Champion Rebirth of a warrior ~ poem

…may the scriptures be the adventure

That you so courageously explore

I know the weight of the burden

That is on top of you

But no obstacle is impossible

Although the enemy would convince you

That success is improbable

But Congratulations

For you are blessed victory is quite literally

already yours He’s just the master of manipulation

He wants to confine your dreams see How he uses exaggeration

Your destined to design dynasties

Called to create civilizations

We were told we are insane

Not for our capacity to cope

But for how we so desperately clung to the

Hope of the believer

We overcame the tragedy and vicious treachery

Of the overseer

And you still want More of a explanation

Of why when our cry’s for justice were made quiet

We lit fires at riots

Like night vigils

Sung Hebrew spirituals as lamentations…

the Gospel~new poem

perhaps the purpose of a poet

is to produce proverbs

articulate how the adversary

can manipulate our iniquity

I beseech the eternal

my belief is a portal I speak as a mortal

but these are the Most High Words

I educate on inspiration

to elevate us into victory

with the wisdom of a griot

the vision of the indigenous

to see how a bitter root can make the tree rot

laying aside all bitterness

giving honor to the HaMessiach

laying to rest all oppressive viciousness

from our captors schemas

because revenge is an inferior vision

listen

I overcame the religion of imperialism

to live out the fullest extent of my dreams

yes, colonialism first sent the missionaries than they sent the ships

epistles preached with censorship

become missiles of deceit that rip through black tissue causing grief

early Christendom was hostile to the black family

with uncanny limitations

if the gospel is humanities liberation

a redemptive plan in this wicked fight

those who have been elected understand that they are selected

to submit to His commands and inject His light

in this dark insanity

purify our heart from vanity

our connections to a concrete faith in which we will never depart

no matter how harsh the calamity

Salvation is the activation of destiny

our inner man being perfected in Christ

the gospel is Zion sent a ruler

the Lion of Judah

perhaps the point of a poet is to realign us to Yahuah

paint lines the ignite our Divine purpose

motivate us to fight in spite of how this life seems to have left us behind in the sewer

it seems like the Israelites is designed to have to climb from manure

His sacrifice gave us answers

as Nazarite we are the branches

the vine is Yahshuah

if we are not producing fruit than we are just conduits of cancer

I come against the curses of my opponents that seek to reduce Thy Word

and make my heart sick with hate and instigate the sin in me

perhaps the purpose of a poet is to produce proverbs

articulate how the adversary would manipulate my iniquity – Eric Haylock “last apostle” 4/8/2019

Jesus-or-Yeshua

The last WORD

I didn’t put more on you than you can bare
If I gave it to you than I made you strong enough to: Carry It

Delete those who aren’t brave enough to embrace their freedom
You don’t need them
This is what truth exposes
I dictated the course of Mosses: Harriet

The sweet taste of honey from the promise land is so real
The land of bondage on your heels: Chariots

I gave you faith to be your courage, because my path is the: Scariest

Don’t get upset with the process

My pronouns pronounced prophecies
I sanctified your temple as my property
I put anointed speech in the priest to teach you how to worship ME properly

I put the breath into the prophets

I ordered your steps

Even your stress is part of the progress.

 

lionpoem

 

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GRIND

GRINDPHOTO

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God will shine even as these hard times stuck close

Im still on the GRIND out here with all these cut throats

all the tears that Im crying because despair wants to crush hope

Im a keep trying in the pit trying to clutch the rope

to get off the block 

The cops they buck for dope

I know about the rock did I tell you how my pops croaked

it was a lot of coke that led to my father’s stroke

I didn’t know each ledge it led to a harder slope

prepared to fold when my peers bled

I know it was God that spoke

when I heard a word from my head that said –

THAT YOU GOTTA COPE

put the lead to the paper until every word you says escaped to the ear of the thug

cuz give love to the hater give praise to the Maker

for the illest words that were never wrote

I can’t control it

It’s

  like my heart exploded

and the blood is at the verge of my throat, and Im a choke if try to hold it…

 

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GRINDPHOTO

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