Signs and Wonder

People say they never saw the signs
but they weren't listening to the cries
the pleas. 
The begging for reasons and the heartfelt petitions that people stop eating each other. 
Stop devouring the souls of another
Stop wasting lives and breaking souls in the pursuit of orgasm.
The selfishness of mankind has embedded within me an eternal sorrow. 
The craven dominance of the flesh, the mockery in the pursuit of being worshipped as gods. 
It grinds me into dust. 
People say that they never saw the signs,
as they hurry from one triviality to the next 
drunken on the pursuit of avoidance of reality 
How could we have missed this they utter at the shock of one taking their own life 
"Why didn't they speak up" they ask among ears drowned with noise and bickering. 
Maybe it isn't from isolation, but the bombardment of being surrounded with broken sicknesses. 
Wave upon wave of the tides of usury drowning hope and light. 
 How could they have missed this... 
A man of laughter and love, losing his war with life. 

Christian Discourse

There's a war raging from the pulpit to the pew
Swords drawn in hands of a righteous few 
Battles rage against ideals, truth, and deceptions 
Servants of God clash against wolves directions. 

The wounds bled are heavy and deep 
Among those who labor among God's sheep. 
To teach men well to feed their souls
Rather than amass wealth to fill vacant holes. 

Predators fleece the flock and distort sacred texts
Delusions rampant, pride loud, the discerning vexed. 
They sit with bow ties, tweed vests, and apostacy 
Casting reels with non-truth as if to bait me. 

I clash and wage war with unlearned men 
that those with eyes may not follow them 
I study to show where I myself be wrong 
Accepting correction is an isolating song 

Truth in ways blinds you with all who cant see
It will grieve you at the lost, the cost, to be free. 
Churches are many, but stocked with so few men 
That grieve and confess and despise their own sin 

I'm no righteous man, for sin daily pains me in my heart 
As God be true and men liars I labor for light in the dark. 

Breaking Good Men

They want to preserve good men,

But not love them. 

They'll fan their hands over their eyes,

That they might shield them from looking upon their naked promiscuity. 

They'll shroud them in protective wear,

Until they're suffocating. 

They want to preserve good men,

The way a wealthy man might surround himself with expensive things. 

They must convince themselves these men be dull or blind, for why else pray tell would they be. 

These seat themselves among those innocent loves, holding them in a light they refuse to see. 

They want to preserve the good men,

The way they value antiquated artifacts.

They'll smile when they're in the room,

Then whisper behind their backs. 

Confusion clouds them, where chaos flows...

They're breaking good men, for reasons no one knows