Long ago in a poultry yard
One dull November morn,
Beneath a motherly soft wing
A little goose was born.

Who straightway peeped out of the shell
To view the world beyond,
Longing at once to sally forth
And paddle in the pond.

"Oh! be not rash," her father said,
A mild Socratic bird;
Her mother begged her not to stray
With many a warning word.

But little goosey was perverse,
And eagerly did cry,
"I've got a lovely pair of wings,
Of course I ought to fly."

In vain parental cacklings,
In vain the cold sky's frown,
Ambitious goosey tried to soar,
But always tumbled down.

The farmyard jeered at her attempts,
The peacocks screamed, "Oh fie!
You're only a domestic goose,
So don't pretend to fly."

Great ****-a-doodle from his perch
Crowed daily loud and clear,
"Stay in the puddle, foolish bird,
That is your proper sphere,"

The ducks and hens said, one and all,
In gossip by the pool,
"Our children never play such pranks;
My dear, that fowl's a fool."

The owls came out and flew about,
Hooting above the rest,
"No useful egg was ever hatched
From transcendental nest."

Good little goslings at their play
And well-conducted chicks
Were taught to think poor goosey's flights
Were naughty, ill-bred tricks.

They were content to swim and scratch,
And not at all inclined
For any wild goose chase in search
Of something undefined.

Hard times she had as one may guess,
That young aspiring bird,
Who still from every fall arose
Saddened but undeterred.

She knew she was no nightingale
Yet spite of much abuse,
She longed to help and cheer the world,
Although a plain gray goose

She could not sing, she could not fly,
Nor even walk, with grace,
And all the farmyard had declared
A puddle was her place.

But something stronger than herself
Would cry, "Go on, go on!
Remember, though an humble fowl,
You're cousin to a swan."

So up and down poor goosey went,
A busy, hopeful bird.
Searched many wide unfruitful fields,
And many waters stirred.

At length she came unto a stream
Most fertile of all Niles,
Where tuneful birds might soar and sing
Among the leafy isles.

Here did she build a little nest
Beside the waters still,
Where the parental goose could rest
Unvexed by any bill.

And here she paused to smooth her plumes,
Ruffled by many plagues;
When suddenly arose the cry,
"This goose lays golden eggs."

At once the farmyard was agog;
The ducks began to quack;
Prim Guinea fowls relenting called,
"Come back, come back, come back."

Great chanticleer was pleased to give
A patronizing crow,
And the contemptuous biddies clucked,
"I wish my chicks did so."

The peacocks spread their shining tails,
And cried in accents soft,
"We want to know you, gifted one,
Come up and sit aloft."

Wise owls awoke and gravely said,
With proudly swelling *******,
"Rare birds have always been evoked
From transcendental nests!"

News-hunting turkeys from afar
Now ran with all thin legs
To gobble facts and fictions of
The goose with golden eggs.

But best of all the little fowls
Still playing on the shore,
Soft downy chicks and goslings gay,
Chirped out, "Dear Goose, lay more."

But goosey all these weary years
Had toiled like any ant,
And wearied out she now replied
"My little dears, I can't.

"When I was starving, half this corn
Had been of vital use,
Now I am surfeited with food
Like any Strasbourg goose."

So to escape too many friends,
Without uncivil strife,
She ran to the Atlantic pond
And paddled for her life.

Soon up among the grand old Alps
She found two blessed things,
The health she had so nearly lost,
And rest for weary limbs.

But still across the briny deep
Couched in most friendly words,
Came prayers for letters, tales, or verse
From literary birds.

Whereat the renovated fowl
With grateful thanks profuse,
Took from her wing a quill and wrote
This lay of a Golden Goose.

1 Be ye therefore followers of God, as dear children;
2 And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us and hath given Himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet smelling savour.
3 But fornication and all uncleanness, or covetousness, let it not be once named among you, as becometh saints.
4 Neither filthiness nor foolish talking nor jesting, which are not convenient, but rather giving of thanks.
5 For this ye know, that no whoremonger, nor unclean person, nor covetous man, who is an idolater, hath any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God.
6 Let no man deceive you with vain words; for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience.
7 Be not ye therefore partakers with them.
8 For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord; walk as children of light;
9 For the fruit of the Spirit is in all goodness and righteousness and truth;
10 Proving what is acceptable unto the Lord,
11 And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them.

Empowered and impaired
they conspire to impeach.
Bad Orange-man, spared
still remains out of reach.

If impeachment was due,
now it rots in the the sun.
They're attempting a coup
when no wrong has been done.

Over-ripened, it's rotting
the maggots now fly . . .
unfruitful, their plotting:
a low-hanging lie.

Make a point of being courageous and strong;
today is another day from our blessed Lord.
Stand against the evil that you witness now,
as a mature apostle with Him… in one accord.

We have nothing to fear from our detractors,
who partake of the unfruitful works of darkness.
With the indwelling of God’s Spirit, we are
protected and covered with His righteousness.

We’ve been called to expose sin in the world,
even though the wicked hope that we don’t bother;
by tackling difficult subjects of human behavior,
we choose to honor Jehovah, the Holy Father!

In Him, we move and experience His Presence;
out of our brokenness shines the Light of Christ;
we desire that everyone should not be afraid
and obtain Salvation’s gift of… everlasting Life.
.
.
.
Author notes

Inspired by:
Deu 31:6; Eph 5:11; Acts 17:28

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.

Morning peace and self-reflection
– an apathetic joy –
not caring for gain or worldly wealth,
but feeling joyful in the single moment.
This peace is new,
and welcome.

Strange that I would find this peace
apart from God (as I have known him)
and apart from religion
(the staple fare of most of my life.)

Yet, set adrift from these restraints,
I have found a simple peace and an easy joy
in finding good and kindness in all men,
in all moments,
in this time,
here.
Now.

When I feel fear and anxiety and
find myself in unfruitful rumination,
I have scrambled for the fruitless
pabulum of prayer and self-justification,
when all the while the ease of simple acceptance
and acknowledgement were waiting patiently for my use.

“That they are what they are,”
will quickly ease my heart faster now
than any heartfelt cry for peace or justice
from a god who is removed from the world, and
who seems wholly disinterested and uncaring.


© 2012 Michael Hunter

Little robin redbreast what things do you hear?
Little robin rebreast, you're so beautiful,
But little robin, have you ever felt fear?
Robin, have you ever worked your life away for something most unfruitful?
Robin, you are so great,
But have you ever felt hate?
Robin, have you felt persecution?
Been threatened excecution?
Been judged by your feathers and who you love?
Like persay, if you were smitten with a dove?
Well little robin redbreast, if you have never been beaten and killed inside for who you are,
If you have never had to hide that breast you were born with,
Then my little robin, you have never had to hide, from grace you do not dive,
From that breast you have never pulled a knife,
And you have not lived the common life.

Make every word count
I waste     space    with   every  bad    sentence I  write  
every nonsensical, unfruitful thought
I must think now that I am just
no good at introspection despite
calling myself "artist"
(a self-given title I suppose)
But, perhaps with some work I could
improve? - learn more, wonder more, conclude more
than emotional blubberment, which is of course
entirely dim and disgustingly consuming
I want to challenge it
step over it to a place where I
understand, where I hold
the spark in my hand and
marvel at its beauty and Know
how things are

I ache for relief.
I ache for you.
I ache for so many things I'm not allowed.
I shouldn't ache for you, not any longer.
I shouldn't ache for relief, not any longer.
Yet,
The ache is still ever-present in me.
I ache for what had been between you and I.
I ache for what had been seven and a half months ago, before you, before relief became a thing of the past.
I ache for stability.
I ache for you.
Can't you feel me?!
Can you feel anything?
I'm not sure I can anymore.
All I'm left with is this aching inside my bones.
All I'm left with is this horrendous trembling in my muscles.
All I'm left with are memories of days gone by.
All I'm left with are unfruitful days without you.

