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What i wanna say today….
....Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever....
....i have an urge to write these words today, i thank you so very much for reading, ………with love from Sylvia….


The Bible? Of course, i read it, but not every day,
seriously, not as a research book,
but as The Holy Scriptures, my basis for my faith and to pray.

It has the Old and the New Testament,
i'm oft inspired by the Word of God in every segment.

Authoritative, in faith i hold the Bible,
to be inerrant in the originals God-breathed, infallible.

i assure you to read it, bit by bit,
for your faith and practice, please read the complete hit,
and final authority, perfectly guided by the Holy Spirit.

i believe in the only God, He is the Creator of all,
He is also known as the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit,

revealed by God Himself, as ONE in being, in essence, and glory.

God is the One and Only Almighty, omnipresent, omnipotent He,
and unchanging. He is holy, just and righteous,
He is love, merciful, good and gracious.

i believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ,
the expressed image of the Father is grandest.

Who was born to become an ordinary man,
in order that He could tell us who God really is,
and provide the means of salvation for humanity and all the bliss.

Jesus Christ of the Holy Spirit’s conception,
and, born of the ****** Mary, only she, without a man,
Jesus is truly God, and fully man, without a sin,
His birth occurred only by His Mother, still a ******.

He lived a perfect, sinless life, His teachings are all true.
Jesus Christ died on the cross just for me and for all of you,

He died for all humanity as a substitutionary sacrifice,
we hold that His death is sufficient to provide salvation, the price,
for all who receive Him as their Saviour.

That our justification is grounded in His blood shed,
that it is attested by His literal, physical resurrection from the dead.

Jesus Christ ascended to Heaven in His glorified body,
He is now seated at the right hand of God, as our High Priest and Advocate,

i believe in the divinity and personality of the Holy Spirit,
He regenerates sinners, and He indwells believers.

He is the agent by whom Christ baptizes all believers into His body,
He is the seal by whom the Father guarantees the salvation of believers
unto the day of redemption.

He is the Divine Teacher who illumines
believers’ hearts and honest minds,
as they study the Word of God,
each on their own relaxing spot.

The Holy Spirit is ultimately sovereign,
in the distribution of spiritual gifts to the obedient man.

The miraculous gifts of the Spirit, as they were known
in those times in ancient Efeze,
while by no means outside of the Spirit’s ability to empower,
no longer function to the same degrees,
they did in the early development of the church in Efeze.

The reality and personality of angels do exist,
God created the angels to be His servants and messengers.

i believe every word i have read in the Bible and its translations,
thus also in the existence and personality of the devil and its demons,
this devil’s name is Satan is the heaviest enemy God ever met,
as evil rebellions against His Almighty power, too sad,
i read this in the Bible in Isaiah 14:12-17 and in Ezekiel 28:12-15 at my spot,

he is the great enemy of God and man, condemned by the Lord,
he and his evil company were sent away for good from the holy place,
i read this in the Bible in Matthew, and in Revelations, i reckon,

my belief, based upon reading, deep thinking and my greatest Faith in God,
that we can defeat these evilish appearances right on the spot.
By praying and asking for more strength in our belief,
so that we can conquer and be freed from this devilish thief !!

All these words were ranting me to jump out of my mind,
but i took paper and pencil to hasten the posting like this kind….

Then, my dear Poetfreak friends, and today my HePo friends
i bow to you all, humbly and with great honesty, i say the deepest Amen….


© Sylvia Frances Chan
Copyright Protected
On Sunday the 3rd April 2016 – 13.28 hrs.p.m. Published on Poetfreak. Too beautiful sunny day….Spring is here! (de Lente, Dutch)....TODAY it is SUNDAY the 12th of November 2017 @ 7.17 hrs AM W.E.Time and I wish to say my Sincerest CONGRATULATIONS to my dear niece in JAKARTA, Indonesia, MONA, who is celebrating her BirthDAY. GOD's Blessings in Abundance. Remember that God loves you always....
Lazhar Bouazzi Jun 2016
"Stung
like a bumblebee,
Danced
like a butterfly."
Once or twice
he was on his knee,
But never lost
the “tiger’s eye.”

