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"convicting" poems
From the moment your born, roll on death. Alcoholics Unsatisfied sit round in a circle, soft acquitting eyes passively flow in direction left and right, never direct nor convicting always looking out but focused on the void inside. The moment you step, doomed to fall Your childhood you say, you weren’t breastfed Daddy used to drink, its in the blood the ****** horror that shook the house down now stands at the door, dormant and waiting From the moment you speak, its already over. The excuses rolled out like sludge about you And your running on empty, just fumes, exhale Breathe in shame, disgust and self-loathing These places always polluted with that smell From the moment you kiss, you know you've lost something Sit, relax, help yourself to a drink Plastic cups, plastic chairs, plastic coffee your marrow may be exposed but rest assured we, the faceless, nameless few, are here to help. From the moment you drink, your released.
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May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 3:26 AM UTC
Alcoholics Unsatisfied
*Elemental Metamorphosis & Transcendental Milestones, Sempiternal Origamis Of Her Temperamental Clones, Spiraling Perpetuities & Her Sacrosanct Fortitude, Procreating Tipsy Ruptures In Her Permeating Solitude, Perplexed Momentum & Her Outlandish Constellations, Nuclear Decay Of Her Masked Radiations, Verbal Shadows & Her Tranquil Ascendance, Encasing Her Tears In Liquefied Transcendence, Yearning Oddities & Entropic Oceans, Vitalizing Inexorable Emotions Into Phosphorescent Potions, An Hourglass Existence Of Her Fabricated Virility, Dwelling In Quantum Ascents Of Ardent Agility, Silver Ghosts Of Her Prismatic Abyss, Convicting Glass Houses In Her Ecstatic Bliss, Telepathic Shades & Hollow Palisades, Detrimental Novelists On Uncharted Crusades, Pernicious Scars In Her Profound Gaze, Erupting Genesis Inside Her Dimensional Maze, Perplexed Periphery & Digital Fictions, Annexed By Her Hourglass Depictions, Breakdown Sanity & Her Concealed Screams, Lifelike Dewdrops In Her Visionary Dreams, Satellite Searchlights & Love//Less Progenic Mutation, Paralyzed Sunlight Sparking Genetic Alteration, Monochromatic Streams & Cinematic Realms, Static Screams Of Her Toxic Schemes. - 05:43 AM -*
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Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 11:18 PM UTC
Elemental Metamorphosis & Transcendental Milestones
Gazing at the vibrant clouds in the ashen sky, It is not them that move, but I, For the breeze of Mother Nature is but a wafting breath, Imparted from her ***** To move the impartial inhabitants to harbor universal wisdom. Thus let rivalry arise between the jurors three; Amongst which Father time sets the sands free, Impartial to havoc of releasing ages and convicting generations, Set loose at his own hand, Greatly yearning for mankind to desire to understand. Hark and Herald, an Angel arrived on sullen black wings, To recluse man; further reprieve wrong doings, Slowly risen with the gallantry of gilded fervor and entitlement, Like Atlas bearing burdens on brazen back, Sentencing humanity to acquiesce that all is not bleak and black.
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Aug 18, 2011
Aug 18, 2011 at 12:45 AM UTC
Three Jurors
When I am gone and one, or two Are huddled on a funeral pew Then this one thing I ask of you Don't lie about the man you knew For by the bloating of my name You'll nullify the one who came Who bore the fullness of my blame And died in such disgraceful shame Know that every sin which you recall Those times I drove you up the wall My secret sins made these look small Their evil horror would appal Yet every crime against my king Was matched by grace astonishing Every joy a gift releasing Freedom from my sin convicting For long before the world began  My God had forged a stunning plan Despite the dirt of my life's span The great God loved this sinful man So mourn or shrug as you feel right But do not fret about your plight My God will keep you in his sight A glorious help in darkest night When I am gone and one or two Are huddled on a funeral pew Lift up your eyes and look anew For Jesus Christ is calling you
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May 17, 2010
May 17, 2010 at 2:00 PM UTC
When I am gone (A poem for my funeral)
I came across something convicting the other day Something extremely relevant to our lives today Jesus wouldn't judge them for their typos and bad grammar and spelling mistakes, and neither should I.