Conscience tingles
Fingers wiggle
Sun shines and no one dies
Forgotten seagulls glide toward self-cancellation
Predestined adolescents forge three prong
doubts and fears
Parents watch the past bloom on their dark clouded
offspring
Girls clench their butts
Boys leave their chins untouched
Unfruitful attempts of self sprung self improvement
Read other's stories
You never will learn that lesson from within
Failure rises again
Climbing up into the brain
luring acids to melt the ambition of the
politically slain
Fingers tingle
conscience wiggles

Travels adventure time election

bring make life selection

through long silence.

Space wide invites

thought devise

lost wander

endless wonder

through cloud doubt

sterile ponder.

Mind seeds  unfruitful deed

moment blinds

focus declines

turns need.

Inexorable heights

secret aligns

fine tune

claims loom

woven light transcends

might

allness float

high bares

void

Great Silence.

Initially, it was an innocent feeling
A longing to escape treacherous lives.
In one season the seed was sown,
And in another hope was reaped.

Before long, the path to new lands was paved.

Differing thoughts bound by creed,
Met at the river of blood
Parting between Ebony and Ivory.
It was grief that sheltered them.

At home, it was prosperity that was desired.
Love was for Lady Success, yet unrequited.
But amongst the best, the love brought setbacks,
And amongst the worst, it carried envy.

Thus the path to wealth blocked with thorns and thistles.

The seeds sown among the thorns,
Are the peerless seeds.
But disillusions of wealth and pleasure choke them,
*Reaping nothing but unfruitful labour.

Some lost flower part
sparks into my vision
field today. The abrupt
edge of a prepared land
welcomes the color
and new shy stock.

Neighboring higher
life forms succumb
to delicate nibbling,
after the moon 's squinting
dance partner settles into
the vicious dust.

My long tube of
garden fluid
appears each effervescent
morning to envelope
the rooty darkness
with a fill of
such precious sipping.

In shorter daily periods
what is left dwindling
below is yanked from
an unfruitful oblivion
and added
into the content of a
pleasant April uprising.

On the day of worship the Temple filled.
It had been three years since the Messiah left, and nobody had forgotten.

The Priests of Tek dawned their red robes
and Father John Misty took his place at the altar, his heart heavy yet full of chagrin.

He clears his throat,
my fellow children of yonder Year,
my sisters of Sand,
my brothers of Dust,
my lovers of Greed,
here now what I say,
for I speaketh not.

for now speaks The Shrike,
for now speaks The Lord of Atonement,
your God of Pain,
your mystifying Excellence of Death.

Father Misty reached into his black robe and drew forth a small child.
What life may have been left in the infant was destroyed when Father John Misty stuck the unmoving body onto the red spike protruding from the altar, the spike entering the body through the ****, and reaching an inch from the soft skull.

Father John Misty's voice took on a lower town, yet softer, not forgiving, yet all knowing.

This child has a name.
This child is Jesus Christ.
This child will grow as if alive.
And before the rough congregations eyes the child began to grow on the spire. The limbs first lengthened, than filled out. The child's chest expanded and the head grew bigger. Father Misty then hoisted him off of the spire, and set him, bleeding, before the congregation. The body began to shift, jerky movements before the skin appeared to bubble. A low gutteral sound began to emanate from now full grown man. He lifted his torso and head up and looked at each member of The Temple of Ten individually.

He spoke

I am your savior,
I am unfruitful death,
I am unwarranted pain,
I am money being cheated from the desperate man,
I am the brains taken from a lobotomite,
I am the destruction of a hurricane,
I am as dead as the gasoline you **** for,
I am as dead as you are.

I am Jesus Christ,
this is not the first time you've seen me,
this will not be the last.
You are allowed to die now.

And they did.

