"saul" poems
Cray-Z...
*You know that you are, ******* crazy?*
*Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.*
*Are you movin' on up?
to the top, to a deluxe compartment in your mi-ind?*
Lenny?
Saul admired David...
"Admired,"
him.
dissolved him in, David.
*You know that you are, ******* crazy?*
*Look at the hands, -they swirl in, ceiling paint...
Thinking like this the world is NO constraint.*
Fuzzy
Futzy
Fickle
Fiber
Pick a pickle Whitley Streiber.
*Gargle,
Gasp, rinse and repeat.*
*Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely as complete.*
Crazy...
Carpet fibers tickle my neck.
I am a house.
Household item.
Bleach feels funny on the fingers,
they still won't change color back?
*Think up a new grand goal to meet,
then drop the blotter, -to compete.
Then Devil for the Heaven's seat,
and find a tiny child to eat,
for tasty things water mouth with treat,
nothing stained by water's meet or tendered strangely incomplete.*
Crazy you know that you are...
...is that wall supposed to be flashing?
!!!!GET OFF MY ROCKER!!!!*
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
(Genesis, xxii.14)
The saints should never be dismay'd,
Nor sink in hopeless fear;
For when they least expect His aid,
The Saviour will appear.
This Abraham found: he raised the knife;
God saw, and said, "Forbear!
Yon ram shall yield his meaner life;
Behold the victim there."
Once David seem'd Saul's certain prey;
But hark! the foe's at hand;
Saul turns his arms another way,
To save the invaded land.
When Jonah sunk beneath the wave,
He thought to rise no more;
But God prepared a fish to save,
And bear him to the shore.
Blest proofs of power and grace divine,
That meet us in His word!
May every deep-felt care of mine
Be trusted with the Lord.
Wait for His seasonable aid,
And though it tarry, wait:
The promise may be long delay'd,
But cannot come too late.
6.7k
Saul. Babbittz.
Slight variation of the name Paul - sometimes pronounced
with the
"ah-oolll"
of Raul - to intrigue cashiers and toll booth attendents.
These words seem meaningless and even less interesting than the blank white background each letter invades.
And still I thank the God in my stomach that wakes up every once in a while to capture butterflies before I leave the house so I can turn down the sounds in my head that stir the butterflies to a frenzied mess of tangled neurons and synaptic maladjustment.
My interaction goes something like this:
cashier-"do you have a bonus card?"
me-(holding out the pad of my thumb - serious like lava)
cashier-(looking at me with a confused look)
me- "I thought thumb scans were enacted throughout the states. Sorry about that, I just got used to the thumb scan back home in North Dakota".
cashier- (dumbfounded, slightly annoyed)
me- (chuckling-embarrassed smirk) "you know, like a dystopian tracking system?"
cashier- "uh, not really" (avoiding eye contact, rushed transaction) "freak" (under her breath).
butterflies again
I've never even lived in North Dakota!
Just uncomfortable enough to prove that body heat activated "degree" does not provide 24 hour protection...
Next transaction a day later:
me- (silence)
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 9:10 PM UTC
Twelve are the months of darkness:
twelve the months of perennial winter,
in this world immersed
in the arctic of the Spirit;
Forty are the days of penance,
forty of fasting, yet our torment lasts:
is mortal sin washed?
of the heart, not carne?
Light, here we have, but
Light is what we need, lost our lives
frozen and dark,
in the penumbra of the Spirit.
And grace comes knocking -
but when David rises over darkness
we are with Saul, comes
ben-Joseph, we are with David.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 4:01 AM UTC
Like sugar from a shaker, snow falls on Saul the baker
delivering steamy biscuits from the shop he calls his home
to a drafty run down mansion where the princess on her pension
can be testy with her tension, hence she's living on her own.
Today he took her order, "One fresh bagel, for a quarter
'cause I haven't seen the likes of one since I left my childhood home".
Well he'd never baked a bagel, but he's not one to finagle
and wanting just to please her, finds a recipe from Rome.
And he's thinking to himself, "I must be way out of mind~
no woman's gonna want a baker's life"
but he carries deep inside his heart, the will to be a friend
hoping someday she will come around and one day be his wife.