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Convicting
I thought for maybe a fleeting day that I liked you. I knew it would never work. You and me. Me and you. It's just not possible. I'm nothing compared to you. Your talent flies to the stars above, While I sit on the grass at night and gaze in wonder. Your passion for life shines like the sun, While I dance in the warm light laughing with joy. I do not love you, or even like you more than I show. It's the thought of you that makes me smile. It's the thought of you that makes me wonder how you are doing each day. It's the thought of you- nothing more- that makes me want to be your friend. I hero worship you. I need to stop. You are human like me. Nothing more. And you should be nothing more. You are my brother that I look up to, That I secretly admire from afar. I am a small child in need of guidance, A lost heart searching for a close friend, But you cannot be that person. You have your friends, And I mine. Even if we meet tomorrow, We'll be friendly but nothing more. Admitting I hero worship you is uncomfortable. Convicting myself for being weak enough to do so hurts. Convincing myself love is not an option for me is a battle. Punishing myself for liking someone is unbearable. I cannot love. I must not love. I am not capable of love. And if I do love, I would be better off dead than with a broken heart. It already is fragile as glass and as worthless as fools gold from the first time I liked someone. Again, it was the thought of him, Hero worship. I barely survived that. I must never love again.
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Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Hero Worship
I thought for maybe a fleeting day that I liked you. I knew it would never work. You and me. Me and you. It's just not possible. I'm nothing compared to you. Your talent flies to the stars above, While I sit on the grass at night and gaze in wonder. Your passion for life shines like the sun, While I dance in the warm light laughing with joy. I do not love you, or even like you more than I show. It's the thought of you that makes me smile. It's the thought of you that makes me wonder how you are doing each day. It's the thought of you- nothing more- that makes me want to be your friend. I hero worship you. I need to stop. You are human like me. Nothing more. And you should be nothing more. You are my brother that I look up to, That I secretly admire from afar. I am a small child in need of guidance, A lost heart searching for a close friend, But you cannot be that person. You have your friends, And I mine. Even if we meet tomorrow, We'll be friendly but nothing more. Admitting I hero worship you is uncomfortable. Convicting myself for being weak enough to do so hurts. Convincing myself love is not an option for me is a battle. Punishing myself for liking someone is unbearable. I cannot love. I must not love. I am not capable of love. And if I do love, I would be better off dead than with a broken heart. It already is fragile as glass and as worthless as fools gold from the first time I liked someone. Again, it was the thought of him, Hero worship. I barely survived that. I must never love again.
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42
I speak in tongues of men and angels, I speak as a man that knows the angles. I rhyme truth melodically, with my methodology, my words convicting you this is no mythology. And as tides of tithes flood our church like Jordan, the lives of lies, my tongue has shortened. So let's ask the Ghost of the Most-High, high above I, to bless this mission, this mission of mine. (Are you sold? Are you inspired? By this sorcerer peddling his strange fire? Are you scared? Are you mired? By the weight of this second-rate evil-inspired rant that can't won't couldn't shouldn't be found profound by us when by Christ it wouldn't? The "broken bonds" of this sounding gong are just more chains, just empty song) I've loved, lived, lost! (But burned the cross.) I've spoke and swayed! (At disastrous cost.) I've sung the hymns! (So did the Devil) Filled our church with gold! (The softest metal.) I fought back the dark! (But it left it's mark) Laid all at the altar! (That's still awaiting a spark) I witnessed to the street! (On a weak foundation.) Was given the the finest things! (And moth and rust will take them.) (It was never about what he could do, what glory can God take when who is seen is you? His “my’s” and “I’s” can’t save the lost, his “my’s” and “I’s” put Him on the Cross! Man can only save what gold can buy, and in the end owns nothing but gilded lies. You've seen his path, and where it leads. Do you see now that it's from you you're freed? Not debt, not pain, not loss or strife, but the crushing weight of your debauched life? The Son will not impart what this man asks, for to leave you the world is not His task. For we are born, but do not live, until we surrender that which was not ours to give.)