I stumble through briars and thorns
I cannot see clear anymore
Although I hear whispers, which might be your call
I cannot believe you would want me at all
My footsteps lessen and halt
My head does not know where to go
Although I hear sirens, which could be for me
Their search is unfruitful as it ever could be
I fall in a small trench and cave
I think I have broken my leg
Although I hear songbirds, which could mean daylight
I have no new hope as I once thought that I might

THEREFORE; Be Imitators of GOD as Dear Children.. And walk in Love, as CHRIST also has Loved Us and given Himself for us, an Offering And A Sacrifice to GOD for A Sweet Smelling Aroma... But, Fornication and All Uncleanness or Covetousness, let it not even be named among Thee, as is Fitting for Saints: Neither Filthiness, nor ***** talking, nor Coarse Jesting, which are not Fitting, but rather Giving of Thanks... For this Thou know, that no Fornicator, unclean Kind, nor Covetous Man, who is an Idolater, has any Inheritance in thy Kingdom Of Christ And GOD.. Let no One Deceive Thee with empty Words, for because of these things the Wrath Of GOD comes upon the Sons Of Disobedience. Therefore do not be Partakers with them.. For thy were once Darkness, but now You're  Light In The LORD. Walk as Children Of Light.. For the Fruit of the SPIRIT is in All Goodness, Righteousness, And Truth) Finding out what is Acceptable to thy LORD. And have no Fellowship with the Unfruitful Works Of Darkness, but rather Expose them.. For it is Shameful even to Speak of those things which are done by them in Secret. But all things that are Exposed are made Manifested by the Light, for whatever makes Manifest Is Light.... Therefore He Says; Awake, thou who Sleep, Arise from the Dead, and Christ will give You Light'' See then that thou walk Circumspectly, not as fools but as Wise.. Redeeming the Time, because the Days are evil, Therefore do not be Unwise, but Understand what the Will of the LORD Is... And do not be Drunk with Wine, in which is Dissipation, but be Filled with the HOLY-SPIRIT. Speaking to One another in Psalms and Hymns and Spiritual Songs, Singing and Making Melody in Thy Heart to thou LORD.. Giving Thanks always for All things to GOD The Father In The Name Of Our Lord Jesus Christ... Submitting to One another in the Fear Of GOD. Wives, Submit to Your Own Husbands, as to the LORD.. For the Husband Is Head of the Wife, as also CHRIST Is Head Of The Church; and HE Is the Savior of The Body.. Therefore, Just as the Church Is Subject to Christ, so let the Wives be to their Own husbands in Everything... Husbands, Love thy Wives, just as Christ also Loved thy Church and gave Thyself for Her.. That He might Sanctify and Cleanse her with the Washing of Water by the Word.. That He might Present her to himself A Glorious Church, not having Spot Or Wrinkle or any Such thing, but that She should be Holy and without Blemish.... So, Husbands ought to Love their Own Wives as their Own Bodies; He who Loves his Wife Loves Himself.... For no One ever Hated his Own Flesh, but Nourished And Cherishes it, just as the LORD does the Church. For we are Members Of His Body, of his Flesh and Of His Bones.... For this Reason A Man shall Leave His Father and Mother and be Joined to his Wife, and the Two shall Become One Flesh'' This is S Great Mysteries, but I Speak Concerning Christ and the Church... Nevertheless, let each one Of Thee in Particular so Love his Own Wife as Himself, and let the Wife see that She Respects Her Husband... GOD Remain Our Strength... GOD Is Love... GOD With Us..!!! GOD Bless.... Peace And Love....!!!!

Old knees creaking
Never really running and never giving in
And their souls are screaming
For the graves beckoning

Deep in the hearts of flowers
Where the fragrances lie dormant still
There are burning desires
Where shadows flirt
And minds still deny
A destiny unfruitful

And that is where my heart does lay
Where your feet walked upon the earth
And your smile rushed through the mirth
And that is where my heart does lay
Where your fragrance still is felt
And your lips touched mine
And no war will erase this memory

Have you ever been caught up in a moment?
Where you feel like you have been caught robbing your government?

Have you ever been caught up in a moment?
Where they miss judge all your movement?

Moments where you see things you were blind to
Moments you feel the paradies is empty or deaf to the people
That moment you pray for death to come to your rescue
You ask yourself was this what I was born to go through?

moments where pains won't let your tears fall
Fears makes you find beauty indoor
Where having hope looks likes a marathon
Striving to survive on guts.

Moments seems too long
When one hearts burn
By a cry of a new born
Wondering if you still got a turn.

Moments you smile in tears
You faithlessly pray in red fears
Counting unfruitful years
Wondering if today happiness will end you well.

Moments when you feel lost in love
Caught up in the atmosphere of lust
Feel used and dumped
That awkward moment you feel you are done with the world.

If you have, then we have been in the same world
Where one speak in silence for money is the loudest voice
Where luck turns your sweat filled effort void
That awkward moment you realise that we are not equal after all.

Dear my valentine
As my pen pours out pain
Bursting from deepest recess of my brain
My broken heart is bleeding tears
As my eyes are shedding blood
I now understand you don't love me
You really love hating me
I asked you "will you be my valentine?"
And your response made a part of crypt
Be deciphered
I now understand why you(U) and i (I)
Are not near each other in the alphabetical order
But NO N & O follow each other
Sticking with you i thought was so cool
But now i realize to you i was just a fool
You always wanted roses
I never knew you would use their thorns
To ***** my heart
To you i was not good looking
But you were good in looking how
Deep my pockets were
I was always faithful
But my efforts were unfruitful
You made me realize just how much poor
I was
A beggar of love
I dread seeing the red color
It doesn't represent lovers day
But broken hearts day
I have to put a full stop there because
The sheet is soaking red
Intensifying  my dull aching
Looking forward for your
Break up message
Because once again i have
Celebrated loneliness alone

         Crushed heart of
A love saturated poet
Kayvoh

Her music was "too aggressive" or "too loud". As soon as her pen graced the paper it was though her well of ideas ran dry. The same happened for her paintings too, an unfruitful harvest of lazily drying acrylics. She needed a new outlet.
She was going crazy in her mind, absolutely insane. Her dreams overwhelmed her nights so that she awoke and felt as though she hadn't slept. Her days seemed to zoom by as though stuck in a time vacuum turned on high. Her attitude and persona was as neutral as the light makeup that was on her face.
Her cup sputtered to the floor, spilling her tea everywhere. She cried out in aggravation. She was so done with being pushed around and ignored and shut down. She needed an outlet and she needed one now.

Post: 38 days

Her life had begun to clear a little. She found an outlet. Not your typical one either.
He was a character in himself with a whole other world in his eyes. He was different in the way he carried himself: confident but reserved. He knew who he was but still let people try to guess. Words didn't phase him one bit, except from the eloquent ones she spoke to him late at night after the rain had succumbed to their presence in the night air.
They worked. They were made for each other, even though an unexpected pairing. No one knew how or why or when but they just seemed to mesh.
They could both attest to their likenesses. As soon as her hand met his, that's when it was all over. She knew nothing else mattered any longer. She found happiness. For once in forever in her crazy and ******* up life she found happiness. She found love. She found herself.

I can see.
Flood of tears streaming down your delicate face.
Your rosy life replaced by a topsy turvy one faught with failure.
Filled with disappointments that have deprived you of precious sleep.
Laden with bouts of miscarriages and recurring rounds of ailments.

I can hear;
The deep groans you utter in your anguish.
The whimper you wish to suppress every time the belt of your supposed better half touches you.
The deep breaths you take before going into the doctors office,
And the bitter cry when you are tagged unfruitful by your mother in law.

Nwa nnem.
Jide Chukwu Ike.
Move away from that bottle and make your way towards His temple.

With a little belief, approach His temple.
With a little strength, kneel at His feet.
With a genuine heart, thank Him for the times of plenty.
With a sincere heart, pour out your heart in prayers.
With a determined resolve, make a vow or seed offering to Him.

Naught more I can say.
Much more He can do.

For He is Jehovah overdo.
Surprising Sarah with a child in her old age.
Granting Esther favour in the sight of her peoples overlords
Using a little boy in David to bring victory to his nation.

Just believe auntie.
All will be well uncle.
He shall fight for you and you will hold your peace.
#BASHORUN

Between ripe
and rotten
stand
a few letters
and not nearly
enough
time.

Glossary of generics, favourer of all merit, ****** to detach detained editorial.

Some come in softly, hard heads take big splats. Lukewarmness salts thy unfruitful earth, where newborn births are stars to their own mania's, Cranium's go connected! Stretched parsels to broken fibula's!

Moralist preachers teach to the misbehaved, can you account for the thousandth day you've encountered?

For the slaves you've made out of your own bloodline, you've lost much of your own commandments you lowly persuationer!!
Old partied savourer!!!

Dissatisfaction finalizes all authories where glory is none, cheatings no more fun? Haha for you can clap your solid hands to gentled tears, for missing years are operetic in cower and palate!!!!!

Wake yourself to thine nail, strike one time with a mallet for all reasonings gone, gone, gone . when its you that has lost,

When its thy world who hath won!!!

It probably hurts the most because it wasn't about me.
The squish, the warm glow, starkly empty.
That wisdom, the wit, the caring concern,
My unheeded affections already in urn.
I fostered ignorant hope, tentative dreams,
I shudder to think of all my unfruitful schemes.
There's wounded pride, yes. A small sadness, too.
But now I just pray it was unknown to you.

Our foregrounds in life
seem so dominant..
Death and hardness
with fleeting joys
fill our senses
sadden our days..
Questions arise on
our identities amid
those foregrounds of
ill news and separation..

Our searches for answers
seem as unfruitful
weary minds need rest..
As we search in shadows
a glimpse of background
a touch of light..
Forgotten once
but now remembered
this moment of grace..

We are filled and become
at last acquainted with
an infinite expanse
this our true Self..
Then to turn again
to the foreground
so foreboding before..
Now shining in peace
beauty and happiness
bringing our tears of
Gratitude...

Who Is Jesus Christ?
I was not born till my day, and knew not where I’d been,
Yet, even now ne’er to unravel the mystery of HIS Omnipresence,
One among the specks of sea sand I lie with tiny head,
Hearing unceasing moans of my fellow-specks,
Who stroll in their filthy minds breaking themselves into ‘Big Bang’:
‘Man is a dust, and out came species of life,
Galaxies and milky ways evolved out of ‘Big Bang’,
Times Machines take us into past to future thro’ present,
We’re gods to guard ourselves with our material dynasty,
Let’s be the emperors of the universe and write ‘new’ books.’
Hearing these foolish moans, I laugh myself with tears.

The Truth of the Word is God hath created all,
And this world is one of HIS handiworks to live,
HIS awesome Omnipotence is beyond man’s intelligence.
Where from hath HE come? Where hath HE been? Who knows HIM?
HE is the Mystery of mysteries.  The UNSEEN SPIRIT exists beyond time,
And who knoweth HIM with human knowledge?
He’s Omnipotent, Omnipresent and Omniscient,
He hath no father, no mother, but hath children in spirit,
And we’re made HIS children if baptized into the Lord Jesus Christ,
For God is in the Lord and the Lord is in HIM,
And   HE is I AM WHO I AM, the NAME of God and Jesus Christ.

“For to us a Child is born, to us a Son is given,
And the Government will be on HIS shoulders.
And HE will be called Wonderful Counselor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”
Jesus was the Child and is Son, the Image of God,
“For God so loved the world (humanity),
That HE gave HIS only begotten Son,
That whosoever believeth in HIM should not perish
But have Everlasting Life in HIM, the Son.”
“He that hath seen ME hath seen the Father”
“…. I am in the Father, and the Father in Me.”

HE hath been the Seed quoted in Genesis3:15:
“And I will put enmity
    between you and the woman,
    and between your offspring and hers;
he will crush your head,
    and you will strike his heel.”
And here “you” is Satan in disguise,
And “Offspring” is the Lord Jesus Christ,
Who is I AM in human flesh to save mankind from darkness,
“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God,
And God’s revealed in Jesus, Who died for us all.


“Surely He hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows:
Yet we did esteem Him stricken, smitten of God,
And afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions;
He was bruised for our iniquities:
The chastisement of our peace was upon Him;
And with His stripes we are healed.”
And Jesus Himself says: “No man taketh My life from me
But I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down,
And I have power to take it again”
And the Truth is God in Jesus is Almighty,
And He is the Eternal Saviour in Christ Jesus.


He is the Spiritual Rock that followed the Israelites,
And that Rock was Christ, the Chief Cornerstone of His church.
He is the Priest after the order of Melchizedek,
Who is without father or mother or genealogy;
He has neither beginning nor end of life,
And he continues a priest forever."
Jesus is the Lamb of God promised for fallen mankind.
He is the Word of God manifested in flesh,
And He is the Light of Eternal Life to shine,
And the ONLY WAY to Eternity for mankind,
For No other name given for salvation except Jesus.

He’s the One Who shed His Blood for mankind,
And Satan hath been defeated by His Death,
And His Resurrection is the Only Hope for mankind.
He’s God in Christ, the Image of the Invisible God,
Who is the Father of mankind through Jesus,
Who is yesterday, today and forever,
And He’s the Only Bridge ‘twixt Heaven and Mankind,
Jesus is the Son of God and the First Brother for mankind,
He’s the King of kings, and His Righteousness stands ever,
He loveth mankind, but the Eternal Judge,
Who will divide the saved souls and the sinners.

Forsaken by the Father for our sins, He died on Cross,
And it is God’s Eternal Plan that God Himself designed.
God is Spirit and invisible to our mortal eyes,
And He Himself made visible in Jesus Christ,
For no man hath seen God at any time;
But the only begotten Son in His *****
Hath revealed the Father to mankind.
He became poor that we are made rich in Him,
And His Kingdom is not of this world, but of Heaven.
Jesus is the Creator of everything and Saviour of mankind,
And He is the Only God manifested in flesh for mankind.


Everyone is born; I too was born with worldly knowledge,
Clouds of worldliness hid me till the touch of the Heavenly Light.
God of Light opened my eyes and let me read His Word:
His Word is the Only Truth revealed in Jesus for mankind.
Let this world stroll in unfruitful theories and principles,
But the Way unto Eternity hath been revealed only in HiS Word.
The world is led by Satan who is the defeated enemy of God.
The Love of God is in Jesus Christ Who is the Judge of all.
Let’s search the Word and keep our belief in Him,
And He will change as His children of innocence,
And we will become His children of Light ever in Jesus.

(Penned on 14th January 2023 completed on 01.08 p.m.)

Kicking and screaming
void of dreaming
into this world
I was tied and hurled

It was horrible and cold
I stood bold
a dark and meaningless day
and I have grown in a strange way

A witness to the prohibition
with sour ambitions
travelling pillar to post
wondering if I am my own host

With no options but survival
you can excel amidst the unfruitful
planning for death
counting every last breath

Lost inside a dysfunctional touch
it hurts so much
this existence of animosity
a belief in an atrocity

Life is banned
no reason to understand
a sea of sand
the harvest of the ******

His hands linger,
caressing her thighs
and with hopeful eyes,
he recites Shakespearean rhymes.

What could have been more romantic?
What could have been more tragic?

