Blood
The sea of molten mortality rivers it’s way through thousands of arteries
And not in vain…
Although, the resulting could still be an exercise in vanity.
Come with me.
To the records of slain fathers
—Sullied and grown mothers
Without which
The next generation would be a lil low on the first stitch
Long before Nine
Think Abel
Increasing the right volume
We need God’s labels
To open the right bottle
Bone of my Bones
The hard part isn’t amputation but definition
—doctored derision
Because it was when I stopped asking about Rahab
And started asking folks about Eve—then I discovered
You spent three nights in another Adam’s Eden.
The joke’s dry now but it swam with the seamen
I clock way different from when I trusted feelings
Deductions only add up when divide God’s stories
No flaws on this
He is how we win though
Stay with me—
Muscles are for shrugs
To squeeze in extra goodwill amidst a hug
With only one strategy —spin the block
Because strength is not what wins battles
Strategy, time and chance still argue
Yet if a man can pray
God is not deaf, or indifferent
Think with me
Skin and flesh
Gram of meat
Inflated instances of sentient parchment
Animated beyond the animalistic
Forgetful of every moment before we first recognize our names
Breathe with me
In time,
We are introduced to Life
To taste it and handle it
To speak it and be led by it
In time, every heart can read the plan
And by an offer to upgrade to premium
The mortal mist becomes a dead man
He must return to draw first blood
if he will become a son of God.
Dialysis in the Spirit
And then one by one
Miracle by miracle
A son is given
A child is born
Godzniel
©2026
Christ a poet 