UNDER THE ANOINTING

So raw, so real,

The dead must feel,

Such euphoria, this ambience,

Beyond the scope of the sense,

To the sight not visible,

Its products yet tangible,

Feeling so high,

Everything appears small and tiny,

Without wings I feel I can fly,

Immune to the physical tyranny,   

A realm of such heave,

No currency has ever conceive,

Electricity’s swallowed up by its confluence,

Seldom have I observed such a pure occurrence,

So high, so deep, so far, so gone,

The end, the breadth, the length, I see none,

Down I dive,

Up so high,

The count of five,

My flesh can’t sigh,               

High in the Spirit,

Lowered the flesh 6 feet,

Drenched by its outpouring,

Mesmerized by its depth,

Intoxicated by this flowing spring,

My consciousness drenched unkempt, 

I reside on mountains,

Engaged in warfare,

Exhausted my flesh drains,

Won’t cast my care,

These seems gibberish,

Stupor to the carnal,

See them as prophecies,

Their fulfillments are eternal,

Thus the Lord hath said against the forces of hell,

Thus shall it come to pass whether I forth-tell or foretell, 

 I sink, I drown,

Into His crown and His gown,

Yet a clown, but they frown,

Their strong man’s house I plunder,

They wonder, they are under,

They ponder, their ploys asunder,

Further! I go yonder,

Into the realm most pure,

Out of the world I was lure,

The more I glimpse,

The more its limbs,

Such ecstasy, sure to be an addiction,

Send this gesture to the smokers and drunkards,

Speak not with dictions but in action,

As a gesture they might yet see façades,

Spread this truth in their hearts,

To some it is nostalgia,

To others a feeling of de javu,

To some it’s trivia,

To others it’s still of no clue,

I’m not locked up in here,

I know the benchmark,

I’ve yielded myself unto no care,

Aside here it’s always dark,

Man is a Spirit,

So I am fulfilling my destiny,

Take a moment to visit,

You’ll make here your colony.     

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary

THE CONCEPTION OF SIN

This absolute mirage of how possible it is for the mind to ascertain the destination of the soul.

This rock, this dead spirit, this stony heart,

The old man, the first Adam, initially lived pat,

The inherent inclination of sin as a nature,

The willpower subjected to this flesh by enclosure,

This body, sold south and souled out unto closed walls of unrighteousness,

A holy deviant, committing a sacrilege and resisting rightness,

 Shall I argue the strength of desire?

Or succumb to the prowess of vain enticement’s attire?

This undefiled conscience,

Frequently pruned with thorough occurrence,

My heart, before it breathed life,

Before my human spirit came alive,

A slave of my foes,

A servant of sin even to their toes,

Paid with throes, wages of death,

Slowly I died, living was strife,

A step closer to death,

So many steps behind life,

My light dimmed,

Till it shined no more,

What a vain disposition of my heart towards-

what revived the cause of the law,

This sacred law, this constant attraction,

I’m tempted; this enticement can’t be spurned,

Why ignite this passion again,

Why flame up this fire to vain,

In abstract paths & gross darkness,

My memories blurred by decision of tainted memoirs-

In concrete fall from grace,

To sin was in fairness,

These thoughts spurred as I pace,

These thoughts overruled what powered their functions,

Deprived the mind the ability to live a defaulting live of holiness,

A strayed traitor of the light,

Towered with the personality of darkness,

An influence, in infusions of pleasures-

Not endured by time or endorsed by eternity,

At the end,

The junction spoke for themselves,

The crossroads spoke against their shelves,

The betrayal of the flesh,

The spirit knows all things when fresh,

The soul, the culprit,

Their destination, the verdict,

Eternal death eventually became the life they live,

Darkness, the only light they perceive,

Their past, their mirror,

Confronting them with intense guilt taking them tour,

Here they burn,

It wasn’t real, but now it’s not fun,

A façade of the true and lasting pleasure bequeathed-

In broken cups of lusts & lifted veils of sin.

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary

GARDEN OF EDEN

So gracious was the sight of things,

Of every creature and every creation?

God’s addiction to man, made angel wish of such wings,

How strong was man’s fellowship by every bit of emotion?

How beautiful the plants were,

Meekly are the animals that were there,

The lions and lambs all they had they’ll share,

A world you couldn’t have dreamed it’s realities as fantasies,

You couldn’t have seen its pleasures, promises and prophecies,

 The serenity of the ambience,

A land where everything was fruitful hence,

Every weed a wanted seed,

Every thorn a flower,

Every lion a steed,

Young camels even with embedded power,

It was all-round pacific,

Gracious was the creation in its demeanor and physique,

Blessed was the weather,

As a grateful bird was for a feather,

Virgin pure waters flowing as sacred streams,

Watering the aridness of the plants to their brims,                      

Such residence for the gods; it thrills,

A place where the Lord had two meals,

How he taught their hands for pills,  

Making them responsible for the naming of things without a flaw,

How he gave them all, but disciplined them with one small law,

When law came, sin birthed, making sour all sweet moments,

Orchestrated by this pricking and cunning serpent,

Working on her innocence and having her stray,

As naive as her man, he also fell prey,

That one thorn in the midst of flowers,

One sour fruit incapable of intoxicating them to towers,

They grew lust at ray,

By it they were drawn away,

Enticed, sin was conceived & they died,

What use is it if the serpent lied?

The skin is cut, our blood spills; ignore the object that knifed,

Their creator,

Having loved them enough not to hate them to their floor,

 Banished from this eternal life,

Their ignorance knew not about this new strife,

The husband is to labor so hard, labor pains is a lot for the wife,

Now their sinful generation,

The inherent ones with passion,

Aided by advancement,

Exploring at length,

Finding the homes that was theirs before they fell,

Whether they are to dig more if it drowned; I can’t tell,

Out of the cosmos searching for their lost hell,

It’s a paradise and not a shell,

They’ll lose everything,

So far, they have found nothing,

It’s not a place; it’s now a realm,

A realm that lives now in us,

And we also in it; Thus,

No prove of its visibility,

Except for its existence through history.

WRITTEN BY: Nameless Calvary