A for Apple

“We were as gods, seated in the arm of the great king, till the knave came and stole everything” – Adam In the beginning … In a time before the first chord of condemnation dropped from the liar’s lips, before his accusatory tones spread like a wildfire across the expanse of time and space. Time was still in diapers. We join the story at a junction called the beginning where the Ultimate Intelligence had just begun His masterpiece – Heaven and Earth (apologies to the other planets).

So …

  Listen carefully to the sound of your own heart beating. The sky around you is darkening. The mares of night race through the dusty streets. You are in this moment the Prodigal son returning home. It has been years since you last saw the starry skies over your birthplace. The streets are unwelcoming. Those who pass by gaze upon you with disgust. Why not? After all you are clad in the entrails of pigs. You reek of vomit and your disheveled hair is crowned with sores. Listen. Do not let this moment pass you by. Latch on to the feeling. For there is a lump in your throat. The men drag you to the center of the market. Their hands mean and fierce make no attempt to cover your nakedness. Who are you? Not the lowly tavern wench. You are not even the local harlot, but you are a mother caught in a minute of indiscretion with another. They drag you

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Held

I am held in the hollow of his hands, by the rivers that make me glad. He keeps me in his alcove of affection, Shielding me from harm and hell’s machination. I am kept by the power of His Love, His is a variant that fits my soul like a glove, When the storms of life venture near, I am assured of peace for He is here. I am held up above principalities and powers, My spirit fears neither death nor the witching hour, For there is a constant witness in the furnace, I have a Father who ever lives to give me rest. I am fearless in the den of raging beasts, Calm in the eye of fires stoked by pride and persecutions. For within me is domiciled one who is greater, I am His beloved and He is my Lord and Lover. I am held in the hollow of his hands, Adorned with grace on my head like

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The God Mystique

Love is what brings us out of the commonplace into the supernatural. The supernatural isn’t some mystical faraway land ruled by fairies. Love is the Father’s heart to all men. It is a choice stone more dazzling than all the diamonds of the earth. Love is the Mystique of the Father. There are certain concepts in scripture that boggle the mind. For instance the stone the builders rejected…  [Plot twist:] that stone is now the infinity stone… Our chief cornerstone. God our Papa demonstrates his Love towards us by giving us His word. This word becomes flesh and dwells among us before suffering the ignoble horror of a roman crucifixion, stripped naked before his kit and kin and subjected to the most horrific of deaths. This is the wonder and the mystery of the Father. Using the seeming foolishness of death by crucifixion to ransome the world from the clutches of death. It can be explained in one word: Love

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Letting GO

I don’t think I have written a poem this bland and simple… I was actually crying as I penned this. Letting go, Letting GOD. For there is such an emptiness within, and my heart is clogged with filth. All around me is a widening void, a festering gash, that only your love can fill. that only your touch can heal. Yet I find myself chasing trinkets, blinded by my greed. I stand by the street corner, tears washing my cornea.. I had wasted years chasing applause and accolade… Feeding fat on the glint and mint, You tell me to let go… but I love my toys, I cannot do without them. Though they bring me pain, My eyes find delight in the anguish. You show me your heart for me, I listen to your endless love ballad. So in the pain of letting go, there is a joy I find… that of holding on to you. You teach me to

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