"persecutions" poems
My manner of thinking, so you say, cannot be approved.
Do you suppose I care? A poor fool indeed is he who adopts a manner of thinking for others! My manner of thinking stems straight from my considered reflections: it holds with my existence, with the way I am made. It is not in my power to alter it; and were it, I’d not do so. These manners of thinking you find fault with is my sole consolation in life; it alleviates all my sufferings in prison, it composes all my pleasures in the world outside; it is dearer to me than life itself. Not my manner of thinking but the manner of thinking of others has been the source of my unhappiness. The reasoning man who scorns the prejudices of simpletons necessarily becomes the enemy of simpletons; he must expect as much, and laugh at the inevitable. A traveler journeys along a fine road. It has been strewn with traps. He falls into one. Do you say it is the traveler's fault, or that of the scoundrel who lays the trap? If then, as you tell me are willing to restore my liberty if I am willing to pay for it by the sacrifice of my principles or my tastes, we may bid one another an eternal adieu, for rather than part with those, I would sacrifice a thousand lives and a thousand liberties, if I had them. These principals and these tastes, I am their fanatic adherent; and fanaticism in me is the product of persecutions I have endured from my tyrants. The longer they continue their vexations, the deeper they root my principles in my heart, and I openly declare that no one need talk to me of liberty if it is offered to me only in return for their destruction.
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
Trials and tribulations
Tests and persecutions
Trying times
Tormenting periods
They are all for a season
For faith workout reasons
My friend, do not cower
Let your faith rise like a tower
I won't give up
I won't give in
I won't cave in
This is my faith
And this too shall pass
Soon, I will look back and say
Yay, Season has changed!
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 6:49 AM UTC
And He said to me: “My grace is sufficient for you. For virtue is perfected in weakness.” And so, willingly shall I glory in my weaknesses, so that the virtue of Christ may live within me.
Because of this, I am pleased in my infirmity: in reproaches, in difficulties, in persecutions, in distresses, for the sake of Christ. For when I am weak, then I am powerful.
I have become foolish; you have compelled me. For I ought to have been commended by you. For I have been nothing less than those who claim to be above the measure of Apostles, even though I am nothing.
For what is there that you have had which is less than the other churches, except that I myself did not burden you? Forgive me this injury.
Behold, this is the third time I have prepared to come to you, and yet I will not be a burden to you. For I am seeking not the things that are yours, but you yourselves. And neither should the children store up for the parents, but the parents for the children.
And so, very willingly, I will spend and exhaust myself for the sake of your souls, loving you more, while being loved less.
My grace is sufficient for you. For virtue is perfected in weakness.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
I have spoken with young men,
who were forced to up and run.
Seen the wounds they carry,
from the barrel of someones gun.
I have Spoken with women,
women with tears in eyes that burn.
As they relate what was done,
because they wanted just to learn.
Ive seen teenage girls running,
in fear for their own lives.
Because someone has told them,
they must become someones wives.
I sat with the old men,
whose spirit would not yield.
And heard how rains of bombs,
were dropped upon their field.
I have heard the many stories,
of families torn apart.
Heard of those still missing,
and the pain in fragmented heart.
I've heard of persecutions,
because of the differing of views.
The scores of people disappeared,
without even making evening news.
I met with many others,
and watched and heard them pray.
Running in fear because for them,
it means death to live your life as gay.
I have talked with the children,
all facing life alone.
Parents not seen,
since the houses all got blown.
These most horrible of all things,
most of you will never see.
But someone needs to tell you
these are the lives lived for many a refugee.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 12:22 PM UTC
Soot and ashes are the platter from which I dine,
the pool of my flagellation is the outpouring Merlot.
I forget to breathe through the lash,
rending the sackcloth until my nakedness is set before you.
The bells harken, the pendulum keeps time,
my requiem is set by your pulse.
DO NOT dismiss me, DO NOT neglect to
render my salvation in parcels.
Level after level of purgatory the holy grail
I imbibe and drink in ruin.
As the shredding of my skin with filaments of rope,
dislplay a journey of persecutions selfless ardor.
Crouching I beseech, I grovel,
forming steepled hands.
