Poetry For God-2 by Gilbert Isaiah (all ebook reader .txt) 📖

Tyrants Of Sin
Dec 28-2010


Let there be out of no malice, but place stones
to bricks and form justice for those the sin
refuses to heal.
For only God, the Lord in heaven is the hand
to strike, but those who are in the wake
of the necromancer.
And out of this darkness they posthumously
derive new spirits, and of Christians,
they themselves never desired.
For they in chants of a wisdom, the lurid
verse they snarled, became a snare
and they ceased.
And these ceased by the word of God, for the
word held them to spontaneous combustion
in the mind, of brainstorms.
For in the reals of men God has no place, but
that men wander in silhouettes in love
with illusions that dance, not.
I will tell you secret mortals that God is emanating
and your secrets foretold you long ago, when
you laid in somber.
Laud with laughter the echos mimic and scream, as of
you, unleashed in frenzy evasion from God, the
Lord in heaven.
A silent God does not mean an everlasting to endure,
that of men to grasp the borders of the
universe, and escape death.
For God the soul of my temple, but to place me
to the mighty men and I shall introduce them,
serpents who's fangs are shadows,
of men.
Blessed Be God!


Veneration To The Glory Of God!
Dec 29-2010


Though I climb the highest mountain, the lantern about
my face emits Christianity to a world below, to
the forlorn of men.
The wind of them is breathing fire and my face of them,
is a countenance fallen in the accord of despair,
and crouched from pieces of a crumbled
violin.
O' The heavens, the angels orbit harps and the earth is
an orb of lingering flesh and torn between rivers
of life, a crimson soul amid dimensions,
of good and evil.
Fission of gods dwell the lingering flesh, yet, women are said
to have defiled them, but the ghost of the sun, the one
who drinks of the sea, is their
offspring.
And of the sea are those phantoms beneath them with
tails, with spinning agility, awkwardly entwine to
thrust waves, those sinners in adverse
hostility.
But God, patience to avail of time seeps merely in particles,
each one an ancient aeon sauntering extremely mercurial
speeds to eloquent discourse.
Thus, to the world sphere, the fleetness of His words come
bittersweet, spoken in the demise of sins, of those
who's flesh have fallen to the earth.
Who's flesh have fallen to the earth a mire thereof, but let
no evolution rise from any mire, for devolution
devours mutations to public view.
And those thought evolved wrote of long ago, a Bible to
acknowledge God, not their god? But even, a
zoo of them cannot answer prayers!
I convince no one to church,religion, nor faith, but a seed from
it, to qualm a deliverance into the veneration, not by
me, but to the glory of God. Blessed Be He In
Heaven.


Be In Christ
Dec 27-2010


For now, the sun, to relinquish the shadows
of the earth, may God endow speech to the
mortals below.

May I spread them from me as none accept
the holy word of my Lord in
heaven.

May the spree of righteous not be sprawled, nor
trampled, but examined as a victory
over sin.

Maidens upon white horses, and men push to
the cattle; A field of harlots, both damsels
and fellows, strangers of familiar
spirits.

Wizards and witches, both warlocks and the
crone sorceress, form cryptic spells by
imbalance rituals of the feudal
lord.

I walk through the earth to disturb the priests,
those in the shadows, hind a tinge of light,
stained of sin and drunkards
of wine.

For their words absorbed of me now fly unto
women and men, like child of God
given them.

Women in dream dangle the earth in search
of savages, but when their minds
collide, their mouths kiss.

When their mouths kissing is to deprive souls,
and destroy hearts; For true love is
never more found in futile
fornications.

To be of true love is to be in Christ, sentinel of
the temple and against warring spirits,
deceptive and perverted ones, and
wroth to enslave you.

Be in Christ that is of true love that never fails!


Seasons
Dec 24-2010


The winter progression that is to invade the night,
of pallid horse, the armor of skin to
the flesh of tyrant men.
Out of the boisterous forest the density thereof,
the edge of swords burning, enflamed to
slay the summer soul distant of
children at play.
Autumn leaves, the infidels fall sleep to the globe,
a bronze and gold crown to the mighty
beasts born of spring.
And spring leaps to apparitions, graven images
of years cognizant of an afterlife, are to
mold birth, the right of dwellers.
To the ghost be given a shroud of death and the
spirits of death be given a ghost, where
men lay reposed.
I walk into a church and feel the presence of kings,
kings who satiate a recompense in entities,
that embed and embody themselves,
as gods.
Do as I did and return the past before the door of
opened Cathedrals and out of the womb
of her.
A wisdom and a testimony; The Testament of Holy
Scripture into the Light, that is God; The
Spirit of Salvation.


