"silas" poems
Cap███lism K██led ████tivity. © 2014, Silas T. Williams. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
1166
Of Paul and Silas it is said
There were in Prison laid
But when they went to take them out
They were not there instead.
Security the same insures
To our assaulted Minds—
The staple must be optional
That an Immortal binds.
1.8k
The Philippi rulers had Paul and Silas beaten, imprisoned and their feet clamped into the stocks.
Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises to The Lord continuously after the cell was locked.
But at midnight the prisoners bonds were unfastened when the foundation started to shake.
This happened because God caused an earthquake.
The jailer feared the rulers because he thought the prisoners had escaped and he was going to commit suicide.
But Paul told him that they were still there and the jailer saw all of the prisoners, what Paul said was verified.
The jailer asked Paul and Silas how that he could be saved and he was told.
They said to believe in Jesus and he would be saved along with his household.
The jailer cleaned Paul and Silas's wounds and then they baptized the jailer's family.
Paul and Silas were released from prison and then they were asked to leave the city.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 8:56 PM UTC
Shh, hush my love let your heart be calm, your troubles lay at my door,
I'll pick them up and carry them a while and let you dream once more.
Close your eyes my blessed one, rest your troubled soul, for the morrow comes 'ere we know and I am bound for Sheol.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled heaving breast, and let me walk this mile.
You've tarried long in this task assumed blithely to be your labor,
Unknown to most a burden such they'd not carry for life nor favor,
Yet stand I ready to assume the task, at least to help yield the Axe, and,
Send those tormenting souls to Perdition's shore.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled vacant breast, and let me walk this mile.
Like rivers deep with hidden tides, currents of pain and woe, flow on in life and bring new strife for those who do not know.
Yet in their midst we walk aside the filthy and fetid sots
who spew forth words without a clue why on the floor see dark spots.
Yes our blood runs hot coursing through our veins, our fists like Gordian knots
(a stab a slice, the pain focuses - feels nice).
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled wounded breast, and let me walk this mile.
We raise our arm, Claymores held high, as if to claim our right - but yet, it is for naught,
For our lives once thought to our own are wrought as though they're one.
And though we're tossed into the night that brings a chill unto the soul,
We sing our song of hope and praise like Silas, Paul, of old -
and watch;
As shackles cold as the hearts of men - fall like dust onto the dung below.
I'll need your strength, and your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
So rest your troubled wearied breast, and let me walk this mile.
We rise from ashes like that gilded bird aflame with an heavenly fire
and surrounded by a host of wings, lay down our swords of ire.
For peace, like dew from the God above is sent to quench our thirst,
a word is given that fills our souls as if they could burst!
Yea love unfettered, unbound and unknown - for us and all who hear.
Love, given freely now, peace...no more tears.
Yes, I need your strength, your sweet caress, your love and hope and smile.
Now rest, my love, your nurturing breast, and let me walk this mile.
All rights reserved-Copyright 2014 Gerald T. Hollingsworth
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
I was never moving backwards, in fact I never moved at all.
Here; among the markers and holy proof, have I, the path finder always sat.
Body stoic, thoughts dampened, eyes crossed spying wide but, ever wise?
Atop the two inch tower, in the humid shadow cast neathe the pine and needle.
Silas Wright Dewitt, my company unapparent, December fourth, 1844 was he bore
November tenth , 1904 is he born.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 5:10 PM UTC
When you are down, and full of fear
There seems to be nobody near
There's no answer when you pray...
Give God a sacrifice of Praise!
*Lift your voice and sing a song!
Sing It Loud! Oh, sing it strong!
It's not the meter, nor the phrase,
Give God a sacrifice of praise!*
When life is hard, and you are blue,
And you don't know just what to do
Strike Up the Band, you'll be amazed!
Give God a sacrifice of praise!
(Chorus)
Paul and Silas knew the truth
Sang in prison, raised the roof!
Those dungeon walls did surely shake,
And those bars began to break!
*Lift your voice and sing a song!
Sing It Loud! Oh sing along!
By God's might those halls were razed...
Because of sacrifice of praise!!!*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 4/26/2009
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
Sweet little lily,
She asked me for my name.
Then once she kissed me,
I had never felt the same.
All these kisses are now poison,
Burning scars onto my cheek.
When my lily she did leave me,
I drowned down by Silas creek.
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 10:27 AM UTC
Silas has locked himself away in a skyscraping hotel
perched atop a Vegas casino
Belongings scattered throughout
like passenger train derailments
He was a writer with a jack knife vision
Now he gathers dust next to a windowsill graveyard
crumpled up beside his follow up novel
sloppily sprawled out
unfocused unedited and unlikable
Unable to cope with fame stress addictions
the last of dwindling fortunes
afford the luxury of
having everything delivered
He hides from the maids
thus
his only face to face contact
with the outside world consists of
quick frightening glimpses -
inquiring half-faces through the door
chain
Developed this shuffling submissive
walk to keep from falling over
compensating for dizziness
from stolen prescriptions
he doesn't need
and shouldn't have
Drowning his sorrows with grandeur -
Eating nothing but eggs
Drinking like a fish
to chase runaway pills
A stuck throat refuge
lulling him to sleep
Silas drifts away into a comatose fate
Left dreaming
Hoping someone wants to ****** him
in his sleep
and end
the dull roar
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 12:40 PM UTC
I was never moving backwards, in fact I never moved at all.
Here; among the markers and holy proof, have I, the path finder always sat.
Body stoic, thoughts dampened, eyes crossed spying wide but, ever wise?
Atop the two inch tower, in the humid shadow cast neathe the pine and needle.
Silas Wright Dewitt, my company unapparent, December fourth, 1844 was he bore
November tenth , 1904 is he born.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
Hey Yehoshua (Joshua),
How did a nice Jewish boy like you become the savior of the world? They transliterated your name into Greek and called you Jesus, but to me you will remain a Jewish boy from a podunk little town. You were probably lonely and out of place like me, a shy immigrant boy from Korea growing up in Western NC. You had giant expectations to fill. Your dad was larger than life and sometimes a little demanding, I relate.
More than my savior, I want you as a friend and a fellow traveler. Sometimes I focus on your divinity so much that I forget you are flesh and blood like me, a God with skin. You've felt the long sleepless nights, the thirsting and hunger for a God sized whole to be filled. You've experienced the pain of betrayal and most important you know how hard it is to love and be loved by imperfect people trying to love with all their brokenness.
Josh, I'm not sure if this is a poem or letter, but I wanted to say hello. Thanks for welcoming me into your life and calling me a friend and a brother. I'll try to pass on the message by living it out, and share how my life changed when I encountered a God with Skin in the depths of my despair. I keep walkin' the walk a day at a time.
Peace,
EunSung aka Silas
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 9:41 AM UTC
They rode at night in robes of white burning crosses held on high
They had taken the vote and decided
On this night Silas had to die
Who were these men who rode that night
What were they in the day
One a county judge another owned a ranch
These some of the heroes who would hang Silas from a branch
What then was the crime that old Silas had committed
Simple, he went into town, went into the local store
But Silas crossed the line when he passed through the white mans door
So they ripped old Silas from his bed and hung him from a limb
And as his life left him one even sang a pious hym
Would it ever be investigated by the local law
No!!! Because old Silas he was coloured trash, his wife a coloured *****
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
I make a rendezvous with Silas,
Russian
Prussian blue,
an artist now though I knew him in another time and married to a friend of mine he knows me well.
We sit a spell and chat a while about the passing of acquaintances and the commencement of his new commission of which he says he holds the ammunition to paint a catastrophe of events across the canvas.
I am war, says he with a touch of irony, too much TV and his father died as he was born, torn apart by random shell amid the hell of Normandy.
I see Silas as the antidote to all men who profess to be what he paints and it comforts him as he wrote me at some great length that some can understand even if they cannot feel or see his point in paint.
A canvas ain't a book that all can look and see for stretched out on the canvas are the crosses of his Calvary.
Silas leaves me with his blue
We make a date to make another rendezvous,
It's what old men and artists do to pass the time of day.
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 7:53 PM UTC
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse with his side kick Ernest Penfold, the nerdy hamster,
The per defeat their arch enemy Baron Silas Von Greenback,
Week after week, Danger Mouse and Ernest Penfold save the world,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all,
Danger Mouse, the greatest secret agent of them all.
Jul 19, 2020
Jul 19, 2020 at 12:58 PM UTC
Listening to a song
Makes my heart pound
Felt kinda lost but
His voice makes me feel found
I was at my limit
Felt like giving in
Had some trouble breathing
Hid in the pain I was in
Drowned in the dark
But the night..
It blooms, doesn't it?
- Silas
Apr 22, 2025
Apr 22, 2025 at 2:32 PM UTC
Just an update and a HELLO, it's been a while :)
I started medical school in July, so that's been insane.
And best of all...
BABY BOY HAS FINALLY ARRIVED!
Silas was born on Friday, August 11. He was a big ole 8lb 10z baby and he is absolutely perfect in every way.
My writing has temporarily stopped, but the juices are still pumping in the noggin'. Hoping to find some balance and routine and be back with you all soon.
Sure am missing your beautiful words!!!!
Xoxo,
Abby
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 5:32 PM UTC
I know that I have left you now,
so heartbroken and alone;
Don't grieve for me, I'm more than good,
since now I'm Home sweet Home!
I just walked through Big Pearly Gates,
saw Peter standing by;
I met the Angels one by one,
they taught me how to fly!
Then Paul and Silas showed me 'round,
through srtreets all paved with gold;
Each saint's so young and happy here,
it's true, not one soul's old!
I just heard someone call my name,
I turned in time to see;
A group of loved ones gone before,
come running up to me!
You won't believe the music here,
the Angels have a band;
I met my Jesus, face to face,
and touched His nail-scarred hands!
I'm still in awe, I feel so good
no aches and pains at all;
The blind man now can see for once,
the lame man standing tall!
So now you see, 'Tis Glory Land
no longer that 'ole world;
When Jesus calls I'll meet you here
behind these Gates of Pearl!
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC