Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Sep 2020
You were  my cross,
    stigmatised for loving

                                        you...

  
  But I'm crucified
for loving him.
Cingyeng Vang Sep 2018
The pomegranate was broken in half by His hands
It bled
And the seeds of the pomegranate was handed out by Him
So all that He chose to give, had a piece of the pomegranate.

Isaiah 53:4‭-‬5
He The Father, The pomegranate The Son, The seed The Holy Spirit, they all work as one.
Nelize Jul 2016
a silent deep breath
gazing up at the sky
He now sees death
hammers fly up high

lay Him down on lacerated spine
little do they know, they mock the Divine
soon this sky will show darkness
prove He's King, none will deny

nails hit wood
through miracle hands
a violent wail is His reply

spit glides down His heavenly cheek
sour wine runs down burst lips
'forsaken I am' 'tis now His brood
in His side spears now pry

a single tear drop lands on His face
not from His eye
but from the Father's sky

IT IS FINISHED  He cried
a single rabbi brings sin to defeat
as death comes by

His absence will be fleet
for us: not yet goodbye
SYL Dec 2014
Baptism isn’t a ritual;
Not a sign of one’s convert of religion.
Religion only makes faction;
It’s all about relationship with God.

We don’t try Jesus
As others try tons of religions
As if changing their clothes.

For no religion will ever fit us;
Allow Jesus and be changed!
We accept Jesus and that’s why to be baptized
Means to be crucified with him
His death, burial and resurrection!
Back-stabber count your silver coins,
all thirty pieces do enjoy.
For thou have torn it from the ****
of he whom thou deem to destroy.

Conveyed before said holy male
who fears to take decision home.
Responsibility he doth bale,
forth-giving this to man of Rome.

Upon to Pilate do I see.
Should I relinquish my belief?
Will mine own peoples see me free
instead of murderer or thief?

In my defence nought do I speak
to only God do I ask praise.
Forgive me not for thou art week
and power to thee is but a phase.

Upon mine head a crown of thorns
secured firmly into place
as harassed by unfriendly scorn.
Holy blood, bathes holy face.

Barbs of metal scourge my all,
unlawful hurt do I withstand.
Burdened with weight I make a fall.
Samaritan doth lend a hand.

Rods of steel fix flesh and bone
to that of mans' wooden *****.
In painful agony, though not alone,
with Holy Father I connect.

Hoisted aloft on knoll of high.
Visible means to fear their weight.
Drawn upright, that I may die.
Design to clear of human slate.

Soon this pain will free of me.
My passing so that they may live.
Exalted father thou can see
this son gives all a son can give.
First printed in the 2011 Anthology. Suspended in Ink.

— The End —