"biblically" poems
I like immigrants, immigration. Legal immigration,
Jane passionately corrects. Actually my goal is a borderless world.
Gathering the neighborhood like family.
The men discuss sterilizing welfare mothers. I say You're working
around the edges,
humanity has exceeded the carrying capacity of the planet,
even those with jobs. And spouses. And houses.
Yet it's an idyll of an early summer evening, new cut grass,
two baseball teams of children playing in it. Safe from Pakistan.
News photos of Muslim refugees, women in blue robes, biblically
carrying children away from holocaust. The fundamentalist army
not far behind, beheading sinners, sure in its righteousness
as the Holy Roman Empire.
Somehow Joel Osteen the evangelist comes up
while talking about how the Catholic Church is irrelevant in North
America,
even Latin America and Africa are going evangelical.
Izzi likes Osteen, awesome extemporaneous speaker, no teleprompter,
up from bootstraps message. My wife says he's probably Jewish.
Fortunately no one claims the Holocaust never happened or slavery
was voluntary.
What is the carrying capacity of the planet?
In China is it each couple or each adult that gets one offspring?
As life expectancy and standards rise,
family size diminishes. We draw together into greener, tighter cities.
The children of three monotheistic religions, atheists and agnostics
play in city streets, work farm fields, explore forests, deserts,
grasslands, space.
Two ancient female poets: Enheduanna and Sappho
are a revelation. The clarity of their complaints:
lost lover, lost city.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Fiat lux and
Then I stand and see how it looks out on
Gnothi seauton psychologies of a naughty automaton he is
Out speeding on the autobahn while she is
Now sleeping on futons in peace it's
Not pieces that need to be re-ordered yet
Since he's reckless but wrecks less when he's courting it's
A sport, you see a ticket's his master trophy in-
Deed endorsing his Porsche-speed matrimony down master row and she's
Driven to this racer who makes her en-
Force things, they later make her take her lead like lead's erasing then vanishing
Banished from whatever it is they're drinking and it's cleaned
Running from the pitcher as if it's her fantasy
Love who's the catcher who has her and
Now you see
It's not lack-lusting but luck-lasting because lastly
Down the street
Is where I swear we're running faster from crashing, finally
Into this dreamcatcher's hazard
Our dreamcatcher's hazard
Oh have you heard
It's absurd that the whip cracked
Yeah the Porsche was hacked baby transformed back in two and back into a nat-
Ural rural state where the horse power level was more morally sta-
Ble biblically faith-
Ful foolishly a-
Ble but yeah we take over whatever we face-off and baby we're faster so we'll have to chase after our
Dreamcatcher's hazard and
That dreamcatcher's hazard's a
A madness that is learned
And it's absurd
So say the mattress is glowing it's holy
Matrimony, so don't look lonely it's only
Master Roshi, to say to chase your dreams
It's you and me be-
Cause for you my blood is flowing
For you my blood is glowing
For you this blood is flowing
And too the flood is blowing
It's true our love is growing
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
I can be you, or I can be them
I can be she, or I can be him
but why be a con artist of someone else
like a shadow to my best friend, when I
can be my own person, a unique creation
created in the image of God but representin my own reflection
because I don't wanna see you, them, she, or him in the mirror
I wanna see me through my own eyes, 20/20 vision, but clearer
but the more I conform, the image of someone else draws nearer
and I begin to lose sight of myself, look back in the mirror, and see myself in the rear
a shadow to another figure, a copy of a personality
livin' out another person's dreamed out reality
copying what they think, and succumbing to conformity
but that ain't me....
