey! So, yeah, drove into my woman's home in a cold sweat and that's how I met the parents.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Palatino,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">PS: I've always known my woman's parents, her mother taught me all my lower primary school days while her father almost did at high primary – I was lucky he didn't. But now they know whose been giving their sweet daughter a headache. Guilty as charged. </span></span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-3754143043897720597?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-4592197975223586182008-06-25T07:33:00.000-07:002008-06-25T07:46:05.158-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080625;15035900"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);">Is it <i>A Ship or A Boat, or A Yacht?</i></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;">There are these things called relationships. These were probably named ships because they really do sail the turbulent oceans of life, now don't they? Some hit icebergs, some explode mid-oceanic while some just sink. Prophets like Jonah get thrown off from these ships. Hhmm, it seems these ships are no child's play, are they? Well, but don't we all wish we were chilling in a yacht, living it rich in romantic fantasy? Is it God's plan for us to end up in these ships that seem to end up going under all the time or is it our fault? It's funny how some of us end up the quitting the whole sailing thing and going for canoing or plain river rafting or swimming. And then we go back, and then we quit, and then we go back. Those who don't quit don't because they have already drowned in what we call marriage.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;">Nevertheless, I still look forward to the day that I will chill in that yacht with somebody who deserves me. And I will hope that I deserve her too.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;">Movies to watch: 1. Equilibrium 2. Madea's Family Reunion</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-459219797522358618?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-40271565999252442052008-06-18T03:55:00.000-07:002008-06-18T03:56:33.240-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080618;13062200"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;">USA R&amp;B star, Usher Raymond, wears a R750 000 chain on his neck. Have you been wondering where he gets his cash? Well, wonder no more. The nigga is rich because he hires great writers to write his songs for him. One particular song that I like, and have briefly spoken about in the last post is Separated. Now here is a painfully sore musical composition. It might not affect you at the moment but the day you break up with your lover then you will understand and probably sing along, bathroom style nogal.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i><b>Oh no, no, no, no <br /> <br />If love was a bird <br />Then we wouldn't have wings <br />If love was a sky <br />We'd be blue <br />If love was a choir <br />You and I could never sing <br />Cause love isn't for me and you <br /> <br />If love was an Oscar <br />You and I could never win <br />Cause we can never act out our parts <br />If love is the Bible <br />Then we are lost in sin <br />Because its not in our hearts <br /> <br />So why don't you go your way <br />And I'll go mine <br />Live your life, and I'll live mine <br />Baby you'll do well, and I'll be fine <br />Cause we're better off, separated <br /> <br />If love was a fire <br />Then we have lost the spark <br />Love never felt so cold <br />If love was a light <br />Then we're lost in the dark <br />Left with no one to hold <br /> <br />If love was a sport <br />We're not on the same team <br />You and I are destined to lose <br />If love was an ocean <br />Then we are just a stream <br />Cause love isn't for me and you <br /> <br />So why don't you go your way <br />And I'll go mine <br />Live your life, and I'll live mine <br />Baby you'll do well, and I'll be fine <br />Cause we're better off, separated <br /> <br />Girl I know we had some good times <br />It's sad but now we gotta say goodbye <br />Girl you know I love you, I can't deny <br />I can't say we didn't try to make it work for you and I <br />I know it hurts so much but it's best for us <br />Somewhere along this windy road we lost the trust <br />So I'll walk away so you don't have to see me cry <br />It's killing me so, why don't you go <br /> <br />So why don't you go your way <br />And I'll go mine <br />Live your life, and I'll live mine <br />Baby you'll do well, and I'll be fine <br />Cause we're better off, so much better off <br /> <br />Cause we're better off, so much better off <br />So much better off... <br />Seperated <br /> <br />I'm sorry we didn't make it... </b></i></span></span></span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4027156599925244205?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-63826008283589118002008-06-13T02:58:00.000-07:002008-06-13T03:25:20.240-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080613;12202600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Bookman L;">This morning I woke up feeling somewhat nostalgic. It all has something to do with a dream I had last night. Ja, a dream – but nothing close to that of Martin Luther King, Jnr. It was a dream about me and my girlfriend reuniting under some cloud of romance. I was holding her in my arms and kissing her. She was so in love with me. However, the dream turned weird as I saw myself running around naked all of a sudden. Indeed, things happen. I don't remember how it ended, ja, but I'm still haunted by the dream. It made me miss my woman you know.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Bookman L;">The most painful thing is that we parted for a silly reason, which I will lay down for you today. You see, me and my girlfriend met as Christians some years ago, at church. We applied the no-sex before marriage thing but after nine months of begging to be loved, I ended up giving up on the relationship because I felt that since we were in love we could share it intimately with each other. Well, she changed her mind and we started doing it. For me, after having personally engaged in sex with scores of women before her, it became the most satisfying experience of them all. The reason was that for the first time in my life I made love to a woman I loved. I enjoyed the moments before sex, the moments after sex, and the moments that stayed in my memory ever since. I have never enjoyed sex with anyone else like I did with her.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Bookman L;">As the romance progressed we were met with the expected “relationship problems” and had a lot of misunderstandings. I take total responsibility for those that were caused by me. Further down the line I began to grow in my relationship with God, and started demanding answers. Where God said you can ask for anything in his name, I did that. And if no answer came, I wanted God to explain himself and defend his word. Many Christians saw this as a defiance of god, forgetting that God says in the bible says, “Come, let us reason together.” I wanted to reason when other people chose to keep quiet while silently concluding that God is unfaithful. My woman was one of those people. As a result, we debated scripture and ended up separating when I finally gave the religion my middle finger.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Bookman L;">Recently I reunited with God as he gave me a better understanding of the bible and how to approach it in a practical way. However, at this point our relationship was no longer strong with the woman. She believed that I am misguided and that I misinterpret the bible. Her take is that for us to continue the relationship, we have to get married first. So, no intimacy until I have paid lobola and gotten blessed by a priest. I told her we can't talk marriage when we have not yet fully reunited with each other as the rifts had torn us apart and changed our characters. I told her we needed time to reknow each other. But stubborn daughter of her mother that she is, my lady told me that I must choose between marriage or a break-up. She made it clear that I would be getting no loving until we are married, and that is like a year away. I decided that I would rather break-up than marry a woman I no longer knew. I am a product of divorce and I know that people who force themselves into marriage end up at the divorce court with their kids languishing in trauma. It made it worse that my woman doesn't believe in divorce. I believe that I can't stay with someone even when the relationship is toxic. So while I don't condone divorce, I believe that it is a necessary option when other options don't work. By choosing for us to know each other first I was choosing to stay away from a divorce later on in our marriage. Damn, she knew I wanted to marry her, and my family knew and her mother was almost clued up about us. Yet, she chose to doubt my intentions. So we went our ways. This reminds me of Usher's Separated track.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Bookman L;">That's what went down in brief. That's what contributed to my dream. That's what made me write this entry.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-6382600828358911800?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-65320098653257591252008-06-10T04:21:00.000-07:002008-06-10T04:23:20.772-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080610;12500100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style=";font-family:Utopia,serif;font-size:180%;" >Let's talk Obamaphobia.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Yes people of God, as you may have realised it, this website is a portal for coining phrasage. Obamaphobia is another salvo in our ambitious goal to attack the English language's limited (snobbish) capacity to recognise those who prefer to use certain words in a certain way to achieve certain goals. However, the English dictionary has its own authors, who have been hand-picked to decide for the rest of the world. Don't expect to see Obamaphobia in any Scrabble reference material anytime soon. Yet, rest assured that it will become part of the mass diction, ever leaving the lips of those who just know how to enjoy the employment of English at their own discretion.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's obvious that you know what Obamaphobia is since the word phobia means fear or hatred of something. Obamaphobia is the fear and hatred of a black man's ability to rise above the limitations set for him by colonialism, imperialism, oppression and racism. Of course this was coined after US Democratic presidential candidate, Barak Obama, who proved many motherfuckers wrong. He showed the whole world that a black man can do it, even what has been label undoable, where blackness is concerned. This obamaphobic attitude can widely be traced to white people who, matter of factly, don't even see the necessity of pretending that they believe a black man can reach a level of excellence. Hence, many white people are still stunned that Oprah Winfrey is a female Goddess whose influential stretches beyond borders, recently beyond the White House. Speaking of the White House, will Barak Obama's change result in a Black House? No, but that was close, say? But yes, MANY white believe that we are good-for-nothing fucks who deserve to starve while working 24hours for free. It is only a small fraction of liberal whites who see black people as an equal race that deserves as much opportunities as the white caste got. Imagine this. In 14 years of democracy, many whites believe that the new South African government should have eradicated all the traces of apartheid, which took lots of years to engineer, particularly in the psyche of the blacks they were oppressing. Honestly speaking, our BLACK government has done what no other country could have ever achieved in such a small time. We are yet to deal with the psychological impact, which is yet to be acknowledged by white people, that was left etched on our minds by the ghost of apartheid. Vervooerd's mystical fingers are yet to loosen their grip on us, hence the Comrades Marathon, which of course is a norm in every democracy. However, in white politics, it's known as Countrymen's Marathon.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Thanx to Obama, black is back, and black is big. The NIGGA deserves an award for Black Holiness. Not only has he realised Martin Luther King Jnr's dream, but he has provoked Vervooerd's nightmare. I can imagine Vervooerd during the height of his apartheid delusion screaming to his family, “I have a nightmare. I have a nightmare of the black man becoming the ruler. Over my dead body will this nightmare ever find its way to the realms of reality.” Of course, if you were adroit in studies of human mental trends and traditions, you know that the fear of this nightmare, as opposed to the hope of King Jnr's dream, was written all over the faces of those who supported the apartheid delusion.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Too much said, but the point is Obamaphobia exists, it can't be denied. The contradiction of white people's conviction is in their general criticism of the black government for “failing to help their own people” while on the other end bashing black people for “failing to help themselves.” So, the burden of guilt lies with anything black, which becomes illogical because you can't blame both. For example. Let's I ended up as a criminal because my parents failed to raise me. So you, coming from your holier-than-mmago throne, happen to critisise my parents for “creating a criminal” by neglecting me and then coming to me telling me that “I'm a criminal full of childhood neglect excuses” to make my criminal ways justifiable. So, who do you blame? I guess it's the proverbial question, “Between the chicken and the egg, which came first?”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Behold Niggaz, thou art holy. </span></span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-6532009865325759125?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-18261761518951557372008-06-05T04:04:00.000-07:002008-06-08T23:02:12.749-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080605;10454100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><span style="font-size:6;"><u><b>Comrades' Marathon</b></u></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><span style="font-size:100%;">(A novel about the South African struggle for economic liberation)</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>Written By?</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Now here is a great book crying to be written. I see this book being ghost-written by <b><u>Ntime Skhosana</u></b>, who is a spokesperson for <b><u>Mpumalanga</u></b>'s premier, <b><u>Thabang Makwetla</u></b>.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Mpumalanga is a province that I know has been hard-hit by corruption. For anyone to make money from government's projects, one has to be a comrade, or at least has to know one. Billions have been pumped into the Big Five Flagship projects in this province, and it is the prerogative of the comrades to make sure that they go out. It's called channeling. It's a crime by name, but a profession by creed. Everybody knows it. No one can even pretend that they get a tender based on pure merit; somehow someway, there is a comrade benefitting, if not comrades.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Skhosana is indeed the <b><u><i>write</i></u></b> person. He knows, most probably, all the secrets that are hovering on the walls of the provincial government complex, and beyond. He's been close enough to all the high profile going-ons in the government and only he, and others linked to HOD's and MEC's know the real story of government's holistic approach to broad based black economic empowerment. I am not alleging that Skhosana is corrupt or that he has ever been involved in corruption. All I am saying is that if this mind-blowing novel were to be well-written, Skhosana would be the man. For instance, he has attended all the meetings that you and I were barred from attending. He knows about the 100 internal fraud cases that Makwetla is beating around the bush to release to the public. He has been with the premier in aeroplanes, in hotel rooms, at private functions, everywhere.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Comrades' Marathon would begin at the battle for premiership, the corridors of power control executive meetings, dodgy press releases, resignations of HOD's and parastatal CEO's, un-repayable loans that disappeared in the bank account of some non-existant company, through to the reshuffles that have hit the province.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Comrades' Marathon would be a compelling story of a black young South African man called Setapora whose ambitions are forced to bow to the will of the comrades, who run everything – every single cent that leaves the coffers of the Treasury.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">His would be ambition meets reality, re-interrogates ethics and faces the hard rock and devil of decision. Of course an alluring female other would be serve as a Tantalising honeymoon fantasy dangled before his naïve eyes.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">However, since Skhosana won't take up the challenge to ghost-write the piece as Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, then maybe someone else should. Maybe a group of people who know people. Maybe you.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">The address is </span><a href="mailto:heydad@webmail.co.za"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">heydad@webmail.co.za</span></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Write me and let's see what you think.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">NB: The title of the would-be novel was “coined” by Kasiekulture. The concept for the novel was birthed by Holy Nigga #1. I rather be ya n.i.g.g.a <br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Below: Goodenough's take on the BEE marathon (as he recently became a victim of the greed of government caste. <br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080609;8144700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">____________________________________________________________________________ <br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080609;8144700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Just so people should be clued the Comrades Marathon will be about comrades running to see who gets to the finishing line first within the cut-off time. The finishing line is a shiny silver Hummer Two and a penthouse at Michelanagelo, the cut-off time is the end of Thabo Mbeki's reign in the Union Buildings. And so Makwetla, through his connections to Global Interface (pioneering spirit) and other <i>tpurroc</i> practices is ahead of the pack and looks set to finish first, but then he has his goons whose names we know but will shift litigation to lawyers who are running with him. If you are not a comrade you are not allowed to run, but you can make the mistake of running without realising you will not be allowed to finish or alone, you will be disqualified at the finishing line like some of us were? Funny, that Skhosana will not take the opportunity to be another Dan Brown and give us names of more comrades in the running and how far are they from the finishing line. <br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Nimbus Roman No9 L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">(The views in red are not necessarily the views of Holy Nigga #1, and therefore this website is not liable for publishing this opinion.) <br /></span></span></span></p> <p></p> <p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1826176151895155737?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-45989604015912331422008-05-29T03:41:00.000-07:002008-05-29T03:45:36.367-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080529;12554600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Nobody could ever say it better than ex soldier turned crooner, James Blunt, in his song No Bravery. I am deeply in love with Blunt's music (maybe due to the narcotic surname), but the lyrics that affected me most were in this track, which was packaged in a limited albums. Look for the track, but meanwhile, read these lyrics:</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:180%;"> <br />There are children standing here, <br />Arms outstretched into the sky, <br />Tears drying on their face. <br />He has been here. <br />Brothers lie in shallow graves. <br />Fathers lost without a trace. <br />A nation blind to their disgrace, <br />Since he's been here. <br /> <br />And I see no bravery, <br />No bravery in your eyes anymore. <br />Only sadness. <br /> <br />Houses burnt beyond repair. <br />The smell of death is in the air. <br />A woman weeping in despair says, <br />He has been here. <br />Tracer lighting up the sky. <br />It's another families' turn to die. <br />A child afraid to even cry out says, <br />He has been here. <br /> <br />And I see no bravery, <br />No bravery in your eyes anymore. <br />Only sadness. <br /> <br />There are children standing here, <br />Arms outstretched into the sky, <br />But no one asks the question why, <br />He has been here. <br />Old men kneel and accept their fate. <br />Wives and daughters cut and raped. <br />A generation drenched in hate. <br />Yes, he has been here. <br /> <br />And I see no bravery, <br />No bravery in your eyes anymore. <br />Only sadness. </span></span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4598960401591233142?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-7453400139027429212008-05-22T06:41:00.000-07:002008-05-22T06:48:42.979-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080522;15242300"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I've constantly been a “victim” of Coconutism. If your schooling hasn't advanced to the level of understanding that all phrases were once coined, then you will act shocked by the new word in the first sentence. Coconutism is indeed a classist phenomenon that has cancerously attacked those who are not coconuts. Today it's even worse, coconuts are everywhere, and they are so unapologetically proud of their Coconutism. If you are still lost, I will heed your excruciating wails for explanation and exonerate you for what in the future will be referred to as sheer ignorance. From today you will know what Coconutism is, and what an evil it is in our South African land. This is does not stand on equal footing with the xenophobic attacks in the country, but believe me, my people, we are under siege. <br /></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Definition</b>: Coconutism is the act of speaking English with an accent that defies your African origins for the sole purpose of exhibiting one's fancy educational background as a way to demonstrate to one's fellow brothers and sisters that they are of an inferior class despite being of the same race.