« Last post by bertatberts on Today at 08:41:41 AM »
Not really a hard task to get the upper hand with WLC. Even my nose hairs could.
Watch The ::God Is Imaginary Videos On YouTube ::
did the original broadcast of war of the worlds sound like someone who was simply writing fiction?
the tire was filled to the rim with water the lights were out and time seemed to be at a standstill of empathy I was understanding to the trail of thoughts but I couldn't believe they were more than the stone broken across my face in a war that suppressed my own grandchild of future apathy .. I saw the stars shining in a distant space it was calm and serene yet there was fire and I felt the flames against my skin I felt the echo of life drain from my soul for all of me was gone -- all of me was perturbed in the desire to not fear what was being drained out of me (my voice) it's always quiet when the wind blows when it stops that's when the stars fall upon eyes that become born anew it's as if being aborted by strange occurrences and not knowing the cause and not caring either etchings lay dormant tnamrod yal sgnihcte signature of fortitude and blood seeping through the cold veins of my being .. I was told by a Christian I wasn't loved but they loved me I was told by a Muslim that I was an infidel because through my blood a Jew ran, a Rabbi sang, a Christ was borne I was told by a Buddhist there was no peace in me just coldness .. utter fuckin' coldness and nothing was me through seeping blood and fortitude of [a] signature the cold veins of my being .. tnamrod yal sgnihcte etchings lay dormant I just want to hear the whispers past the regret and not have to weep more than I have to I just want to live my life without conforming to the ideals of a people who say I am not even human because I do not believe in what they believe or see what they see I just want to be my self and look into that reflecting glass and see the future become more than what it is that we all can see without regret and with-out solitude of contention .. .. .. .. I feel that's too much to ask and so the tire was filled to the rim with water but nothing was ever really in it not life or anything just the mass consumption of emptiness the mountains will all crumble and we all will perish for we are the disease that makes us breathe we are our own fortitude of contention we are nothing but the dust in the wind and we are our un-doing .. I shall not deviate from my being and my soul I shall be who I was born to beThat is not poetry. Neither is it straight prose. A new word or phrase is needed. If it is a phrase, the word ‘poetry’ should be avoided.
When is the first independent account of Christians? Rome, 66CE? Plenty of time for Paul's 'meeting' to have taken root in far away places, too far to know the real facts, if there were any.
Early Christ-followers called themselves 'saints', 'brethren', 'Brothers of the Lord' and their critics used various names: Nazoreans, Ebionites, 'God fearers', atheists. The Jewish association remained strong throughout the first century and when Christian sects got going in Rome in the second century they were identified by their rival leaders – Valentinians, Basilidians, Marcionites, etc.
And he misused the word ironic. Sigh.