mortality – Christ a poet

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

Every poem I write should carry the Lord’s cadence
Like the prints of a boot prophesies of her owners
Every song that I sing should play hide and seek with time
Only being found when we GPS your fingers

But the kids hid from Daddy in the skirts of mortality
Human indignation fully kitted in folly jeans
Class of the Returning, Mama’s voice was instructive
Solid reputations are not accidental
God is good at sending help, though our times are rental
God is good at saying thanks, though the earth is The Lord’s.

This One

This one day I’m taking God’s grace for granted
There is no day that we didn’t reap what he had planted
I once had a copy I’d stolen and really wanted
Mercy can resemble losing all the game we hunted
After many days I was robbed of my disobedience
Blessed is the one who waits on the Lord’s fulfillment

Blessed is the one the Lord sends a Philip or Peter to
We are miracles, shocking all the world by the things we do
But after ages our stories become a living bible
That’s why we keep a special seat for the good examples

Every picture gets lost in this sea of data
If the child is from eternity, can mortals date her?
Six classes of food can fit in a pair of trousers
And after minutes or millenia, the Lord remembers

Yes, The Lord remembers