ooh! the faith was stood
against every worst

God has its word
all technology had given up

all apparatuses became as a decorate
the media has no word

the arts had been from an ancient
football becomes an old fashion

sports lost their luster
the world has one order


their play became boring
and it is gone so farthest

it may not be returned
the only art is the *******

the white becomes a new color
the faith will grow so fast

the films will tell a word
the art will draw a portrait

tell the oldest and hated word
that they want to hide it

they tried to **** believe
believe leads to live
with happy and give
the others the funny

God is not presented
but the fact has appeared

untie your feeling
and ask your God from deepest

worship and be honest
all **** sites became the preachers

the naked at the end gets clothes
they all talked one word
save us our God

there was injustice
governed the land
he believes that he was the god

he believed that he deserved
to govern all world
when a prophet appeared

he argued him a lot
the prophet told that his God
could get the life and the death

the king said," I could do
more than your God could do
I could judge that to be killed

so I got him dead
and the other to be lived
and so I get him safe from the death

the prophet told him with shortage,"
my God gets the sun from the east
could you get it from the west"

the king got in troubles
the problems and worst riddles were faced
their mouthes were widely opened

the only and only the matter to be solved
is killing that awful
as he damaged the others Gods

and put the ax at the shoulder of the biggest
they came and asked
, "who could argue to destroy our gods"

one of them answered, ' he is that youth
who refused to worship them
he must be punished"

when they asked
he answered so clearest,
brightness as the sun of August

the big god's statue did
they looked with amazement
they said in one word,"
that he could not do that

he could not be jealous
the facts he could not do that"
he attacked them as a fighter

carrying strong armies
," how do you worship them
as they had no harmful or useful

how do you worship who you make"
they got astonished
times and times

the king got angry
as if he could overlap their gods
he would destroy his godhead so nearly

they made a great hole
gathering every wood from all parts
putting it and burned

the tongues of fire were so hight
so the birds were flying over it
could fell into it

from the heat of it
he would be thrown at the first moment

they made a great catapult
they put him at it
and threw at the heart

of the fire which worshipped its God
and believed in its godhead
it waited for the orders

the great angel came
his face filled with fear
fearing of fire to burn the only truth

walking over that land
,'' do you need any help"
the angel asked

the prophet answered,"
from you, that is no demand
and I thank you from my heart

from my God, he knows what I face
and he will save any hurts"
the fire was ordered,"

to be safe on that closest
prophet
the people waited a lot

the prophet got saved
the fire burned its ties
he was saved as well as his clothes

the only truth is the God
say it at times
save us, us

dear highness
dear truth
my God

Listen to me now and heed my voice;
I am a madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness,
but listen now.

Listen to me now, and if I say
that black is black, and white is white, and in between lies gray,
I have no choice.

Does a madman choose his words? They come to him,
the moon’s illuminations, intimations of the wind,
and he must speak.

But listen to me now, and if you hear
the tolling of the judgment bell, and if its tone is clear,
then do not tarry,

but listen, or cut off your ears, for I Am weary.

*

Published by Penny Dreadful, The HyperTexts, the Anthologise Committee and Nonsuch High School for Girls (Surrey, England)

Also published by Michael R. Burch writing as Immanuel A. Michael and Kim Cherub

Keywords/Tags: Listen, heed, prophet, crying, wilderness, voice, prophecy, black, white, gray, moon, wind, speak, speaking, speech, instruction, teaching, warning, omen, illuminations, intimations, ears, hear, judgment, bell, toll, tolling, peal, pealing, tone, I, Am

Note: The poet as a “madman, alone, screaming in the wilderness” is likened to John the Baptist, foretelling a momentous “second coming”: his own, with no other Messiah in sight.

The first time my third eye opened, the world was horrifying to view.
I could see my entire life, each mistake glaring at me and pounding against my psyche.
Every good moment collided with the bad,
The future turned inside out and bathed me in a gory downpour of the viscera of moments to come.

Now, each time the sparks and fires start in my brain, it reopens
And with this golden eye of the blind gods, I'll stare into everyone's souls.
I'll watch all of you and judge you by the contents of your very essence.

I'll see you in the way you refuse to see yourself.
Because if people see what they want to see,
I've made it my duty to see the truth in all of it's slithering glory
As it encircles the apple, and beckons me forward.

Dreams shifting visions of reality being bent directly into my cerebellum.
It's nice.
The day's are Sunny, and the air is hazy with good energy.
The sun vanishes and night encapsulates my psyche.
I hear splinters of conversations.
Fragments of discourse hurled into my dreamscape from their proper position in time.

This has happened before.
Same stories.
No. It has not happened before this moment, not in reality.
But being given this gift comes with the curse of the unknown;
Knowing what is to come
But never having a due date.

The room buzzes around me as I sit and stare into the wall stretching into eternity before me.
The flesh mannequins grin they're crooked and deceitful smiles, and speak in encoded tongues.
I read the lines between them and their words,
Slicing context from the arteries like my box cutter draining my poisoned blood.
The voice whispers for me to leave them to their own repetitive stories
And to isolate myself from the prying eyes of God.
As I close my blind eye, and rip open my third one,
The brain fires begin.

A bloodline sharpened and honed by years of misfortune,
Until it comes to a fine and refined point like the tip of my jawbone blade.
I am the prophet.
The future seer from a family destined to muddy the waters.
I stare into the eyes of the abyss until its gaze falls into my trap
And my third eye opens
Revealing what will be in visions from days yet to come.

WORDS!
APHORISMS,
THOUGHTS,
PHRASED

CURATE
AND SPAKE
FOR
SPIRIT'S NAME!

I give you
the fire of the soul
The blood of the earth
The dust of the aether
In the gasp of the known

A liquorious draught
That tickles the throat
Where providence sat
And closed heaven's door

HISTORICAL SPAT!
Spittle and drivel
The fleshy sacks grovel
While Satan
Clawed his nails
at the sand

Of souldom!
Cast amidst the stars
And Not moving very far

A *****
No more
And Gamorra absorbed
Before that perpetual want
of more

HERE, AND NOW!
the scent of battle on the wind
Sulfur and toxic gas
Humans behaving mad
Leeward of the path
Struggling and daft
Illiterate and crass
Fallow fleshy sacks

I am in love with it all!
A raving lunatic with
romantic comedic timing
And no taste for time
dining
But on the feast of the bone
And savored moment

I will be alone!
Except for you, poor soul
Who reads in these words
Your own fated toil

I miss you, I love you, from even beyond the pale
My words float in the clouds
And scrape the sentimental trails

Back home once again,
Maybe find my next trend
Or Hear HIS next sermon
And go tell a friend.

So call me the false prophet,
As I spin lies for us both to believe,
As skilled as the spiders I'm scared of;
Watch as I weave a web just for you,
My Baby Blue -
Believe it's custom made;
It's you, It's you, It's you,
I'll be your holy trinity,
Sit tight on your pedestal
And I'll make it spin;
Take you round and round
The usual circles.
I know these roads well,
So I drive them fast
I love the speed as it makes you sick;
I'll wait till your dizzy in the rush of it
Love-sick with the smell of it,
And then I'll ***** you up.

So call me the false prophet,
As I spit sweet sentiments,
And fake futures.

Baby you should have known better,
Why would a person like me,
Change for a person like you?