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Implication</b>: The definition above simply says that coconuts speak the way they do to show those who can't that they are better human beings although they share the same colour skin as them.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;">So, there you have it, coconuts enjoy making us feel like we are nothing because we can't speak with an accent. I've seen it many times, and I am sure you have seen it as well. Coconuts are everywhere, and they are big in numbers. The problem is once you are not one of them you are automatically excluded from the benefits of being a coconut. That means you can't really date a coconut, his or her friends will not accept your “uncultivated” accent. I really feel sympathy for the rest of us, those who are not coconuts. Not that we hate coconuts because we feel they are fake. We hate them because we can't be them. We want to be them because we don't like feeling the way they make us feel. How many times should we bite our tongues when in conversation with coconuts? They speak English as if they suckled it from the Queen's very breast, or at least they make it sound like it. I could give out numbers of these people right now so you can hear them for yourself, but I shall spare you the trauma.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;">However, as a way forward, since coconuts have a name and we don't, I will name us, those who can't speak like Americans or the English, whatever, (not even them speak like these cocos). I truly, completely, 100% believe that coconuts are insensitive to the feelings of their brothers and sisters. There could be reasons why I went to a school where we were never taught how to pronounce names and how to mold our voices when we speak. We just went to school so we could read and write. Hell, coconuts can barely write, all they do is talk, and make sure that you can hear, not what they are saying, but how they are saying it.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;">My dear non-coconut, I have a new name for you. But first you must know why these coconuts are called coconuts. Apparently, coconut is translated to mean “black outside, white inside.” That's the correct meaning, despite the fact that a real fruit coconut is brown outside. But to be politically correct, coconut means black outside, white inside. Outside they are kaffirs, inside they are our English counterparts. So where does that leave you and me? We are black both outside and inside. And we become blacker everyday when Coconutism strikes and shrinks us into inferior and unlearned kaffirs. To spare you the pain, let me give you something to be proud about. As proud as they now also call themselves coconuts, you and I mfanakiti will call ourselves Blackholes. For the meaning of blackhole, </span></span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_hole"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;">CLICK HERE</span></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;">. But let the world know that you are I are the Blackholes, totally black inside. We might not be the Blackhole of Calcutta, but we are the Blackholes of Mzansi. I am a Blackhole and I am proud of it, msathanyoko.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:130%;">(Kwaki, I have noted that you put my poems to good use, at least they won't go to waste. And uh, can you make that six, I mean the Marzen God.)</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-745340013902742921?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-39527082877002556062008-05-16T06:55:00.000-07:002008-05-16T06:57:18.539-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080516;15500800"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:6;"><b>Addicted to Asiah</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The break up wind blows</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Yet smell I the petals of this beautiful rose</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Asiah</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">My one dearest treasure</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Whose accusing tears brew ancient storms</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Invoking from within-er intrinsically impatient bombs</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">An African beauty that engulfs my thoughts</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The only fire that cooks my intimate pots</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I love Asiah my sweetest love</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Beyond love I'm addicted to her</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">From those romantic fruits I'm made to starve</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Yet beyond starvation I'm convicted to care</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">No sex</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">I guess, without paying tax</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Pleasures wedded to guilt and unbearble suffering</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">As firm as the olive tree deep and wavering</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Nevertheless</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">The less the more the more the less</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">And so God the Father addiction bless</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Lest I fall into the son of perdition's curse</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Tell mother I'm addicted to Asiah for a damned eternity</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">Tell her Asiah has become the barometer of my crammed sanity</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Times,serif;"><span style="font-size:100%;">- Sathane ke mo fokofisiye</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-3952708287700255606?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-56606028681972892352008-05-05T08:15:00.000-07:002008-05-05T08:20:23.137-07:00I is madly in love with I's girlfriend. I think she bewitched me with her eyes.<br /><br />The other day we had a nasty interaction, instead of calling it quits, I had some four Marzen Golide Ones and wrote her an explosive poem that rhymes nogal. Imagine I haven't cheated on her in years and it's like we don't see each other often. My hand has become some slave to my pizzle over the period. Sometimes I can feel the homones plotting to get me. Fuck it amway.<br /><br />Just expect the poem.<br /><br />Meanwhile on the blogosphere"<br /><br />Diva, hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhm.<br />Daisy, hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhm.<br /><br />Somebody help a holy nigga out.<div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5660602868197289235?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-47011228973510442792008-04-16T08:38:00.000-07:002008-04-16T08:40:00.746-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080416;12480700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-weight: bold;">Talking to forever</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">If only forever</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Could grant me a swim in its river</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">And let me borrow from your heavenly presence</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Even a minute's splashy dance</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I would assure forever's keeper</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">From the river that goes deeper and deeper</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">That I the minute would spend as if a last dime</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Showering your heart with the pleasures of all time</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">If only forever</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">On this broken promise could deliver</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Perhaps hear my prayer and show a sign</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Then you would be mine</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">By imperfect plea and perfect design</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">For as long as the rays of forever shall shine</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">And forever, I yours</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">And we, forever, loving like rebels without cause</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">- Sathane ke mo fokofisiye</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4701122897351044279?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-90108027561374427632008-04-08T07:16:00.000-07:002008-04-08T07:19:35.830-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080408;16221700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>Amazing fever</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Amazing Grace</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Is the song</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Your beauty commands my heart to sing</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Amazing Touch</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>From your arms could make a nigga feel a king</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Amazing Glance</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Those crystals in your eyes</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Reflect the magnificence of a Goddess on mortal guard</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Amazing Woman</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><i>Bred with angelic blood</i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 255);">-Satane ke mofokofisiye</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-9010802756137442763?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-64846820991285245222008-04-04T08:02:00.000-07:002008-04-04T08:06:33.566-07:00<span style="color:orange;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">Tupac and Jada Pinkett Smith were friends like some of us used to be friends with others. In the friendship Tupac saw more than a friend, which occurs quite often. So, Shakur wrote her two poems, here they are:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">JADA</span><br /><br />You are the omega of my heart<br />The foundation 4 my conception of Love<br /> when I think of what a Black woman should be<br /> it's u that I First think of<br /> <br /> u will never fully understand<br /> how Deeply my Heart Feels 4 u<br /> I worry that we'll grow apart<br /> and I'll end up losing u<br /> <br /> u bring me 2 climax without sex<br /> and u do it all with regal grace<br /> u R my Heart in Human Form<br /> a Friend I could never replace<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Tears In Cupid's Eyes</span><br /><br /></span></span><span style="color:orange;"><span style="font-family:Verdana;">(4 Jada)<br /> <br /> The day u chose 2 leave me<br /> u rained constantly outside<br /> In truth I swore the rain 2 be<br /> The tears in Cupid's eyes</span></span><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-6484682099128524522?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-26652797854070913532008-03-19T05:49:00.000-07:002008-03-19T06:07:50.091-07:00Take it from me, while you go happy-Eastering.<br /><br />The only way to win anyone in the world, whether of the opposite sex or the same or different, is mastering the Art of Relating (AR). Nothing makes people more distant from you than your inability to relate to them. The more you relate to people is the more you wanna listen to them, spend time with them, laugh at their jokes and do stuff for them, even stand up for them. Do you relate to what I'm saying?<br /><br />The reason there is still remnants of racism, tribalism, nepoticism in our here world is because we don't relate to each other. For example, I have had difficulty speaking or interacting with cocasians, because I don't relate to them. While to some extant I do relate to them (white people), I don't think they relate to me, and as a result I always have to relate towards them, but I don't like it one bit. I need people to relate to me so I can relate to them even much better. The question could be who should start? Well, most times I do initiate it but I don't have the patience, unless it's someone I'm trying to win for some lucrative, sexual or philosophical reasons; I am not that social, do you relate?<br /><br />Well, thought I should update, for the sake of tge Diva. She demanded an update and here. Hope you people have a great loooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong weekend like I know I'm about to. Lately I'm involved in some stuff I can't blog about because it might put my life in danger. Let me say that while I'm excelling in my walk with God, I am no longer a good man, except when it comes to my family and the woman I plan to marry. There is stuff that I get up that defies logic, but I'm alright y'all. Nelspruit is a nice city to live in, but it can be quiet, so much that you end up doing stuff you never thought you would do, especially stickking your NOSE where it doesn't belong...<br /><br />DO YOU RELATE?<div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2665279785407091353?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-64694672647616076302008-02-22T03:04:00.000-08:002008-02-22T03:06:58.769-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080222;9210300"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Believe me, having a pussy in the house is good for your health: Click </span><a href="http://www.health24.com/news/Heart_Cardiovascular/1-958,44784.asp"><span style="font-size:130%;">HERE</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> and find out for yourself, doubter!</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-6469467264761607630?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-82184224479904080902008-02-21T05:13:00.000-08:002008-02-21T05:48:55.909-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080221;15290800"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Ikarus Vulture;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><i><b>Good ad lib, Bad ad lib</b></i></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 255);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>(Why romantic relationships never work out...</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 255);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>And how to change that to your advantage)</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center">By Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane</p> <p style="border-style: none none solid; border-color: -moz-use-text-color -moz-use-text-color rgb(0, 0, 0); border-width: medium medium 1pt; padding: 0cm 0cm 0.07cm; margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">One day, when I am no longer confused, I hope to finish writing this book above. I have started it but do not hope to publish it anytime soon. It's about how when two people meet they do so with a pre-written script of how the other person should be and how the relationship should flow. This is a mentally powered script that stems from the bottomless rivers of fantasy. It is a script that I personally carry in my head with me everywhere I go, every woman I look at. They just have to fit the script or else, they are fired. This is the same script that the women in my life have carried, and somehow I never made a good actor, and as a result my job was advertised. I bet if you are male, yours has been advertised as frequently. And if you are female, you have constantly been casting for the perfect guy, who usually fumbles his lines. It's just a matter of going against the script, either because it was badly written or because it is too fictional to be performed live. It needs some super-movie technicians who can fake scenes and use doubles while they at it.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">I don't know what your script is like. However, I am sure not many people have been able to play the character well. If they don't fumble the lines, they ad lib (improvise). Now improvising is not that bad, it depends on whether it adds some life to the story or straight fucks it up. Now writers are people of ego. Given the chance they would publicly crucify anyone who'd dare fuck up their lines because they are so dear to them. I am a writer, I should know. Writers don't write precious lines on their blogs because they are reserving them for that good book or poem to be performed at the world premier. The same with the love script, to which we are all authors. None of us wants anybody fumbling their lines and acting ridiculously. But we have room for that person who can do a Good Ad Lib. Anybody with the talent to improvise scores points with us, all of us, don't be a hypocrite now! We all like it to see someone going beyond our expectation. Men like it when the woman in their script asks them to “come in” when he was only hoping to get a kiss on the cheek, according to his well-crafted script. Women like it when we bring flowers while they were just expecting us to show up with a handsome smile. They like the extra massage when they only expected straight-forward foreplay, as according to their romantic script. (But of course their script always has a massage in almost every scene, including a fountain and some other things that we men never bother to find out about). They like to hear the words “thank you” even when they've done nothing that big, like make you tea when you would love a damn cold beer after a long fucking day. They like to hear the words “you're beautiful” even when you think the opposite about the dress they are wearing. So there are good ad libbers, and bad ad libbers. Which one are you? I definitely know I'm a damn bad ad libber; I always fumble my lines. Will I ever get it right? I think I will someday, God willing, of course he's willing.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">What I have learned while writing this book is that one needs to NEED to make women feel happy for him to be able to be a good actor. Not that I can't please women myself, I just don't see the NEED. Maybe I'm too full of myself, that's not too bad though. For men who feel like they need to get those beautiful women in their arms (sheets, script!), you must therefore NEED to make her feel happy at all costs, even kiss ass (you'd love that won't cha?). When you feel the NEED you will have the WILL to sweep her off her feet. The only sweeping I've done is: “out of my space”, Lord forgive me I don't know why.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"> <br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><span style="font-size:130%;">Hey, admit it guys, it's a nice post this one-ha.</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8218422447990408090?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-19174363993333598252008-02-12T02:49:00.000-08:002008-02-12T02:50:01.207-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080212;12545600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><u><b>The three Good F's Women look for in a man</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <ol><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>A Good Fool</b></u></span></span></span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is the guy whose feelings she can manipulate, whose heart she can hurt and flush down the toilet. He is the kind whose wallet she will wipe clean.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <ol start="2"><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>A Good Fellow/Friend</b></u></span></span></span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is the guy whose personal character she can befriend, whose heart she can heal and soothe until it's warm. He is the kind whose wallet she will spare.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <ol start="3"><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>A Good Fuck</b></u></span></span></span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is the guy whose underwear she is can tear apart, whose heart she can hold and keep through bullshit. He is the kind, “Whose wallet is it anyway!”</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">If you dare marry any of the women in the world, you become all of the above.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Copyright: 2008 © Tshwarelo Mogakane</span></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1917436399333359825?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-63494625449563581492008-01-18T03:36:00.000-08:002008-01-18T03:45:00.231-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080118;13404700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080118;13513000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p> </p><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);"><span style="font-size:130%;">My ex-girlfriend had to rub it in. She sent me this kind of reminder on how to be a real man. I mean the stuff is of course brilliant, but I just believe that when you're broke you can do all you can for your woman, it just won't work. Right now she and I are 300 kilometres apart – it only takes money to bring us closer together. If I have to visit her, I must put a special R1000 aside for travelling and accomodation costs. Then I have to take her out to dinner, movies, buy expensive condoms. It's hectic out there. The bible says, “When I was a boy, I thought like a boy. When I became a man I thought like a man.” Well, it's time to think like men: MAKE MONEY. Beyonce's boyfriend Jay Z “Jigga” Rockafella a.k.a Half-billionaire, once said, “Being broke is childish and I'm quite grown.” I think first things first. Make money and enjoy all the romance later. That's my view of life – I can only see this precious gift of God through the lence of the economy.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);"><span style="font-size:130%;">If you think I'm tripping read the wisest man on earth, King Solomon's advice, in Eccleciastes 10:19.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 128);"><span style="font-size:130%;">I promise baby, one day I will give you the life you deserve.</span></span></p> <p></p> <p><br /></p> <p>Men, listen to this. Written by anonymous. I give it a 10/10<br /></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When she walks away from you mad<br />[ Follow her ]<br /><br />When she stare's at your mouth<br />[ Kiss her ]<br /><br />When she pushes you or hit's you<br />[ Grab her and dont let go ]<br /><br />When she start's cussing at you<br />[ Kiss her and tell her you love her ]<br /><br />When she's quiet<br />[ Ask her whats wrong ]<br /><br />When she ignore's you<br />[ Give her your attention ]<br /><br />When she pull's away<br />[ Pull her back ]<br /><br />When you see her at her worst<br />[ Tell her she's beautiful ]<br /><br />When you see her start crying<br />[Just hold her and dont say a word ]<br /><br />When you see her walking<br />[ Sneak up and hug her waist from behind ]<br /><br />When she's scared<br />[ Protect her ]<br /><br />When she lay's her head on your shoulder<br />[ Tilt her head up and kiss her ]<br /><br />When she steal's your favorite hat<br />[ Let her keep it and sleep with it for a night]<br /><br />When she tease's you<br />[ Tease her back and make her laugh ]<br /><br />When she doesnt answer for a long time<br />[ reassure her that everything is okay ]<br /><br />When she look's at you with doubt<br />[ Back yourself up ]<br /><br />When she say's that she like's you<br />[ she really does more than you could understand ]<br /><br />When she grab's at your hands<br />[ Hold her's and play with her fingers ]<br /><br />When she bump's into you<br />[ bump into her back and make her laugh ]<br /><br />When she tell's you a secret<br />[ keep it safe and untold ]<br /><br />When she looks at you in your eyes<br />[ dont look away until she does ]<br /><br />When she misses you<br />[ she's hurting inside ]<br /><br />When you break her heart<br />[ the pain never really goes away ]<br /><br />When she says its over<br />[ she still wants you to be hers ]<br /><br />When she repost this bulletin<br />[ she wants you to read it ]<br /><br /><br /><br />- Stay on the phone with her even if shes not saying anything.<br /><br />- When she's mad hug her tight and don't let go<br /><br />- When she says she's ok dont believe it, talk with her<br /><br />- because 10 yrs later she'll remember you<br /><br />- Call her at 12:00am on her birthday to tell her you love her<br /><br />- Call her before you sleep and after you wake up<br /><br />- Treat her like she's all that matters to you.<br /><br />- Tease her and let her tease you back.<br /><br />- Stay up all night with her when she's sick.<br /><br />- Watch her favorite movie with her or her favorite show even if you think its stupid.<br /><br />- Give her the world.<br /><br />- Let her wear your clothes.<br /><br />- When she's bored and sad, hang out with her.<br /><br />- Let her know she's important.<br /><br />- Kiss her in the pouring rain.<br /><br />- When she runs up at you crying, the first thing you say is;<br />"Who's ass am I kicking babe?"<br /><br />If you do post this in the next four minutes the one you love will :<br />.Call you.<br />.Kiss you.<br />.Love you.<br />.Text you. </span></span></span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-6349462544956358149?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-20957791201521862182008-01-07T09:35:00.000-08:002008-01-07T21:51:23.241-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080108;7490100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Don't just do it, nigga, dough it</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Fuck what they say, fuck what they do, money does the talking and kak the walking. No matter what they tell you, tell them that I told you to tell them that Your Profit Is Your Power. Tupac once said, “What's the sense of working hard if you never get some pay, I'm hustling?” And Ribelatti is saying, Don't Just Do It, Nike, Dough it!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">It's 2008 and it's time to put childish games aside. If you claim connexions with people in the highest places, then let's see the currency flowing through your ass nigga. Fuck all that chit chat, I got the president's number, I got Matthew Phosa's numbers, but what's the sense of being connected if you never get them deals, I'm hustling, motherfucker.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I propose: <b>ATM Poetry</b>.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Poets must write at least 10 poems, then print them neatly and make 1000 neat copies of each poem. Then get a frame for R27 at Kodak for each copy and stand on the road side and sell it like florists selling chrysanthemums on the streets. Your poetry is God's gift to you, it's senseless not to sell it. I hope Timbila will add this in our interview. So let's say you start by buying 10 frames, that's R270. Then you sell each framed poem for R50, that's a wopping R500 for 10 poems only. Then for 10 000 poems that will give you R500 000, that's half a mill for putting effort into your poetry. I can't imagine not buying a well-written Dear Mama poem for R50 on the corner or something like Darling You Are ... <b><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-style: italic;">though they say/ though you stray/ in my heart darling you are/ in my night a bright burning star/ though they prattle/ you still worth the herd of cattle</span>..</span></b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%;"> <span style="font-size:130%;">I dare all so-called poets to try this and stop making excuses that poetry doesn't pay that well. I can give you six months, you will thank me. You will be keeping almost 50% profit. And if you're smart you can even get them frames cheaper at a dealer who weighs your demand against his supply.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"> <span style="font-size:130%;">Don't just do it, nigga, dough it.</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2095779120152186218?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-70585262654222368182008-01-02T10:12:00.000-08:002008-01-02T22:13:56.344-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20080103;8162300"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Happy New Year My Niggaz!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Just have to congratulate me first. I have been three days without drinking even one droplet of liquor. Yey, that's a freaking improvement. This only goes to prove a nigga ain't no addict, just a bored motherfucker. Anyhow, I doubt if I'll be posting much this year, coz I really wanna concentrate on woirk and my Nigga Ministry. So far, kasiekulture is the place for you to visit. Don't worry, I'm working my magic behind the scenes. What would the world be without kasiekulture? You are right, it would be Bullard, shit. However, on a serious note, we need to give kasie an award. You don't visit kasie and not have a awesome sense of professional geddoism. Maybe kasie should start taking posts from people across the world, on whatever topic. I think it should be the blog of blogs – I declare. One day holy nigga # 1 will become the blog of provocation, inspiration, motivation and perspiration. I wanna totally concentrate on the ministry, because I believe Your Profit Is Your Power. Yeah, ja, happy new niggadom.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Until then my people. There was something I wanted to post, a powerful sentence, just slipped my mind, shit. Remember, Tupac is a prophet and Ribelatti his Chosen Rebel and a Nigga of Christ.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Thank you!</span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-7058526265422236818?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-19936526132985371112007-12-11T10:10:00.000-08:002007-12-12T04:00:59.794-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071212;7572100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/R1972L6uKyI/AAAAAAAAAH8/qxEp9F_ZnjM/s1600-h/dsc03210.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/R1972L6uKyI/AAAAAAAAAH8/qxEp9F_ZnjM/s320/dsc03210.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142965470322633506" border="0" /></a><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Earn R50 000 a month for being my wife</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Woman, thou art loose</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Yes folks, God is good, and so is money. From this day on we are inviting all the beautiful women out there to submit their Wi-V's to the holynigga.blogspot.com for consideration. You stand a chance to be Pastor Ribelatti's wife, and if you feel you qualify to be a contestant, submit your Wi-V now. That's like a CV for a potential wife.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Requirements</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Beauty, Brains, Compassion and an edge for business. You also have to be willing to support the Capitalist Niggaz of Christ Holy Church for the rest of your life. If you have the gift, you might even help out Pastor Ribelatti in the women's ministry – the Holy Nigresses of Christ.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Interested women must also be on top of their game by being fashionable or having a sense of glamour – I mean you'll be earning a whopping R1,2 million (including bonuses and extras) a year just to be the pastor's wife. You must be willing to give birth to Super Niggaz and Nigresses, who will become heirs to our throne.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Interested women must also prepare for a hectic life of travel and Niggavangelism. A good level of confidence is required. Faithfulness is the only rule that must never be broken lest you be cursed for eternity. A good smile would also come in handy for those lucrative business deals – nothing beats a charming smile.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b>Entries</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Interested women can send their entries to <a href="mailto:heydad@webmail.co.za">heydad@webmail.co.za</a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The entries must contain pictures of themselves at their best.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The deadline for entries will soon be announced but entries can start flowing as from today.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;">PS</span></b>: Every woman deserves a great man who knows how to take good care of her. I'm offering R50 000 a month for whole lifetime. The podium is yours ladies.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1993652613298537111?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-24701736859295719542007-11-28T10:05:00.000-08:002007-11-28T22:07:59.038-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071129;7361500"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>I stand before you naked</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">The best play that I've ever watched in my life is, “I stand before you naked.” I don't think I'll ever be as blown away by a play like I was by I stand before you naked, which I watched at the then Pretoria Technikon in 2003. In the same breath I stand before you naked. I want to tell the truth about why my girlfriend broke it up with me. Let's get right into it: I was best lacking in TC. I was unromantic towards her and the worst boyfriend you could ever think of. But honestly, I had my reasons.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>Let us reason together</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">According to the bible, it's good top reason together with God, but women just aren't God. You can never reason with them. I never really told my girlfriend that she made me insecure, but she did. And today I'm willing to stand before the whole blogosphere naked. I want you to understand how deep insecurity can cut through the life of a man. I'm not afraid to say that I am insecure, because my observation has shown me that all me are insecure. The word insecure means, Not Sure, or Not Secured. All men feel unprotected and vulnerable to the dangers of life. But the most strongest point of insecurity is at the interval of relations with the female species. All men feel insecure when it comes to their women. We are never sure if they really love us, if our romantic investment is protected in them. We are never sure if she is being faithful to us or whether our Queen is giving cake to other Kings. Now what's the use of investing everything in someone who doesn't think you are worth the respect? As a result, men are always acting jealous, moody, overprotective. It's all insecurity. No matter how much money you have, no matter how much confidence you have, you can never be too sure with your woman. All men know that deep in their hearts of hearts. The garden boy can always poke your princess, worse others can know about it and you become a fool when bring flowers while they are laughing behind your back.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>My wife</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Well, I used to love her more than anything I could ever think of. Until she doubted my love while it was at its best. I decided never to really show such kind of love ever again. I was hurt. Worse I felt stupid coz I spoke about her everywhere I went. She was the woman in my life. But when she questioned my love, after speaking to my ex, I so it a waste to love someone who doesn't notice it. Then one day she told my sister that maybe she should have never dumped her ex for me, that I wasted her time and I was a liar. That's why my sister has never liked our relationship because she thought I loved her too much while she mused over her past love. It hurt me. I felt like a fool. We broke, got back together. And then one day her ex showed me a message that she had written him. I was hurt. Mind you all these hurting feelings were seeds of pain being planted. The more I hurt the more I lost care, but couldn't let go of her. Then she continued to make put fuel on the fire of my insecurity. She would every now and then show interest in my friends, asking me how they were doing, what they were doing. And interest which Jay Z says, “The bitch is always checking your homeys/ A sister says you better check your homeys” Now, she didn't sound like a sister to me. Everytime a partner shows interest in other people, they create insecurity because this suggests less interest in you. That wasn't it. Even this year, she would tell me that she saw this man and he was so fine, blah blah. The other day, I had visited her and we were sitting at a corner street. This other six-pack motherfucker came riding a bike, and she screamed in wow! She panicked that it happened but thought I never noticed it. Well, men are insecure, they notice everything. I did. And I don't blame her for finding other fuckers sexy, it's her right, but not her right to be with me. If you want me, take care of my insecurities as I do yours. She would joke around saying she kissed a guy she one kissed, and I was supposed to laugh. Truly, I had to pull the plug on my love for her. Some days I woke up deciding not to be stupid, but that's being stupid. I cannot choose a woman from all the women on earth for her to fuck with my ego. Behind every great man there's a great woman, I guess I was never great. I was an insecure little bastard. Well, good luck on her with a man who knows who he is. I am a man. Maybe not the man, but I try my best. I grew up fatherless, always felt worthless, but I try my best. Hope someday I get a lady who will treat me with the respect I deserve. And if I don't get her, too bad for her. “I would rather be alone, than be unhappy.”</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>A lesson for my sister</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">My sister was doing the same thing to her boyfriend recently. She would tell him that another admirer of hers wanted to buy her a car. Now her boyfriend can't afford a car, not for himself, let alone her. How was he supposed to feel? “I want him to see that I love him even though he doesn't have what the others have,” she answered. I warned her not to tempt fate. She was making his insecurities worse. I told her to apologise because those seeds were already planted. I told her that if she wants to be treated like a queen, she must first make sure her man feels like a king, then he will act according to his title.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>To all the sisters out there</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Don't fuck around. Men are meant to be heads, but they won't if you behead them with your silly words and actions. Once love dies, it would only take a miracle to resurrect it. R.I.P to the love that died in me.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2470173685929571954?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-5871719690727254912007-11-22T09:57:00.000-08:002007-11-22T21:59:41.822-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071123;7514900"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 100%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:7;"><b>Sex Martyrs</b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 100%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Definition: A martyr is a person who is ready to be killed for a certain belief</span></span></span>.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">What is it about SEX that is worth dying for? I can't believe that we are willing to die for sex? Adults and children alike are willing to lose life over sex. Infection won't stop them. Infedility won't stop them. Divorce won't stop them. Death won't stop them. Not even the fear of HELL can stop them.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">What is it about us that we must have sex? What is it that makes us defy the horrible grip of death? Men would do more for sex than for anything else. Women would do more to be sexually appealing than for anything else. Ba re loiye ka mmane. But is sex really worth dying for? Compromising for? Is it worth it?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Fornication. Adultery. Orgy. Pornography. Rape – that's how far the natural demon of sex will steer us. That's how far we will follow the Satan of Sex. Wherever he drops his poisonous seeds of lust, like chicken falling into an irreversible trap, we follow. This shituation is fucked up bazalwane. I've seen men of the cloth swimming in the God-defying pool of fornication. I've seen men of the law drowning in the ocean of adultery. I've seen medicine men bleeding in the surgery of pornography and orgies. Hell, I've seen deputy presidents canvassing in the quagmire of rape. What have you seen? Coffins? I've seen that too. I have seen Martyrs of Sex. I see you and me. And I wonder is there nothing else we can die for?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">What is the secret to stopping this freaking sexual obsession?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Nkosi Sikelela!</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="http://www.holynigga.blogspot.com/">www.holynigga.blogspot.com</a> </span></span> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-587171969072725491?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-50210595440826320962007-11-18T09:47:00.000-08:002007-11-19T05:04:45.818-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071119;7575000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%; font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">Thou shall not be poor</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-size:130%;">This is a revelation God gave me over the weekend. He told me that I have to be rich and that it was not a suggestion, but a standing commandment. He says it is never his will for us to be poor, but our own choice. As you would've guessed already, he told me to preach this. And knowing me on obedience, I have accepted. And guess what, I've already written the sermon, it's very life changing. I have reached a point where I believe that the word of God is Alchemy to any form of success. This is what God told me about poverty. He says, “It's your choice to be either rich or poor. You vote for poverty or wealth. It's up to you.” While I was thinking, yeah I know that, he shocked me by telling me that every person on earth can either choose to be a <span style="font-weight: bold;">V.O.P</span> or a <span style="font-weight: bold;">V.I.P</span>. “You do the choosing, it's either you're a or a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Volunteer of Poverty </span><span>or </span><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Very Important Person</span>.” Wow, I was as blown away as you are. And yes, it is true, you can either be a V.O.P or a V.I.P. What is it going to be? I am a V.I.P.</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5021059544082632096?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-47554976679597958552007-11-13T10:04:00.000-08:002007-11-13T22:05:06.575-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071114;7394600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I believe that every human being on earth is a comrade. Why? Because like it or not, we are all constantly engaged in a struggle to make our lives better, our pains a little bearable and our enemies a little non-existent.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The first privilege</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Over the weekend I was at the 1335 Studios doing a live recording on Mega Radio with Ntate J Modise. We successfully recorded one of our Divine Construction Series sermons. The sermon was titled Let G.O.D do His J.O.B on Y.O.U. What a great sermon it was, and by a stroke of luck we captured the recording on MTTV (Mega TellThemVision) as well. The sermon was a continuation on the State of The Nigga Address, which we recorded on MTTV two weeks before. In these bible-based sermons I address the struggles of “black” people and go through the bible to illustrate how we have been turned into street kids in the Seven Houses of our lives. I explained how the we have become losers in many areas of our lives because we have left God out. I also show how life has forced us into becoming comrades because of the constant struggles in those seven areas I call the Seven Houses.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 1: The Spiritual House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 2: The Mental House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 3: The Emotional House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 4: The Physical House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 5: The Financial House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 6: The Relationship House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">House 7: The Social House</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Now, when you look closely at these Seven Houses, you will see that we all live in these houses, or are supposed to live in them. However, most of these houses are in chaos and cause a lot of frustration for the people living in them. Sometimes we are forced to flee these houses and live on the streets because there are ghosts in these houses. For instance, me and my beautiful girlfriend recently vacated our Relationship House because it was too spooky or lonely for us to live in it. Most people who shoot people or commit suicide have also vacated their Emtional House. But my take is that these Seven Houses of our lives must be built by God. We need a foundation that is based on the Word of God. These means as the new comrades we need to somehow have a house that won't fall on us and crash our heads. We need safe houses that have been built by God Himself or the Creative Force that brought us into being. That was the first privilege over the weekend.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The second privilege</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">On Tuesday morning I had breakfast with one of the greatest comrades I have ever met in my life, Dr Cival Mills. This brave man was a medical intern in when he slept on the wheel of his Rover and crashed into tree after returning from a long shoft at the hospital he was working at. The car accident left his muscles “locked-in,” in what doctors call “Locked-In-Syndrome.” This means he can not use his muscles, here, expect for his eyes and his thumb, which he used to write a 120-paged book titled This Too Shall Pass. Now meeting him was a privilige because he taught me that patience is a virtue (It took him 4 years to write the book, only using his thumb). And he spends his days only communicating through a mini computer on which he types the words he wants to say and then presses something that makes the computer speak the words for him. That's how he wrote the amazing book. And that's how he had an interview with me. I asked him if it was easy being wheelchair bound since he has been living in this condition for seven years. He said, “No, it's not easy but I handle it.” What a comrade. I must acknowledge that while I admire his courage, I do not admire to live in his Physical House, I doubt if I'd have made it enough to write a book and I don't need God to prove it to me. However, he was a breath of fresh air, teaching me how faith and hope can keep you alive. Suprisingly, the doctor also earns more than I do in his condition. He is a researcher for Discovery Life and works from his computer. More daring of him, the doctor lives alone, not because he has no family, but because he wants his parents to know he can make it on his own. Damn, I'm still living with my moms. That's a struggle I need to conquer. But indeed it was a privilege. Thank you very much Dr Mills.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Now, this is just a way to telll the world that we can become new comrades (no, comraids) and confront the struggles in our lives. There are so many struggles, can't count them all but I can summarise them under the Seven Houses. And so can you! It is time we commit to becoming The New Comraids. The Comraid Niggas of Christ. We are conducting a massive raid on poverty, on disease and disability, on strees and depression, on social tensions. We are The New Comraids. It's no longer just that “we can do it,” no, We Are Doing It.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Have a lovely Day. </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4755497667959795855?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-81991899314659381522007-11-12T05:38:00.000-08:002007-11-12T06:23:11.192-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071112;15485600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Love</span> made me cry</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Having a lover is a pain in the ass, but being dumped by one is a volcano in the heart. Shit, I feel like NOTHINGNESS. I AM VOID. I guess change is not easy when it doesn't come in the form of an armed revolution.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>What does this mean?</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Well, it means a nigga is single – haven't been in years so I ain't used to the feeling – plus before her I wasn't really big on dating, I was a serial killer in the making; s'true God ka mmago ke so. It also means I will never get to smell the freshness of her seductive neck nor touch the smoothness of her delicate skin. It means a new nigga will take over the damn role from me. It means I'm screwed (not really, I'm not screwed at all, I have no one to screw me anymore).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>Bound to happen?</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Her sms said that “dis is not working and we can't continue like this. We've tried and we've failed. I think it's about time we end this for good and the future ahead. It's over and you know it. So all the best in finding your perfect woman.” MMM! I am as flusterbeneggled, whatever that means (new word after being dumped). But was it bound to happen? Were we born to fail at this or is it just pure stupidity on my part? I guess I got demons of my own that don't allow me to be happy. Honestly speaking, as her sms said it, we were just staying for the kids. We ain't got kids but I mean there was no more reason to stay. This was battered couple syndrome I guess, maybe something that borders on the valleys of denial and sexual schism, whatever the hell that means. Maybe we had hijacked the script of fate and wrote in our role as lovers when God had intended otherwise, and now we were merely paying for our crime. Somehow, it feels as if staying for the kids was better because leaving feels worse. Maybe like Abraham it's time we left our cities and went a'promise chasing. I'm a firm believer in freedom, but sometimes the change necessary to bring freedom really sucks.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>Babalaaz?</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Maybe it's not that bad, maybe I'm just sick from the baby-laaz that's giving my body hell. But I mean on my way to work I thought I was going to blog about my exciting weekend experience (recording a gospel message live at the 1335 Studios). That was before I read the sms because my phone battery was down the whole weekend. And then there it was...”I believe it's now or never...take care.” I feel like I'm drowning in a pool of dumpianiki, whatever that means. However, God is good, that's my story and I'm sticking to it/ this is my life and I'm speaking to it. I will pray for healing over my pre-marital divorce. Speaking in tongues always makes me feel fresh.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>Untalented?</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Does this mean I'm untalented when it comes to having a relationship? Or is it only because I'm still young and confused? This reminds me of Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin. I'ma listen to some rock tonight. Let the Mpumalanga Sun set with my fears of aging alone as I wank my limp penis home tonight. Let the gods shut their eyes as I write a poem on the page of my broken heart, lest I question God on how he designed a being of my kind. I wonder why I was never gifted with talent to lie and live happier with a woman. I don't hope to find anyone soon coz those that I had eyed are spoken for. Know she will find a tall lank with a long plank, it's all greener pastures for her. Me don't have shit to give, my silences were never appreciated because they reflected lack of care when they really revealed deep thought. I'ma change my blog title to Holy Nigga # 1 just to symbolise change. (Juz to mention that I got a bashing for calling my church by the word Nigga. Had a tough time convincing folk, who nevertheless, I must say repented when they listened to the good news I preached).</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><b>Way Forward?</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Here am I joining the broken hearts queue. She too. But I'ma take each day at a time because life is a journey (to where? I don't know). I wish to smoke ganja tonight and just be free. It's just to costly to be a man. I say why find love when you can fund it? Being God is dangerous coz once you fall in love you end up committing suicide on a cross for the sake of love. Fuck love I guess.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Take Care?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Well, that's what she said. And in my heart of hearts, I wish her all the best. I know she definitely deserves better than me. I have never known what to do with her sweet love, so somebody should take over the reigns. It's a hot sit I must say. I'm 26 and I don't know where to from here. But as she said, I'ma take care. All I hope is that she grows bigger and bigger in her quest to be South Africa's Female Icon and an annointed child of God. Good love and good luck baby! Hope to see your face in my dreams tonight. Maybe squash the marijuana blunts: maybe James Blunt might come in handy tonight. “I leave this here, I leave this here so God can see my heart is pure,” Makavelli.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8199189931465938152?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-9375848368318324582007-11-07T10:13:00.001-08:002007-11-07T22:23:49.965-08:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071108;8004500"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">As a leader of the Holy Niggaz, I have come to the understanding that rappers and poets are nothing but comrades in the struggle of emotions. They are using their songs and poems as slogans to address the ghosts haunting their emotional house. By using obscene lyrics of a violent and antagonistic nature they voice their fears, the hurts and pains that they experience in the “God-forsaken” world they live in. Through these seemingly immature writings, they are actually crying for help – for God to save them. Tupac said, “We need help coz we dyin'/ give us a chance, help us advance coz we tryin'” They don't give a fuck about us.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Therefore, I feel deep down in my gut, that we as preachers have a duty to bring these niggaz close to God because they are desperately looking for him. When they rap about raping your daughter or hijacking your wife, you need to start listening to the pain. Coz in reality most of these rappers perform their crimes lyrically, they replace gun violence through lyrical violence while other niggaz don't rap about it, they do it to you. So, these MC's are a voice to the pain of their own niggaz, who like them don't possess an ounce of hope. We need to put a microscope on the pain of these niggaz before it's too late. Tupac tried his best to keep it lyrical but courted gangsters, an action that led to his death. A microscope on the emotional struggles of these comrade niggaz is needed, for the betterment of our society and for the prosperity of everyone. Niggaz need love and recognition, which now they are only getting through the mechanisms of violence and controversy. Let's first give them a platform for them to voice their problems, let's give them an ear, then a solution. How are niggaz gonn listen to the preacher if the preacher ain't listening to them. When Jesus was about to raise Lazurus from death he said, “Father, I know you have already heard me, but I am now just praying so that these people in front of me can understand and believe.” Sometimes you just need to rap a verse of pain to make the niggaz listen to you. Listen to them, don't judge them. “Thou shalt not judge,” so reads the bible.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">As a way forward, I am dedicating my life to bringing niggaz to Christ. I will use hip hop music to bring them closer to God. I will share in their pain, by rapping with them about their pain, and I will call 'em to the altar. That's the same reason I've started my church, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Capitalist Niggaz of Christ Holy Church</span>. It is in this church that niggaz will come for hip hop and gain Christ instead. They will come for the heavy beats, but they will find God. You can't expect a nigga to stop saying fuck and start praising God. Expect a nigga to start praising God and he will end up not saying fuck because the pain will be gone when he practises the word of God. All pain comes from not practising the word of God and through practising the word of God all pain will leave. The church has already started in Dwarsloop, at 1335 Studios, it goes down every Sunday. I believe that God got love for them niggaz, and it's time that them niggaz develop love for God.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">God bless them niggaz.</span></p> <meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071108;8004500"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --></style><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-937584836831832458?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-15142795388206845002007-11-05T03:50:00.000-08:002007-11-05T03:51:31.958-08:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Ry8DMZZcKtI/AAAAAAAAAGs/3L73vHHzSIA/s1600-h/tokyo+2.jpeg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Ry8DMZZcKtI/AAAAAAAAAGs/3L73vHHzSIA/s400/tokyo+2.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129322012109187794" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Ry8Cd5ZcKsI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AVh-4XF7I74/s1600-h/mercedes-benz-concept-1-1024x768.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Ry8Cd5ZcKsI/AAAAAAAAAGk/AVh-4XF7I74/s400/mercedes-benz-concept-1-1024x768.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129321213245270722" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /><br />A Perfect House: It belongs to one Tokiya! Sexwale. And a perfect ride for some Millionaire.<br /><br /></span><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title> <meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"> <meta name="CREATED" content="20071105;12143700"> <meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"> </div> <style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Losing love is always painful, especially at my age when you are indicisive whether to marry her or to get a new “perfect” one.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Bad:</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">I never thought that my heart would miss her so damn much. Maybe she should have bewitched me, coz I mean, change is good when something is not working, like our relationship. It's been the same story for years and I feel I can't take another make up. That's not the kind of relationship I ordered when I gave God that phone call. It hurts as if I have lost part of me even though we have not officially broken the cord. And I must say that it is my obsession with perfection that messes up everything. I have never taken her out on a date and I never visit her enough (I mean I've only visited once this year). My problem is that I always wait for the “right” moment, the “right” financial standing, the “right” everything. Seemingly I am selfish to the bone because I want to appear perfect by refusing to try anything that's less than perfect. Another example is that I am not planning to have children until I am rich. When will that be? If never, it really means I will never be a papa. And it also means I will never marry because I want my wife to be a queen. Maybe I'm too much of a Virgo. Maybe it's just an excuse and I just don't have enough passion for the “important” things in life. All my youth, all I ever wanted was the “good” life and I doubt if I'll ever want anything else. That's why even my church is for those who want the “good” life. All I do is teach them through scripture how God can bring prosperity in their lives.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Worse:</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Although it seems our relationship is doomed, somewhere in me I don't feel like fighting for it because I just never know what to do with the love of a good woman. I never know what to do with compliments as I am always thinking I could do better and compliments sound as if I don't have to because the shit is already being appreciated. That's why I have been working a year now but I haven't had the slightest thought of buying a damn car for now because I am waiting to afford a Benzito and an H2. A stupid car will just make me feel like I have underachieved. You wouldn't believe that the same amount I could be paying for a car every month I only pay to buy “good” books and “good” beer. When I see something at the shop that may look “good” on her I always wonder if that won't create expectations that I won't be able to meet. It's a sad day in Tshwarelo's life. I feel like taking two months off just to pray and find God.i have a problem with perfection and to me it's not a problem at all. I can change but I don't want to because then I won't be unique.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Better:</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Maybe I just need advice. Should I date other women or should I keep my one? What if she has since cheated on me? My name is Tshwarelo (Forgiveness), but that has nothing to do with me forgiving others. It's just a name so you could be able to say Tshwarelo when talking about me or calling me from a crowd. I hate being a bad guy so much that I wish she could get a “good” guy so her life could be better, so I could be free from her judgement of me when she's talking to herself or her friends. Maybe I just need advice but I know none of you guys out there are perfect at giving any. Easier said than done isn't it?</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Good:</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">I have resolved to pray for myself over this week until I get an answer. By prayer I mean deep spiritual tongue-talk with the Holy Spirit. I don't want my intelligence to overhear my dealings with the Supernatural. All I want is for God to let me know if she's the one or not. If she's the one I will fight for her because I cannot afford to lose the woman of my life, my soul mate. If she's not the one, then “good” luck to the next man in her life. Maybe she needs a “stronger” man who talks tough and takes the leadership role he's been given by his genes. I am not a dictator by nature, I am a free person who lets others be free and do as they will, maybe that's my problem. It is. Women need a man who is in charge (of them), but I can't be that motherfucker, I have my own life to live. Maybe the next man in her life will have a much bigger penis and sex drive that will keep him visiting her even when she doesn't want. Maybe she should pray as well. Maybe she has already prayed and God told her I wasn't the one but she just didn't listen. I will pray. And please somebody pray for me.<br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);font-size:130%;" ><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="background: rgb(184, 0, 71) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><br /></span></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1514279538820684500?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-50630091204501127892007-10-30T10:55:00.000-07:002007-10-30T23:00:11.001-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RygZtJZcKpI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ETdt4_HgxiY/s1600-h/limpopologo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RygZtJZcKpI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ETdt4_HgxiY/s320/limpopologo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127376439168739986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RygZtJZcKpI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ETdt4_HgxiY/s1600-h/limpopologo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RygZtJZcKpI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ETdt4_HgxiY/s320/limpopologo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127376439168739986" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RygZtJZcKpI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ETdt4_HgxiY/s1600-h/limpopologo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RygZtJZcKpI/AAAAAAAAAGM/ETdt4_HgxiY/s320/limpopologo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127376439168739986" border="0" /></a><br /><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br />You woooooooooudn't believe what <a href="http://www.colinamiddle.org/Pages/limpopo.html">THIS IS</a>. Click <a href="http://www.colinamiddle.org/Pages/limpopo.html">HERE</a> and see for yourself.<br /><br /><br /><br />“Rap music is the equivalent of Jesus Christ screaming, 'Eloi, Eloi.'”<br />Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, 2007.<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5063009120450112789?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-85419184992641994422007-10-25T11:02:00.000-07:002007-10-25T23:22:44.439-07:00<!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br />Y'know today I just wasn't feeling the presence of God in my life. I always hate it when this happens coz it plants seeds of doubt in my mind about the God that I have put all my faith and trust in. Nevertheless, I thought, nah devil, God is good, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.<br /><br />However, the bad ol' devil ain't never willingly lets go, especially because I used to be his servant. He made me feel so empty about my convictions, rehashing me back to my philosophies against God, tempting me with some good ol' devil strategies I used to employ when convincing people to follow me. But I told him, Nigga I don't speak to convince, I speak to empart (the annointing). Why? Coz God is good, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.<br /><br />He persisted to make me feel like Jesus when he was on the mountain top being tested, but told me I wasn't Jesus therefore I should surrender to his evil power. I felt like giving up. Blessedly, a voice inside of me told me to say, "Yessssssis!" I wondered why and it told me that Yesssis means Jesus. The voice came on strongly telling me that everytime I say Yesssis, there is a quake in hell. It told me that when I say Yesssis demons crash and burn because I was calling on the name of Jesus. It said "At the mention of the name Jesus, every knee shall bow, and every tongue confess, that Jesus is Lord." Indeed, I said Yesssis! and I continued to say, Jerrrrrrrrr! which means "God!" And as I said that the weight lifted from off my shoulders. Every knee of financial stress bowed before the name, every tongue of success confessed that Jesus is Lord. Yesssis, do you understand what I am saying? God is good, that's my story and I'm sticking to it!<br /><br />Yesssis!<br /><br />“Rap music is the equivalent of Jesus Christ screaming, 'Eloi, Eloi.'”<br />Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, 2007.<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8541918499264199442?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-77559064887482095742007-10-23T10:56:00.000-07:002007-10-23T23:16:52.282-07:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Rx7fVKmygXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/51QHbdK80GM/s1600-h/Nt5.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/Rx7fVKmygXI/AAAAAAAAAFs/51QHbdK80GM/s320/Nt5.