Grace crowned me with mercy the Law crowned him with thorns. The last drop of blood and life was transformed. The word assended in my soul my conscious became clear. Glory hallaluyah, Yashea was here. Glory hallaluyah, Yashea is still near.
SYQ222
 18600
|
|||||||||||||||||||||
you need to login or register to leave a comment
The Word
CATEGORY
Views: 385
You must be registered to leave a comment. Registration is FREE.
COMMENTS
No comments. Be the first to enter a comment.
OTHER POEMS WRITTEN BY SYQ222
MentalSummoned to labor from Genesis to last verse in the book of Revelations.. Adapting in and out of prophecy like frost on a Bourbon Rose petal...drifting nigh to our peerless intentions ..every minute matters.. Sifting through our thoughts from one end to the other...  depression is today's forcast or an alleged hallucination. Perserving yesterday sins in an old Mason Jar... constant reminders ... Yet a brisk of renewed energy for an imposed mind is a new admission that perhaps breathes life into a vivid existence ....or transpire into a vapor of zero visibility.  |
The Civil Rights MovementThere was little room for error. But they got a reputation for their courage. It was hard to settle down around those times. Sons and daughters of some Southern Sharecroppers decided it was time to break ground....test their fathers theory, you reap what you sow. They planted their feet on higher ground and stumbled upon a loop-hole. There it was in plain sight, concise and somewhat polite. “All Men Are Created Equalâ€. It made sense, yet for them there was no evidence. So they just ran with it, they ran so fast.. their wings scorched the ground. Some may say that they may have gotten to far ahead of of themselves but I believe that you should meet people where they are. Now that’s civil. But that, that was war... |
Time for Take Off
|
Yarbrough Family TreeThere is much talk about family trees. So, imagine in your hearts... if I were the family tree... what I as the tree might speak. Behold...hold on to me for dear life….as I possess a special kind of power.. like faith, I yield the substance to bloom…. a thousand miles below sea level. Come child….spend a while, inside my tree trunk…. you may unearth... all your ancestor’s teachings... find the answers to... all of your unsolved mysteries. I was the one when your spirits were low, I summons the doves to lift up your soul ….serenade your discontent...with that... good old negro spiritual…. “ just like a tree...planted by the waters, I…..was the oneâ€. when the egos of men dimmed the sky…. I... spruced myself up, adorned yellow ribbons around peek of my fro…..as a treaty.. to honor our family members…who sailed the high seas ..to protect our liberties. It was I who provided you pe... |
UntitledEgo and Greed are faternal twins, yet Ego put me in the mind of the B-side of one of my favorite albums...ingenious and useless. Greed a master of disguise... Always over the top. Endlessly aiming to sample a taste of my breast... countlessly and without thought, trying to drive a wedge between what I know to be right. Yes...I was on a mission ...turned my back on the illiusion and met up with an old friend name Truth. I was on my tenth diary since the last time I saw him.. No visable war wounds, Truth hadn't changed. Like the speed of light, I had to quickly cope . It felt symetrical haning out with "Truth". he urged my face towards the clear waters. I saw my relection though the mist of a raindrop ....time wasnt playing... it avanced in less than half second. I discovered that I was the one... Splinded and Convicted. |
The WordGrace crowned me with mercy the Law crowned him with thorns. The last drop of blood and life was transformed. The word assended in my soul my conscious became clear. Glory hallaluyah, Yashea was here. Glory hallaluyah, Yashea is still near. |
Who Shall I SayIf my people shall humble themselves and call me by my name seems to be the scripture that is tugging at my righteousness, my tongue is tied trying to get it right. Should my lips declare you as Yeshua in order to gain favor but my tongue has been tamed to speak in Jesus name or would it be safer to utter, my Lord and Savior eventhough it my hearts desire would be to speak solitary. Shameful of my tightfisted heart. Yet I do respect the blood that was sacrificed, I am compelled to spead your good works but what name would be appropriate, who shall I say sent me. Should I look for the signs between the earth and the stratosphere or if sun is radiating on my halo, heightening my divinity through my pineal gland. My love for you is devoted. I will postulate my good manners, considering and in all do respect no matter which way the pendulum swings you are always regarded as the Prince of Peace. |
It's Method to This MadnessThere a method to this madness, there's a path to your greatness, unearth your pains from the jaws of life and elevate, the precipitation is just right, there's enough HO2 to carry you, capitalize on yourself before someone else get's the chance. Search for your heart and become intoxicated, dream on a cloud and wake up in paradise. Its a method to this madness, go find the teasures within yourself, be your itinerary, first things first, love yourself. |
I AMWear it like a glove, damn proud of it. Organically grown, put a lable on it. Touch it, feels like smooth Eygptian Silk, tiptoe go slow and approach with caution. Confused faces is trying to play if off, yes it's a thin line between love and hate. Affirmative and exquisite, can I get an Amen! This skin that I'm in can swell up the streets with a million African Americans, adding stress to your mess just to preserve our identity. Appointed, as earth's indispensable weapon, its our job to fight the terror of mass destruction, the evidence is in our swag and in our body language. Divinity is apart of our DNA. So, no matter how far you dig to find yourself, we'll perpetually be the conclusion in your unsolved mysteries, the last artifact layed to rest, living among the minerals that gave you breath. Like paint on a wall you will never be free of me. Reason being, listen close, I AM, who I AM, the salt of the earth one of the fearest African Americans. |
MOTHERSNarrow shoulders, resilient spine, she’s the innermost experience in our lives, as well as the giver of life. Holding on to gravity in her arms, keep life surprisingly calm, offering the right amount flavor so we can savor the moments in our unforeseen, motherless nights, meticulously passing-down her manners as a family heirloom to those who will soon wear her well, in her mother’s succeeding generations. If I could hide her wisdom from the rest of the world, I would seal it in a sea shell, so it would sit graciously, in the mutual company, inside of the beautiful luster of the, Cultured Mother Pearl. Sisters and brothers become divided nations in an endless conflict for this one woman’s undivided attention and only she has the finesse to end all the idle spitefulness with her oh so subtle, even-handedness. A mother’s mane, floods the world with the senses of trustworthiness and at times you will find, her little ones running their curious... |