Tun nay mera baal bachay ko mera bewi ko mera mai bap ko mera rishtay daron ko sab
lo lun diya hai sab ko chod diya hai Supari.
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Mera Mai Bap mera harkaton ki vajah say apna mun chupatay phirtay hain hahaha.
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14th August ko azadi ki khushi me tun nay mera Bapu ko bara choda hai chodan mera bapu ko chodan chodan chodan chodan.
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Jis mulk Kay sahibay nisab log zakat na detay hon balky Ulta gareebon say letay hon aisay mulk ka gurbat Kisi ka bap bhi khatam nahi kar sakta..
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Watanay azeez me 2 chezain chalti hain salam dua aur paisa aur dono me underworld don bap hai.
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In His kingdom of corpses,
God has been heard to speak
in many enraged discourses,
high from some mountain peak
where He’s lectured men on “compassion”
while the sparrows around Him fell
and babes, for His meager ration
of rain, died and went to hell,
unbaptized, for that’s His fashion.
('In His Kingdom of Corpses' by Michael R. Burch)
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Men who have the genuine baptism of the spirit carries about a power that beggars description, They are connected to the source of all Power, You cannot be around them and not be inflamed, They don't shout on podium, but when they do, It stems from the source. every expression and emotions is stamped with divinity, You cannot fake it. every Preacher is merely a dramatist without the Power of the Holy ghost
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Hell is mutual baptism by ego-centric fire. Heaven is coarising baptism thru EarthCentric flowing clear streams of cloudy smoke-ring networked diastatic color eco-mutual identity, or something thereabouts. Not a prophecy, just a harmonic resonance, for lack of better polycultured ecosystemic words.
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