what you see visually and how I appear physically
is what makes me comfortable, that's why I'm an independent, politically
I don't follow the norms and rules of what's most accepted socially
the only commandments I live by are the ones given Biblically
I ain't the best saint though, I mean I do sin every day
but the only one I wanna copy is Jesus Christ, in every possible way
on the other hand, Satan is out there,
trynna tempt me on how to act and even what words I say
he's out offering me drinks, but I reply, "I'm okay"
cause I don't care if "everyone else is doin' it"
I just live how I like to live, that's what makes me a true non-conformist
I dress how I wish and not because it's in style
I keep my hair big, I do whatever makes me smile
I'm not trynna impress you or fit into your clique
I don't give women pick-up lines and act like I'm slick
I'm me, just me, no facades, just real
and if you can't accept that, then move forward but don't steal
the things that make me special, from my poems to my appeal
so don't try to change me and keep my uniqueness concealed
I could care less about your thoughts and any of your judgements
I refuse to give your words power, I can make your points become pointless
I'm not trynna be harsh, I just love to be different
I wanna be an original and keep my vibe realistic
not a second you, but a first me, no counterfeit
I try to keep up with what God said in Matt 26
verse 41, the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak
so pray not to give into temptation and stay on your feet
I encourage us to keep our standards and what makes us unique
and accept anyone else who doesn't wanna repeat
everything you say, and everything you do
sometimes it's the people that are different that come off the most true
because they're not sayin or actin' in ways that you approve
they're given you their honest opinion, you should keep them closest to you
don't conform, forget what people want you to be
just be yourself, not a copy of reality TV.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
Magick 13
My rhymes periglacial slash through foes ****** leavin' corrupted maxillofacial stay laced with the coco
Til my nose blow out nothing but deadly keys makin' monopolies at ease see my desert ease
Could make the devil freeze with the beautiful ephipanies laid though my flow cinematography ain't no fictions here G
My pedigrees been deadly since the age of three
First sips of Hennessy pictured a glare of my enemies stories of me biblically
Born a David killin' Goliath's society defiant
Knock down the orders in the cornered borders
Of the Jesuit I'm the black Pope
Elope to the celestials gods that rope
My mind hanging on to the highs of the ****
Better yet the marijuana sneaky as an anaconda
Once I tighten cells begin biting
Fighting tryna stay alive like Bee Gees
Fiendin' for my lost dynasties kin to Nefertiti since I ****** on *******
As a baby I got a taste of the universe thoughts deeper than a hearse words hurts exciting flirts beating all perks through my vengeful works
My alias an archangel leave the game triangled Titan mentality dribble like Cousy so you might loose me?
Sick with the tracks axe minds like Moses to the red sea knockin' down Rome legacy
Back on top like the greatest plot dimensions traveler like Bishop
Capitalizin' land plots I be the Black Wieshaupt
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
I guess you really can not forgive me
in this beautiful country of yours
for I hold you so dearly, under those
Canadian stars, sure we may dream
miraculous things, but weight on
these feathers and waning wings
serpentine jealousy, babe, not envy
please, leave, me, be, innocent, of
steam, send onto me Jesus Christ
Girl, i need someone to clarify biblically
did the catholic we knifed, deserve
to call me a worthless being, or will i find him
in prison like everyone finds him I'm just
happy its 20 14, when Tupac is to be reborn
Judge his reasonings were, my Mother didn't raise me
Catholic, her mother did want her Mothers
Mother , to have not wanted to raise her
Daughter, catholic, in the snow, with a tune
for you, waiting at the St, Stephen Torro Cemetery
Holden , your best friends broken rosary/broken nose
Pope Francis, we came to opposite levels of holy,
Heaven or Hell only knows, over standing does not exist
Mathew 6 Be careful not to practice your righteousness in front of others to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven.
2 “So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. 3 But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, 4 so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
Real Truth is still being sought out,
in this ever growing Age of Information;
the rise of social media has added
to the noise against spiritual institutions.
Unfortunately, ungodly behaviors continue to play out
within our society, neighborhoods and church pulpits.
We Christians must wholeheartedly repent now,
before His divine Grace, we unwittingly forfeit.
Sacred texts attest to God’s existence by faith,
while Science can only prove Him via logical sight.
Genuine and unstoppable power comes from His Word
and never by the temporary strength of human might.
Personal accountability and responsibility
can be displayed via righteous servitude;
develop your unique identity in Christ
with the character of ethical fortitude.
Consumption of the Scriptures should not be ignored
in favor of viewing biblically, inspired frescos.
Be girded on the foundation of Jehovah’s principles
and put an end to the ongoing… moral fiascos.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Matt 6:10; Lam 3:22-23
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 10:22 AM UTC
Moon winds brush across naked skin;
Undo my logic, undo my fear…
A faint eyelash flutter,
A foreplay of glimmers through lids sewn shut;
Resting now, upon faded horizons, where oceans pool,
Along the soft-focus curve of nostalgia;
She loved him....loved him....
Timeless...the liquid silver of his lips;
Soft speaking patterns of his voice, an art form,
Lucid from lips, resting in upturned palms;
She reached for him... reached for him...
He came to her wrapped in poetic words,
A slow flame, igniting the darkness of her mind;
And while whispers gathered on the breeze;
Knew her biblically....
How powerless......distance...
Her body a sparkle shine upon wind swept storms,
Kiss to iris, sun to moon, bathed by
His silken facade, a heavenly release,
Pressed hard against her veins;
Muted prayers upon her tongue...
Led willingly across lush landscapes;
She knelt,
A sacrificial lamb; ivory flesh caressed,
Sweet sensuality, remembered, deep;
Like a kite rising on a sea breeze...
Love...the tender membrane,
A colour brush, shrouded in granite notes and steel chords,
A consummation of prophecy, vignettes of 'forever'
Written between flesh and need;
Loss, has no sound....Only a backwards glance...
She whispered his music,
A memory, a whispered echo, filled with mute pleas
Bitten into prayer pillows,
Marks of teeth left to tell the tale;
She stirs....
To fragile rose stem ribs and the splay
Of "might have been"
Her name carved upon moon winds.........
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 5:44 AM UTC
sliced the thumb quite nicely,
a straight line, it,
the thumb,
applauded my skill,
turning bright infected red from
embarrassment
for me...and my minority complaints,
losing HD sight of the
big screen
of what matters
small woes and big-toes,
got ten times aplenty,
got lawyers and creeps
back in my life,
made promises that can't keep
so for sure
biblically cursed,
Job, and me,
losing parched perspective
under the tree
that gives no shade
dancing on that line called
"why bother,"
the other side of depression
forgetting again,
**roof over head,
pizza in the belly,**
can still stand up straight,
after a few vociferous
aches n' growls,
though the docs prescribe
what i proscribe,
i.e exercise, diet and blah, blah, blah, hah, hah
got her and got you,
goddess of poetry,
the mental health should be ok,
someday,
maybe even
the physicality
but not nut all of you,
not so lucky,
love the brave,
the courage true
those who ask,
when the time comes,
brave ones revealations,
shame me back to perspective
so do the thing,
some say,
call it the-right,
says I,
it's the no-choice
no thought needed,no praise worthy,
just
*extend the
balance,
bring back the
relativity,
share the
luck,
be as brave as those who
dare to ask*
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
You were mine
You owned me but I thought I bought you
To the right, straight on ‘til morning, priceless
Tundra frontier vast expanse of possibility final
Let’s settle down
Our place very fine
Satan’s little acre
Where work got done you oversaw
To the left, we kissed deep, drunk each other
Families commingled extended
Biblically umbilical making babies
Behind the audacious bleachers
Our promise broken unfulfilled
Until our hot integrity solders this metallurgy
Together again like joint work power coupled
With terpsichorean abandon unleashed
I’ll stop the world
Board the white van
Emerge my own man
And you are his
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 1:22 AM UTC
In her leggings,
and her striped
Cape Cod dress,
we meet Kim.
She’s in possession
of ankles the circumference
of Kennedy half-dollars,
a wasp’s nest of black curls
piled on her head,
she’s a straight line
from shoulder to heel.
She’s a real catch, Kim is,
and she knows it.
She has no idea that
she looks like a peacock
dipped in motor oil,
she’s giving ol’ Josh
the goldfish eye.
We’re all here to see The Freight Train,
The Rabbit Killer, but Kim’s hoping
for more.
Kim’s looking to get her
bunny stuffed, she
don’t care much about who
does the stuffing,
but she’s hoping for Mr. Clark,
he’s her mark, no doubt.
Now, Josh bought Kim
a beer, but was asked to
leave the cap on,
He looks at me, confused.
“It’s so you can’t Rufie her.
She wants to **** you, but
she wants it to be her idea.”
Josh nods;
so does Kim.
As the evening proceeds,
and we’ve all done
“The Freight Train Boogie”
it’s become increasingly
obvious to Kim that Josh
is not agreeable to buttering
her biscuits, she moves,
which is to say stumbles,
around the room.
Every so often she’ll climb onto
the lap of some guy she’s known,
biblically or otherwise, before.
Sam, Bob, Steve, Ralph, or Charlie,
it hardly matters.
Earlier, she’d told us about
the 6-year-old twins,
the teenaged daughter
at home, ex-husband,
boyfriend, whatever, in jail.
The Freight Train moves ever
onward, but I’ve seen too
much of ol’ Kimmy’s show,
now depressed, it’s time
to bail.