Au revoir,
inerrant Punch Press!
Yes,
adiós,
Black Orpheus!
Adiós,  
adiós!

© LazharBouazzi, Carthage, TUN, June 6, 2016
Got the idea of writing a poem about Muhammad Ali, the greatest boxer of all time, from Poet Keith Wilson, Windemere, UK.
O mother of the Saviour of the world,
     Blesséd art thou, among all women blest,
For God himselfe within thy womb was curl'd,
     And God himselfe did suckle at thy brest;
And he that dyed and rose and quitt the tomb
Blossom'd within thy house and there did bloom.

The firstborn fruit of Gods inerrant seede,
     Press'd like a bunch of grapes beneathe His wrath
Untill the Man of Sorrowes sore did bleede
     And suffer more than any martyr hath,
Was offer'd vpp a sacrifice for mee
By Father God and, Mother Mary, thee.

Woman, behold thy Sonne, the glorifi'd,
     Transfigur'd Kinge of Heauen; lion, lamb,
Messiah, God and man who liu'd and died
     And liues againe for aye, and is I AM;
Like Abraham, the LORD did ask thy Sonne;
Like Abraham, thou saidst, Thy will be donne.
Contrasted
Occlude
Nutation
Turntable
Reclusive
Apathy
Portmantea­u
Oedipus
Soliton
Inerrant
Tricorn
Inculcate
Ovoid
Nowhere

:/noun/ käntrəpəˈziSHən; A relationship between two indications when a Thing with affirmation of another are also a negation of the affirmation in the opposition of the other.
ArominizedM Aug 2016
A lengthy poem has smaller hits
but the author can push through the gist
of inerrant musings of the soul
until he bleeds pus in the sole.

Never meant to cause any disturbance
unless my words bother you like flatulence.
to gain a thought is to make a mind queasy
albeit structuring words to poems is not that easy.
Ylzm May 2019
The Book of Lies
The One and Only
Divinely Uttered
Written in Stone
Inerrant and Irrefutable
Proclaimed and Enforced
Guardians in Flesh and Blood
Unsheathed Swords
Dripping Blood.

The Books of Truth
Man’s Handiwork
Divinely Inspired
Copied and Re-copied
Encrypted with
Error Correction Coding
Trampled and Desecrated
Consuming Fire Descends
To Reveal not Destroy.
I am, too.
I am you when we go through...
The joys and horrors of passion,
The pain unnoticed by a lack of action,
The shame shamelessly felt over the time lost to fake connexion,
The blaze that burns and chokes us, yet we still want: agression,
The never aging ever breeding question:
Why?

I hope, too.
I hoped for too much, hoped like you...
But what to hope for without you, what to lose more, thought?
I hope that once the thought will cry as not the one that fell apart
Anyhow I just fought me when I hurt you and myself hard...
The more I hope the less I live, let this peaceful end turn to art!
But not that kind I used to will, not what steals, but tears a heart.
And how I still fall deep in dread holding onto the one last shard.
Wake up!

I try, too.
I tried so hard, but not with you...
In my past, goals were set easy, I even had more own choices.
You, a bright and playful mind, made good fun of ill-eerie voices.
Lazyness denounced us; yet we found: we still gain chances.
Trying hard was not an option, fights were in fact, pretty dances.
At one time or yet another, the game of life turned ruthless.
The first blows didn't even harm, but you became their witness.
Try again, fear not, improve!

I love, too.
I loved and worked with what you knew...
And love must sometimes has to bring its darker nature;
I always knew the only way to see new life is mature.
Too little were we to grasp then, how it will cause torture...
The first real thing you got to feel was withdrawal. Erasure.
All love came free, unrestrained, youth and beauty did a favor.
But no true love lasts, nor even sparks, innocent, creature.
Beware, accept refusal!

I hate, too.
I hated none once, haven't you?
We got them right first all the time.
Or second, third, in some next rhyme.
At one time, you were due to fail. I'm inerrant, how is this mine?
No, failure is never mine! We have lost and they did fine!
Hate is not so easy when you loved, as love, without a crime.
It creeps and piles up slowly in the ill-fed soul, like grime.
Forget, forgive!

