I’m a dying seed in a Desert ground,
With no water to feed my roots Useless as it seems, oh how you make it rain so I can spread my roots soon to grow to feed the hummingbirds.
I’m the food crumbs between the countertops decomposing by the days, useful for red the ants to take.
I’m a dead animal rotting away on a lonely long highway, as magnets feed on, so on as the ravens feed upon. I’m a guitar with the tone of D, what is useful is this melody? but so sweet by the ears of the listeners.
A dead star in the endless space, useful at night to show your beauty to behold the eyes of the souls you wish to Capture. Every sound is an endless song for your praise.
To know the unuseful is useful, we are useful for the consuming fire God.
With all of the power with the Consuming Fire,
With all of the power with the death Defeater
With all of the power with the Spirit of Wisdom,
It’s all on me to decide
Am I bonded by the chains of sin?
Am I a slave with no chains for the death Defeater?
Will The grace of the Consuming Fire be my master?.
As slavement lives and takes, slavement will never die, till the day that sins dies. Till that day Bond servant, I will thrive to be, bond to thrive, to thrive is for the Consuming Fire, from darkness I once came, now from the fire I'm reborn to long live as a bong servant.
The horror of the thought of my immoral actions, likewise like the thieves,
Likewise like the rapist.
Equal as any immortal actions, no greater nor less likewise,
As the day of judgement when our body’s go into slumber
Our souls will hear our judgement as this poem makes you wonder, a sin is a sin, no greater nor less, what makes you think you're better? When we are all rebels with our human nature.
Skin is skin, Heart is a heart.
What makes makes a mind to consider any is less like an empty bottle?
To sense one is second-rate?,
Skin to skin, dust to dust, Bone to bone.
Heart to heart superior Judge will sit judgment on disgusting hearts.
Equivalent we are, as transgressors, we are.
The simple message of good, as a vulnerable creature that I am,
The hopeful message of good
Was like a sword stabbing the main muscle that possession my darkest secrets lay like the gates of hell,
Stabbing the nature of errors that my Flash committed in the great rebellion of disobedience.
Like a white raven in the dark, so odd as it seems, peculiar as it seems the little voice that my inner ears listen to hear, whisper gently as I lend an ear you claim “even the monsters I can make clean, even in the darkest places my voice roars”
As the tenderness stays the sword lays. Truth flows like a river, like the River reaching the dead that lays in me, growth proceeds as this day
I can say in the peculiar times
As White as snow you can wash away
Our wrongful tracks, you can make the monsters as gentle as the night, as this day say, the good message is for bad, the bad can find kindness in The non sinful God.
To the poet that I am,
This gift was given,
Taking away it can be,
The grace of my Burning bush God,
Willing his will of life in me.
With every last breath
My fingers will write
For the greater purpose
For the kingdom to light the way for dark souls with the everlasting poems that lay in my heart.
To the poet that I am my poems are for the burning bush God.