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124778980711498098" border="0" /></a><br /><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><br />While I am thinking <span class="down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"></span>that <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nas</span> should feature me on his upcoming album titled (yeah you guessed right, just like my church), <a href="http://yodemo.blogspot.com/search/label/Holy%20Niggaz"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Nigga</span></a>, The Makgema Brothers have a press release that you can read <a href="http://www.makgema.blogspot.com/">here</a> .<br /><br />And yes, on the Nas tip, I need someone to get me in contact with Nasir Jones coz it's about time he dropped some shit with a sub-legendary Nigga. My rhymes have always been dope to say the least, but above all they know how to inspire niggas. If Nas don't believe me he can check out my <a href="http://yodemo.blogspot.com/search/label/ARE%20YOU%20A%20PROSTITUTE%3F"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">PIMP</span>ATION Strategy for Success</a>. I think I am the most relevant voice for Niggas in Africa at the moment. Plus, my rhymes have proven prophetic at times. Maybe I should drop a reminder of how I flow on this ish. Here is a lyric I love so much, Hype Mag ain't never wanted to use this ish.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">Verse1<br /><br />(H-Eye-Vee)<br />[MATTHEW Chapter 7 verse 13]<br />When I rap thru the spooky valley of the shadows of Limpopo<br />Without food, kua Mandela village, re eja <span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);">Maphopho</span><br />I shall fear no Geddo starring<br />I shall only be God fearing<br />Perusing the bible and searching for the truth<br />On my own, far from the madding youth<br />Marching on like a bloody troop<br />As I craze for loot, in Dwarsloop<br />Where Makgema want the stake and motherfuckers the soup<br />Collecting my thoughts as my demons regroup<br />Oh Shaks! There’s a Jesus on my stoep<br />[AMEN!]<br />But where St JEROME’s melodies are blowing I shall follow<br />Coz besides the music everything else is hollow<br />That’s why ke decidile go ya solo<br />I’m damn deep, that’s why ke sena tomorrow<br />That’s why my ballads are bleeding sorrow<br />Do I really need another life to borrow?<br />Another BENNY HINN to preach again?<br />So I can be born again, again?<br />Escape hell and the pain<br />Walk thru the HEAVENLY GATES without having to run<br />As if I hear GOD saying well done<br /><br />Chorus<br /><br />(Jackie)<br /></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><em><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Oh, my God don’t make it hard for me<br />When I enter thru the gates of heaven (x2)<br /><br /></span></em>Verse2<br />(H-Eye-Vee)<br />Can’t believe I fell asleep when I was about to ignite<br />Six long years later, late Saturday nite<br />It’s half-past 8, I’m drunk and about to start a fight<br />Just when I was close to the light<br />I’m going blind, losing my sight<br />Forget the insight<br />I’m about to make somebody bleed<br />When I should lead, by example and water the seed<br />But in BUSHBUCKRIDGE, many motherfuckers is full of greed<br />No sponsorship for my shit coz I’m full of weed<br />Looking grown but deep down I’m still a kasie-fucking kid<br />[AMEN!]<br />So forgive the rebel for penning a dirge<br />Understand my whole life is on the fucking verge<br />Please understand SHATALE, the Geddo from which I emerge<br />Full of superstitious motherfuckers hanging on muti’s ledge<br />Between politics, witchcraft or HAVOHEJ (Jehovah)<br />Ke diteng-kwibidi, kua MATIBIDI<br />Where the real Moloi is found<br />When walking outta the gate you better watch the ground<br />For any wicked design<br />Now watch it now, yo stepping outta line<br />Into the sickness (H-Eye-Vee)<br />It’s a snare, this rap shit is just a business<br /><br />Chorus (repeat)<br /><br />Verse3<br />(H-Eye-Vee)<br />keo llela kae?<br />Keo llela kae, menyako e kwalega<br />bashemanyana re bolayana banyan ba belega?<br />Uneducated just a pre-school graduate from MONTEDI</span></span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-family:georgia;">still stuck in this Geddo like MOLETANGWEDI<br />Haven’t seen a single cent mo kgweding tse pedi<br />Tse tharo<br />Ao, MORENA ka mabitso a mararo<br />No mino petri<br />My cigarette lit<br />Tryin’to increase, the bliss<br />Get a taste of Iblis<br />In this, geddo TELEKINESIS<br />[AMEN!]<br />Ruri ruri, there’s no hope when yo mind is sober<br />That means more daydreaming until OCTOBER<br />GOGO SANI saying God is good but I haven’t seen it so far<br />That’s why my gun is on top of the sofa<br />Unlike Aba-Zalwan’ba rich, all I know is to suffer<br />I close my bible and start to rebel<br />Til the angel of death rings my bell<br />Til I see SATAN in RED when I shout HELEL<br />BEN SHAHAR<br />DIABOLO lea mo tshaba<br />Nkare lea mo cava<br />Betraying like a good lover<br />It’s very, very dark, now I’ma let it go<br />Like MALELE said, "You never know."<br />Perhaps there’s more<br />Perhaps worse is still to come<br />Like the day MUCCADUM, lost his mom<br />We couldn’t talk about it<br />We only believed and prayed she entered heaven, no doubt about it<br />But now we trapped in the corners of the NIGHTMARE<br />With an unknown DESTINY to share<br />Even though PEARLY GATES is closed we dare<br />Our hope shining like the moon out there<br />Fortune will set us free by JUNE I swear<br />Chorus outro<br />(Jackie)<br />Dedication<br />(H-Eye-Vee)<br />This track is dedicated<br />To RAHIM, CONFERENCE, my caffre who went to JAIL before reaching his DREAM<br />LORD please, don’t make it hard for him<br />-4kof SATAN</span></span><span style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span><br />So, N-A-S, wha chu think Nigga? Hope Jesse Jackson listening!<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />“Rap music is the equivalent of Jesus Christ screaming, 'Eloi, Eloi.'”<br />Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, 2007.<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-7755906488748209574?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-59039759867505993772007-10-22T07:25:00.000-07:002007-10-22T07:26:36.712-07:00<!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br />I am blessed.<br /><br />Ha ha ha ha ha haha hah ha h a hah hahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!<br /><br />Damn a nigga is blessed!<br /><br />“Rap music is the equivalent of Jesus Christ screaming, 'Eloi, Eloi.'”<br />Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, 2007.<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5903975986750599377?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-553880593129416892007-10-18T00:45:00.000-07:002007-10-18T01:33:14.991-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071018;8054100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071018;8054100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;">For the past few weeks God has been weaving the Super Revolution into a holy tapestery. I have been reluctant to write about it because it was too big for me to grasp with my natural understanding. But God works in mysterious ways. He forced me to dwell into a super understanding. On the night of Friday October 5, I was involved in a taxi crash while going to deliver a matric dance speech at a school in Thulamahashe. Enroute to the event, when everybody was waiting for me to arrive (they kept calling to see how many minutes were left before my arrival), the taxi just smashed hard into a cow that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. When the taxi started spinning out of the tar road into the bushes by the wayside, everybody started screaming in horror. However, I was focusing on my date with the matric dance people. I just held on to the driver's seat, thinking to myself that I am getting out of here alive and going straight to give my speech. The taxi violently crashed into trees and stopped. But beneath a fire had started, and there were sounds that made everybody think the taxi would explode. The doors were stark, there was no way out, except through the windows. One smart guy broke a window and jumped out. I followed desperately. And boy you won't believe the freedom I felt when outside. Inside the taxi were the other passengers who were struggling to come out. My speech was left in there together with my other files. The smart guy again helped open the doors from outside the taxi, helping the other passengers out. Least to say that he was also smart enough to put out the fire by using sand.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;">Everybody was dazed by the freak accident, but safe. That's the most important thing. The person who seemed to be injured was the driver, who was bleeding all over the place; he ended up sitting down while we waited for help. A pregnant woman and another lady also seemed traumatised and injured on their legs. I only had some bleeding scratches on my legs which I sustained when escaping through the broken window. I gave the matric dance people a call, they drove 4 kilometres to where I was. “Are you fine?” they asked. I said, “Is the crowd super at the event?” The rest is history, I made it alive and gave my speech to the disbelief of many.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;">However, that was not it. God came to me and said, boy I could have ended your life that day, but I didn't. Why? Because I you had not ended your work on earth. As God and I spoke he gave me a Super Revelation about my Super Revolution. He said young man, you are a nigga. And as you know, the state of the nigga is not a good state for anyone to be in. From this day on I want you to use the Super Revolution to bring niggaz to God. I want you to reveal to niggaz that God lives in them. What? He said I want you to start a church of holy niggaz. He told me as an instruction or else...</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;">I am not stupid enough to argue with God. So I surrendered. Today, may I announce to all of you, that I am <b>The Chief Custodian of the Revelation of Christ for Niggaz</b>. The church that God has given me is called <b>Capitalist Niggaz of Christ Holy Church</b>. Yes, Capitalist Niggaz. God told me to open this church, where I will teach his Super Revelation so that all niggaz can become <b>Niggaz Acting On The Word Of Christ</b>, The <b>NAOTWOC</b>. He said if niggaz can believe and act on their faith, they will become multi-millionaires and billionaires. He revealed to me why niggaz were slaves and couldn't enjoy the blessings of God: We don't act on his Word. I asked why he chose a person like me because I am a rapper who uses dirty (unclean) language. So how could I possibly teach others the Word using a dirty mouth. God shocked me by pointing me to his Word: Romans 14:14. I fell on my knees and knelt before God. He said “Get up and start bringing me niggaz.” God said when niggaz rap in frustration, all he hears is Jesus on the Cross screaming, Eloi Eloi. That's why in my church we play hip hop music and read the Holy Bible. God speaks in many ways and through unique people, “<b>My sheep knoweth my voice.</b>”</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(128, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Utopia,serif;">This is it for now. Have to go now.</span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />“Rap music is the equivalent of Jesus Christ screaming, 'Eloi, Eloi.'”<br />Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, 2007.<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-55388059312941689?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-49029130828962433672007-10-16T06:57:00.000-07:002007-10-16T07:03:22.456-07:00<!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The Lord Is My Sherperd, I shall not be broke.</span><br /><br />Yey though I walk through the inflation rate of Mzansi, I shall fear no corruption, for the Lord is with me.<br /><br />There ain't no glory working with Satan. I have found God to be very appealing. Sitting on the feet of Jesus just raised my faith to boundless leaps. I have a super future. My mind has finally become untouchable by evil. I believe that <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">I was born to become the Celine Dion par of Rap Music, the Bill Gates of Religion and the Ianstein of Financial Genius.</span><br /><br />Watch this space.<br /><br />Rap music is the equivalent of Jesus screaming, "Eloi, Eloi." Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane, 2007.<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-4902913082896243367?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-84558003519930029882007-10-12T07:51:00.000-07:002007-10-12T07:53:45.344-07:00<!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><span style="font-size:180%;">Please visit makgema.blogspot.com and drop comments.<br /></span><span class="down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"></span><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">The <a href="http://makgema.blogspot.com">Makgema Brothers</a> would like to hear from you.<br /></span><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />i GOT proof THAT god DOESN'T exist/ BUT ain't NO dollars IN that/ SO i PERSIST/ to SWAY this MARKET/ who SAID gullibility AIN'T no TARGET?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8455800351993002988?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-39053340584136368582007-10-04T08:01:00.000-07:002007-10-04T08:02:25.480-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071004;16591900"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a href="http://groups.google.co.za/group/the-secret-fraternity/browse_thread/thread/a2362d4b7641700?hl=en">http://groups.google.co.za/group/the-secret-fraternity</a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Magic comes in many forms, I believe. Today I want you to think of a word that makes you feel magical everytime you think of it or say outoud. Think about it; there are words that have power, but can also released your own power. I also feel some of these words, but amongst them is a word that makes me feel like making love or go flying into some celestial plane. It is not the meaning of the word that provokes these wonderful feelings in me, just the way it sounds. Bet you wondering what the word is. Well, wonder no more. The power name that releases my divine deuce is, Terra Firma. Ooh! Don't know why, but Terra Firma kicks my ass.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">So, what about you? Is there a word that makes you feel like saying, Ribelatti? Go on and send it to <a href="mailto:heydad@webmail.com">heydad@webmail.com</a> or simply leave a comment below. Terra Firma, feel like I'm in a <a href="http://kasiekulture.blogspot.com/search/label/hummer">Hummer</a>. Terra Firma!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">Meanwhile, there is also a secret society called <a href="http://groups.google.co.za/group/the-secret-fraternity/browse_thread/thread/a2362d4b7641700?hl=en">The Secret Fraternity</a>. Click at the name to visit them.</p><br /><br />i GOT proof THAT god DOESN'T exist/ BUT ain't NO dollars IN that/ SO i PERSIST/ that he does in order to SWAY this MARKET/ who SAID gullibility AIN'T no TARGET?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-3905334058413636858?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-745490964539197352007-10-02T11:20:00.000-07:002007-10-02T23:30:16.539-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20071003;7593000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM02C0BaxI/AAAAAAAAAE0/SIPdA3l_JLw/s1600-h/Khut%24o.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM02C0BaxI/AAAAAAAAAE0/SIPdA3l_JLw/s320/Khut%24o.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116991704695663378" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM1dy0BayI/AAAAAAAAAE8/UY9tf_xqv-Q/s1600-h/J"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM1dy0BayI/AAAAAAAAAE8/UY9tf_xqv-Q/s320/J" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116992387595463458" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM02C0BaxI/AAAAAAAAAE0/SIPdA3l_JLw/s1600-h/Khut%24o.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM02C0BaxI/AAAAAAAAAE0/SIPdA3l_JLw/s320/Khut%24o.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116991704695663378" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM1dy0BayI/AAAAAAAAAE8/UY9tf_xqv-Q/s1600-h/J"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM1dy0BayI/AAAAAAAAAE8/UY9tf_xqv-Q/s320/J" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116992387595463458" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM02C0BaxI/AAAAAAAAAE0/SIPdA3l_JLw/s1600-h/Khut%24o.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RwM02C0BaxI/AAAAAAAAAE0/SIPdA3l_JLw/s320/Khut%24o.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5116991704695663378" border="0" /></a><br /><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p><br /><br /><br />There are many ways to define love, and there is one acurate way, which I won't say. But everybody knows that a pic speaks a thousand words.<br /><br /><br /><br />__________________________________________________<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />i GOT proof THAT god DOESN'T exist/ BUT ain't NO dollars IN that/ SO i PERSIST/ that he does in order to SWAY this MARKET/ who SAID gullibility AIN'T no TARGET?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-74549096453919735?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-79720854356436003492007-09-27T11:03:00.000-07:002007-09-27T23:14:12.108-07:00<!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br />I was telling my young brother the other day, that you know, we have all the proof that there is no God, but no one is interested because it changes everything they ever knew. Now change is hard, so imagine changing everything. So, I said, "<span style="font-style: italic;">My dear brother, we will starve to death and have no friends if we perpetuate this mentality. Only people who have done intense research know and are willing to accept that the God presented to the world by religions is not a living God. He doesn't even live up to the claim. But screw it, we won't make money with such thinking</span>."<br /><br />He agreed. So, the next day we started telling people how Good God was, and they were so happy. They felt Good (God). They now could stop being responsible for their lives and believe that God will do things as he wills. Well, ngwana llela sehlana, sehla o mo fe. Today we are giving people what they want. We even recorded a song that says Jeso is coming back. Indeed Jesus is coming, hear me. People are happy, we are happy. I am happy. God is Good, you can't deny that. Proof is too much show of, let's all live together and be happy. When in Rome do what the Romans do, or change Rome if you are willing to be killed. Like I said before, <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">he cometh like comet</span>.<br /><br />Me and my brother are not Christians, or Muslims for that matter; we are just believers of God. He is Good and we have the proof. We are the proof. Do you feel that capitalist nigga!<br /><br />Here is some advice from Dr Phil's <span style="font-weight: bold;">Life Strategies<span style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span></span>, "Do what works, do what matters." Does God being Good work? Ask any preacher. God is Good, let me hear you say, "All the time."<br /><br /><br />i GOT proof THAT god DOESN'T exist/ BUT ain't NO dollars IN that/ SO i PERSIST/ to WIN the MARKET/<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-7972085435643600349?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-65847306516899359532007-09-25T11:04:00.000-07:002007-09-25T23:54:10.547-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070926;7535400"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">MY MIND IS LIKE A PROSTITUTE, GETTING FUCKED FOR LOOT.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">THEREFORE I DECIDED TO GET ME A PIMP.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">YEAH, A PIMP.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">It is my latest discovery as a millionaire-in-the-making that without a PIMP (a person whose job is to get customers for a call girl), you cannot surely make a million.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">But what is a PIMP?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">Well, there is a PIMP in everyone of us. The job of the PIMP is not to fuck us, but to help our minds get fucked for MONEY. This PIMP I call the Super PIMP. It is actually an acronym that anyone can use to unleash the millionaire power that lies in everyone of us. However, I have copyrighted this acronym. It belongs to me, but can also be useful to you.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>P</b> = Provocation</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>I</b> = Inspiration</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>M</b> = Motivation</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>P</b> = Perspiration</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>Provocation</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;">I have realised in my unbeatable chase for the illusive mill that without the PIMP I am just chasing the wind. But what the PIMP means is that before you even think of making a million you must be provoked. Life must accuse you of all sorts of things: you are a failure, you are poor, you are ugly, you are stupid, you are nothing, a nobody, a Tantulus born to envy others; you are worthless, you are not down-to-earth you belong in the grave. Now, to me, that's very provoking. When I see someone in the BMW X6, I get provoked. When my woman looks at a man with rippling muscles and a bulging wallet more than she looks at me I get provoked. When I always have to borrow cash, beg and cry just to belong, I get provoked. When I have to look at a beauty queen and feel as if I'm not her type I get provoked. What about you? But then what do you do when the situation is like this? What do I do?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>Inspiration</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> I can't just sit there feeling pity for myself. I wake up and study the situation. The people who provoke me actually inspire me to prove them wrong. So far in my life I have proven many people wrong, such that today they no longer really provoke me, instead the expect the best out of me such that I need to provoke myself before I slide back into being provoked by them. So provocation turns into inspiration. I use what I don't have as a chance to have it. Beauty is about the only thing that a person is really born with, the rest we hustle for. We need the PIMP. Are you getting inspired? Are you getting fired up? Are you tired of being provoked? Do you want to reverse the situation? Well, get inspired. Let inspiration make you want to live one more day, want to give it one more try. It will all be worth it one day. But how does inspiration help you actually get down and dirty? How does it help me do what I really want to do?