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2016
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:47 AM UTC
tired of my drooping Hanes,
my slept-in choice for greeting
a new morning tad overexposed,
my weekend breakfast table
body's accoutrement,
"coverup" she deemed accurately
as in-suffice,
my nighttime slept-in choice for
welcoming the new morning
as a single continuum,
exposing my true colors,
thus declaring biblically,
"Let there be night, let there be day,"
in a manner of speak
she-woman wryly declares
over her slim sizing
yogurt Greek and half of a laugh
of a banana downsized,
"You need some loungewear"
pondering this ponderosa-sized ponderosity,
grasping its monstrosity insulting me,
coffee pouring, Eye, a
first responder
contemplate irresponsibly,
thinking to reply with bravado,
that on said day,
when Eye accrete
such a class of clothing
so nomenclatured as
"loungewear"
upon my person,
or in my ward-so-unrobed found,
unasked for,
Eye will require transgendering
but my tongue bites me,
so instead
draw down on my John Donne,
on the subject of
food, good taste
and being unclothed,
and instead
He-poet
bequeath the she-woman
this riposte...
*"Full nakedness!
All joys are due to thee;
as souls unbodied,
bodies unclothed must be
to taste whole joys.*
wisely retreating than be
defeating,
not wanting
a world war conflicting,
with coffee mugged, Eye return/hide,
under the bed's blanketing comforter,
thinking of the taste of whole joys
of her body unclothed,
when later, she creeps in next to me,
to practice the serious art of
lounging...
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:30 AM UTC
My sister is driving miserably
While I’m writing some novel with ghosts
The song playing sickens me biblically
Like the angels with eyes for words
There’s a light from the street eating me
Awkwardly asking for me to be free
‘O sweet, little phantom don’t stop waiting
One day I’m sure to oblivion I’ll flee
My sister them murmurs asking me
The stars from the mirror to see
All I could sight were murderers of dreams
That will never belong
And my heart is the only noise I need
In this hypothetically, torturous day
The stars crown the sky
And music exploits people’s aches with dance
But I’m still writing letters to unknown lovers
Pretending I’m ******* their happiness
While searching the meaning of lust
As they still owe me what’s left from my soul
‘oh how I’d like to kiss you until breath’s presence is gone’
I write while I’m adjusting some tears that will never fall
The ghosts from the novel are inspired by oaths I took
Promising myself to make friends with
Nostalgia and grief
Someday I might publish it
Maybe when I’m already a ghost
Maybe my work will be lost for a while
And the letters will find their suitors without me
But until then I’m a memory
To someone’s yearly alcohol dose
And the song changes suddenly
Reminding me the melody
That nights harmonize
To eros’ arrows
And I’m longing to bleed
So I can feel
What psyche yearned for in life
The most.
Apr 3, 2025
Apr 3, 2025 at 5:02 PM UTC
Perfection incomprehensible stood in a new world and the greatest act was to make you from longing
Loneliness understanding that knew with absolute assurance what ideal perfection he made you in what
Was His own likeness do you comprehend the thought the power of study the intenseness that formed
In the being of God a disturbance the gravity that weighed on his mind and heart to create the essential
Element that would outweigh all else that came before nothing else captured his imagination like you
Did everything else was as steps to this ultimate grand achievement we experience this wonder when
We are given children he was making himself a father nothing was spared he weighed the amassed
Fortune of all existence then He set forth to top it no expense was spared he took the very meaning of
Rapture Released its power blended emotional completeness from the depths of His being He employed
The unlimited resources of His own thoughts to give life that would be exceptional with such care a
Meaningful bright exuberant child was formed whenever you see your reflection you are looking at the
Final result what splendor is divulged extravagance defined limitation showered in the most precious
A bordered perfection it is filled and presses at all sides with more promise once released how do you
Still joy expressed love without reservation is of all things freeing as our own children they make a place
For themselves using all of our best qualities but quickly they surprise us by surpassing us they are all of
Us but even more and in our heavenly Father we are unconditionally given the opportunity for unlimited
Growth he truly is the sky is the limit all we achieve is with him in our vision he draws and pulls us forth
By His power if we would only open our minds and eyes to this how much failure and negative defeat
Would fall away without our true connection we are so easily swayed by the forces that are at odds with
Us here on earth that is their first success when they neutralize our relationship with our perfect parent
And father then the enemy of us all with contrivances that to us are spellbinding and such great loss
Occurs while we try to operate in the darkness that is his ungodly shadow such bright futures will be
Ours if we reconnect biblically what soundness with hope and joy would surge through our souls out
Through our bodies into such a rich life that would surpass any and all New Year resolutions
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
She draws your eyes at first when you look/
Her soft hair falls like water drawn by electricity.
In the corner spines try and strangle books.
Or some sort of bone- might not be a spine.
But they are forcing them shut. Such crooks.
Creeping in the corner of the warmer side of the room
Is a man who stares like he longs to be her groom.
I assume he’s the focus that your not supposed to notice.
“Don’t try and draw meaning! It’s useless to do so”,
Cries the voice in my head as I try and make my thoughts slow.
I shall just gaze emptily. Theres plenty to please
my eyes without meaning rotting my brain like disease.
But theres need to unravel why he glares at her crimson.
Why crimson? Why Crimson? I have to listen.
“ Perhaps his face is the blood that runs through us.
A symbol of lust? Love? Or Mistrust. Lets discuss”/
I must shut this noise at once. Enough.
I can’t start tying this to myself or my own health.
Ignore what is felt, focus on the symbols with context.
Think of what is in front of you not what might be next.
“ But whats next messed before. ******* it right up.
The man had been hexed in folk tale made up!
She stole the symbol and painted him to creep up.”
Regardless, Lets part with these thoughts and just focus.
Theres locust that leap beneath her feet we didn’t notice.
Now Locusts can be hopeless but also denote somewhat biblically.
Perhaps this plague lurking is his misery? Represented Physically
“ By a woman on a hill painted with locust covered feet.
A crimson man behind her sat creeping perched on a seat.
In the corner theres a pile of books with titles you can’t read.
And spines try and choke them but instead they somehow feed."
And all this by a woman who I know could not see me.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
I had no intention of causing any more harm than she had done to herself, which became the catalyst for a series of letters. Pages upon pages of observations, one more prominent than the others; You wish you knew me like I wish you knew yourself.
I became under the impression she received the message, neither of us were fit to infatuate with the other. However, she still met me that afternoon in the park. She still approached me in her most vulnerable character.
Hi, i’m J-
I know who you are. I always have. I know you biblically and genetically alike. I know your mother’s maiden name, and the reason for your scar. What I don’t understand is, why me?
Quiet response, scared. Vulnerable. Scarred.
I wish I knew myself like you know me.
Aug 6, 2010
Aug 6, 2010 at 2:40 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
We’re thirty seconds closer to midnight
The nuclear scientists all say
Before the Biblically revealed Armageddon
Is tragically brought into play
The world believes that a madman
Has his hands on the nuclear codes
And frankly other leaders are worried
Because of what that forebodes
We’re thirty seconds closer to midnight
According to the nuclear clock
And people all over the world
Are frankly expressing their shock
At the talk of building up stockpiles
As a necessary and clear deterrent
While furthering an insane plan
That isn’t at best coherent
We’re thirty seconds closer to midnight
And some are abandoning hope
Others are still optimistic
By holding tightly onto God’s Rope
But whatever side you may fall on
The potential for disaster is real
When the head of a powerful nation
Operates by how he may feel
We’re thirty seconds closer to midnight
That’s’ a sad but salient fact
With all sides worried and wondering
Who’ll make the first strike attack
Instead of reducing our stockpiles
They’re hell-bent on building them up
Take the time to look at their profiles
You’ll discover that most are corrupt
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2017. All rights reserved.
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 10:54 AM UTC
Vulture
A perfect word to describe people sometimes
When you've hunted your prey and there on your **** they lie.
Opportunistic
In most cases materialistic
A vulture, a common scavenger
Greed motivating every single move
So yeah Mr trump I described you perfectly
Or even better I can relate this to you biblically
As I recall king david was told of a rich man taking a lamb from someone who was poor,
So why would we vote for you? We've taken all the greed we can endure
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Well I say sir, the beauty is here as I hold her
Her hair streaks of sunshine
Her smile a work of art
They say nothing good can stay
Well sir I say, she's mine
I know her biblically and fully
I need her to get me through
But still they tell me you don't know what you have until its gone
She's here to stay
This woman with the beauty in her eye
Her and her timelessness
And to me she's priceless
Dec 30, 2012
Dec 30, 2012 at 1:26 AM UTC
I know air exists cause I breath it, I know God exists cause in 1968 I think, I’ll check my dates with Mum when she answers her phone, I witnessed a miracle first hand that involved my Grandfather Albert and my Uncle Keith. The details of which are no real matter for the moment.
I do not blame God for bad stuff; I just don’t have the depth to fathom how it all works. When I don’t understand how something works, it troubles me. I am troubled by God being so mysterious, same reason I can’t watch magicians, tricky little suckers.