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
A Dialogue of the False and the Forgiving
I speak in tongues of men and angels, I speak as a man that knows the angles. I rhyme truth melodically, with my methodology, my words convicting you this is no mythology. And as tides of tithes flood our church like Jordan, the lives of lies, my tongue has shortened. So let's ask the Ghost of the Most-High, high above I, to bless this mission, this mission of mine. (Are you sold? Are you inspired? By this sorcerer peddling his strange fire? Are you scared? Are you mired? By the weight of this second-rate evil-inspired rant that can't won't couldn't shouldn't be found profound by us when by Christ it wouldn't? The "broken bonds" of this sounding gong are just more chains, just empty song) I've loved, lived, lost! (But burned the cross.) I've spoke and swayed! (At disastrous cost.) I've sung the hymns! (So did the Devil) Filled our church with gold! (The softest metal.) I fought back the dark! (But it left it's mark) Laid all at the altar! (That's still awaiting a spark) I witnessed to the street! (On a weak foundation.) Was given the the finest things! (And moth and rust will take them.) (It was never about what he could do, what glory can God take when who is seen is you? His “my’s” and “I’s” can’t save the lost, his “my’s” and “I’s” put Him on the Cross! Man can only save what gold can buy, and in the end owns nothing but gilded lies. You've seen his path, and where it leads. Do you see now that it's from you you're freed? Not debt, not pain, not loss or strife, but the crushing weight of your debauched life? The Son will not impart what this man asks, for to leave you the world is not His task. For we are born, but do not live, until we surrender that which was not ours to give.)
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20
I am on trial And my sins Are my testimony My defense is pathetic Crumbling under the weight Of your Disappointment I cannot win this case When I can't even Believe myself Everything I say Can and is used against me In your court The jury is your peers Convicting me on one night Of blurry evidence I'll wear this number Forever burned in my memory Guilty as charged
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Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 10:55 PM UTC
your court
I am convicting myself of loving you the most loneliest trial to attend alone I sit on the stand I raise my right hand to God that there is a truth I am hiding burying inside me a national treasure of finding the truth is I love you I see your amazing I admire the weakness of your strength those elements of you that lack the sight of eyes hands couldn't even feel I have to leave you I don't want to you have to leave me with silence filling my ears completely full of my tears that feed me my fears that keep me from living my life without you here your laugh has become the best sound on Earth your smile has carved itself tattoo on my skin scrubbing the lust off fighting the demons you left within as I opened my life for you to fill me I wait for the rest of you to leak out of me but all in love is not fair now I am condemning myself to the only lie told I had to do all that I could to get away from you since I didn't get my way with you
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Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 11:08 PM UTC
Resulting In
Another day another number Another day another empty bedside Another day to smell the hair on the pillow sheets That cocoon me with my frantic mind Another day acting like Sleeping with different girls every week is fun Another day of being called a ****** slayer By your friends who wish they were like you Why oh why Do I have to see these days pass by Without being called a **** Another day where men measure themselves On how manly they are By the number of girls you have slept with. Sleep on this I can’t sleep at night As Whatshername’s Hair brushes on my nose I sit there thinking these 14 things That seem to tug on shirt Asking for my attention 1.) I hope she had fun tonight 2.) I hope this clock stays at 2:13am maybe if I stare at it the minute hand It won’t move 3.) I hope I can feel loved by her by another night I want her to see That I’m not just a ****** Craving her curves on my body. 4.) I hope she can see through the cracks of my smile 5.) I hope she sees that I’m not like everyone guy 6.) I hope I can make her pancakes when she wakes up Before she escapes the person she calls a regret. 7.) I hope sun doesn't come up Because I’ll have to walk alone in cold street called reality 8.) I hope she doesn't realize The reason I have *** with her Is to avoid to larger problems in my life. 9.) I hope that ****** worked 10.) I hope I can change my ways, why can’t change my ways? 11.) I hope my dad’s leather belt Isn't waiting for me When I sneak back home, Yet I’m excited to see it Because I feel my father’s touch Through the sounds of leather 12.) I hope my future son doesn't see me like this 13.) I hope my number of girls I've slept with stops at 13 14.) I hope I can stop Stop Stop Stop Whenever I try stop All I can think of Are those words Floating around my head Convicting me That if people call you a **** ****** slayer” “Man ***** I just think to myself “Well I guess I am who I am” 15 16 17
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Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 8:13 PM UTC
14
Another day another number Another day another empty bedside Another day to smell the hair on the pillow sheets That cocoon me with my frantic mind Another day acting like Sleeping with different girls every week is fun Another day of being called a ****** slayer By your friends who wish they were like you Why oh why Do I have to see these days pass by Without being called a **** Another day where men measure themselves On how manly they are By the number of girls you have slept with. Sleep on this I can’t sleep at night As Whatshername’s Hair brushes on my nose I sit there thinking these 14 things That seem to tug on shirt Asking for my attention 1.) I hope she had fun tonight 2.) I hope this clock stays at 2:13am maybe if I stare at it the minute hand It won’t move 3.) I hope I can feel loved by her by another night I want her to see That I’m not just a ****** Craving her curves on my body. 4.) I hope she can see through the cracks of my smile 5.) I hope she sees that I’m not like everyone guy 6.) I hope I can make her pancakes when she wakes up Before she escapes the person she calls a regret. 7.) I hope sun doesn't come up Because I’ll have to walk alone in cold street called reality 8.) I hope she doesn't realize The reason I have *** with her Is to avoid to larger problems in my life. 9.) I hope that ****** worked 10.) I hope I can change my ways, why can’t change my ways? 11.) I hope my dad’s leather belt Isn't waiting for me When I sneak back home, Yet I’m excited to see it Because I feel my father’s touch Through the sounds of leather 12.) I hope my future son doesn't see me like this 13.) I hope my number of girls I've slept with stops at 13 14.) I hope I can stop Stop Stop Stop Whenever I try stop All I can think of Are those words Floating around my head Convicting me That if people call you a **** ****** slayer” “Man ***** I just think to myself “Well I guess I am who I am” 15 16 17
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66
There's a myth about a boy with lips so toxic he takes a year off your life every time you kiss him. I called him cigarette boy. He was like a liter. A matchbox that wouldn't light unless you struck him the right way. It's almost embarrassing to remember the way he made me feel. He made me feel the way I promised myself I never would. I am an icebox. He thawed away at the cold. I am a puddle at his feet. I can't figure out how he did it. His hair is much lighter than mine—his smile so much more warm. He reminds me of the way honey melts when you stir it in tea so hot it burns you. There were 3 incidents that I knew he would not be going away: 1. Imagine holding hands with a ghost, a loaded gun. 2. Being lifted up in a flash flood, letting his love drown like a brick. 3. I felt like a soaked bouquet of flowers, and his eyes would not stop convicting me of love. His eyes were the survivor in this aftermath of blood and war. He had to leave me so I could grow. In the end we were so invincible. We had to find something else to mourn about. He apologized for every kiss with more. When my time was up, he asked me to tell him a secret. "I'd kiss you a million times more knowing your lips are the death of me. I'd sacrifice this last act of selflessness to you." Lace your veins with my vengeance. I'd come to you every time. There are no voices left to be heard beneath my skin. He was an already published novel that refused to have an end.
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Sep 15, 2014
Sep 15, 2014 at 7:55 PM UTC
His Lips Were A Myth
Forever closed eyes, Reasoning dies. Empty inside, Nowhere to hide. Lost in the loneliness of my mind, Losing the sanity that binds. Falling apart at the seems, Can't escape these haunting dreams. Oh why do I try? No one can see these tears I cry. Razor to wrist, Replacing all I've missed. Convicting those who did this to me, Remembering what I used to be. Holding on to life by a thin thread, My horrid regrets repeating in my head. The end is near, My eyes fill with every lonesome tear. My deep secret is the key, This is what I need to set me free.
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Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 4:39 AM UTC
What Is Left Of Me
Hail, King Arbor, vice-regent of the paradisal garden! Springing, a wooden fountain clawing up and seizing handfuls of sky, Towering, dancing in winds that cannot bow him, With every breeze rattling branches scratch out a shout. Padded with armor layered in sheaves and shingles, Constant cloak accented of moss and vine and bubbles of fungus, Weathered of snows and rains and smokes and fires, Fitted snug o’er the ageless trunk, ever-young beneath time’s rings. Steward of life, he cradles birdlings in nested branches, In chewed divots and caves hiding the squirrel and his kin, His skin alive with deep burrowing beetles and grubs and thousands of worms, Beneath his leafy mantle are sheltered the fox and the deer. While branches sway and leaves fly in stormy havoc, And beasts and creeping things are shaken and tossed, His stoic roots, unimpressed, anchor the forest to the world, Laboring buried and ever unmoved, in dark earthen dignity. Here he stands, shoulder to shoulder with his brethren, A sylvan army assembled to keep watch as the centuries drift by, Council of elders evergreen presiding over the passage of epochs, Terra’s first tribe bonded inseparable under countless dusks and dawns. And there he stands, all solitary, vertical spire against a flat horizon, No less regal for the absence of peers, but still defiant and noble, Standing in judgement uncontested over an undiscerning globe, Convicting all, dismissing them as airy flights ephemeral.
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Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 8:47 AM UTC
Lauds Arboreal
I know that I am far from being perfect but my Savior is using me still. Its not suppose to be ok now I am saved I shall quit all of my sinning. But instead its Christ convicting you one sin at a time then helping us. True he does not want us to live as the world lives but as he lives. I know that he works on each of my sins separately, he does all the work. All that I have to do is obediently lay each of them down one at a time. Then turn away and not do that sin any longer, but I am still not perfect. This is why he gave me an helper to help me to overcome each sin. But its not me that is overcoming the sin but Christ whom lives within me overcoming them.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
I Am Far From Perfect
I have lived through 3 suicides, and limitless unexpected deaths. I have been in courts, that only end with "guilty". I have shared deep convicting connections, that can never be repeated with others. What has my body become? My flesh is smothered with boys oils, My heart has been replaced by mechanics, stuck on one same beat, My kisses have become wasted, no longer special to me or others. Thats only the physical. LOVE. How do I believe in you anymore? Speaking of which, when did love become approval? When Love did you become a law? Dry your tears child, life is to short for so much sorrow. How do you climb out of this depressing pit? Laughter, God, Music. And possibly in that order.
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Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 2:46 AM UTC
Voices, Vices, and Visions.
My wholly Unholy spirit Always guided me From convicting convictions To judge and jury My sins east to west Spans wide I'm sure More a sinner Than any saintly Tendencies exhibited before Simply saved by faith Solely believing In a loving Invisible God's merciful grace
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:40 PM UTC
Come Pass
Lets talk love   I want to hold u, and I want to give             You something more      that I could ever give to anyone          with your hand held out    And a perfect smile on your face         I could call you an angle    I know we can make this work till the end come here let me show you how deeply and convicting my love is         for you with just one kiss   all smeared up with a little twist    Forever my thoughts of you will    never be denied     I promise you I will never lie cause every breath I take is for you and I   Just let me memorize a time of our dreams cause lighting bolts in the sky    will forever scream,               So hold on tight            Never let go my lover Cause I'm waiting , and I'm thinking    of a time, a number , and a place         were we can die together       without memories being sour     So never challenge the wheathear Cause  love itself will always be better
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Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 3:20 PM UTC
Talk love
A man decided to go to church one day, He was down hearted and  so went to pray. He came to the front door ad was welcomed in, There quietly seated were many children, women and men, The teacher in Sunday School made him feel glad, For he heard more about Jesus than he ever had. The Preacher then followed preaching God’s Word, The message was different than any he had ever heard, He made very plain  God’s simple salvation plan, How that His only Begotten Son died to save every man. He urged all to accept Jesus from sin  He will set you free, I knew I was a sinner, the Holy Spirit was convicting me, The Preacher called out, “Beloved, what shape are you in? Without repenting faith there is no forgiveness of sin! “ The invitation was offered, but I waited for awhile, But I couldn’t resist God  calling me to walk down the aisle. At the old -fashioned altar on my knees I repented of sin, Now Jesus is my personal Savior, praise God I’m born again. Then there came a day when testimonies were being given So this is his testimony of that day he received Salvation. Well Folks, one Sunday morning I repented                                 Of my self-righteousness. I knelt down at the altar,                                  And Jesus Christ confessed. Then one day I was baptized,                                   As a public confession of faith, In Jesus Christ as my  Savior,                                    And God’s wonderful Grace. Now every day I try harder,                                     then did the day before, To live my life more pleasing,                                     And glorify the Lord. Every day I’m reading my Bible,                                     And spending time in prayer, And to my friends & neighbors                                      I the Gospel share. I never miss a church service                                      On Sundays or mid-week too, Oh how I love Jesus,                                       My Friends, how about you. Praise God I 'm saved, Praise God I'm saved I'm born again a child of God Praise God I'm saved
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Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 9:20 AM UTC
ONE MAN'S TESTIMONY
A man decided to go to church one day, He was down hearted and  so went to pray. He came to the front door ad was welcomed in, There quietly seated were many children, women and men, The teacher in Sunday School made him feel glad, For he heard more about Jesus than he ever had. The Preacher then followed preaching God’s Word, The message was different than any he had ever heard, He made very plain  God’s simple salvation plan, How that His only Begotten Son died to save every man. He urged all to accept Jesus from sin  He will set you free, I knew I was a sinner, the Holy Spirit was convicting me, The Preacher called out, “Beloved, what shape are you in? Without repenting faith there is no forgiveness of sin! “ The invitation was offered, but I waited for awhile, But I couldn’t resist God  calling me to walk down the aisle. At the old -fashioned altar on my knees I repented of sin, Now Jesus is my personal Savior, praise God I’m born again. Then there came a day when testimonies were being given So this is his testimony of that day he received Salvation. Well Folks, one Sunday morning I repented                                 Of my self-righteousness. I knelt down at the altar,                                  And Jesus Christ confessed. Then one day I was baptized,                                   As a public confession of faith, In Jesus Christ as my  Savior,                                    And God’s wonderful Grace. Now every day I try harder,                                     then did the day before, To live my life more pleasing,                                     And glorify the Lord. Every day I’m reading my Bible,                                     And spending time in prayer, And to my friends & neighbors                                      I the Gospel share. I never miss a church service                                      On Sundays or mid-week too, Oh how I love Jesus,                                       My Friends, how about you. Praise God I 'm saved, Praise God I'm saved I'm born again a child of God Praise God I'm saved
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42
To the far side of tomorrow Killing for sorrow Rest in the fact Yesterday you retract Time in a balloon Floating up too soon Listening to the magistrate Convicting to legislate Can you relate...??????????????? Lie in state Debate
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May 13, 2021
May 13, 2021 at 7:23 AM UTC
Free Speak
Chaos abounds Containing so many ups and downs Time is conflicting Though solitude is addicting The circle in which we live, Prodives a place to thrive But life isn’t perfect It is messy and imperfect So, although chaos abounds And there are ups... and downs Time is wonderfully contradicting And solitude is convicting.
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Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Life
He wondered— the mode of perdition’s redress. No need of brimstone; sufficient are memories; clear, insistent, convicting.
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Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 10:01 PM UTC
What Form of Flames
Both convicting and convincing Pointing to what's true and right My Daddy's worn out Bible Always comes to mind The pages torn and tattered From years of loving use My Daddy knew what mattered From his early days of youth As he poured over the pages Daily in blood, sweat, and tears No if's, and's, but's, or maybe's His God he both loved and feared Highlighted, both pen and marker Words that touched his very soul As the days grew ever darker He knew the light to hold And also where his strength came from In the faithful words he'd read Of God's grace to us poured out in love To all who have the need Both convicting and convincing Pointing to what's true and right My Daddy's worn out Bible Always comes to heart and mind
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Feb 15, 2021
Feb 15, 2021 at 11:11 AM UTC
My Daddy's Worn Out Bible