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>Motivation</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> I need to motivate myself. I need to burn the fire within me so that I can do what is necessary to achieve what is desired. That's exactly what you need. You need to look up to someone for motivation. The best way to do that is to have a role model and not be ashamed of it. I have used this to my advantage as a young boy. When I was young I looked up to three people. First, it was the late Tupac Shakur, who made me want to stretch my mind on the rap fraternity. So far everyone who has ever heard me rap thinks I am the best rapper in the whole world. Sometimes when I listen to myself rap I can't help but feel that way as well. Second role model I looked up to was writer Goodenough Mashego, who was just a friend from the hood. I saw his name in magazines and newspapers and I wondered how a ghetto hustler from Shatale could achieve such height. I read his short stories, his short poems, his short movies and his nationally published articles. Sooner than I knew, I was all over the news and magazines. I was so inspired that I never even did any journalism course at tertiary level, but today many journalists at journalism school can't even dream of reaching my level. Third role model is a small time preacher and motivational speaker, Amos Mbiza (previously Amos Mathebula), a former classmate at Orhovelani High School in Thulamahashe, Bushbuckridge. He was just a skinny dude from Mozambique who used to sleep only 4 hours because he had many books to read and a lot of prayers to make. He used to be so persuasive with words that I looked up to him. Today, he has made a name for himself as a preacher and head of a church in Gauteng. He dresses better than anyone I know so far and has married a beautiful woman for himself. He also owns a fashion label called Celebrity. I used to train under Amos, taking lessons, directly and indirectly. Today, I am the Supervisor running a super revolution into Prosperity. Although I am not a motivational speaker, I am a provocational speaker and deep down I know he was my mentor/role model. Those who listen to me speak now are always sparked into taking action to make their lives better. I have people whose businesses are flourishing because they listened to me. Now, that's motivation. So, what do you do after being motivated ny someone you look up to? What do I do?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><b>Perspiration</b></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="">After motivation I realised I needed some serious action. Motivation is a force that drives a person into action. You are not motivated until you do something about the power you feel. Too much power and little action will burn you out. You need to perspire, you need to sweat in some hectic and thoughtful action. People don't give a shit how much Anthony Robbins motivates you; they don't care if you have read The Secret; they give a shit about the results you are getting. Today I have learned to perspire. I too sleep a very small amount of time and wake at 4am. I read books that are related to what I am doing. I stay up in my room-cum-library-cum-office-cum-studio reading, doing paperwork and producing music. My partner in crime, Ntate J Modise, is on the street selling his debut EP, <a href="http://makgema.blogspot.com/">Jeso</a>, and people are buying the CD. While I am at work making an extra R7000 take-home, he is also going back and forth trying to get our company sponsorship. Lately we are caught up in business profiles, tax clearance certificates, company stamps, company logo, posters and other things that make a music company work. We are producing our own muzik, manufacturing the product ourselves and distributing it at the same time. During weekends J is Deejaying for an extra R1000 for the whole night. I usually knock-off from work and stay with him all night, at the aid of Castle Light/Marzen Gold of course. We are perspiring. Our dream is not to be on TV; it is to own TV. We have serious other projects that we are tirelessly working on. Government is about to give us a piece of its pie, and it's all thanx to hardwork.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"> This is the PIMP I am talking about. As I said, this is the place where I diarize my way to the top. If you need provocation, you can give me a call and I will help you help yourself into becoming what you want.</p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-6584730651689935953?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-76644635421573582632007-09-12T11:25:00.000-07:002007-09-12T23:42:00.989-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070913;7472000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070913;7472000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070913;7472000"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RujX8HDOauI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZcwZU9Tt7xQ/s1600-h/The+Rebel+Himself"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RujX8HDOauI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/ZcwZU9Tt7xQ/s320/The+Rebel+Himself" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109571204936526562" border="0" /></a><br /> <br /><p> </p><p style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Intro:</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Preacher: Evacuate the gutter</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Interpreter: Et$wang masepeng</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Preacher: I said evacuate the gutter!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Interpreter: Kere et$wang masepeng!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Preacher: Evacuate!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Interpreter: Et$wang!</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">__________________________________________________</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Tshwarelo: Lessons we learn from church, valuable. I'm bringing the church in hip hop, so every caffre can evacuate himself from the gutter. Build dreams and make millions.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Verse 1: (Tshwarelo) the gasses of poverty is filling the air/ lefase le re kona moya, we can't breathe unless we dare/ bio-chemicals from the unemployment rate filling the lung/ violent cusses and outbursts of anger leaving the tongue/ the nervous system getting fucked up, blame frustration/ caffres turning crazy, blame desperation/ can't escape, we all trapped in the same corner/ waiting for the coroner/ speaking the same thoughts in Shona/ whenever we dream big, skippa ke Nike, tekkie ke Puma/ ziyakhipha in this life, Mbeki le Zuma/ verily, verily, I say every man wants to sika le khekh'/ MegaMak, all we want is to sika le chaque/ money is power/ nigga, don't be fooled/ you need it like a street kid needs a shower/ nigga, yo overruled/ think harder, motherfucker/ makes plans to evacuate this gutter, motherfucker/ at any chance demonstrate yo Bambatha/ and infiltrate the plots of Apartheid and Botha/ coz in his shallow grave, he still says, a lotta shit/ that's why you can take the Childe outta the gutter but shit/ you can't take the gutter outta the Childe/ but we'll all be better off someday in the Surburbian Wilde/ that's why my divorce with the gutter's been filed/ I might look geddo now but soon I'll be styled/ just wait for a while/ coz soon, fortune will smile ---</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);"><b>Chorus</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Verse 2: (Tshwarelo) it's evacuation 101/ the pen is sharper than the sword, nigga fuck yo gun/ but if these niggas can't read, I blast my gun/ gotta bury the violent niggaz or else be the one/ to be buried/ nigga you may kiss the barrel, I now pronounce you married/ don't act morose, don't be overcarried/ time to give up the ghost, with death, the Lord has never tarried/ niggaz, my time is not yo motherfucking time/ you shouldn't have messed with </span><a href="http://makgema.blogspot.com/"><b><u><i><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">MegaMak</span></i></u></b></a><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);"> at its prime/ behold, today we evacuating caffres/ freedom has come, we emancipating brothers/ simulteneously putting dollars in our coffers/ fuck ancestors/ we giving the pride back to our mothers/ I'm just glad success finally taking my orders/ I told y'all I was gonna be crossing these borders/ I told y'all believe in me, niggaz/ but some o' y'all tried decieving me, niggaz/ they just couldn't see the Arch Deciever in me, niggaz/ now they receiving heat from me, when I pull these mean triggers/ can't you fathom it, I can't get out/ without looting the shit and deleting all doubt/ I gotta bomb it, obliterate punk caffres who blurted they mouth/ admit Ba$a, I'm the dopest lyricist in the South/ ba$a, you got hit by my motherfucking TAOMTH ---</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);"><b>Chorus</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Verse 3: (Tshwarelo) The Holy Book told y'all the last shall be first, January is December to me/ I give you all the boldness and bravery/ but when you qoute my wisdom you act like you don't remember me/ you're a man tomorrow, it's all thanx to me/ punk, I evacuated the coward in thee/ I broke the dumb spirit and re-created thee/ taught you take over or be overtaken/ seemingly I was way mistaken/ through my unpublished books I led the sheep through the woods/ through the wolves and the ticks of the hood/ I'm-in-you, caffres, that's how you got resuscitated/ I dangled my rhymes like pussy in y'all faces while y'all masturbated/ I'm the Man amongst men, I ain't kasi-fated/ evacuating this geddo while they ain't anticipated/ my wisdom deep, niggaz picture me antiquated/ only with the Creative Force, I shall ever be equated/ the Black Hawk has landed, time to get high, and fly, away from this dump/ fly high and fuck with the speed hump/ below, let's change the geddo shacks into the Towers of Trump/ y'all know, this is the shit the CD ROM was created to bump ---</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(35, 0, 220);">Outro<br /><br />The geddo ours, let's rebuilt it by evacuating the geddo mentality. We can turn this shit into Tender Park, motherfuckers, evacuate<br /></span><br /><br /></p> <p></p><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-7664463542157358263?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-80445358860635874482007-09-06T11:58:00.000-07:002007-09-07T00:00:23.047-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070907;8085700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /></div><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><span style="font-size:6;">My Skipping Rope Makes Me Happy</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><span style="font-size:6;">(A clever guide to permanent happiness)</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>Everybody wants happiness</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Happiness is a tricky phenomenon, the psychotherapist's dilemma. I have seen people being happy because they had a sip of wine. I have seen people being happy because they said Msathanyoko to someone they don't like. I have seen people being happy because they got laid. Happiness, like money, comes in many uniforms and works differently for different people. But at the core of happiness is the basic principle, my theory of happiness. The truth is: Everybody wants to be happy, but we don't know how, at least most of the time. Some “gurus” have suggested that you don't need anything for you to be happy; that you can just decide to be happy by convincing your mind to be happy. Well, from personal experience let me tell you that convincing your mind to just become happy is as hard as trying to convince your stomach that it if full. Impossible. Anthony Robbins and Rhonda Byrne, amongst other power speakers and writers, have made these impossible claims that one can just be happy without any material or person to make them happy. I won't attack the two, but let me say, well why do they want to convince us about all this? Will they become unhappy if they don't sell their books? I bet you! They'll become so miserable, I know because I am a writer and can't imagine just quitting on writing and deciding to become happy without having to have a book published and sold. It beats me how the same Anthony Robbins felt so unhappy with his former wife Becky that they ended up divorced. I was shocked to learn that his marriage had failed to make them both happy, and as a result they both jumped ship.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>Skipping rope happiness trigger</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Constant self-evaluation and observation of other human beings help me come up with what I call the Skipping Rope Happiness Trigger. You would be amazed to realise that when you use a skipping rope, you are actually just jumping up and down. You can jump up and down up to 500 or 1000 times using a skipping rope. But can you do the same using nothing but your feet? You propably won't, or can't. You can't afford to jump around up to 5000 times without using the skipping rope. Meanwhile, it is not the rope that makes you jump, it is your feet. Your legs are doing the jumping, the skipping rope is just keeping urging you on. So it is possible to skip without a rope, but we can't see ourselves doing it. Why? Maybe because it seems ridiculous.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">The same theory applies with happiness. It is like a skipping rope. From what the gurus say, happiness is within you – you don't need a Mercedes Benz for you to become happy because everytime you become happy it comes from within. This means happiness has always been there. If someone can come to you and give you a R1 million cheque, you will be very happy. But to be just happy without the Benz or the million is difficult, and in today's reality, impossible. You need something to urge you on, something to trigger the happiness. Just like a loaded gun, it won't release bullets until you pull the trigger, even if you just squeeze it. So, to me, our mind is playing a trick on us and we just have to play with it. For you to be happy, you need something or someone to make you happy. Without something, nothing will squeeze the happiness out of you. It cannot be denied, you have all the happiness you need right in the inside of you. But you can't deny that you need something or someone to pull that trigger and release your happiness. You need that glass of liquor, that BMW, that sexy wife/hubby, that house/furniture, that business deal; damn, you need that money. Then your happiness will be released.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>Types of happiness</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <ol><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Momentary happiness</span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Semi-permanent happiness</span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Permanent happiness</span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Futuristic happiness</span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>Sources of happiness</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <ol><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Approval – a mentally based happiness</span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Satiation – a biologically based happiness</span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Approval</u>: Everyone feels happy when they sense (hear or see or feel) that others approve of who they are or what they do. When you sense that somebody likes or loves you, it automatically releases your happiness. You become happy. Disapproval is a mentally based source of unhappiness.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Satiation</u>: Everyone feels happy when their physical desires or yearnings are met or satiated. When you eat after feeling hunger pangs you become happy. When you become sexually satiated (if somebody has touched you at the right spot and increased the enjoyment) your happiness trigger is pulled and you become happy. Insatiation is a biologically based source of unhappiness.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Therefore you are only happy when you feel approved of or when you feel satiated. You feel unhappy when you don't sense approval from those you wish to approve of you or when you are insatiated.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>Types of approval and satiation</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Approval</u></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <ol><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Real approval – when real beings (people or animals) approve of you</span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Fictional approval – when imaginary beings (gods, people or animals) approve of you</span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Satiation</u></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <ol><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Real satiation – real objects (physical clothes, physical food, physical gadgets, physical sexual organs) satisfy your body</span></p> </li><li><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"> <span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Fictional satiation – imaginery objects (imagined clothes, imagined food, imagined gadgets, imagined sexual organs) satisfy your body</span></p> </li></ol> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>My Theory</b>: </span> </p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Approval and satiation are the only explainable sources of happiness. That's my psychological evaluation and philosophical discource.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><b>For a full-detailed version of the thesis</b></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Make a rewarding purchase of the complete essay</u></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><span style=""><u>Title</u>:</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><i><b>My Skipping Rope Makes Me Happy</b></i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"> (A clever guide to permanent happiness)</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Author</u>:</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><i><b>The Supervisor</b></i></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal;" align="center"> <span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;"><u>Price</u><span style="text-decoration: none;">:</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none;" align="center"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none;" align="center"> <span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Original: <span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><strike>R150.00</strike></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none;" align="center"> <span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Discounted: R89.00, (exc R10.00 Mailing Fee)</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; font-style: normal; text-decoration: none;" align="center"> <span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">Total: R99.00</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">For purchase accounts call 083 3350 856 and have your essay delivered in a few days</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family:Century Schoolbook L;">PS: Save yourself time and get this exclusive essay right now. <b><i>My Skipping Rope Makes Me Happy</i></b> will guide you into attaining permanent happiness.</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"> </p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8044535886063587448?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-24078424050720705422007-08-27T01:25:00.001-07:002007-08-27T01:30:25.623-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070822;15295500"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070822;15295500"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --> <p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="color:#ffff00;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(35, 0, 220) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">My mind is a dangerous regime my thoughts sleep outside - </span></span></span> </p> <ol><li><p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="color:#ffff00;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(35, 0, 220) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Is there no book out there that can teach me how to walk though a solid wall without it being broken? If you know about one, please let me know.</span></span></span></p> </li><li><p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="color:#ffff00;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(35, 0, 220) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">If the Mighty Thabo Mvuyelwa Mbeki is the head of all armed forces in South Africa, is it not true that when he drinks Rum, or any alcoholic cocktail, he's drinking on duty?</span></span></span></p> </li></ol> <p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"><br /></p> <p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="color:#ffff00;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(35, 0, 220) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Think about it. All presidents (just generalising, I only mean most) apparently do drink, but they are the heads of all armed forces ib their various countries, and they are on duty 24/7/365,6. Are these guys allowed to make the law and break it? This reminds me of a painful, yet truthful straight-to-the-point question asked by crackbarrel philosophers an age ago. Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes? Who shall guard the guardians?</span></span></span></p> <p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"><br /></p> <p style="background: rgb(0, 128, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial; margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%;"> <span style="color:#ffff00;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(35, 0, 220) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">To quote the assasinated Tupac Shakur, “I leave this here, so God can see my heart is pure, I leave this here, so God can see my heart is pure.”</span></span></span></p><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2407842405072070542?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-79623522983562369552007-08-27T01:25:00.000-07:002007-08-27T01:36:06.362-07:00<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-7962352298356236955?