Author: Godzniel
The Word, Poetry and the stories in between
The Stranger’s Hand
There was a little boy, who woke up as a spirit of harmony and verse. He looked out at the world and heard his name on the lungs of a million people as his voice planted explosion in their minds.
But they had not yet exhaled his name nor had shrapnel from their word-blown minds embedded in their sleeping hearts because he had not yet unleashed himself on them.
So the little boy wrote growing, and grew writing: a circus to most of his peers who didn’t know of his dream, or maybe they did; and they enjoyed him because he was so enjoyable.
Soon the little boy was ready, he wanted to solve so many problems, he wanted to have so many things. He sought his parents to use their power, because he thought, ‘They’ll be so proud of me.’ His mother smiled at him and died. His Father…
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The Joy of One Child
It was Pain that brought me home. I have to warn you though, it was not entirely mine. Let me explain, maybe you can join me. Maybe you can join us.
There was a choir aloft above the stars, alight with invisible colours painted with eternal splendor. Their song filled an entire realm with dense excellence as reminded their master of his masterful mastery.
One day he said, ‘Your numbers are great. I will make one who is comparable to me in excellence and projection. And like me, he will create praise for me and rule my expanded domain.’
But a proud Angel said, ‘Why should a younger and corruptible species inherit such vastness? Since this is the nature of you, Master, I will have the choir sing their songs of power at me. Even these your masterpieces will testify of my worth and grace.’
So the choir watched as…
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A War of Words
My life is a story but telling it after I’m dead doesn’t mean I will or am reincarnated; and like all great stories I start at once, up on a timepiece I start at once, up on a time please I’m just playing with words.
I like words. They are full of power so what you say, they’re powerful. Its elementary. School doesn’t teach us and our late pastors are too busy being alive to die daily and so their words are blunt and their monologues don’t log on to hardened hearts anymore yet, by words we are saved or not. Its elementary.
But we all are guilty of this… Verbal debauchery. In the music we so shamelessly enjoy today, in our movies where we are lost in a world where nothing but the thrill matters; we speak as we wish and quote as we like, memorizing pretences while pretending…
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Bitov said…
Without GOD Life makes no sense.
~ Andrei Bitov
Board Moments
Dear Father,
Tonight, just before I sink back into ‘One Piece’,
I reminisce
For a moment of the days I spent in boarding school. I would have survived, perhaps become someone else.
I love the way you combined each experience…
This much and that little, here and there.
I remember the hall-rooms, the students, my performance at a Social night; as I watch a man read I remember how effortlessly I devoured novels and storybooks. In comparison, he seems to be force-feeding himself, but that’s okay.
I remember the visiting days; joyous and feasty, with plenty of meat (in comparison to today’s fishy business), and there were the seniors, more ferocious than the graduating class of my cousin today.
I remember my friends, and their separate impact on me.
One thing I’ve learned, its that we all change each other, however unnoticeably. One day we all recall one little thing…
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Hundred’s Ache
I believe in life after death.
In fact, what we call death is just a hibernation…. Sleep. Real death is the destruction of Identity. The Obliteration of a Soul.
GOD said a soul lasts beyond this earth. This revelation is solid.
Its there, like a strong tree, in my heart; dividing every blow of doctrine I’m dealt.
Yet why do I, believing this,
Feel great sorrow and not bliss?
When I glance
Through the memories
Of the moments
Shared with all these,
Like a vivid dream shared by many,
Their faces and names are history.
After a while, its normal that our loved ones are gone. We remember the pain as a disease we were cured from. I guess we believed in life after death – past tense. Tenses changed the moment we became tense.
But Stop!!! Oh pen,
Let us pray and sleep;
Although we reminisce and weep,
We…
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No Other Gospel
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, who gave himself for our sins to rescue us from the present evil age, according to the will of our God and Father, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen.
I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse! As we have already said, so now I say again: If anybody is preaching to you a gospel other than what you accepted, let them be…
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Christ a poet 