I see your beautiful Handiwork here O Lord Jesus.
I see the beauty of both human that you have created.
Plus the beauty of nature that Praises your Worthy Name.
I am so amaze by your Worthy Handiwork Lord Christ.
For the people that you have created are Truly Masterpieces.
Their Lives do scream out your Worthy Name my God.
For those that struggle in this life that we all live in daily.
Hurting , yet still persevering here through all their trials.
Reveal you as their source of Life , whether they know you or not.
For it is still your purpose that is being reveal through them.

I want to stand on the Rock, my Firm Foundation.
I want to soar, with the Guidance of the Creator.
I want to be able to say at the end of each day here.
That I loved like Christ, that I made the right sacrifices.
The ones that made my flesh squirm the very most.
For my Hope is not in myself, for I am a huge failure.
But its in the Hope that Christ shall finish the work in me.
That he has startled the day that I gave my life to him.
So that it shall stop being I want and become what can I do for you.

Sorrow of demise,
Happiness but pride,
Money and rights,
Racism and sexism,
Oppression through rage,
Conflicts over beliefs and critism,
Discrimination and ****** through words,

As we all know,
Actions speak louder than words,
I absolutely agree with this,
What is life without peace?
What is life without feeling others pain?
What is life in any form?
Life needs to be defined well,
Living your life to its best and not caring about the rest,
This is not life,

Helping the poor,
Wiping away tears of the pained,
Loving and consoling,
Putting an end to quarrels,
And easing people in trouble,
Not living life in superiority,
Not being atrocious to others,
This is all pointless,
One day we all leave,
Others who shall grieve will only grieve for a while,
Then they forget and move on with their lives,
We all have separate graves, separate deeds and separate accusations,
Only God will see and we shall not astray from his path.

Love is the root of missions
and sacrifice the fruit of missions
Glory to the anointed King
the creator of a chosen offspring.
Ever so delighted to be enlightened
by the ignited spirit that is heightened
from the light rays of a new dawn
til the warrior within is born
The essence of being radical
is the will of good
the conceptual of a root
rooted and built in God’s image
a fully-fledged seed of Abraham
As Apostle Paul’s spirit
overflown with thanksgiving
his objective was to implement change
strengthen our faith and live in peace
Pieces of greenpeace
misunderstood by malicious-minded creatures
I recall hollowness
dearly engraved in the
hearts of many
superficial increment in
today’s youth
often inferiorated from the truth
they’re spiritually pretendin’
to be naturally defendin’
Oh, lily of the valley
make their minds pure.
Do you ever wonder how God sees you?
A radical Christian who’s simply a quality
of a New Testament normality
it is in your core to be pure,
to be called by the Lion’s roar,
to not live but to live who’s in you.
Apostle Paul’s awakening
was radical
thought-provoking sensation
as being biblical
the words he spoke were profound
his temple so refined
yet his view on earthly living
was actively passive to godliness;
to live is Christ
and to die is gain, he said.
The ideology of being radical
is to live in the sense God created you to be
politically and socially,
its force is to make you philanthropic
boldly empathic to the notion of being rhapsodic.
I am artistic
poetic instincts in the fullness
of embodying metamorphoristic mystic.
Theology unfolds a mystery that
we should be the change we want to see
a generation that profiteth free
a ministry holistic as can be.
Be vigilant.
Be diligent.
Be practical.
Be radical.

Little chick
under Abba's wing
intimate haven
of sweetest grace

Little child
learning to sing
of infinite joy
in Abba's face

New clothes. New gear. Soon christmas. The fam. A new year. Just being greatful for what i got

O God so great
to be an infant small?
did You weep,
or perhaps sleep
and never cry at all?

what was it like, sweet Mary,
to ride the night so black?
could you smile,
heavy with child,
upon a donkey's back?

what was it like, dear Joseph,
to know your wife would bear
God's own son,
but he'd be shunned,
a man of many cares?

what was it like, you shepherds,
to see the host's appear?
we're you scared
when they declared
heaven was so near?

what awed you so, O wise men?
was it the star alone?
or the holy child
so meek and mild
who'd descended from God's throne?

what was it like, O angels
to see your mighty King
lying there
in a manger bare
what joy could that sight bring?

and yet that night was joyous!
in ecstasy all sang!
or perhaps instead
they bowed their heads
while praise in heaven rang...

for now the great Messiah
is born to trumpet's blast -
what was it like
that special night

OUR SAVIOR'S BORN AT LAST!!!


SoulSurvivor
(C) 12/6/2011

This month of December is of special significance, since it
brings the present year to a close, and ushers in the coming New
Year, which the spirit of Christmas enfolds! This poem is dedicated
to Catherine Jarvis of Arizona, and all my Poet Friends of this Site.
May the coming New Year 2016 bring peace and prosperity, leaving
old tensions behind! -Raj, New Delhi.
  

           JOHN THE BAPTIST
               By Raj Nandy

Out of the wilderness there came a man,
With staring eyes and unkempt hair ;
A leather belt around his waist ,
And clothes made of camel's hair.
He never begged for any money,
Lived in the desert on locust and wild honey !
His voice in the wilderness spoke of the Lord ,
And preached the arrival of the Son of God !

"Repent ye sinners," John had cried, "wash
away all your sins ",
In the flowing waters of River Jordan ,
He summoned all to be baptized by him!
Then out of Galilee there came a Man ,
With gentle looks, both meek and tall;
And looked at him and softly said, -
"Baptize me John"!
John at once realized, it was the Messiah
standing before his sight!
So he asked the Lord to baptize him instead,
But the request of the Lord must be obeyed !
As John baptized Jesus there descended from
the Heavens above, -
The Holy Spirit in the shape of a Dove ,
And alighted on the Lord's head !
Then a voice was heard from the Heavens, -
"This is my beloved son in whom I am well
pleased'', - the voice echoed and said!

Now friends whenever we seek His blessings,
and in His name drink our toast,
Remember that we are thrice blessed always,
By the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost !
                                                 -Raj Nandy

it isn't all black and white
the choke-hold of history

shades of red and brown
paint the scenery, too

the documented imagery
forgotten in the fray

a little big horn playing mournful
songs as the cavalry marches on
to the tune of galleons and guns


no passport required
when the port was young

émigré and immigrant
displacing native sons

who also once were pilgrims
breathing in the sun.

You don't see real ghosts;
The ones that drink Sprite,
Or sun on the sands of Lake Erie.
Most ghosts have better things to do
Than haunt you.
What you do see
Are spirits, holy or otherwise,
Taunting, egging,
Generally bothersome.
They're in pictures and mirrors,
Songs and places
You'd like to re-live,
Or forget altogether,
Past and present.
No, gimme a ghost anyday
Over a spirit.
When it's my turn,
I won't see you.