False Gods

How could God be unfair

If all he ask is that

We desire him

But we desire ourselves

Sometimes to the point

Of becoming our own idols




Some even compete to be America's Idol

They believe that they can come to God

With any title

Believing he must fit their design




So they create their gods

And call them Creator

How could the Most High

Not get jealous




How foolish of the creation

That believes it can create

The Creator

No wonder their idols fall short

Their minds couldnt capture him




Their life time is too short

All the time spent pondering

Amounts to nothing

Just leads to more wondering




How could something come from nothing

Everything has a beginning and end

Or do they

What if the beginning and end was something




That we couldnt even begin to grasp

Something that our minds

Couldnt fully elapse

Something that words

Could never fully explain




The truth is

There is a God

That created the earth

He knows the measure

Of all the rain

And alone he reigns




He created it all

And he can destroy your pain

He shows mercy

On who he chooses

No man seeks him

Yet he claims us

Making us his children

Mankind

From birth
They dance with their sin
They step with death
To the music of the world
Played with the drums and pipes
Built in Satan
Sin has become blatant
No longer is it hidden
Like Adam and Eve
Attempting to hide
Guilt behind leaves
They too are deceived
Their mother Eve
Saw a world apart
from God
In that fruit
Now her children
Are drunk from the juice
They dance and they step
To the rhythm of the culture
They celebrate ignorance
They evolved from
Fighting over shiny rocks
To fighting over a black liquid
Their hate has grown from swords
And armor, bullets to tanks
Chemical warfare to nukes
It's not enough to kill
They focus on easier ways to do it
A clear sign of a people
Headed to destruction

God's Provision

Don't panic
But there are people
Portraying pastors in pulpit
Preaching prosperity
But speaking on suffering
As Christ did sparingly
Popular prophets
Are prophesying of profit
And will even teach
That a man can gain the world
And not forfeit his soul
Congregations are filled
With whispers of gossip
Spread by lips flavored
By forbidden fruit

So where does one goes
When they seek the truth
They turn to scripture
A wolf in sheep clothing
Still bare sharp teeth
Though some of the elect
Might temporary fall for their deceit
We must not forget
That Satan is prowling
Seeking to devour
We must put our trust
In God's promise
That Christ will return
In the appointed hour

Never Truly Be

I do feel the pain of slavery
In my blood
I feel sadden
And sickened
By the tyranny
That was, the reason
For every tear in me
To believe different
Would be treason
America will never truly be
The nation it declared to me
How do you let people
Starve in the streets
Just to build weapons for war
In a time of peace
We got enough money to end global hunger
But we build weapons
To fight for freedom
When America isn't truly free
No longer a nation under God
Why can't they see
We need him
America will never truly be
The land of the free
At least not to me
Slavery is still legal
"As a punishment for crime
Whereof the party
Shall have been duly convicted"
Uncle Sam,
Your prisons are slave camps
Regardless of your fancy rhetoric
I do grieve
But tears do not cleanse
Blood from sidewalks
Them tears do not
Fill stomachs

No America would never truly be
The land of sweet liberty
At least not to me

Love Postponed

How do I apologize
When I know it was I
Who put them tears in your eyes
I brought you so low
You wished your own demise

I made you break ties
That have been in place for years
Now you cover your fears
With tears

When you became deaf,
From your internal screams
I was not there
To lend an ear
So that you could hear

I was the pain
Behind the shouting
I was the peak,
Of your mountain
of stress

The Source

The source of all knowledge
Man does not seek
The source of all love
Man does not seek
The source of all good
Man does not seek

Some of the best minds in the world
Created religion
Creating a god was the mission
One from whom,
They wouldn't have to ask permission

They created religions of ambition
Raising their selves to be gods
Based on their own pride

And took the ignorant followers
Along for the ride

A Prayer For The Wind

Maybe if the rain didn't come
Washing away
And the blood soaked sidewalks
Would of stayed
Maybe if the ink
On the R.I.P. Tees
Didn't fade

Another life

Would not be gone away

Maybe if the story
About the bullet that strayed
Wasn't forgotten
Another mother would not be screaming
In her blood soaked cotton