In the quiet before my thoughts
light gathers quietly,
a soft gleam rising from the page.
Scripture becomes my lighthouse~
a lantern steady as breath, bright without burning.
Its words tilt toward me
like a beam sweeping the dark,
not demanding belief,
offering only direction.
I keep close to the glow~
my fear thins,
and the heart remembers
how to unclench.
*Your word is a lamp to my feet~
the quiet truth that steadies me more gently
than any lighthouse ever could.
In this tender radiance, I am guided,
not by certainty, but by presence~
a beacon written in grace.
*passage from Psalm 119:105
666 is the Old testament reference to the measurements of the statue called: "the Colossus at Rhodes", a simple reference to the Greco-Roman Empire. America, in political form and adoption of its "Mythos" (cause and effect subject object scientific TRUTH metaphysics) is its modern incarnation.
get ready for the global Bitcoin currency and your own personal identification number (P.I.N.)!
how is that alternate satanic political system called Communism looking to you now?
You can't just choose a person
To be the anti-Christ
Only God knows
Who it will be
In crescendos and surges of light,
Beneath the somber, crimson sky,
Beyond the shadow's line,
He stretched his wings in haste
He found and swept an angels heart;
They shine and struck embrace
And onward flew the angels,
By crimson flame and flash
We simply stood and stared a while,
And heard the trumpets blast.
We saw it singed and scorched in light
And in the glow of golden blaze,
The past cannot declined.
No meaning slips away.
A love designed to last the years,
Will not be torn or taken,
A mother’s boy united,
A time for celebration.
BIBLICAL MORNING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sunrise
eastern horizon
rainbow arching
hope
You cut me here,
without ever saying a word.
Then you twisted and turned,
your knife into a sword.
Then you took back your word,
so now I'm never sure.
Then you took away my soul,
not knowing what it's worth.
So I cut myself,
to show you where it hurts.
"Don't look back there's pillars of salt for sure!"
So your dreams washed ashore,
gamma/Micro waves of rain.
There's the life of our pain,
hidden within three words (I love you)
So now you sold my soul,
not knowing that it was cursed.
So I cut myself again
to show you where it hurts.
"Don't look back there's pillars of salt for sure!"
She said I can't trust you.
You are to cleaver for me.
so why do I stay?
it sounds foreign
to be close to you my dear.
My morning star right there.
Can you help?
Can you heal?
instead, you are poison for me.
Now you have my soul, but you can't own me.
so please move, step back, don't move.
don't f$%ken touch me.
I'm mangled up inside.
I'm so gothic by design.
Black eyeliner on my eyes.
and now I must oblige.
Can you see the dead?
Then what's dead inside of me?
Help and heal
Instead, your poison for me.
So, move, step back.
Don't move don't f#$ken touch me
I'm mangled up inside.
I'm so gothic by design.
With black eyeliner on my eyes
now I must oblige.
An authentic host.
Seen as some biblical ghost.
Who’s unknown to most.
The problem with biblical eisegesis
is that you tear Bible verses to pieces.
And in your effort to make of the Bible and its glory
your own personal story,
the truth value of the Bible dramatically decreases.
In his gospel, Matthew says you can buy two sparrows for a penny;
but in his gospel, Luke says you can buy five sparrows for two.
So here's a very simple math question for you, Jenny.
Would you get more sparrows if Matthew or if Luke bought them for you?
The smell of blood dominated the field
but to the culprit, He had put a shield
Where is justice?
Did he not deserve to be punished?
The whole nation rebelled against him.
Drove his patience boil down to a steam.
He lost is reward, by that one thing
He still chose to be forgiving
Getting stoned, is hard to forget
He felt every hit closer to death
Determine to pardon everyone who take part
He still smiled with his open heart
Do justice and mercy go together?
Seems like evil has it's own way
To escape the trial and deal with it's crime
But someone promised, there will come a time
Mercy, Mercy, who has the right to wield you?
Justice, Justice, are you even true?
The clock is ticking when will we hear his gavel?
The judge silently examining the rebels
He hears the whispers and cries
of all people on all nations
Soon enough everyone will witness
his vindication and justification
Jah is a rock! He will not be moved or swayed
Mercy wil be given, Justice will come in play
At the end of the system of things, the revelation,
sheep will be separated from goats on that day
Prisoners were captured, their liberty were stolen
Hopes were dangling, asking help to heaven
Dreams were their silent sanctuaries
The only one that keeps their sanities
Eyes were blindfolded, hands were handcuffed
Lies and deceptions, all of them were bluffed
It felt like an abyssal tunnel they fell in
Everywhere you looked, it was just a dark scene
Free to struggle with strengths just like candles
This world is dominated by heartless scoundrels
Evil is everywhere, someone pulls his triggers
Weak are those we hear the sound of whimpers
When will this dark age come to conclusion?
When is the fulfillment of promised redemption?
All these words are just words, vague and empty
All seen are letters and numbers printed blankly
What is the context, who gives the meaning?
Our minds can't compete to what He's thinking
Send a messenger, one who will tell us your will
A refreshing message that will makes us stands still
This is the key to these chains we're strapped into
In darkness we're into, the light that pierce through
We see the glimpse of the future, thanks to you
We feel free and loved, not caged as we used to
'Verily, I say, ' my words unfold,
'This prophet's heart grows faint and cold—
No honor waits where I was known,
For in my town, I stands alone.'
They see the child I once had been,
Not dreams of what I'd come to win;
My tender voice, yet strong and clear,
Falls dull on hearts that will not hear.
The gifts I bring, they cast aside,
The light I hold, they fail to see;
How strange that near can be so far,
Their blindness hides the brightest star.
For in the soil from which I sprang,
My song goes mute, my harp can't sing.
Yet far beyond these familiar skies,
My vision soars, unbound, and flies.
When I was just four,
Baba would walk me through the olive groves,
his land stretching endlessly,
acres of trees—each one a memory,
each one rooted deep in the soil of home.
He’d set up a ladder for me,
let me climb,
picking the dark, ripe olives
from the branches heavy with history.
“Go inside,” he’d say,
“bring a bucket of water.”
I ran, feet light on the earth,
filled the bucket from the well,
its coolness a moment of peace.
But then—
a scream, sharp and raw,
cut through the air.
I rushed outside,
and saw the flames—
huge, fierce,
devouring the olive trees,
the ones Baba had cared for,
the ones my ancestors had planted.
In the distance,
soldiers stood,
their smiles cold,
ruining everything we had known,
burning the heart of our land.
I dropped the bucket.
The water poured uselessly on the ground,
while the fire took what we had left—
our home, our history,
our future,
turned to ash.
I want to be like Moses
known for being meek
I want to control my anger
peace, I should seek
I want to be like David
knew what strength is
It is not through swords
neither armors and fists
I want to be like Joseph
stuck to the righteous path
walked through the obstacles
whatever may the aftermath
I want to be like poor Job
remained faithful 'til death
lost almost his whole life
but came to senses not to fret
I want to be like Samson
not just because of his might
Using my strength for Jehovah
even He is out of sight
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