Oh, humble penance
slips my parched tongue and crippled lips.
Sweet King, Soveriegn Lord, Merciful Master,
I cower in my nothingness,
wrapped in the robes of bleak shame.
STILL I PRESS FORTH,
through decadent chambers,
in filth for a glimpse of your being.
For the simple gesture of uttering
your name.
Does your crown sweat with the bulk of my sobs?
To wipe your brow,
smear your worries on my bodice.
Enticing you from your throne to love...
a slave.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 9:47 AM UTC
A multicolored murderer who strangled some poor prejudice
Driven by those "persecutions" from the past; equality for all but you
Nothing personal towards the fanciful fairies
Someday they'll regret choosing brimstone
Should've flown Lufthansa
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 9:53 AM UTC
When we and the world, take pleasure in peace
When we, wars and persecutions cease
When we, overcome hatred, torture and pain
When we, vow to never, use them again
When we, can look at each other, face to face
When we, can see no disability, no colour, no race
When we, love our neighbors, like our own daughter
When we, let our hearts become pure, like a babes in her mother
When we, rejoice in the good fortune of others
When we, acknowledge that we’re sisters and brothers
When we understand, as humans, what we should be
When we, disencumber our souls, set them free
When we, strive to each other uphold
When we, are ready to HIS light behold
When we, let our GODS shine equally bright
When we, trust and believe, in each other’s light
When we, see our lights, merge into one
Then, HE will proclaim, “MY work is done”
BOEMS BY JA 475
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 9:51 AM UTC
In a little under a hundred years we've had so many wars.
Men, women and children sacrificed for someones cause.
And truly just what has been gained, versus what was lost?
Can we say that it was worth it, can we justify the cost?
In nineteen thirty nine we had the war to end all wars.
Since then there've been so many, like we've hardly even paused
And what is it we fight for? Do we fight for right or wrong?
Or do we fight to get resources that we feel to us belong?
Now sure there are some victims, of persecutions, genocides
but unless there's oil or riches there, the strongest close their eyes.
We forget that we're not perfect, but thanks to Gandhi and Dr King
We changed our stars from where you are, and now know everything.
I cannot help but wonder though, if they were alive today,
would they see us a failure, shake their heads and walk away?
In a little under a hundred years we've learned not much at all,
except in war lies profit, and to some it seems a ball.
Because if you have stuff we want, and wont do as we say,
then we just roll our armies in and blow you all away.
Or if you do things differently, even as we once did,
then we will "liberate" you, then sell you to the highest bid.
See we want you to be like us, cos were so freakin smart,
sure we got people starving but an unmade bed is art.
"My Bed" was bought by Charles Saatchi for £150,000 in 1999.
£150,000 would feed 3200 children in Ghana for a year.
£150,000 would provide over 6800 prosthetics for children who have lost limbs as a result of landmines or unexploded munitions.
In a little under a hundred years, it would seem we have learned nothing.
May 1, 2010
May 1, 2010 at 1:00 PM UTC
a maniac keeps knocking my window in the depth of night
has done so on and off for four years
I cannot decide on security cameras or a good old fashion man-trap
either way I find it hard to be Christian about it and admit I am far from turning the other cheek.
There is a great blessing here somewhere, and to be persecuted, even though it may seem trivial in the great scheme of persecutions, a faith tested never beyond what you can handle, and taken as a healthy sign of the authentication of faith, is the one only true consolation.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC
I was obliged to a vow
This vow was an obligation
To commemorate my
Perseverance.
Persecutions upholds the level
Of transparencies
Consequences flamboyant to
My ideologies.
Preserve and perceive
The hollow tumor of my
Beloved radiant memory
I render a tender
To my self vender
Does it come asunder
After like striking thunder?
I bow to this vow
Obliged and compelled
A favor to my self I shotgun
Impelling this vow and
Disrespecting not.
The oomph of vowing and the zeal
To embrace
I heart this vow for betterment
Of me myself and I.
♡♡♡♡
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
Thoughts flow like a crow flies;
mind in flight; grasping at
life's insights, fumbling across
the sky; climbing out of urban
blights, embracing self, fore,
sanity is at stake.