A New Christian
Dec 26-2010


In the eyes of the marching man, thus, known
of the Lord, a faith among servants.
It is out of the wilderness, faith accompanies
out of the dead sea, that of blooming
flowers.
I see of charred remains, a saffron soul, the
spirit of faith provoke wrath to fearful
men.
Men cringed of no life, rise out of burning flesh,
flicker their wings dry of sin and sin
abounds the graves.
Their mouths once sick of disease, gain fast in
knowledge to cry aloud the wisdom
of Christ.
For the wisdom of Christ is made swallow of
the sea; Grip the slaves of sin and
immortalize them into angels
of God.
If I write beautiful words none shall listen,
if I write harsh words men become
hostile.
But again, I hunger for thirst of God's mighty
words to them for non-burial of
elegies.
And to these be God's word born, a child, a host
of men shall the child erect a church
anew.
The child will dwell them apostolic doctrines to
seize sinful illusions men create and awash
them.
The earth shall wrinkle and steps of mire to the
heavens be built, and a new Christian
shall walk with God.


The Silvery Ghost
Dec 27-2010


The judges of the mortal mound, the wind and
fire of earth does parallel the verbatim,
of the feudal god.
Angels, the equilibrium under God come to
manifest; For the words of Him impale
wickedness.
Collective souls, perdition but to render sin, not
those of the silvery Ghost, cast as rain
of fire to abysmal saltation.
For the silvery Ghost delivers them to the bottom
of the stairs, where wicked on the floor are
boiling mad.
They bathe in water, thus extinguish nothing, the
blazon coals of brimstone continual
to lavish drenched souls.
For the silvery Ghost, an emanation of Him stood
the earth and shook it of kings, queens, and
of their guillotines.
But of the harps have defeated violins and violas,
the instruments of their god.
And to stand in paramount, chromatic hues, warm
in passion, is the Christ in us all to love
the whole world, as He did un
conditionally.
Blessed Be God In Heaven.


The Robes Of gods
Dec 26-2010


A waterfall into figures of fog, an ode to them,
the creatures of such abode.
A vision to descend to, where once the dry
land forbade them sanctuary.
Where the ardent hands of the sun buried
many to the shadows of crooked trees.
Those snakes curled and coiled tombstones
and through the gallows of nature.
Only the mighty are given the robes of gods
and these gods are given the robes of men.
And they forsake the Lord in heaven, for wind
is fast of voices and these men hearken.
They hearken not to voices, but the roaring
of termagant tempests.
For there is only one mind, the double mind of
clergy, who are an army of storms.
A brother,a sister, a son or a daughter, these men,
the clergy call beasts.
For the evolutionary god are they wintry smiles,
they succumb frantic delusions they seduce.
And this new creation they induce morbid angels
to cosmopolitan alliance.
The cosmos belong to God, but the false cosmo is
of the fiery angels of demise.
The fiery angels of demise come to those under the
fog, those of the robes of gods, those of the
robes of men.
Those who forsake the Lord in heaven!


Blesse Be God
Dec 26-2010


Sound all trumpets O' men
and blown horns to my God!
A majestic of godly be to the
glory of my God!
Torch singer prog beauty in songs,
not lamentations for death.
For lamentations of death remain
stealth the ears of faith.
And the faith of men idle into action
of the heart that receives.
That receives true forgiveness from
my God in the heavens.
For when Christ died He came to live
again, Blessed Be God!
He hurled snakes and crippled dragons,
He befell kings that they reign tears.
Vipers dance with spiders, the web master
be the judge to judge them.
May the cockatrice repose, a dream of
serpents to revisit them.
May traces of love be traced to God; For
He created it; He gave it us, and we
defiled it.
Blessed Be God; Blessed Be Jesus Christ
and May the holy spirit be praised!


The Poem
Dec 30-2010


Scorn the scorch seething of the heart,
swollen of entities through dimensional
extremities, we abide in.
But, to understand the consequences thereof,
is to walk in the holy spirit as in heaven,
throughout earth and cast the light of God,
for all to see.
I too, am a sinner, thus free the spiritual
dominance of the poem; And to illuminate
fantastical wonders, a portrait that God is.
Thus, strangle it's colors and rinse them
throughout societies and wash the wrath of
them, that there be love,peace and harmony
in everyone to Christ.
Splendor and spectactular in authority to
correspond to despondents and the meek;For
the earth to highest underneath the phantom,
that is the mighty shadow of the great God.
The cylinder of jaws, machines in the matrix,
whom entertain us in wars, that such wars of
us spring forth into, but be smitten by God
out of existence.
From battles to wars; Genocides to holocausts;
Napalm death to erradicate life, of no borders
of imagination, the mind, the arcade of wizards in magic trance.
A stronghold in dust of remnants, but poise the
intolerable makeshift strategies of war, thus,
penetrate the action, paralyzed to frequent
abeyance before men.
March against mortal cries and into the singing
masses in praise of our Lord Jesus Christ; That
is the power of the written word, of The Poem!


The Child the Children
Dec 30-20210


O'The child the children, the strings of
the harp, thus are blissful.
The words of your songs are benevolent
to the praise of God.
Estrange never your voices, nor spirits,
but melancholy,