I just wish God would be a bit more obvious sometimes like when I witnessed that miracle at a young age. I now occasionally discuss this with him to the point where we argue, well I argue and I guess he is just nodding and doing that “all knowing” smile thing he does which quiet frankly annoys me as well, cause in my opinion if he can be that obvious once, surely he can help out again occasionally by doing something biblically obvious.
To be fair to God, a lot of stuff troubles and annoys me that "normal" people are not troubled by so maybe I should cut him some slack, but I'm not giving those **** magicians a break, they are still on my **** list" as are the people from funniest home video, but that’s another story.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
What if
God
Showed
Adam and Eve a visual
Like we do watching a cinema screen
Or
In a dream as it was written so biblically,
The
Consequences
Of eating
The forbidden fruit,
Whould
They
Still
Have chosen
To
Bring All the wars and bloodshed
Immorality
Mortality
Upon themselves
And
Their Children?
IF
Things
Were explained properly, in detail,
What
Such an action would result in,
Would
They,
PRECIOUS CHILDREN,
Have
Ignored such horror and still
Proceeded
In eating...the
Forbidden fruit?
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 6:32 PM UTC
It's a sin,
But I want to..
Know You!!!!
Biblically.....
May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
I love you deeply
Think the dead sea
Depths on this Earth that no man can reach
A love that's not shallow or superficial
Yet I still call you beautiful
Think the coral reef
Love, a word often abused
And if God is love then love should identify with the truth
And if it doesn't
Then it's something
Else but not love
That's why so many are broken
And avoid the God that is love and holy
And brings us into wholeness
The concept of being one from one man and one woman is foreign
That's why God created marriages to reflect his love a pond the world
We are his Kingdom ambassadors
Called to uphold a standard
Even as the percentages climb and marriages dwindle
We hold it together with faith and grace
Not magic
It's no hash tag blacklove
If we're not first biblically grounded
Love should be astounding
Painted in multiple brush strokes
We're image bearers of him
You see us, you see him
The seamstress who hemmed humans with many tones of skin
God the Finisher
the Author
the Artist
Architect of the garden
A love that's built off of his blueprint
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 12:13 PM UTC
WOW!!!
IMAGINE BIBLICALLY DONE ART
I went to Genesis hotel through Exodus road. On the way, I saw Leviticus recording the Numbers of people at Deuteronomy, while Joshua was waiting at the Beautiful gate for Judges to see Ruth calling loudly "Samuel ! Samuel ! At a stage, the first and second Kings of Chronicles 1 & 2, were coming to visit Ezra, Nehemiah and Esther for the misfortune of Job their brother. They started singing Psalms and teaching children Proverbs concerning Ecclesiastes and Songs of Solomon. This coincided with the period that Isaiah was engaged in Jeremiah's Lamentations together with Ezekiel and Daniel their friends. By that time, Amos and Obadiah were not around. Three days later, Hosea, Joel and Jonah travelled in the same ship with Micah and Nahum to Jerusalem. Habakkuk then visited Zephaniah
who introduced him to Haggai a friend of Zechariah whose cousin is Malachi.
Immediately after the tradition, Mathew, Mark, Luke and John got involved in Acts of the Romans who were behaving like the 1st Corinthians group because the 2nd Corinthians group were always at loggerheads with the Galatians. At that time too, they realized that the Ephesians and Philippians were close to the Colossians, and a suggestion for the first Thessalonians visit was made, and that on their second Thessalonians visit, they should first of all see the first and second of the Timothy brothers who had gone to the house of Titus to teach Philemon his younger brother how to read and write in Hebrew. On hearing this, James asked Peter twice to explain to him how the three Johns have disclosed to Jude the Revelations of this journey.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
it's like feeling eyes on me at all times
like angels tracing my moves
four heads turning my way
i can't move
they'll catch on
i'm held beneath my own breath
not a sound
no release
i can't get up
just to pass on the baton
just to trace the angelic figure
but i don't move there
i can't move there
i can't be seen
heard
eyes all around
limbs straight
watching me lord
there is no lord
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 11:55 AM UTC
our collective identity is a sick child. some say fever, some say welcome to the loop of the biblically speechless. people are for others. are for making eyes at the gender of the god as it oversleeps in the coma we slip from. the child prays. the child causes a stir in the pastoral urgency of a moral imagination. we pray. we miss yearly the showdown between the town drunk and the town ghost. I trace a finger to put my finger on. the television belonging to our lady of snowy reception has fallen on our little angel more than once. nothing in the world is the world.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:28 PM UTC