Thursday, January 27, 2011


Yes we paint with our silver tounges
clinged with clicks ready to pin words of hope
for the people a vision will rise
from these spirit inspired discriptions.
Falling like droplets moisture to give life to hearts

and let them grow like a space man
to touch the mind of God
and bring heaven on earth in scrolls
so eyes can see what every dead poet still speaks
in the graves of their minds

raising sense to those who have lost
all senses to the devine.
Mortal man decaying like a boocay of flowers unwattered
or perhaps watered by stagnant waters
that quenches man's temporal thirst leaving temples falling
to the ground gripped by the dances of curiosity

eyes squint from gazing too long at the traditions of the rebelious
whose hope is to one day gate crash
a holy place dressed in black rugged linen
and be the offending difference in a table set
for those who have been producing less of themselves

releasing the incarnate
Taught to shun evil and live.
Through meditations emidiately urging
for the mind to grow up and be god.
For the phases we face are just stages it takes
a class to step

slowly tapping knocks to create in this world
more minds to mind our ereversable spell
that has split our image degradable

as if man were not created in the image of God
Perhaps man should start imagining God
and become a pleasing image before Him
not worshipping an image
but the Son made superior to be the first born
amoung the visible and the invisible worlds at large

So we can step boldly into the throne of grace
as sons of heaven sent to walk the walk on earth
subdue and rule

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