Massacre Their Own
©copyright 2004 Bonita M Quesinberry, R.C.
God's sheep stand crestfallen, as the end nears,
men's eyes reflecting contempt for their tears.
Indeed, the sheep cry for the strange and lost,
black and white: each soul a wreck for a cost.
Still, men justify the sex games they play,
while honoring those in moral decay.
Their lives are high drama upon earth's stage;
each race for tin riches won by deep rage,
while wicked drugs numb each perverted mind.
Yet, they seek sweet knowledge they will not find;
for they cannot see through life's illusion
while focusing on graft and collusion.
In hunger's shadow, grace is not a thought;
for currency is their battle well fought.
They venture where God's angels fear to tread;
and call sane, their act of courting Twice Dead.
Count the number of lives they rupture, too,
as they bask in riches gained through God's few.
They drill armies to wrestle down our Lord,
unaware their death is for evermore;
then incite wars to massacre their own.
Never will they be contrite or atone;
for as a dog eats his vomit, they ate:
loving their smooth lies dipped in fellow hate.
Still, God sent a man finer than pure gold,
full of light within and strength for truth sold.
He was born in October as our King,
that peace and freedom in our hearts might ring.
His name is holy, this Christ with a sword
of wisdom spoken in perfect accord.
For man, He hung upon a wooden cross,
shed His cleansing blood for each of those lost;
then, went to prepare a mansion for all,
while His sheep wait for redemption to call.
Christ is the resonance of perfection,
the great depths of God's love and compassion.
God made a holy contract with His Christ,
signed with nails and sealed with blood of great price,
so He could support His in times of pain;
lift them up when the world has gone insane;
always comfort them when things seem too rough,
and reassure each when they think, "Enough!"
Say, "I do," to Christ and His Father's Laws;
that you might be forgiven your past flaws:
by these, one can achieve life forever;
for to burn should be no man's endeavor.
Speak His name, choose Him, then confess your sins.
He will forgive; just don't wait 'til the end.
It won't be long 'til Christ comes for His sheep.
With new bodies and names, they're His to keep.
He will cross our blue skies from east to west,
leaving no trace of His own: just the rest,
who bellow rage but cannot prevent Him.
Behind Him, earthquakes and hail destroy them.
Author notes
Based on the date of writing, this poem might be considered a prewrite; albeit, it was not posted here at A/P. Indeed, we live in earth's end days; and those who are lost are in grave danger, standing near to the fire. Let the truth "snatch you from the fire" to be redeemed.
In a list
A contest entry
- The End Times by Frodofan.
800 points, ended January 13, 8 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Bonnie
I read your comment & though I am not religious I think we all have our freedom & rights to worship as we wish. The far left secular people , not all, but many have decided that they are now their own god. And in the end God help us. -
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And, you are more right than you know, Bob. The far left you speak of are not only the secular, there also are Revelation's Great Whore (Papal Rome) and her Harlot Daughters (Protestantism) who deny their mother yet are linked by a common unbilical cord few wish to acknowledge.
But, contrary to most sect teachings, Truth does not need to enforce itself: it is readily accepted by those called by the Lord the moment they hear or read it.
Indeed, in these end days, God help us all, for that family above will attempt to enforce by threat of death. I say, "Bring it on. I'll stand perfectly still for the shot."
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My Poet
Written like the Rapture to be. The world is in chaos , true, but there are still the good of heart I think. Perhaps the Mayan calendar is true. who knows. Or maybe we need to learn more about the Sepirothic Tree of Life. Well said poet. Your spirit is warm.
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Why, thank you, Bob! Indeed, the world is in utter chaos and, as prophecied, is in rapid decline. But, as you say, there are a few good of heart waiting for God's Truth and they will readily accept it when they hear it.
That's why my spiritual assignment has been to spread God's hard Words in the face of man's easy words meant to destroy. As Paul pointed out, there are those saved by the teaching of God's love, and others saved by teaching the fear of God, literally snatching them from the fire: the latter are hard words.
So, more often than not, I get a lot of flack and labeled the same as Christ. As He said, "What they said of me, they will say of you; and, what they did to me, they will do to you, because they hate me." Praise the Lord, I've been called a liar, a false prophet, said to be doing the devil's work: even when all is scripturally proven. Amazing! The only way to get better than that is for them to kill me; and, time is so short that I won't stay down long.
Lots of love in Christ,
BonnieQ 
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This would have been so much better if written in meter, but not bad. You have certainly taken the part of the judge with this poem.
You had some really neat imagery (the dog eats his vomit). The outcome was dark and angry. Interesting take on the prompt.
Thanks for entering. -
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Thank you for your candid comments, Frodo; although, I'm not sure what you mean by "if written in meter," because it is in a meter 10 throughout. Personally and since the contents are strictly Biblical, few people ever find the outcome dark and angry; rather, they are excited by the prospect of Christ's return to get us out of the utter chaos reigning on this dying planet. The prompt was "End Times" and this poem is God's take on these end days.
Still, thank you for accepting the poem into your contest! I know that judging will be quite a chore, for there are many great poets here at All Poetry.
Love in Christ, BonnieQ
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Syllable count and Meter are different things.
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Humm..Indeed a thoughtful journey is here leading the readers to a truth through the poetic words by a wonderful poet..well said..
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