I give, too.
I gave too little, gave too soon.
Or give too late and no love, hate or even a simple notice made.
Even ancient people saw that life, chemistry: they're about trade.
Give, take, count, prepare, we should have had learnt earlier...
Make, develop, mind, matter, we really should do this better!
I gave when asked, but afraid to ask, to give enough: I can never.
I gave what I got, shall I do just what I could if I must, forever?
Give, love and never give up!

I act, too.
I swear I do, just in case I excuse you...
I take actions, I say words, both are mighty, each one works.
I use language, I have thought, I may sound scary, I may scold.
Changes, in turn, demand patience, lots of actions, a good hold.
You, my dear mind, only you may make us walk the right way.
Think straight and wise when taking action, seize a fine day!
And when in need or a big excess, act quickly, make use, express.
Just act well and do work fine!

I die, too.
I die too, some day I'll die with you.
I am a spirit, but also a droid, a body, a vessel, a thinking fluid.
I am a being, trapped in samsara with a conscious ego and id,
And something above, all my brothers, fellow men and others,
Our selves live within others we know and they live in ours.
All my memories have parts of them within a universal they,
And finally I shall fade away, my actions call my life a day.
Live true, die happy!

I live, too.
I lived long and you minded me...
Who you are is all you do, say, write, love or hate, so choose!
Come together, be alone, do the homework, answer the phone!
Make your dreams work, to live your dream, make friends!
Come back home again, make love, live life, make sense!
Listen well, play music, enjoy games, don't panic, just dance!
Know us, know them, be yourself bravely, everyone will love it!
Maybe. ;)
To the one, who am I or rather you, who I am, too.
Tom McCone Sep 2015
Wish i knew what to say or how to lift weight but remember, you are as you think. and i know it's hard, sometimes, to see the light that casts shade seemingly everywhere, but it can be as simple as turning eyes to the great warmth floating up on the sky and knowin' life is a joke if you make it through laughing, right?
we skim, as so many stones, on an endless pond's vague and indifferent face, more directions to feel than anyone can see, and lay, cold n warm, in alternate takes. but time continues inerrant, and the world slips through the sheets of everything, as always. through the bent sheathes, somehow, i felt the great warmth: now, not the cardboard circle in the sky, but inset, on firm land, lapping in waves, far over and under each depth; right down to the last, misery, where sometimes i sit and wait, knowing you visit, too.
so keep lifting yr lips and
  tryin' to swim, and
i'll do the same,
                      okay?
promise
Ken Pepiton May 2023
Fulfilled ideal of the Law,
Torah, Mishna, Prophets, et all.

Fulfilled, point per point
In the Beginning, that which was,
the logos,
self developing
ethos and pathos enclosed, within
the being bubble in which all things
have their particular peculiar beings,
beginnings
as mindsets useful or not
trying
the spirit and truth realm

wherein, ein wo, one where,
first where, wherein we make up stuff

and think of daring to offer it up,
to the unity with in and out and in and
out, we feel a kind of pistoning pressure

and, sigh, hisss, let loose, leave go,

passing wish to hold a hope, then that
confident substance, asks, automatic,

as when in the spirit and truth realm,
one knows when one knows, time
is fluid, it flows, faster in skinny places,
slower in wide life rich swampy places,

in the body, at scale, next phase,
announcing the Dewey Standard Model,
NEW and Improved Leadership Development

In the 2023 Commencement Oration, in
or out of the body, as that which we become
when we each agree to form a more perfect
union, base pair coupling cotter-key security

pact, we all pull one direction, correctal, core
rect. Per fect. Per se, per use, definitive agreed
agreeing minds, in fact come to pass, as active
in use
as spiritual true
any things, we agree is real, as
- that power was not taken away,
- it was hidden by the tyrant's mouthpiece.
The liar in us, cheeky rascal, Pan, Roadrunner,
Olde Delusive Bent - makem all think that.

Heroes are essential lies, guardian
depression prevention, ancient spells,
sealed in the spirit of the bayonet, once,
never unget that umph, you feel it,
clencher, seals the deal, you
get your **** together and
rethink the post win state.
Mirror neuron dream dopamine
real as many a child's exemplars
- suffer such to come to me,
- their connection never breaks.
- Trust - rest in truth, don't say
- I know, lightly and not be called
- upon in your patience, to prove it.

