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Poetry Writing

Romans 7:11

Thanking fading sins

Doubt of consequence is seeping in.

Each one shaking with feeling, but wouldn’t say, “And the commandment, which was ordained to life, I found to be unto death.”

The wind hinting-hurling at a tempest mind says to the emptiness in waiting…

Though it was to be filled with faith—

Being whole unknown to us—wholesomeness unknown to us also, “May I wonder?”

“For sin, taking occasion by the commandment deceived me, and by it slew me.”

Until, in some way worthy of your grace.

Your giving of it making it so.

May I believe there is nothing more to abhor of myself if you have found something worth loving?

Or have I once again shown my brazenness?

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Poetry Uncategorized

Utopia Was Real

Utopia was real
At one time
It was not new
Was not unlikely 
Was deserved
At one time 
Till then, again
Endure this hell

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Poetry Uncategorized

Let It Not Be

The chosen ones made idols.

Statues of gold and genies right below the present, True and Living God.

Stay far from gold.

Whatever you should decide to arrive in, let it not be gold.

Too oft does gold stimulate hungry pupils readied with greedy hearts waiting to make of you a statue and symbol of meaning in their eyes.

A symbol of something foreboding. Coated completely in matte armor.

Turning shiny in the sunlight

Then back to its lusterless base.