Awash the shore of grace, this hymn
Shall sing of wisdom like the Seraphim;---
The Creature which man Creates
Is a worm which fills the world with hate.

Great God, come and stay the beast,
Which Christ shall slay, then we shall feast
Upon the heavenly garden's fruit
Let sing, let sing, on harp and lute.

For, the Beast it only knows to plagiarize
A hymn, a song, and never wise
Is it, to do a holy Song
And its doctrine's life is never long

To err in memises' lack, and thin
It knows not God, like the Cherubim;
I sing this Holy Song of Praise
That man shall sing, and Demons rage...

Throw away the abomination from your life
And to the Son be wedded right;
For God shall this day bring me the hymn
Of that which is wise like the Seraphim.

At the parade, me and my boyhood friends
Were wandering through the woods.
There was a parade, where they threw candy.
I had wanted some, but meek
I was, I looked 'round and saw the frenzy
Of my childhood cohorts
Rushing in the street to grab tootsie rolls.
My friend rushed into the street
And I tried to stop him, for 'twas madness 
I say! Still to this day I
Am like this... seeing everyone race round
To grab candies off the ground.
As I stand there, waiting now for my turn.
He said, "This is what life is,"
And I saw at once the great vanity.
Child shoulder to shoulder
Snatching the fruit from one another's hands;
I thought "How much better it'd
"Be if we all worked on it together;
"Each with his fill; his purpose."
Simply put, our work oughtn't be like this.
What we sow, we reap. Not to
Ramble into our neighbor's field, but they
Remove the bounds to horde more.
He did give me one blueberry tootsie,
And it was alright I guess;
But what I saw that day was vanity.
I must say, even this day
I find it vanity when we compete
And with our brothers we partake in aught;
So, rather a spectator
I am, and that's what makes me a writer.
From this farm, I wish to eat.
For what separates man from beast, but this?

Thine emerald eyes were passion
When thou made'st love to the Prince.
I sat, with Jane and Sabina,
So I turned to Jane, and she quoth,
"Thou makest love in the darkroom."
I looked, and said, "But I am here."
She said, "So thou art."

Yeah... that's real. I don't think the sun switching its poles is anything but a joke. It's just distracting people, so they can usher in their next bout of corruption, and then "Prove" to Christians they were right all along. Although, the fact is, stuff is about to get real.



The strategy behind this, is to wear people down every so often, and get them used to the idea of there not being a God. And they do this every so often in waves, wearing down your constitution toward Gay Marriage, and Transgender, getting you used to it, so they can then prove their Utopia was better all along. While you have no freedom, except who you like to screw, And then after a while, you don't even have that anymore---which is how they normally do it.  They slowly strangulate your freedom, and your liberty, and your morals, they can usher in their Beast System, which will catalyze the entirety of the world. Just be vigilant. And let them do away with you if you have to.

What a queer character
Which nobody likes---
Why would he be one?
Yet, he does the cooking
For the Mouse and Bird
And dies when he gets displaced.
A very base story is this Grimm's Fairytale...
But important nonetheless,
Because we each go about our business.
And no matter how big or small it is
It is essential to the survival
Of not only households,
But entire nations.
Therefore, if you do more work
Covet not the position of the one who does less,
As you might find the whole system breaking down
As a result of it.

My ship sets sail by the Son's
Cheerful countenance upon the stormy waters
Which draw forth winds.
If I walk upon the seas, I shall fall
And thereby be plucked up out of them by Him.
My tongue a rutter for the carriage;
Curse for curse, blessing for blessing---
There is no supernatural agency behind words
Not ordained by God,
But affect weighs heavy upon our hearts and a hearer's soul---
Warnings for repentance, and not for our own silly vanities.
Unchain the captive with your words and deeds,
And all will be well; for words and deed
Proceed from hope and faith; from our desire to also bear good fruit
And only such hope can; which said desire springs forth the pomegranates' berry.
When I fall shipwreck, I trust in He
Who calms the seas, and brings the fish.
When bitterness envenomates me
I think upon my LORD and His cross.
When sin and temptation disturb my mind, and come nigh
I think upon Him...
For by Hope of Salvation and nothing else
Are we called to in this life...
For by hope, at our failings
We look upon the Bronze Serpent
And are healed; our sins forgotten
And our righteousness remembered by God for eternity.
Not to become Him,
But to be made like Him;
He Who is the Only Begotten
And the Firstborn of All Creation...
We, simple heirs by adoption and right.

Sweet Jonathan, I saw your shrewd grimace
At the hypocrite's sermon. Remember
It is love in the heart that stays God's wrath
And binds you to God's Covenant, and no 
Other thing. For at once the hypocrite
Hid such stark, and naked judgement at his
Daughter, and at once, when reconciled,
Did depart immediately from faith.
For he just went from one vile manner
To another... and replaced a cold heart
With a cold heart. So, store up mercy, friend
And know the hypocrite shall lose his faith 
At the last---though pious, he never once 
Understood, and that was why there is wrath.
For the good heart it chooses Christ alone;
'tis compelled to, by ministry of Grace.

I spoke to you as if one given that name.
I gave you that benefit, but you threw
Our fellowship away as a filthy rag.
"Humility" you say? You want me to be humble?
Yet, you, I thought you were a Russian Orthodox Priest;
That's how humble I am, that I approached you as a man
But you treated me as a babe.
What Iranian or Indian has blonde hair?
Did I speak to an authority of the faith?
Or did you? Repent, I say it again.

No. We are Placers.
We are Judges.
We have a place in ordering God's design
When in heaven,
But shall not be an object of Worship.
Only God is.

The city bus arrives,
I see the children need coats.
The stop has a shop
Which has five.
He will only give me one
If I work for him,
And in return
His mannequin, she says, "Shut up, don't complain,
"Don't talk, never speak another word, and 
"For ten cents a day
"That shall be your reward."

At the time I thought it pretty fair
As I pled with the lifeless doll,
For to have my work, and give the orphans coats
I must give my very all.
My voice, my honor, my every hour,
Then I woke up, and saw the vision was glower.