Reaching for sanctity in His
light; patience a virtue giving
hope to mind's turmoiled
inner persecutions, seeking
redirection for self's own sake.
As the crow flies, His wisdom,
mind and soul willingly embrace.
Jun 29, 2012
Jun 29, 2012 at 2:05 AM UTC
Well, I guess we need
To send out the hounds.
For the crafty sheepdogs
To go pick out the bad actors
Hiding among the crowds.
Look over your shoulder,
There's that chill again,
The heat is rising
And you can feel something creeping.
Let it take you on,
Lest it take you over.
We've been
Building momentum,
Silently growing
Like a beautiful lotus
Or festering fungus.
It's just a matter of perspective,
It's only a matter of time.
Give in, or give up.
Fly if you will,
Fight if you think you must,
But listen to your neighbors.
Are you honest?
Are you trusting?
Are you nurturing?
Don't worry, don't stress out;
We're gonna figure each angle,
Lay out all the motives.
It's all there
On the internet,
And freely given!
You had a choice, you made a choice-
You dressed up the bed, now rest in it.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC
7 or because of these surpassingly great revelations. Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 12:09 AM UTC
listening to sweet string music
played by street musicians
on both sides
of the now peaceful
Austrian-Hungarian border
in a landscape beautiful
cultivated and serene
the knowledge
that over many centuries
in this lovely landscape
the border was serious
and hundreds of thousands
lost their lives
in battles on minefields
in persecutions
almost brings tears to my eyes
in helpless anger
over humankind‘s inhuman waste
of lives
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
I remember the dark room
And me,
A singular broken thing.
My tears perennial
Coursed the ground in all directions;
As the sky of my body shook
Quivering in the precipitation
Of all identities lost.
I remember the dark room
And me,
Lost and disgusted with the self
That could evoke
Such supreme loathing from a being
Who was the altar
To all the love my heart could outpour.
I remember the dark room
Like a cage with a dying bird.
And me,
The dying blind bird
Whom the moon refused to shelter.
It was a carnage of bullets,
A rain of misgiving pellets
Against the visage of my mind.
Mutilated in agony,
I stooped lower
Hoping the ground would offer
What the moon had refused to surrender.
Inside that dark room,
It rained like acid
From the hollow of his mouth
Down to the narrow tunnel of my ears.
The salty bitterness of tears
Was the most sensible, recognizable feeling
That my tongue remembers.
I remember the dark room,
Where he made his dark love to me
Crushing me under the pressure
Of his bulldozing affair.
His venomous tentacles searched insatiably inside
My insides
Only to find nothing…
After all,
The salinity of the tongue,
Was as infertile as the salinity of the soil.
My lungs wanted to abscond my body,
And while fleeing
Spit onto him
The warm blood
Desperate to break
Into the pitch black order of the dark room
Between our legs
In rebellious hues of reds.
Before I could count further revolutions
Of the motionless ceiling fan
He had had enough of his regular persecutions.
It was over.
Crystals of sweat
Overhung over his
Serpentine back.
And in the dark room with the dusty cage
There glistened
A million shards of human debris.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 1:42 AM UTC
elane liked *******
and quite possibly ******
and what ever they called ****
in the late 70's/early 80's
she had a daughter named franny
who i played with
and a husband named glen
who she cheated on when he was out
milking the cows
all the milkers smoked cigarettes
and lived in mobile homes down the hill
from us
except for max who went to church with us
my dad offered him a job while he was in jail
i think he turned himself in for some crime
when he got saved
my dad always liked to hire ex-convicts
because he was a firm believer in grace and mercy
and second chances
anyways, once franny and i got into a fight
about our dads
she said her dad was the boss,
which was confusing to me because
i thought my dad was the boss
we both got mad and cried
i used to pick up the cigarette butts
that the milkers had left in some dried out mud puddle
(i was five or younger so give me a break)
and pretend i was smoking
since my parents were united pentacostal
i was taught all about the glorious
tribulations and persecutions that i would have to live
through before jesus raptured us all to heaven
before i was old enough to be terrified
i pictured myself as being left behind
smoking cigarettes, hiding out in trees
kind of looking forward to it
whenever i would go over to franny's place
we would watch cartoons. scooby doo was my favorite
my parents didn't have a tv, so franny's was where it was
at for me.
elane would come out of her bedroom and yell at
franny to turn the tv down because she was trying to sleep
franny was always telling me how her mommy
had an owie in her nose
later on, glen quit
and moved away with franny and elane
and the mobile home they had lived in
burnt down
Jul 8, 2017
Jul 8, 2017 at 7:23 AM UTC
It's the permanent numbers etched into the skin
to remind oneself that there will come a day,
that this world will cease to exist with a concluding spin.
