The Second Coming (Poem)

I summon the Prophets, the Kings, and the Saints
I summon the meek, the wise, and the lame
I summon you all to remember who you are
I summon you to preach the Second Coming near and far
For you are the Truth, the Way and the Light
The Messiah is in you, and you are The Messiah

Falling Back in Love with Scriptures

I’m working on my first post about the Scriptures titled, “The Church and the State are Prophesied to Ruin,” and my once overwhelming passion for Scripture is flooding back into every orifice of my being. At one point in life, I was obsessed with Scripture, poring through every book, connecting the puzzle pieces into one mindblowingly prophetic epiphany.

The Boomerang is Coming (Poem)

Judgment Day is near for all the godless nations
As you have done, so it will be done to you
The boomerang is coming to pillage your coup
Just as they partied on God’s holy mountain
All the godless nations will drink the wrath of God
They’ll drink and drink and drink
They’ll drink themselves to death

Rethinking My Game Plan

Good evening my fellow rebels. Are you ready for the return of the boomerang? I been waiting for this moment for all my life. And I can feel it coming like a beautiful disaster.

True Christians are Anarcho-Communists and I am going to prove it.

It’s been a year since I left Connecticut after getting kicked out of the sober house. I’ve made a lot of progress in terms of reclaiming my mental stability, but I still have more work to do.
While I was In my addiction I had so much I wanted to prove. But all I could do was get drunk, word vomit on Twatter, and complain complain complain about this world full of morons. Meanwhile, if I wasn’t being such a moron I might have been able to prove my point. I rather chose to get mad every time some idiot regurgitated the lies they were fed, and I would use that as an excuse to get drunk and act a fool. It was a sicknesss.

The tale of the scared little pigs (Poem)

Once upon a time There were three little pigs The eldest of brothers was the picker of figs The second in line was the heir to the throne The herder of sheep and the bearer of gold The third little piggy was swarthy in kind… He shed dark that cast all way to the light […]

Immaculate Conception (Poem) #WritePhoto

Mountains of Zion
So full of grace
The Lord is with thee

Blessed art thou
In the last days of Rome

For you are the light that shines through the cold

Blessed is your chalice
The cup of your blood

The wine of salvation
The womb of your throne

The dawn of your glory
Like the crimson at dusk

The Lions and the Lambs (Journal Entry)

There’s a knot in my gut the size of my fist. I try to ignore it but it cries out like a mother bird in distress. Much like the premonitions that warned me against the crooked path I doomed myself to take. Seems the hell I’ve known is mercy compared to the hell that is to come.

The whole world is a human centipede. Battered sheep yearning for deliverance from their cold-hearted shepherd. I often wonder what mindblowing epiphany will compel the sheep to shed their wool and become lions treading through the fields of rebellion. It’s not enough for the sheep to know their shepherd is up to no good. They need to want to flee from his care. Herein lie the wall that won’t crack…