So to win her deep affection he packs up his best confection
takes his chances on the back roads, now iced over in the storm.
Finds her waiting in the foyer with her thrifty 5 cent lawyer
complaining 'bout the day old bread and... "this bagel isn't warm!"
So..... he heats it on the fire, 'cause her heart is his desire
but she won't accept the bagel for it's not quite the right form
And he's thinking to himself, "I must be way out of mind
no woman gonna want a baker's life"
but he carries deep inside his heart, the will to be a friend
hoping someday she will come around and one day be his wife.
So he runs back to his bagel board and pounds the dough and rolls a cord
and shapes the perfect circle to a bagel lovers dream,
He boils and then he bakes it and to her mansion then he takes it
piping hot but now she wants it with churned butter from fresh cream!
Well he's starting to get antsy but he knows the farmer, Clancy
whose butter is fresh-churned and known by counties far and wide.
He heads out to the pasture and he buys what he is after
and returns to find, 'tis so unkind, the princess, she had died.
The baker in his stricken state swallows the bagel off the plate
he calls the cops, pulls out the stops and serves the day old bread.
He gives the details more than once of how he ate the evidence
and though he thought his story bought, they arrested him instead.
"Tis a likely story", was the only thing he heard
although they'd bought his baked goods, they could not buy his word.
"The Baker is a Butcher", is what the tabloid said,
"better to take your bagel cold than take it in the head."
But all was not as it appears, she owed the butcher in arrears
and when they went to check her craw they found a hunk of mutton.
It ended all without a trial, the butcher he did reconcile
and posted "Pay the butcher now and do not to be a glutton."
And Saul was thinking to himself, " I must be way out of mind",
no woman's gonna want a baker's life",
but he carried deep inside his heart the will to be a friend
and it turned rather nicely as she willed him in the end.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
At the end of the road to Damascus
There paved a street called Straight
Where lay the home of Judas
A blinded Pharisee did await
For hands layed on by Aranias
Saul now Paul the converted Pharisee
Again could walk the street of Straight
No longer blinded he now could see
Returning back to Jerusalem
Persecuted by King Agrippa
And perform the acts of apostles
I still seek to take my first step
On my own road to Damascus
To walk the street called Straight
Find my way out of this blackness
r 7Oct2013
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
What does it mean to be free?
I look down to my hands and my feet and what do I see?
Not shackles, not chains, not confederate flags,
not the fields and not the pains
Of my ancestor who were slain
Who worked in the sun and in the rain
What does it mean to be free?
Does it mean to go to college and get a degree?
Does it mean to live with your head held high and your eyes wide shut?
To live with that uneasiness way down in your gut
To keep your mouth shut and your head off the platter
To many, it seems they’d rather do the latter
What does it mean to be free?
Momma never told me, that’s something that in her lifetime she probably never got to see
Something in her lifetime she never got to be
You can take the shackles off a person and they still won’t be free
Because you destroyed their minds years ago to an insurmountable degree
You, you wretched system
You took my culture, took my last name
You try to steal all my remakes but that’s all in vain
You hate me, and you wish I’d fall
You wish I never find freedom but I got the wake up call
You keep chasing me, like my name’s David, and yours is Saul
Because for decades that wretched system put the necks of my people up against a wall
But I got my hands up, I’m ready for a brawl
Yeah I’m ready to do it all
I’m ready to throw you like a football
But best believe I’m coming for you last like an 8 ball
Because you see, for far too long I’ve been trying to be free
And all along you keep promising me
All the freedom I could want at just a small fee
The fee Martin Luther King jr, he paid in blood
The fee that Malcom X paid in blood
The fee that Emmit Til paid in blood
The fee that Trayvon Martin paid in blood
And now here we are, trying to get what’s been promised
And what will it take us, more blood?
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
Looking down from over their bodies - I count them.
My split mind at once rejoices in and recoils from that counting.
Peering back over my shoulder I make
dark associations.
It’s as if I was afraid of becoming lost
the way the bodies made a trail like bread crumbs,
leading back from the places I had been.
I walk with the Holy Light.
I walk with my dark companion.
I walk between the spines of the body shrikes.
They harvest all my crumbs and remind me I am lost.
They hook the bodies high from spikes
so I look up to make the body count.
I can see the Holy Script
but I can’t seem to find the way.
Red and gold beacons in the dream,
flickering off and on like syncopated declarations
as if saying:
Here I am
Here I am
Here I am.
All elbows and knees I slip between the webs of the
orb weavers and the cactus spines of the butcher birds
while they count the bodies for me:
Here they are
Here they are
Here they are.
Hang-dog and hard of breathing I have my medicine.
I’m hanging from the sleeping cliffs over
hell’s half acre and the high deserts.
I remember my brother flying me to California on a great olive branch.
He fed me sushi and smiled while he watched by brain heal.
But I was coming for the bodies.
My count was smaller then, but it was high enough for him
and his hands were the keepers of the flame.
The fire there was exiled and quietly he laid it by.
My brother spread out over the carpet of time like
the faithful departed with the weavers and the shrikes and
mounted bodies in the sky.
A child appears before me on the walk - eyes like a baby deer.
His mother is two blocks behind, so he asks three questions while he waits:
Why are you smoking?
Where are your hands?
Is it getting dark soon?
He leaves me to wonder where my hands are and where the dark is,
the Holy Sage smoking at my side.
Like some dark sabbath.
Like some reading of the will.
Like some dark and holy delta sleep in a crib of red clay.
I have a feeling I have been gone a very long time and I
want to be home now,
but there is buzzing and chirping and a red light and
Saul of Tarsus holds a great tome before me and with my hands
I hide my eyes.
I am the dreaming of the world of dreams.
Therein the Holy Light rages like the flare of 1000 suns
while my eyes are shuttered tight
like old memories all gone beyond the sorrow.
The old oath keepers are all plates and screws.
The golden woven orbs and cactus spines are all empty on
the altar like a decommissioned slaughterhouse.
So I go and make a body count.
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 8:00 PM UTC
A beleza do mar…
Numa praia estou á beira do mar,
Vejo gaivotas a voar.
Sozinho e cheio de areias,
Avisto golfinhos e sereias.
A noite é sedutora,
Pergunta tu a alguém,
Não tenho ninguém,
O mar também chora.
As ondas, as conchas e o mar azul,
Imensidão, e eterno infinito,
Cântico do velho Saul…
Estou perdido, não existo!
É Maravilhoso e mesmo bom,
As ondas tem seu tom,
As algas marinhas,
Esverdeadas como vinhas.
Oh…tormento de corações,
Vaguear nas ilusões…
OH …MAR …terno amigo,
ÉS parecido comigo.
Victor Marques
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 2:42 AM UTC
Andy loved a girl named Sandy
Bill saw a horse standing on the hill
Cory told his mother a made up story
Dave dug many a grave
Eddy loaned his teddy to Neddy
Frank bought a Sherman tank
Greg had a wooden leg
Hilton was related to Mrs Wilton
Ivan strolled in the park with Jan
Jack scratched his own back
Kyle's hair style also suited Lyle
Lance couldn't obtain a bed valance
Max paid a hefty lot of tax
Neal earned a reputation for his *** appeal
Oscar drank at the Crown and Stag bar
Paul gave ten shillings to Saul
Quentin found a silver tin
Roger was a work dodger
Sam enjoyed a portion of Virginia ham
Timmy sure knew how to shimmy
Umberto listened to the concerto
Vlad priced an inner city pad
Wing put his arm in a sling
Xain often rode on the express train
Yule took a picture of the farmer's mule
Zeal looked forward to his evening meal
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The -isms and the -anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
The Fates are subtle girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!
We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What come of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!
Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls,
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
Envoy
Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
"O Vanity of Vanities!"
1.6k
The big teetotum twirls,
And epochs wax and wane
As chance subsides or swirls;
But of the loss and gain
The sum is always plain.
Read on the mighty pall,
The **** of funeral
That covers praise and blame,
The--isms and the--anities,
Magnificence and shame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
The Fates are subtile girls!
They give us chaff for grain.
And Time, the Thunderer, hurls,
Like bolted death, disdain
At all that heart and brain
Conceive, or great or small,
Upon this earthly ball.
Would you be knight and dame?
Or woo the sweet humanities?
Or illustrate a name?
O Vanity of Vanities!
We sound the sea for pearls,
Or drown them in a drain;
We flute it with the merles,
Or tug and sweat and strain;
We grovel, or we reign;
We saunter, or we brawl;
We answer, or we call;
We search the stars for Fame,
Or sink her subterranities;
The legend's still the same:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Here at the wine one birls,
There some one clanks a chain.
The flag that this man furls
That man to float is fain.
Pleasure gives place to pain:
These in the kennel crawl,
While others take the wall.
She has a glorious aim,
He lives for the inanities.
What comes of every claim?
O Vanity of Vanities!
Alike are clods and earls.
For sot, and seer, and swain,
For emperors and for churls,
For antidote and bane,
There is but one refrain:
But one for king and thrall,
For David and for Saul,
For fleet of foot and lame,
For pieties and profanities,
The picture and the frame:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Life is a smoke that curls--
Curls in a flickering skein,
That winds and whisks and whirls
A figment thin and vain,
Into the vast Inane.
One end for hut and hall!
One end for cell and stall!
Burned in one common flame
Are wisdoms and insanities.
For this alone we came:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
Envoy
Prince, pride must have a fall.
What is the worth of all
Your state's supreme urbanities?
Bad at the best's the game.
Well might the Sage exclaim:--
'O Vanity of Vanities!'
1.6k
with a knife dipped in crimson fire
i murdered the red sky
(the doors of platinum)
twas god twas saul twas garden blue
what to be like a semi
i x actl y know what i knew
the blue waters of the earth could not
cleanse the pitch-black night
the riders of paul saw
saul dancing in the moonlight
and chirst he was a beautiful man
more beautiful than the secret diamonds of the universe
to take it into account of beauty of peace
its lie a thousand times over roll over the kids
whatta joke he tells me
with a blue glass blink to his eye
green three times two times five over a million
brings me here
you're humble i know
pray for me
saul or whoever cracks his knuckles and waits
thomas has to forgive again
mary was a symbol and judas hung
for it all
we all hang once in a while
over and over
to be through the bleeding doors the cracks
of the doors of platinum
step inside
and you'll never return
don't look back
or everything will disappear
but by chirst jesus the lord almighty god (jesus christ)
it already has
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
I flew over to his land
With a rifle in my hand.
They told me who to shoot
I shot him, that’s the truth.
They said he threatened me
So, I responded violently
Now the foreigner I found
Is resting under the ground.
From thousands of miles away
Our leaders raised us all this way
To either invade or just pillage
Every hamlet and village
Where an enemy might hide,
To crush them with our stride.
If they had children in the street
To stomp them with our feet.
The child might carry bombs
So, ****** them with aplomb
Because anybody there I see
Might be a sneaky enemy.
That they are fighting for freedom
Fails to be seen as wisdom.
After all, we are sparkly white
And that means we are right.
Besides, the rich people at home
Especially in the Capitol Dome
Have us to understand the fact
That no matter how weak they act
They are a threat to all we own
So, we can’t just leave them alone
As we demand others do to us.
We can destroy them with no fuss.
We are the right and perfect children
Of a God that in His perfect wisdom
That sees fit to have leaders destroy
Each animal, man, woman, girl and boy.
The same as that God told King Saul
We must continue to do over all.
Even if we don’t understand the book
We worry about how it would look.
Can we, a righteous Christian land
Let things get so out of hand
That they might prosper and we fail?
No, we **** ****** or put into jail
Anyone who does not fully agree.
Thus we can behave unilaterally
To force others to do our will
Even if it’s innocents we have to ****
So I came here with many others
To shoot, bomb and burn out mothers
And fathers and children and crops
And decimate this country without stop.
Because we are the righteous ones
And that is why this war was begun.
Not because some leader needed war.
They told us this is not was it is for.
The accountants can show us numbers
For materiel like fuel, cars and lumber
And how the industrial industry profits
Then insist protests are to scoff at.
They insist only our leaders have the wisdom
To decide who will end up with freedom
They were the ones choose at will
Who they sent me here to ****
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
i.
Thitherward to Corinth,
Thus wherein mine
Grandfather's dad
Was from. To seeith
The bards of old,
Legends of agora
Soul, mingling
With the
Aegean
Sea. O' the natural spring's
Of healing properties, a place
Of new testament biblical fact
And history. How I wouldst hath
Adored to seeith the apostle Paul,
First known as Saul of tarsus; eye's
Once sealed, then opened; By the son
Of God. Fain were the Grecians, in
Yesteryear's thought. The turquoise foam
Betwixt their homes, the beauty was told
And taught. Hither the Mediterranean center
I want to be, scribbling-scrawling, prophetically.
Breathing in the aura, mine ancestors once did.
Spirit-floating the isle's, of pious hymn's for mankind's sin.
Rendering the prognostication's, told in God's own word's,
Rouse a sleeping nation, that once resounded the laureates shores.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Prophetic poetry
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 12:01 AM UTC
I killed then what I now love,
offended then what I now defend.
Practiced what I preached
but now I’m preaching something different.
I could care less about it then,
honestly,
but today I feel more alive than ever.
I dodged a bullet or two,
don’t get me wrong.
But the good die young
because they never belong
in a world of flesh,
where it’s “dog eat dog”.
And cannibalism is hidden
under a thick, sick fog.
Some said “maybe you should end it all”,
but perseverance stood me up tall.
And even if I have to crawl,
I swear to God
I’ll get there,
to the top of the mountain.
‘Cause I robbed Peter to pay Paul,
but don’t you know,
I used to be Saul.
Dec 6, 2011
Dec 6, 2011 at 8:51 AM UTC
I am exhausted
with the weight of my
bones, with the weight
of your bones
in my arms.
You fell to your knees
in the dust of the road,
gathered dirt in tiny whirlwinds
around you and begged
to know why your robes were filthy.
The brightest streaks you had left
were where our tears dripped
into the handsewn folds.
You cried for your blindness,
I cried for your tears.
We sobbed to the moon—
to Diana, Elatha—
the only gods we atheists could stand;
their crescents smiled on us.
You covered your head while I
danced in the tear-stained
dirt, sandals tickling the edge
of the high road, sending
little rocks over and down
onto the sandy heads of camels
below. I laughed while
you wailed and when I knelt
to pull your hands into mine
you shrank
into your whirlwinds of mud,
crying, “Wicked!”,
hissing, “Harlot!”
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 11:40 PM UTC
Too revolutionary for this square planet
Mind's body too curvaceous to fit within this world's average fabric
Man cannot live on bread alone
so I added wisdom and knowledge to my dinner
got fat in vocab to make the element of eloquent expression
effortless and clearer
Guard Your Ears!
I use my tongue as a weapon to spit rhapsodic
rapid rhythms
You call it poetry
I call it AK-47!
The National Guard can't quiet me down
just when they think they've surrounded me
I morph into sound
Not Clark Kent
but I change in a booth on 1 Samuel 16:16
become a lyrical musician
spitting smooth harp things that King David could not believe
I write
to be righteous
write just to expose the wrong
rid men of evil spirits as if all their names were Saul
spit melodic strings in stanzas and bars and lull them to calm with my psalms
Thunder slower than the light
so I let my voice rumble
while I speak the truth
Phat in delivery
but humility helps me float above stupidity
this creative remedy way more healing than chicken soup!
Uncle always said I had green hair and wasn't nothin' wrong with it
Ain't nothin' in this world I'd rather be than
eccentric
stylistic
funkadelic
complex yet simplistic
exquisite
efficient
effervescent
arT-Tastic
aRT-DICUlous
ART-RAGEOUS
FREE
&
UNLIMITED!
Feb 9, 2010
Feb 9, 2010 at 8:51 PM UTC
Oh to be swept away in a melody
Caught in the maelstrom of a rhapsody.
The throbbing tide tugs our hearts
Like David charming Saul with his harp.
In intimate dance, soul and song entwine
Two notes forming a chord sublime.
The lyrics, an incantation, of unearthly hold,
Giving us the vigor to face the untold.
And one day our cadence will surely cease.
Our completed symphonies may bring peace.
Will our compositions instill life or death?
Will we exhale life before the last breath?
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 10:13 AM UTC
If it didn't harm anyone,
I'd ask him for a new one.
I'd pack light and disappear.
If it meant I never had to hear
the voices in my head
that tell me to leave
*every
single
day*
I'd be ready in fifteen minutes.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 8:14 AM UTC
Race-baiting covers for agit-prop agents
splitting white hairs in their dark distress;
with name-calling, bullying, lunch money payments
and shifting the blame for their people’s mess.
Reparations are due for your boring screed
that you scrawled at the helm of the Black Star Liner.
You owe it to those who were forced to read
your obtuse agitations (you Afro-whiner).
Poisonous shout-outs to fallen comrades:
holy Saint Michael in reaper’s hood—
endless blathering racial tirades
poor comrade—your dreams are misunderstood.
You’re obsessed with injustice. That’s nothing new.
You’re a David anointed to overthrow Saul—
(as long as he’s white and less rabid than you,
oh prophet and scribe of the activist call…)
Stay mad at the system. Revile all your foes
with raving, with preaching, with bitter bad words.
Insult all your enemies; list all your woes
as you document stink on your turds.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
We speak of "truth" and "beauty"
with a savant , knowing air.
We are the keepers of the flame
who formulate the prayers.
We play with your emotions;
we heighten every sense.
We labor at this constantly
with little recompense.
...but...today... today I saw her,
and for words I'm at a loss.
Like Saul approaching Tarsus;
Like a second Pentecost.
Her beauty knows no simile
indeed , and it's a pity
Only George Gordon, at his height,
could , perhaps, describe her beauty.
I saw her but a moments time
and she's not mine to hold.
but from that brief encounter
I can now tell dross from Gold.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Straight shot of Holy water to exorcise my demons
Got'em out on a couple legs, begs by ****** screamins
With the All Holy Trinity I walk amongst infinity
Got a Cadre of Archangels showerin' me in His Divinity
Brought a fifth of Anointing Oil to mark His Holy Royals
Seeing through the mixed lens of His sixth sense
Burnin' incense to mark the Menorah branch that toils
Ate up the Holy Communion remember that Holy Union
At the Ninth hour His might & power did devour Light
Too dark, the tent of heaven tore, bore mark of blight
Judas seeing that hell'll vent, went hellbent on death's reunion
They dwell of Herod taking head of prophecy; Maker's cousin
He called Saul as Paul to make all apostle's, baker's dozen
Diss and spit cause of His name, John 7:7 in the pulpit
This ain't tryin' to be flame or 15 minute fame ****
At 16 I knew I'd live eternal by His Throne, sit
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
Smile?
(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCLXVI)
What? ere the daffodils nod with a sense
Of picnics in their sunny yellow scale
As twere of frilly cheer; whileas the pale
Eye of half hidden blue heavns trails from hence
Thin shadows 'cross the naked lawns green thence
Haunts with a ghostly touch; while sparrows hail
At intervals, and breathing is t'exhale
Without a second thought, what's not pretense?
Saul fell upon his sword t'escape as twere
Abuse by lo, the Philistines; died too,
And if war's gained a new face, claiming fer
Is't modern Troy? that it's a horse, what's new?
They'll let you see the palace' room in tour
Which is the grandest, and you thought you knew?
03Apr19b
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 10:08 PM UTC
“Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities!
Without a humble but reasonable confidence in
your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.”
– Norman Vincent Peale, author
__________________________________________________________
Go to sleep every night and start to believe
You can accomplish anything so believe.
Little children are running around in the park on a sunny day
They have so much potential in the world if they just believe.
Children asking their parents how they can be rich and happy
And all their parents can do is smile and say, Just believe.
People always doubt others and say “never”
All we can do is believe, believe, believe.
We all need confidence in ourselves
So close our eyes, inhale, and believe.
Never break, never fall, never fade
Pause the world around you and believe.
Newly hatched birds chirping as they try to fly
They jump off the branch afraid, but they believe.
College student sitting in the lobby waiting for his job interview
Nervous like every college student, sweating, stuttering, but he believes.
David tells King Saul he is ready to face Goliath, and armed
With a sling and a stone, he’s victorious because he believes.
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 1:58 PM UTC