Deep.

Alrighty.. this post is a deep one. I want to share the following with you.

I dare you to try to understand this. :]

These words... lyrics... rhymes.. verse.. poetry...whatever you could call it- were written by Anthony Hamilton.

I met Anthony this morning after a Newsong service and asked him if I could share this. When I first heard him perform/speak them... his words were quite inspiring... and (to be honest) at times quite confusing. However, if you read it... like REALLY read it... study it... line by line and meditate on it.. it is ridiculously beautiful.

He also played for Chivas USA... pro soccer?

haha surprise, surprise

thanks for sharing, anthony =)

i've highlighted some of my favorite lines... just cuz i can ^_^

take some time to read.

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It’s pathetic that I call myself poetic, reflecting the worldly aesthetic of the alphabet juxtaposed to theories. The allusions of life surpass the optical; philosophical teachings are supposedly a window into the metaphysics of our ontology, but quite possibly the malfunction for which we unction conscious thought is explained in the systemic compositions of slavery.

In the shackles of our perception we succumb to a system of domination and subjugation revamped and redefined by every generation. To exemplify the mystified bonds of our falsified reality, we take our ability to physically move and translate it as power that has protruded, from effort that is exuded, for purposes we concluded are worthy to be included in time we call our own. In crowded streets we stand alone, with a proclivity to feed the very industry that cripples our souls. Never satisfied by all that we touch because it’s never enough, instead weighed down and filled with shame due to this refuge we clutch.

My spiritual ambivalence it just doesn’t make sense, ever since I heard that it’s a paradox we call reality and keeping it real will you a casualty of abnormal normality. I found a fallacy of the greatest proportion my mind seemed to knock me off my feet like a spinal contortion, but perhaps this was my portion to spin out of control and extol the sincere longings of a broken soul.

Just another piece looking for a whole to fill the hole, left by my benevolence, decadence and precedent reflected by my hesitance to cleave; it was spiritual foreplay without wanting to conceive. I believed that when I received truth I’d be free from this enmity within me, but I guess just like a seed is cultivated and grown, perhaps my barest parts are meant to be shown. It’s been my curse to perfect the submersion of the unknown. I’m so self-conscious that my subconscious is vain, but nevertheless, because of a man slain, risen, purposed to reign, I’m no longer called by the same name.

Now I dismantle the mantle and see that souls are scantly clad. After being tattered and torn perceive new nature reborn. Still forlorn to an extent, clothes rent body broken and bothered. See myself with matter of factness, and the blackness of my skin just personifies wickedness that abides within. See through shadows of oblivion and rise like ancient Abassidians, effervescent all comprised, then decrepit in demise, you can’t see love in my eyes if fear and death in disguise and clear unrest to the wise.

Where do I begin when sin has entangled, disheveled and strangled my vision with juxtaposition of flesh and spirit, does or dies the difference between truth and lies? Death, the notion of ceasing to be, vexes me. But frankly I speak not of death as a physiological realism but that of a divine altruism, disbursed to the mortally infected, affected and resurrected. Death is an eternal connection to reality and reality isn’t real until it boarders mortality. Thus the fallacy appeals and reveals the totality of flip flopped morality when we see that perversion is really holiness upside down. Lest a corn of wheat fall to the earth and die it abideth alone, but through death and redemption through Christ’s full ascension is fruit manifested and grown. He came not to bring peace but a sword. He came as a lamb and a lion at war. I’m not scientifically inclined nor emphatically benign to the persuasions of what men know, but this one peculiar reaction has forever, pierced my heart though, He dipped this black man in red blood and I came out white as snow.

-Anthony Hamilton

Amen :]