There comes a time when sorrow engulfs your soul and fill your spirit with a pain you can’t stand to feel. Submerged in the ambience of the entity I call surreal. Hanging in the realm of real vs reel, as my occipital lobe project mass illusions that I can’t stand to feel. As I reminisce of the weary look that lingered in your eyes, I can only sit here squeeze back tears and wish there was more time to say goodbye. A hologram of illusion, photons playing tricks with my eyes Fill me with sobs that’s quite difficult for me to hide. However I must come to the conclusion that this is real and not reel. We can’t rewind or pause to stand still. I am comforted with the knowledge that I gave you your flowers while you yet lived. I nursed your wounds with satyl and saline and watched as they failed to heal. My entity remains filled with a pain I can’t stand to feel, as I make my final petition and appeal. Etched in the realm, where no mortal can live Dear God can these bones live? I am met with silence and then he utters ”ye shall live”
Emotions figments and fragments of illusions;the enemy inject them into you and me to try and steal our victory.
Emotions illusions woman of GOD?
What do you mean?
Fear, hate, anxiety are emotions that satan injected into humanity.
Sin started in heaven and crept into Eden, from there it just kept on breeding.
Hope came through 52 generations to save humanity from imminent annihilation.
Head of thorns, persecuted, ridiculed and scorned.
This is what he did, to rescue humanity from sin.
Yet you reject him so you can be condemned?
Torment over peace?
Defeat over victory?
This is what you choose?
Condemnation over salvation, because of compromising and rationalization.
Ticket to hell to scream and yell and this corresponds with with your intellect?
Man you kidding me.?
Are you playing with a full deck?
Woman of GOD I am not trying to hear that biblical lit.
I will chill and dine, there’s still time.
I have a life to live.
Woman of GOD just quit.
I am a condemned man.
My fate is already written in the sand, from choices I choose to make.
Minster to other sheep and just let me be I have no desire,
to avoid Hell’s fire.
I like it hot, toasty and warm.
Go away and Leave me alone.
There is no hurt like church hurt, battered and marred with scars that penetrate my soul.Tears keep flowing, yet I keep going. Searching for that inner peace, so that my pain will cease. Mutilated as they gaze in my face. Favoritism and Imperialism reign in this house of pain. I sought healing, yet my wounds festered. I don’t know how much my soul can take. I’m at my point of breaking. I fast, I pray and weep at my master’s feet. He gathers me in his arms and tells me no need to be alarm, I shall shield you from all harm. I am making, molding and holding you. Gold must be scorched to be tried. Burned to rid every trace of pride. Soldiers are made and not born. Through all of this I will never leave you alone. Just keep going you are almost home. Gird yourself with…
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What Is It?
Talent you call it
My ability to tell it
To spawn truths and realities
Is just a few of the things I can create with my pen.
Bred of GOD
Painting expository images with my words.
A hybrid between a modern-day Picasso and Shakespeare
Nah not Shakespeare,
William was mad and delusional.
Injecting character traits into literary master pieces from Hamlet to Macbeth.
Perhaps Picasso tho…
Spilling and splashing abstract forms
Abandoning single viewpoints
and carrying zygotic geometric shapes, collages and interlocking planes in the embryonic
sac of his mind that violated social norms,
but man did you have to cut off your ear?
Nah that was Vincent Van Gogh and not the child prodigy
Umm! maybe Leonardo Da Vinci?
Perhaps not even him.
His madness spilled out on his canvas in confusion.
Perhaps he suffered from mass delusions and identity crisis.
As I look at the great composers of the arts from poets, Psalmist, writers and all other greats.
I am quite fascinated, such raw intelligence and unimaginable genius, yet they were all quite mad.
Am I to be an exception?
Living in mass isolation, while my thoughts and ideas lie in incubation.
Waiting to matriculate and preach to this generation.
Shall I preach Darwinism or biblical creation?
Death, burial, and resurrection is the only message that can be used for resuscitation of this lost and vile generation.
Not in geometric shapes, forms or perpendicular lines.
I will start with Genesis which is our origin and Ascend to Revelation for the gospel is the only thing that will save
humanity from Hell and imminent annihilation.
NIGERIA IS A PLACE THAT IS VERY DEAR TO MY HEART, SHE IS BEAUTIFUL AND UNTAMED. HER COAT IS NESTLED WITH FEATHERS OF GOLD AND IVORY. AS I BASK IN HER WARMTH I CAN FEEL THE RAYS OF HER KISSES UPON MY FACE AS SHE HOVERS OVER MY HEAD AND BREATHES UPON ALL WHO WALKS UPON HER BLANKET OF DOWN THAT MASSAGES OUR FEET AND ACTS AS A COVERING FOR THE GAZELLES AND ANTELOPES. OH MY BELOVED NIGERIA WOE TO THEM THAT PLUNDERS AND SPOIL YOU, FOR THEY SHALL COME TO NAUGHT. YOUR RICHES HAS BEEN TIED UP IN BUREAUCRACY. RICHLY ENDOWED WITH VAPORS OF WEALTH AS YOUR CHILDREN PERISH AS YOU FEED THEM WITH ILLUSIONS AND HOPE FOR TOMORROW. HOPE AND PEACE SHALL SURELY COME WITH THE EARTHLY REIGN OF THE COMING MESSIAH.