It is here, I shall pray for all to embrace one another
in a final display of vulnerable affection whilst we decay.
A seed of saving leeched by the greed of parasitic weeds.
The very inception of its breed spelled inability to succeed.
Constant desiring to liberate persecutions and afflictions,
but it is this exact hunger that leads to internal inflictions.
One cannot do it alone, so add it to the list of unfortunate convictions.
Time is short, yet the countdown remains for this stupid man suit.
Dare to engage in this pursuit to bear rejuvenating fruit?
It matters not, for all roads en route lead to the same absolute.
Stoically resolute, cling tight to this eventual demise,
for perhaps a sacrifice is needed to finally see the sun rise.
Maybe, just maybe, this feverish dream will be sought through
"and I can breathe a sigh of relief because
there will be so much to look forward to."
Aug 12, 2021
Aug 12, 2021 at 11:21 PM UTC
Oft times, your ways are hard Lord,
but they are just and fair;
you help in times of troubles,
to show us that you care.
Some only see the sorrow,
some only see the pain;
but those that know your truth,
have everything to gain.
We sometimes do not understand,
the way you show your plan;
but a sunrise and a sunset,
is one creation...Grand!
We suffer in your name Lord,
from human persecutions;
from skeptics and from fools,
under false delusions.
We must be overcomers,
to run the race and win;
tethered to your word,
we overcome our sin.
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 11:57 PM UTC
Trials and tribulations
Tests and persecutions
Trying times
Tormenting periods
They are all for a season
For faith workout reasons
My friend, do not cower
Let your faith rise like a tower
I won't give up
I won't give in
I won't cave in
These are my proclamations
And this too shall pass
Soon, I will look back and say
Yay, Season has changed!
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 6:16 PM UTC
Father,
As The conclusions of illusions scurry thu my mind,
All the misconception of oppression I leave behind.
The pulsating, throbbing strains viciously attacks my brain,
Ugh Migraine.
I fall to my knees,
begging Yah, "Please,
heal me of this chest pain."
Let my cries and prayers be not in vain.
Father I need you to be like my Novocaine
and numb the pain,
help me maintain,
Father Be my Mid and Forebrain before I go insane!
Now I'm not one to sit here and ramble on.
Father I've tried reading the gospel according to John,
But the that passion, fire and desire that I once had is gone.
I miss that Spiritual atmospheric phenomenon.
It helped me to hold on and keep on keeping on.
Despite how many times I fall
Or when I get angry because I feel like you didn't answer my call
Here you are Loving me With my Imperfections, flaws and all.
Yes I have been beaten and battered and even my hopes and dreams have been shattered.
But that's the beautiful thing when it comes to the heart of matter.
From that staggered disaster
you gathered pieces of laughter splattered in a pattern
and created a masterpiece of a platter!
I'm trying to get an Understanding of why you love me the way you do.
All the persecutions, hardships, and suffering I experience in my life times two.
Even the times when I had thought about giving up and was lost without a clue.
You said, "Not so my child, For have not given up on you!
Remember I myself experienced those very same things you went thru.
My Word says, I will never leave you nor forsake you no matter what you do."
That's when the decision
hit me like a crash collision,
like a precisian
with exceptional Vision.
No longer will I be paralyzed
Or wallow in my fleshly demise.
But Yet will I get up and rise,
keep my focus on the prize
And walk in the counsel of the Wise.
After much concentration and heavy meditation,
Father our conversation led to Consolation.
I know I can no longer wait.
My flesh must I Eliminate.
My mental and Spiritual state I Shall evaluate and Rehabilitate.
Father for all you do, I value it much and appreciate,
Especially loving me at my worst state.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC