Tag Archives: God

Monday Poem – “Breakthrough”

Breakthrough

Looking in the mirror at a person you don’t know.
Hiding from the cellars of a mental rendezvous.
…but you know you haven’t got too long
before the dust sets in,
building on a lot of hurt
and a concrete wall of sin.

I see that you can so I’m begging you to listen,
for your heart is going callous from that malice that consumes you.
You know your not alone, you’re not the only one whose bitten
but time ticks by at an awful rate and before it gets to late,
you need a breakthrough.

Dancing in the garden with a person you just met,
talking with a selfish charm that a worldly mind has set.
But you know you haven’t got too long,
before a time will come
when you can no longer turn away
from the wicked things you’ve done.

…and I know it isn’t easy,
right decisions never are,
God knows that, and I know that, so help is never far.
I know your gonna need someone to help dispel the doubt,
so Jesus died for you and me,
and helps us sinners out

Standing at the crossroads, now’s the time to take a pick,
you’ve had enough exposure so you’d better choose it quick,
because you know you haven’t got too long
before a time will come
when you can no longer turn away
from the wicked things you’ve done.

Before your heart goes hard you need a breakthrough.

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Monday Poems – “The beasts of the East”

The beasts of the East

The beasts of the East rule the land that exists,
With the wisdom brawn gives them and war-mongering fists.
The beasts of the East speak their message quite loud-
They are creatures with features both mighty and proud.
And the beasts of the East have never tasted defeat,
Taking homes, breaking bones and then dining on meat
That these beasts from the East steal from innocent backs
That from behind were blindsided with cowardly attacks.
The beasts of the East take their plunder back home
Spending money on honeys so they’re never alone.
The beasts of the East while they self-glorify
Sense days of slumber are numbered, they have nowhere to hide.
Comet or flood,
Diseases or mud,
The greatest of all shall still fall if they haven’t got love.
The beasts of the East and the least of the Earth,
All have a date with there maker the day they’re covered with dirt.

Birth 1

Birth 1

The angelic race fought a mighty fight
To glimpse the things I see-
A sovereign grace bought for a price
Has set this captive free.
“Captive” means I was a slave to sin,
The most enslaved was me,
But I’m now a slave to Jesus Christ
(Now and for eternity).

The angels must still wonder though
“What is that human really worth?”
For the price God chose to give
Just to let this sinner live
Was the most precious Life on all the earth,
His death became my birth.

Monday Poem- “Origin or sin”

Origin or sin

“Let there be something”
Said no one to nothing
But no sound was found-
There were no words to be heard,
Or ears to hear
Or speaking lips
Or a medium which
Sound could exist.
Nothing.
No thing.
Not a thing,
But then it exploded.
A likely story
That although boring
Helps us sleep at night.

Matter splattered,
Protons, atoms,
Suddenly happened
And arranged themselves in order.
Primal chaos reigned
And then became
More complex
But I confess
That it’s insane for me
To just believe
A theory as fact-
The big bang of the gaps
Doesn’t tell me crap.

Monday Poem: “Song of youth regained”

Song of youth regained

The child within was released again tonight
By a somewhat recognizable sound.
The familiar melody paved way to
Unfettered memory free that once was bound,
Unleashed the beast
Releasing sheets of heat
And light from yonder moon.
Light and laughter grew
And sang along in tune to beats
Of unsheathed imagination,
Offering subtle indications
Of beauty untold and unearthed gold.
The child then grew.
That child is you.
Don’t send them to their room.

Monday Poem- “Communist Paint Sniffers”

Communist paint sniffers

Through my black mirror
The doll-faced little zombies
Sang words of adoration
In drugged, monotone grunts and groans of death.
The pasty brittle faces giving hazy little praises
To the God who permitted debt,
Sickness and pestilence.
But their little is big through my black mirror.
They have no home, no gifts, or hope that I can see
As they stand and sing and smile and freeze.
They have no black mirror, no food or drink
Or clothes, family or time to think.
These tiny little zombies smile
As they pray to a God who seems to take a while!
But He gave them what they have (this Lord of hosts),
Not much but they have more than most.
I look into my black mirror and don’t like these kids I see,
Should I help them be set up? Could God actually use me?
But I need to be distracted
And my mirror has apps for that,
so I click away
I guess I’m the zombie now.

Monday poem- “With fury poured out”

With fury poured out

They say the jury is out
But as His fury pours out
God disagrees…

Nature crafts
With fury poured out,
I sit inside and wait for the weather.
Aggressively beautiful
This rain does more
Than any genius in his lab or
Other type of work.
The rain stops and I go outside,
I breathe in the air
And newness holds me there.
My senses are engaged,
My patience has been paid
And I now hold onto
This priceless precious wage-
The air I share with now,
Too valuable to gauge.

The jury is out
Is what we get told
But with fury poured out
The verdict is gold.