His recital is like a symphony to a stoic audience.
Unfruitful is his performance,
unattainable is her heart.

she used to crave symmetry
but recently she's been gorging on chaos
it fills her up but unfulfilling is the gap
opened by her loss

the more she pours into it
the more the cliff crumbles
into waves of need unfruitful

chaos leaves only debris
watch it swallowed
like your sorrow
by the relentless sea

Beleaguered with thee I haste me to sleep,
The sweet kingdom wherein I find my deepest bliss,
But then doth start a count of sheep,
Interrupted by bonny bait of your elusive kiss;
For that coy pleasure I would give treasures, alms,
Or a multitude of illustrious verses,
Present to you with Lover's palms,
Still you blight my day with cruelty, curses.
O Lord, save my soul from this dankest cage,
So I should not be a captive of unfruitful Loves,
So I should enjoy my youth and age,
In flight, like one of Peace's turtle doves.
In Love, alive, in Love's dearth, dead,
I curse the Beauty who doth command my head.

The rather reckless thought in her mind
Implanted in her by the constant chatter between us
The chatter that is all about how deep I long for her
The chatter that makes me a lover unafraid of the sacrifices I have to endure to make her a part of me
The words, the gestures and the whispers are just a hammer forged for a very purpose
The purpose of striking the intends of mine deep down into her

With the passage of time we drifted apart
Neither forced nor built upon the bitterness of our bond, but rather a natural action
We drifted so far from each other that we wake up as strangers
The influence of each other has totally been wiped
For others to take the place where she dwelled was no tedious task
She is nothing but a person of the past

Now a mysterious thought keeps my eyes wide open at dusk
The chatters of the past always have a beginning, a time of ultimate joy and an end regardless of the individual I  happen to share these moments
These questions arises within me, questions that are truly unfruitful
Did she ever matter to me?
Was it her I longed or the chatter of getting to understand her better?
When we grew apart did I ever miss her?
Or was it the need for the constant chatter?
Was this an infatuation that I had or was it just her initial charm that failed to excite me as the seasons passed?

Unsettling thoughts are all I have left and questions that I fail to answer
My mind battles itself to understand whether I was the only heartless or was it her as well
In this toxic cycle of unfaithfulness and chatter only to charm the other
Was I the one in wrong all along?
Or is she no different from me in this cycle of deviousness

Oh! pretty moth, you came attracted
To the stone cold and white neon light
And thousands futile attempts made;
Was it not a long and unfruitful flight?

Was it for pleasure or pain you poor being
Came crashing into that heartless thing
That you have become so enamoured of?

Was it painful pleasure or pleasurable pain
For which being wounded every time thereof
You kept rushing on to it again and again?

Are you too blighted by the ominous love
That was destined to be doomed as written
By the crooked and dimmed star above?

Can you not see your love is eyeless?
And you are a mere pawn in a game of chess
Played by an omnipotent ****** disguised
As Fate, or Chance, or Coincidence;
Are you too robbed of your sense
That you have never realised
In what foolishness or anguish
You've conceived a death wish
And unwillingly wanted it to be fulfilled?

Was it Medusa or Delilah?
the incision that distorted his vision,
once tore a lion's mouth when grace abounded,
once so confident, strong and grounded,
now he's like a stray dog that's confounded,
he was once empowered,
but his courage cowered to his affliction,
bold until he gave a foothold,
the slavery of sin himself sold.

Has his heir been cut off he ponders?
lost his source of conviction he wonders?
did he stop taking things day by day,
needing every hour?
Did he let that root grow bitter,
to the point he's tasting sour?

He could've broken down false pillars,
now he feels like an empty salt cellar,
better yet a basket case,
can't recognize his master's face.
betrayed himself so greatly,
put his trust in a chariot,
wore the coat of Iscariot.
He knows the past is not a place to dwell,
but he's reminded by a ceaseless thirst,
the by-product of seeking water from a broken wishing well,
discernment had diminished,
he simply couldn't tell,
slowly but surely,
pride was how he fell.
He tried to build it up again,
but to no avail,
perhaps a case of Ichabod,
has the spirit left his tail,
is it hocus-pocus,
the reason he can't focus?
Less time with fellow ironmen,
more marvelling at unfruitful doctrines strange,
identity issues like Ben Tennyson,
perhaps he's gone insane,
he keeps on going in cycles,
his habits hard to change,
or maybe he has lost the upper hand?
because every time the rain falls and the wind blows,
his house just will not stand.