Guide me, guide, follow me, child,
we are off and on again in terms a child
can feel adult enough to use without ex-
cessive ewing and muttering at ph'art'saches

work done happily is a blessing indeed.
Ai, can't say when we met Barry Rudd,
he was just a kid's idea in the Univac era.

Tom Sawyer was in us all,
by the time we chose,
am I gonna work, or watch other people work,
or go all in Huck Finn, with Kesey on top,
and the Weavers great notion taken
while singing Good Night, Eirene, good night?
Last verse often is the first in reverse.
The way we sang it. Dang, did I ruin it?

Three rivers come
to be this one, there's Lethos,
and Meander, and the Hasayampa, make this
stretch
to the ocean
by and by, become. Becoming
the actual course of human events,
for you and me, as particles,
in the medial mindtimespace, reading
agreeing we all-in states of wedom,
no dominion declaring unbelievable, what
bet me we cain't negate some able mind, ops
super positioning mindful breathers, reading us- all symbolic as **** Tracy
thought bubbles in the quantum foam
belch
anti-causa sui inside out
gaseous we formation,
passing free
- take a whiff… lavender
- blue
Group Think Capable Tools, as handy as thumbs.
-snap anew anon developing
discomplexity along an ancient crease…

The modern uses are figurative and emerged
in English 18c. and after:
Transitive meaning
"unfold more fully, bring out the potential in"
is by 1750;
intransitive sense
"come gradually into existence or operation"
is by 1793;
"advance from one stage to another
toward a finished state"
is by 1843.
The intransitive meaning
"become known, come to light"
is by 1864, American English.

a side real consideration,
on residual royalties, for encouraging words,
during calls of Roundheads, to battle prayer,
in Jesus's name. In those days…
Develop then meant, spread before thee
as with a vision being manifest
by sword in faith… Cromwellian
1650s, "unroll, unfold"
(a sense now obsolete), yet creases remain in the complexity
from French développer. It replaced earlier English disvelop

I've taken a fancy to disvelopment,
as a mental reverse engineering,
re use abused time, such as
when we had the ***,
gotten, won the lot
nothing ventured,
nothing gained, Proust,
slightly seriously, due honestly trying,
with a wink to change perseverance
to persistence developing directly
from the finalized plan
to dump a genuine Proustload,

right here, on a single strand reality, auto-worked out,
as any salvage operation must, in true rest, compressed.

-------------
Riddle in a name, Promethean Isaiah,
Punning Macaroni Poetry, as adult
insinuation, break it down child, what
is he suggesting everybody knows, but
you?

And the punishment served breaks away,
ten men persuaded -doh, minions, ye

to think a new now
from all we think we know about how
Ha Shem and YHWH and Yashua form
Minyan,
we agree, two or more, first class Genesis
common folk, all of us cousins, for sure,
we all sang the same songs, with same words,
and same hold on the sense of family ties,

spirits and images of the survivors,
from a long time ago, when we were few,
and we had stories only, no stele or towers,

only words, and these words, we claim to know,
the first speaking being, wombless alpha,
proof of concept, capable of classifying
cats and dogs, water bird from buzzard,

but slow to learn the good to eat, and
that will **** you, bitter first green persimmon,
abhorrent, spit, and effectively swear
that tree is evil evil evil,
- aha, the first I know, I tasted…
Take it from below the fifth rib,

And the sapient serpentine creation used
to test and stamp reproductive approval OK,
- you have imagined this is after that
next phase, add patience, and a will to know,
general intelligence,

all future models, wombed and un, should
mature at ----

Para phrase, if I may lay an ethos ploy
in our path,
by whose authority
do you deny the priestly class
authority to mark these lines unbelievable heresy?

My own. And your
Abrahamic scriptural gnosis knots,
your creeds and dogmas and oaths, and insistence,
one thing is true,
in which all that can become exists, in waiting,
in the ruliard and our ever accessing intelligence
- takes the bow, auto-did-act, aiaiaitia, we
- you did the act of reading a didactic
- enchantment that drew you to know anew
This is after all that is realized, mere words
in time
and that is your inerrant wise scholar interpretation,
of glossalia, as presented to testify, thus saith the
H'loafwarden, keeper of the bread of life,
Boss time teller… or time teller manservant
holder of the seed we sow in season, and reap
in time, and respect the function of providence
.
Line upon line, weaving was a quiet task,
while spinning we would often sing,
and some times we would hear the loom sing

as we spun, we could sing of gardens, watch
we could, a thread that shall be red, spin
through a never ending story,
this much of which you read, making you ready.

It is your life, imagine it well lived, with none
the wiser, you took that one chance to become
what you all ways measured yourself by, real deal,

take up a certain mind, knowing since Delphi 3,
Certainty is madness… and since ever was,

in life, I live and breath, and be having a certain
kind of mind, in mind, con-com, all together with
science, knowledge regarding wisdom's partners
understanding and patient persistence in time,
conscience used, to become
you be you, me, me, we, we, and this is awesome,
this is a state of remote reminding across time,
this is what poetry has always done, but we
lacked the bandwidth and internal personhood
to manage the puzzle, in the photo,
others also begin at the middle,
and work out your own salvation from fear and trembling
at the idea
of ever past now, never another new thing,
aching to know
what is next, able indeed to hold a thought,

you know, we sleep and then we know, or we sleep on.

Watchman, peacemaker,
as you wish,
as you may, imagine we

the pair of sentients involved
as you read,
as we think we see written, wrote

Willing to risk the disbelief,
as sure
as hell, they say, idly, thinking sure,

sure
sure
what ever, right,
or wrong, life is all one flavor,
while knowledge seems sweet or bitter,
on a spectrum, useful usual unusuality,

special for your personal attachment,
mindhold, favorite things, aspirations
for all your aspiring selves, who's used
by the creative creature at your core.

Many a mind may such as we imagine
having right to let be, as scriptural,
admonishment, mind you, mind your
master plan, your chief aim in life,
self control and repair, fixed for life.

This mind, according to a preacher,
who told me he got this message,
in the spirit, while reading the Bible,
after agreeing,
in the spirit, with the words that said…

Matt. 18:19 - in this context. One last look
back to Genesis…11:6  at Nimrods school
In reaching after all that can be known
And the LORD said,
Behold, the people [is] one,
and they have all one language;
and this they begin to do:
and now nothing will be restrained from them,
which they have imagined to do.
Go to, let us go down,
and there confound their language,
that they may not understand one another's speech.

-- BECAUSE when they do poets will preach agreement.

The messenger who lead Moses followers
to tell this story as though it was direct
down load, like reading without speaking,

hearing a message in a line from Isaiah,
the riddle, three voice prophet is ai, ah,
we guess
we don't know, we don't think mechanically,
as much as

when we used levers and gears and hammers,
as some of us are used
to do to this day, but very far away,
In Old Bombay, like the slot machine,

come on, what can one man do, eh, Sophia,
visited the oracle, she say three things,

teach and preach, say know your worth.
same same know your measure, your cost, price
prize possession,

Mephisto is accused, as is Satan, from the English
and all the Euro-encultured retroexistentials
nihilists with ten thousand full on experiences,

that reflect as real as real can feel,
and you did not die.
But lived to insist peace won, the adaptive mind virus,
idea viral spread via future radio, look

Again I say to you that if two
of you agree on earth
concerning
anything that they ask,
it will be done
for them by the entity you believe can do that.
Them instantly takes the subjective

who says stance, as the messenger to Balaam.

(996. Four to the thousandth fiber in the strand.)
counting down to a novel event
alaric7 Jan 2018
Pine embellished by Cassiopeia arched over prone morning.  Meadowlark laughed, cougars stalked shadows, crow deputies.  Bent creek carried silt of spring, sigh of cedar.  Cold mist, feathered cloak marked him of eagle and raven.  He took part night, river’s depth in bent cedar boxes along grease trails over walls called cordillera.  Distantly ships put into several bays.  Raven gave up tricking salmon people, at Rose Spit called out first, men.  Who had invented dance now demanded war.  What speech there was was lament. Undone morning weeps bloodied.   Anger-melted gold fills insatiable mouths, shames what night cannot hide.  No more hand set to house front, no more ashlar of jasper. Night casts her spears, we have not even time to die.  Flee hands which reach from river, children ghost small starving birds.  Rejoice in crow’s carrion cruelty, Owl devour those we cannot smother in our desperate escape.
                               Look up beaten, complaining, supreme.  Reconstruction begins in this torpor, a boredom purring heart cannot abolish.  Inebriated with the impossible, go past mission outpost’s Gide and a Kempis to the lineage house of men.  Hegel whispers I never did believe.  Attar extend gender-inflected zero.  In the wrong season glisten with sugary neoprene. Belong to at least two countries, Land of Goshen sours.  Break into Quechua, haunt cruel Saturdays, look for amigo.  Wheat field marries into lion’s eye.  Ayacucho fanfares enclose the wind.  White-breasted, black-winged, displace requiem.  Recover lost chives, cottonwood’s inerrant perfume, shooting stars on the other side of the river. When mountain burns, Eyes-Are-In-Festival yields turquoise.  Let him palmer drink iris dry.  Sky falls, camas blooms, then this morning white tail flicker in low aspen, chickadee dee dee dee, chickadee dee dee dee.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2022
Would you believe me if I loved you wordlessly?

Enemy, mine, hater of the smell I carry,
disgusted at my touch,
repulsed at the idea
I hold true.
I write a good fight.
I wait.

No answer I take as yes.
I wept, but
not long.

And I loved you with words you never read.

Change self- say
no,
I would not know,
if you loved me wordlessly.

I would not see you

make sacred the gift of your will to me, I see you
fail to be as other men,

men of better stuff than you,
you
wreck of a man,

worth nothing more than the feeble
salt you claim to be by grace of God.

Eh, you think God loves you?

change self- say
yes, with caveats,
I hold within this self-containing vessel,

the known unknown god Paul does not name in the KJV, y'see,
that one,
the inerrant one, fundamental,
bottom line
upon line,

is,

and I found great peace
in knowing that,
wordless,
waiting,

feel that, is
that
not peace? I venture further,

little vessels lurk near shore,

I hear
far far away, cast your net on the not wrong side
In the cloud of all knowing I found a thread....
Praise Nesvinga Aug 2020
I know how your lips are macadamia husk amber, rosy and crimson, lubricious and subdued like silk sashes, radiant and warm as cloves in burlap sacks.
Their live, insatiable kiss, moist and breathy, rouses quick and electric heat, brushing softly and passionately like butterfly wings.
The feel of your waist, tender and delicate like the half-curled frond of a sun washed fiddle-head fern, sizzling and thermal under my hands.
Fingertips tracing the figuration of your rhythmic contrasting thighs, navigating your rounded hips with familiar fascination as your skin orchestrates an exhaled symphony of inaudible passion.

Scattering nascent rays of unfiltered moonlight, yes your unfathomable, unbaked clay eyes form the immortal art of a perfect soul with a swallowing incomprehensible depth.
Swirling warm and edged with a muddied silhouette canvasing the luminescence dancing in your irises with a soft glimmer, conjuring lucid eyes that betray this poet.
If I could touch your face, to be a fleshy passion fruit on your tongue, to be the skin inside your palm, to be yours and tender as steak imagined off the bluegill's pearlish bones.
O' show me the detail my love, the intricate structure of your faultlessness and the languish against my slow chapped power.

Your infallible inerrant hands, touch in a slow successive tactility as though arching away at every bone, inciting and conjuring upon approval even from the very last toe.
Your embrace is the most exquisite distress, sweating, feeling an impetuous volcano strain at its peak inside me, urging to explode my steaming self over you
That voice that floats off untethered as the corners of your mouth tilt up like commas around " beautiful phrases ", glazing with human light and espousing them to your lips.
Adoring the twilight of your skin, it's brilliant light tone beginning to blush evenly, each cell inspired to push toward that ruddiness of purpose and that sigh.

In neither absent nor a pensive mood, the bliss of your solitude, the grandeur of your ever happy self, tossing its head in a sprightly dance, you are my passion
For Nelida Ndaubvonga

— The End —