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-58777180736006302972007-08-13T07:21:00.000-07:002007-08-13T07:23:08.427-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070813;16171300"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">My Mind has reached such a level in exploring itself and bringing my conscious to the Super Realms that I have been missing most of my life. I had always known that there was something special about me; something divine. Now I have found it and to know this is not only overwhelming, but elevating. I am quickly reaching my Super Self on an hourly basis. I am at the helm of the unknown becoming known. I can prophesy that success has become my first nature. I see myself and those who choose to heed my teachings becoming super successful. Deep within my Mind is a Super Self that I have been hiding from. Now I am revealing me to it. I am better than I was an hour ago. If you knew me some time ago, you are yet to be shocked. I Am. And I Will Be. The energy, the anointing, the baptisim of Godness surrounds me as it spills from my Mind to my body.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">This is the life I was born to live. You too can choose what you were born to be. Choose Now and discover the infinite ability that is within you.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">A Super Future, For A Super People</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Yours</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 200%; color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">The Supervisor</p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-5877718073600630297?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-7164323419951938862007-07-27T07:21:00.000-07:002007-07-27T07:28:13.095-07:00<!-- Start Amatomu.com badge -->Ribelatti and The Junky's Stone<br /><br />Yeah, this is the day that this life has made. I will smoke and rejoice in it. This is the day... This is the day... That this life has made.<br /><br />Where is everyone? I last saw the Diva on a Thursday some years ago? Have you gonn Bloggicide girl? Where is Kasie? Probably doing door-to-door sales of his new poetry title: Taste of my vomit. HHHHHHHHHHHMM. Well I see Kwaki is no longer Mr Nice Guy.<br /><br />Am reading Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix. This is my first Potter because I want to know the series since it has made the author over US$1 Billion rich. Maybe I can sell her my idea to kill Harry and make him go to the valley of death to raise his parents and Cedric. Will soon buy Half-Blood Prince and then the much celebrated orgasm, Deathly Hallows.<br /><br />Have a fucking blasting weekend. I got a stone to use, goss to levitate.<br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-716432341995193886?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-1252170877133635322007-07-23T04:38:00.000-07:002007-07-23T04:46:46.439-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070723;7583500"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;2063100"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">It is higher things I desire.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">You know I have just realised that I am more righteous than I thought. And I have also realised that while being an atheist, I have more faith than most theists, who believe in a God somewhere out there. These people tend to believe that this God is so far, out there such that he cannot hear their prayers or consider their concerns. I am truly concerned. I have also realised that all human beings are hypocrites (pretenders who say something but do the other), prejudiced from the bone to the marrow. But I have no problem with that – if you cannot beat them, join them, and I'm afraid that I will be more dangerous a player of this stupid game than they all are at the moment. 'Strue God, everybody is out to protect their interest. Today I created what I call the Deposit & Deduction Charter. This table helps me measure what my actions do for my life. It's a profit and loss type of a thing, I developed this so I can account for my own actions, and the results they bring. I have also realised that while I was panicking, my Super Future is much closer to me than I thought. I am about to blow big, like the World ***, in Biggie's words. This excites me because I was thinking that I had miscalculated my goals – but I am closer to success than it appears in the now. You will soon discover – will invite you to come test ride my <b>H2 SUT</b> very soon – how about a stroll around my mansion!</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">I WANT THE WORLD TO UNDERSTAND: I desire the higher things, the things above or beyond the naked eye. I might be religiously pale, but I am spiritually supercharged. The energy that I feel now is beyond what poetry alone can express. I am glad that I am now using this blog as a diary for the things that I plan to do in the future, so that you do not say he's just lucky when great prosperity manifests in my life. Lack is a curse and I believe I am blessed beyond measure. Yes, I am blessed (endowed with great favour), but so are you if you choose to see it. The Supervisor is one of those rare chances in life for you to see that there is more to life than what your parents did to you. There is more to life than what your ex girlfriend or boyfirend did to you. There is more to life than what your fake friends or siblings did to you. There really is more to life for you to tap into. Just give it a try. Time to do the works that are beneficial. You are where you are today because you owe yesterday some big ideas and life-changing actions. Do Not Be Fooled: Life Is Based On Money, either way you will spend some money, whether your money or other people's money. Let's do it Biggie's way again, “Everybody getting' cream, no one considered a leach.”</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">“Do what thou will shall be the whole of the law.”</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">A Super Future for a Super People</p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-125217087713363532?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-80610190775207261472007-07-18T10:43:00.000-07:002007-07-18T22:56:36.373-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070719;7475400"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">I want to know him, and the POWER of his ressurrection.</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">How does a person manifest the power of belief? How do we perform miracles? How do you go beyond the visible and exercise the greatest mind POWER? That's what I am up to now. This makes me not give a shit about what is going on in the world at the moment. I am only affected by the POWER of EXISTENCE. I believe that being alive is MAGIC already. But I also believe the MAGIC does not only end on being alive. There must be more. Surely there is. There are miraculous things that are happening behind the scenes of life. But why are we then so reluctant to tap into that unlimited essence? Why should we count a handful of people, like Jesus and them, as those who have gone behind the veil of reality? Why are we deceiving ourselves?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">I need to manifest something greater than what I am now. I believe I have enough to give – to let out. I believe that what I am looking for is locked somewhere in the dungeons of my mind - but I do not know how to unlock it. I believe there is something greater than religion and money. What is it? Can you help me find the magic and levitate to another dimension?</span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">PS: We are more powerful than we are. I am certain of it. Sooner or later this fact shall be proven.</span></span></p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8061019077520726147?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-80584734952349824682007-07-02T07:28:00.000-07:002007-07-02T07:29:36.310-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070702;14524800"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">BLOG POWER IS THE NEW DEMOCRASY</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">There's a new democracy in the world. Not only does this democracy bring freedom to the most oppressed individual at the darkest corner of a ghetto in my broken village at the north of South Africa's province of the rising sun, Mpumalanga, but it also brings an international democracy that ushers in equal opportunity to every person stationed at any awkward corner of the planet. This is the Blog Democracy, a.k.a Bloggocracy. My vote goes out t9o every blogger there, especially within the Rising Voices group because of the mission behind each and every member's burning desire to help their communities and those of others, who share similar passion. Indeed, there is no greater freedom than the freedom of free human interaction, where everybody shares their life ideas and stories without any person imposing their authority on them. This is more like a paradise on the net, what more could we ask for?</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">As the founder of Nazoke Media, which is yet to train rural community-based-groups and individuals about blogging and networking through the Internet, I would like to express my utmost appreciation for being included in <a href="http://groups.google.com/group/risingvoices?hl=en">Rising Voices group</a>. Thanx David, please continue to spread this gospel, it appears to be what the world needs now. We are all human, with our faults, it's given. But I believe through this group and all sub-projects, we will be learning from each other. I have already bagged a few lessons under my wing. This Bloggocracy has the potential, not only to influence change in the world, but to initiate it and implement it. As a journalist and motivational speaker living in South Africa, I believe that it is through the least effort that the greatest positive change is achieved in the world. My country serves as an example. A mere 13 years ago it was at the brink of an irreparable civil war between classes and races, but today we are picking up the pieces, putting them together through interactive communication. Although we still have a long way to go, we are on our way. I believe the same spirit can be shared amongst us bloggocrats. The future of the futureless lies in our continued contribution to the meaningfulness of our projects to the change that we desire to see in our world. Asking for others to lend a helping hand can always do us good as I have learnt when submitting my proposal to the panel. There is always something to know above what we already know. So never be afraid to seek for assistance, whatever form, in realising the dreams you have for your community. To see the power of effort you can visit an art community on the net, to which I am a friend and contributor. This is one blog from which I have learned some of my skills, which will play a pivotal role in making Nazoke Media grow beyond bounds. Nazoke is a Zulu word that means “There It Is.” It is a word that demands responsibility and action. “There it is, what will you do now?” Then I believe that through it my community will take up the challenge to be part-takers in changing the world through their original stories, which are rich in cultural fibre and aesthetics. You can visit me and my friends on </span><a href="http://kasiekulture.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Kasiekulture</span></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">, thank you very much, I must now return to writing the stories of my people. You can also look our stories up on </span><a href="http://www.news24.com/News24/South_Africa/News/0,,2-7-1442_2092329,00.html"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">news24</span></a><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">. Anything by African Eye News Service is part of my desire to change the world and tell truth to power. Hola 7</span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);">Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane</span></p><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-8058473495234982468?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-25999457055777236202007-06-26T10:57:00.000-07:002007-06-26T23:32:43.980-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070627;8003700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><blink><b>Ntate</b> J <b>Modise</b></blink> has just produced a killer hit, <blink><b>Devil</b> <b>Booty</b></blink>. It's a smashing house beat that explores the booty that all men are after. So, this got me thinking. In this practical world we live in most of us are controlled by the bottom gift that is <blink>ASS</blink>. All men, no matter <span style="">what</span> we can claim, are obsessed about the female behind. Now these come in various shapes and sizes. Some have been defined as perfect while some have been defined as average. But today I'm looking for a name. What would yyyyyoooou name a type of booty? What types of booty do we have and what do you call them?</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);">Please drop us a COMMENT below or send us a name to </span></span></span></span></span><a href="mailto:heydad@webmail.co.za"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);">heydad@webmail.co.za</span></span></span></span></span></a></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">We are calling for the naming or re-naming of the BOOTY. I will obviously be charitable and offer you my choice of name. African BOOTY. Why? Because that's the only definition I have heared before.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">So, here's how you do it.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><u>Name</u></b>: <blink>African Booty</blink></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><u>Type</u></b>: It's round and big – and its bearer proud to have it. The type that a former deputy president of a certain country would love to smear baby oil all over.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><u>Name</u></b>: <blink>Devil Booty</blink></span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><u>Type</u></b>: The kind that makes every man put his morals on hold and cheat on his partner because he couldn't resist. The type that makes a pastor sweat with anointing.</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">There you go, let me hear from you. And could somebody please help translate Rodrigo's comment on the previous quote. I think it's in Portuguese or something! I have to take lingo lessons</span></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: rgb(0, 128, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Palladio L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">PG: No one under the age of consent may send a comment</span></span></span></span></p><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-2599945705577723620?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-30382335901261011822007-06-20T11:35:00.000-07:002007-06-21T00:03:55.396-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070621;8375600"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When is violence necessary? Should Men be Like Hercules to Be Loved By Women?<br /></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Is violence a necessary evil in our society? That's my question for all of you pips on my map. Do we need to display some form of violence sometimes? Is there a time when logic is not enough? The violence I am talking is the kind that we see on TV in Iraq, on the streets of Jozi when strikers are damaging property and police firing a fuselade of bullets. The violence of a man beating his wife, a wife beating her husband, a husband beating a man who had sex with his wife, etc.. The violence of fighting back when someone challenges your value as a person. The violence of pugilists in a boxing ring, karatekas in a back-breaking contest. The guns, the bombs, the sjamboks, the knives, the breaking of plates.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Can violence ever be justified? If we can justify one form of violence can we judge those who practice another? Should we tell people who to kick, when and why? And why do women love men who have an edge of fighting or defending them violently? Angry men? Are logical men who advocate peace and negotiation cowards who can't show that they are men?</span></span></span></p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-3038233590126101182?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-13466585259411149042007-06-20T01:15:00.000-07:002007-06-20T04:06:02.210-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070620;13032900"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RnkJ5A9DW2I/AAAAAAAAADg/hz5uqpoeuWs/s1600-h/529px-GustaveDoreParadiseLostSatanProfile.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RnkJ5A9DW2I/AAAAAAAAADg/hz5uqpoeuWs/s400/529px-GustaveDoreParadiseLostSatanProfile.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078100929950210914" border="0" /></a><br /> <!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --> <p style="margin-bottom: 0.5cm;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-family:Flubber;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><blink><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><span style="color: rgb(71, 0, 184);">BEHIND THE NAME</span>:</span></blink></b></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-family:Flubber;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">the<span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"> <blink><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">DEVIL</span></blink> </span>comes like an <blink>angel of light</blink></span></b></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="right"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-family:Flubber;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">and the<span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"> <blink><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">BLIND</span></blink> </span>follow like fools</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="left"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-family:Flubber;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><span style="color: rgb(71, 0, 184);">WHAT DO YOU KNOW</span></span>?</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">I Finally Broke The Codes:</span></b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><blink>Dan Brown</blink> is an enagram that means Own Brand. The name belongs to a secret organisation bent on bringing down the <blink>Illuminati</blink>. But that's besides the point. The question is Will They Succeed? Who knows when the title of Own Brand's multi-million copy-selling book is He Died A Convict? Don't you know this title? But you do. What do you think <blink>The Da Vinci Code</blink> means?</span></b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><blink>Bill Gates</blink> is also an illusion of world power and bottomless finance. Bill Gates is a code for Gates of the Bill (Money). This is where all come to a stop in the world of money and global domination of the economy by America. The name belongs to a secret organisation bent on making the world believe one man can own over US$50 Billion all by himself. Don't you wonder why the bespectacled guy you see on TV and print media won't leave a single cent to his children? It's because the guy is not really the guy.</span></b></span></span></p><br /><br /><p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><blink>Santa Claus</blink> is an enagram that means Satan Lucas. Go ahead, reverse the words and see for yourself. You may be wondering why then Satan would take on the surname Lucas. Well, if you didn't know, Lucas comes from the Latin word Lucius, which in English means Light. Satan Light? Yes darling. In the archaic scripts Satan is known as Lucifer, the Bright Morning star or Bright Morning Light. You must be wondering, where have I been sleeping all along? I know, I once believed in Santa Claus myself until one day I had the revelation that gave me this information. As some scriptures say, “Satan comes as an angel of light.” And that means Satan will always appear to be doing good while fooling the world. What other good can Satan do besides luring children into believing that Santa (Satan) loves them and gives them gifts during Xmas? Santa is a gimmick being run by the Christian-hating Illuminati through the Trojen Horse strategy of going inside something in order to destroy it permanently.</span></b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><blink>Lekganyan</blink>e is a Sotho name for The Shining One, as in Bright Morning Star. The churches under the name Lekganyane believe that this is just a surname, but they don't understand this is Lucifer, leading them further from the truth. Weren't you surprised that he calls the base of his church Mount Zion? Which other Mount Zion is there? Well, if you are reading your Bible, this is the mountain of Jehovah, which Satan destroyed when he left heaven and to this day awaits restoration. Why do you think the church uses the Star and Bird symbol? Star is obviously a Satanic symbol of light, and the bird a symbol of peace, which the Bible says will be the centre message of the Beast when he deceives the world. Narrow is the gate that leadeth to life, and wide is the gate that Lekganyane's followers tread upon.</span></b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 255, 255);"><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;">Do you need some more? Well, keep visiting </span></b></span><a href="http://yodemo.blogspot.com/"><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;">yodemo</span></b></span></a><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"> </span><span style="background: rgb(0, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><span style="font-size:130%;">and you might just be lucky enough.</span></b></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(71, 0, 184);"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><blink><span style="background: rgb(255, 0, 0) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Tshwarelo eseng Mogakane</span></blink></b></span></span></p> <p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><br /><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1346658525941114904?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-13377237147019826292007-06-18T11:39:00.000-07:002007-06-18T23:40:11.695-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070619;8105100"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } --> </style><!-- Start Amatomu.com badge --><br /><a href="http://www.amatomu.com/" target="_new"><img src="http://www.amatomu.com/images/badges/badge_i_heart_green.png" alt="I shmaak SA Blogs, sorted with Amatomu.com" border="0" height="57" width="150" /></a><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>Super Reality check</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Just yesterday, my super girlfriend gave me a super confession. She told me that she almost cheated on me during the weekend while I was locked in my room going over recordings made on my Super Revolution.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>Where is my appetite?</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was about to have some chow when she broke the disappointing news to me. As you can guess, I'm still looking for my appetite. I must confess, I felt super disappointed by what she was feeling. Who wouldn't be?</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>Not a bitch</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;">In the past I would have called her a bitch, but I swear I don't blame her. In my eyes she is still an honourable woman because she told me the truth. She knows there's nothing that I hate more than a person who lies, to me. Being a fool is when they do it behind your back.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>Selfish nature</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Why should I blame this woman for a nature that we all have? I mean I have been in her situation before, where I was tempted to violate what we have by sharing it with someone else without her knowledge. So it's only fair to put myself in her shoes. It is human nature to forget the good things you have and to seek other things, although the consequences might be what you were not looking for when doing what you did. There are evil forces that run our human nature, sometimes we can't help it.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b>Adopted by poetry</b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Bitstream Charter;"><span style="font-size:130%;">Because I am a poet, I have always contemplated this type of situation. I have always thought that we are selfish, no matter what we try to be. It is unfair to ask a person to be selfless. It is bullshit. I won't ask my woman to be selfless – although I will be hurt by her selfishness. I only wish we could be selfish of our relationships, that we don't want anything to destroy them. I guess this is too ideal for the world we live in. Wow, I feel better already. I think my appetite is returning. So, here's the poem I wrote a time ago when me and the super lady broke up. It's all about why we cheat on our soul-mates for god's sakes.</span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><a name="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_50599630722738451544"></a><a name="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_50599630722738451543"></a><a name="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_50599630722738451542"></a><a name="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_50599630722738451541"></a><a name="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5059963072273845154"></a> <span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 255);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><u>I Chose Me Over You</u><br />(For my Beloved Ribelady, my ex soul mate)<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s1600-h/h+eye+vee.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s200/h+eye+vee.JPG" name="graphics1" align="right" border="0" height="150" hspace="5" vspace="5" width="200" /></a><br /><br />In the bleed of confusing affection<br />A twelve round knock-out blow by blow with myself<br />I woke up, smelled the coffee<br />And knew I loved me more than you<br />Coz in dear truth, I’ll do for me, even what is hurting to you<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s1600-h/h+eye+vee.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s200/h+eye+vee.JPG" name="graphics2" align="right" border="0" height="150" hspace="5" vspace="5" width="200" /></a><br /><br />Provoking ancient angers from the Hades of your heart<br />I abandoned ideals and followed my passions<br />To temporary greener pastures<br />Leaving you in complete wonder<br />While in the dear truth, I had chosen me over you<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s1600-h/h+eye+vee.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s200/h+eye+vee.JPG" name="graphics3" align="right" border="0" height="150" hspace="5" vspace="5" width="200" /></a><br /><br />When I knelt before my hormones<br />Disregarding your feelings like a priest cussing in anger en route to heaven<br />When I went DNA, path of my genes<br />Took my role and acted impulsively, unfaithfully, individually<br />Obeying thirsts of my own sexuality<br />It wasn’t no Lucifer that seduced me<br />Trust me, it wasn’t the liquor, it wasn’t the drugs<br />It wasn’t a mistake<br />It was the choice<br />When I chose me over you<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s1600-h/h+eye+vee.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s200/h+eye+vee.JPG" name="graphics4" align="right" border="0" height="150" hspace="5" vspace="5" width="200" /></a><br /><br />Apologies may flutter human ego<br />A bunch of mutilated roses may flirt with human naiveté<br />A love poem may spark human fires<br />Like a happy pill sending a junky perky<br />The make-up kiss may taste like waters of champagne<br />The touch you missed may feel like winter in cosy paradise<br />But in dear truth<br />I chose me over you<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s1600-h/h+eye+vee.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RjiZmvt6C6I/AAAAAAAAABM/VxkNfNAHyn0/s200/h+eye+vee.JPG" name="graphics5" align="right" border="0" height="150" hspace="5" vspace="5" width="200" /></a><br /><br />Love of my life, love of my death<br />In every pardonable wrong I do against you<br />I choose me over you<br />And faithfully, you do you over me<br />-4kof Satan</b></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></p><br /><br />When last did you pray? What did he say?<br /><!-- End Amatomu.com badge --><div class="blogger-post-footer">Number:<img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2340765123844694722-1337723714701982629?l=holynigga.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Art of Manifestationhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03999403168785885935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2340765123844694722.post-68181621920582662302007-06-14T11:25:00.000-07:002007-06-14T23:48:38.383-07:00<meta equiv="CONTENT-TYPE" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><title></title><meta name="GENERATOR" content="OpenOffice.org 2.0 (Linux)"><meta name="CREATED" content="20070615;8365700"><meta name="CHANGED" content="16010101;0"><style> <!-- @page { size: 21cm 29.7cm; margin: 2cm } P { margin-bottom: 0.21cm } H1.western { font-family: "Bitstream Vera Serif", serif } H1.cjk { font-family: "Bitstream Vera Sans" } H1.ctl { font-family: "Lucidasans" } --> </style><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RnI1-A9DW1I/AAAAAAAAADY/_n-kfJt4J5Q/s1600-h/the%2Bdon%2Bkilluminati.bmp"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_N5YkTv3eDbA/RnI1-A9DW1I/AAAAAAAAADY/_n-kfJt4J5Q/s400/the%2Bdon%2Bkilluminati.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076179069524204370" border="0" /></a><br /> <p style="margin-bottom: 0.5cm;"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><br />Today we hand over yodemo to author Fredericko Dukofelli to talk to us about Tupac as a Christ. Forgive us for going all out, but the more you read the more you will understand. PS: The following writings are summaries taken from the yet to be published book, The Modern Trinity. Celebrate the birth of a king...</span></span></span></span></p> <p align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Ikarus Turbulence;"><span style="font-size:7;"><u><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">The birth of a messiah</span></b></u></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><br /><br /></p> <h1 class="western"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">“<span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I’m a rose that grew from concrete.”</span></span></span><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></span></h1> <h4><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">TUPAC SHAKUR</span></span></span></span></h4> <p align="justify"><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">“<span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i>The stone that the builders rejected has now become a capstone.”</i></span></span></span><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></span></p> <h2><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Jesus Christ, MATTHEW 21:42</span></span></span></span></h2> <p align="justify"><br /><br /></p> <h3><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">“<span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I was born to brew up storms and stir up shit”</span></span></span><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></span></h3> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><u>MARSHALL MATTHERS</u> </span></b></span></span></span> </p><br /><p><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><span style="text-decoration: none;">1) </span><u>YOU SHALL CONCEIVE A CHILD AND YOU SHALL NAME HIM…</u></span></span></span></span></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><b><br />From the livestock kraal of Bethlehem, between 4BC and 6AD, which the Gregorian calendar celebrates as December 25^th, a young religious girl, preferably virgin, went into labour, and the revolutionary result of the pain was one hell of a Semite: born for eternal conviction. He was named Emmanuel.</b> </span></span></span></span> </p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">From the maternity ward of New York University Hospital, on June the 16^th of 1971, a young soul sista, evidently both dopefiend and jailbird, preferably activist, went into labour, and the vengeful outcome of the pangs was one hell of a Nigga: borne for eternal commemoration. He was named Amaru.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">From Kansas City, Missouri, on the 17^th of October 1972, a young house wife, unfortunately slut and junkie, preferably victim of abuse and addiction, went into labour, and the untameable aftermath (pun probably intended) of the burst was one hell of a Gringo: bound for eternal consternation. He was named Bruce.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">And all the competition would burn in eternal capitulation. And many wanna-bees would rise; but by their own fruit (production) they stand to be seen. </span></b></span></span></span> </p> <p align="justify"><br /></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">In a mechanism of complexities, these are the three names defining – or rather redefining- the Greek word <i>christos</i>. This is a chain reaction of salvatory powers at work in three forever living legends. A modern representation of the “one” person to look up to, through the vivid and rare lance of revelation; a human embodiment of messianic qualities, whether in the form of music or the gospel, or both since the music is a gospel on its own, if not an overlooked virtue that has kept the world in balance or an evil that pushed it over the edge. These are the two uncovered synonyms but never politics. Jesus was crucified between two thugs under the belt of Roman politics, yet not as a politician. Tupac was shot down between industrial and political controversies, yet not as a politician. Eminem though, awaits his sudden death, whether by a riveting session on the cross at Golgotha, or by a horrendous fusillade of bullets at Flamingo road or any form of American public execution from lethal injection to whatever is hidden in that revelation. Hopefully not as a politician. But his one goal is to enter that narrow gate and become a dead living legend; mysteriously dead, posthumously living. And the gates of hell against his name fading from our minds forever shall never prevail. These three messiahs were all born to feel betrayed, especially by the parental conditioning inculcated to their reality by their paternal figures’ absence. Jesus, who claimed that the God of all creation was his father, cried to the same God saying <i>why have you left me</i>? In a melancholic voice that was yet struck by the domestic nostalgia that encompassed his years of youth, Tupac echoed in the song <i>Dear Mama</i> saying “and when my daddy died/ I never cried/ coz the coward wasn’t there.” Eminem was as well trapped within the gluey psychological framework of living without a sire and hence he too had a grotesque torrential outflow of hateful lyrics to spew, which prevented him from suffocating. “My faggot father must have had his penis up in the bunch/ coz he split/ I wonder if he even kissed me goodbye/ no I don’t, on second thought I just fucking wish he would die.” Without doubt, they were born to feel this bitterness and follow it to the cross but we will tackle more of this bitterness in the fourth chapter.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Whatever power it was which completely insured the explosive arrival and rule of these three would forever benumb the minds of the lucky women who could be the only channels to these instruments landing on earth. The very women who changed the nappies of these heroes, bathing them, promising them illusionary mocking birds when they cried. Even the first lie they heard came from these women who gave them the tooth fairy treatment when the bad tooth hurt like truth. They are namely Mary the Madonna, Afeni Shakur, and Debbie Matthers. Their sons have all succeeded in bringing about an embedded change of thought through the indefatigable power of the word, which from the beginning was, and today still is. Nobody really knew Tupac before the word he spewed went into their ears, and better yet nobody gave a shit about Eminem before he rattled a word into the mike, congruently the classical Jesus, after whom came the maxim “faith cometh by hearing, and hearing cometh by the word.” Until they spoke, they were not yet messiahs. But when they finally spoke somebody felt the need to believe in them. Howbeit, beyond the word was need for efficient action that gave life to the word or to whom the word gave life. Jesus the Nazarene said in his day, “if you don’t believe my words believe the works I do.” <i>Until the End of Time</i> hit the market and Tupac could be posthumously heard rending, “…the game full of playerhaters, they conversate/ but Death Row full of demonstrators.” And the one demonstrator from the dungeon of Death Row records was wrapped in the carnal form of young Tupac Amaru Shakur. In the latest Eminem Show, the messiah said, “see what these kids do/ they hear about us talking pistols/ they wanna get one, they think this shit’s cool/ not knowing we just protecting ourselves.” So in what was said one could spot what they did and vice versa, in what they did one could as well spot what they said. </span></span></span></span> </p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">This all started with a heavenly annunciation; and annunciation demanded participation; participation manifested in conception; and conception created anticipation: and anticipation resulted in labour complications that brought us the births of these messiahs. The announcement came as a shocker to the Nazarene couple. God, the creator of the universe sent an immaterial agent with the redtape message about the birth of the Jewish messiah. Joseph, the fiancé was instructed not to fear since this caused him to try to flee. In his mind he thought of an illegitimate child! and figured he’d run for it. An immaterial agent stopped him. Tupac’s biological father ran away while Tupac grew practically without a father since his step dad was incarcerated most of his life. Eminem’s father left them when Em was six months old. He ran away, there was no immaterial agent to stop him. Nevertheless, the life of a messiah for the three had already started.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><br /><br /></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><b><span style="background: rgb(0, 184, 255) none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Okay My dear Bloggers, you know it's impossible to celebrate Tupac Shakur's birthday without revisiting his brutal death. The interesting question that his unsolved murder raises is that of faking it: Is Shakur really dead? Let's give Dukofelli a chance to explore the theories in his unfinished 2003 book.</span></b></u></span></span></span></p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0cm;" align="center"><br /></p> <p style="margin-left: 0.51cm;" align="center"><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"><span style="font-family:Ikarus Turbulence;"><span style="font-size:7;"><u><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Conspiracies against a messiah</span></b></u></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><br /><br /></p> <p><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">“<span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i>And when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large sums of money unto the soldiers, saying, say ye, His disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept…</i></span></span></span><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">So they took the money, and did as they were taught: and this saying is commonly reported among the Jews until this day.”</span></b></i></span></span></span></p> <h1 class="western"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><u><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">ST.MATTHEW 28: 12,13 & 15</span></u></span></span></span></h1> <h1 class="western"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">“<span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i>I heard a rumour I died/ murdered in cold blood traumatized/ pictures of me in my final state, you know mama cried/ but that was fiction/ some coward had the story twisted”</i></span></span></span><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></span></h1> <h1 class="western"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;"><a href="http://kasiekulture.blogspot.com/index.html">TUPAC AMARU SHAKUR</a></span></span></span></span></h1> <h1 class="western"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><i><u><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">MARTHA DON’T YOU MOURN</span></u></i></span></span></span></h1> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">On the culpable morning of September 13^th 1996, many live reports led out a floodgate of bad news, when the death of Tupac was both announced and confirmed before reporters. That was the end of a life of a thug and half a superstar, but ironically the beginning of the legacy of a young Bulldozer that paved way for his own future and triumphantly rode through its historical vestibules. Fans across the world tasted the effects of the saline-honey-to-the-tongue-choleric-melody-to-the-ear type of a song like <i>When thugs cry</i>. And everybody cried; even the Outlaws who boasted in every song how they were real niggaz that did not fancy showing much emotion since they’d seen much pain in the world. But the pain of imagining life without their indisputable mentor must have gone further than being unbearable and jiggled a few tears from outlaws who knew, from street life, how death tasted at close range. The masses collectively mourned while Tupac’s voice could only reverberate from the sentimental track, <i>How Long Will They Mourn Me?</i> The impeccable sounds of the song could make a soul assume that it was intended to be one day blended with the Lazarus-Jesus scenario. The best friend to the King of the Jews fell ill and died, his sisters resorted to the natural reaction to a death case; they mourned. Then Jesus came and asked why they were crying; he shed a tear at their disbelief and told them to roll away the stone that marked the border gate to Lazarus’s new world. He looked her in the eye and said, <i>Mary don’t you weep, tell Martha not to mourn</i>. A miracle took place and Lazarus was brought back to life, and mourning turned into joy.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">Today many no longer mourn Tupac but they are celebrating his existence in song and poem. They understand the words <i>Mary don’t you weep, tell Martha not to mourn</i>, as if they were spoken to them. After the emotional event, it was as if Tupac was reborn, and like Casper the friendly ghost began a new campaign of real fame since masses knew and loved him later on a posthumous tip. Yet he has never been friendly as he has become much like a poltergeist, moving and quaking everything and everyone whenever his songs are played or just when the mental picture of him invades a meditator’s privacy, as it should; and he is now the more revered and his lyrics scarying the fuck out of all his enemies, inadvertently converting them to worshippers. It rakes in the memory of the death, not of Lazarus, but of Jesus; the death that became an irony on its own awkward plateau.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">When the King of the Jews and Lord of the Gentiles died, two things happened:</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">The first was the fulfilment of the prophecy that was put down by Isaiah that “I will strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter.” When those crooked, malicious and scornful nails, cooked from some cheap Roman refinery, relentlessly drilled through the mazes of his body’s veins, his own disciples, the homies that claimed they had his back and were willing to chop a few ears for him, ran for their lives. Worse, one of them openly denied him, cursing and humiliating his (Jesus) claim to be the Messiah.</span></b></span></span></span></p> <p align="justify"><span style="color: rgb(35, 35, 220);"><span style="font-family:URW Chancery L;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><b><span style="background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;">The second contrasting instance was when Jesus’ Day finally set, with the Night having its first orgasm that came wedded with the pleasure of sending a life of a God to the ghastly entrails of Gehenna. At that fine hour, where demons shuddered and frowned, fearing this death, <i>Death the Leveller</i>, that could achieve killing eternal life itself, they must have thought to their villainous selves, “what more about us, we tremble at the thought of Christ?” If the Lord Christ, the One Begotten Son of God perished at the discourteous hand of the Destroyer, what were they before this regal Death? It was sublime, it was the darkest power they could have ever feared, but not to the pagan Centurion that looked on when they crucified him (Jesus.) While the predictably unreliable disciples ran faster than hell’s arcs and panted through the next kilo, the Centurion waited and wondered. Suddenly it was pitch dark - Africa dark - and the symbolical old veil at the Temple tore apart into two splits. That’s when the unbelieving Centurion felt the impact of the U-turn taken by his mind and saw all his years of religious hardening and social conditioning evaporating before his African darkness-clad eyes. <i>For the god of this world has blinded the mind of unbelievers</i>, but the Centurion, viewing the death of this Christ, imagining the coming resurrection, defied the god of this world altogether and spit on its face. He doubted hesitation and co