TIME TRAVEL

Was ever mute watched paper turn to glass.
Communists shifted to the socialite's class.
They have disregarded and forgotten the past.
To our faces they blow gold dust.

A child opened the faucet of hope.
Cultured water took ages as if pumped from the bottom of a slope.
Gurgling and coughing at last! The water came.
Wooden bucket now a steel sink drains away virtues washed off the mans face,lost during the Waiting Game!

It's now,this era,this generation and in this journey that they shall see it fall.
For most,the timeless it will be the omega tribunal.
As for the chosen,whom in dreams manipulate time's logic,shall find normalcy.
Eternal destination of mankind surely is no fallacy.

By M.O.O aka the clocked soul

MILD EGYPT

I hear of pyramids,never seen one in person,but read about them in religion and seen some in films.
Never would my imagination touch the underlying purpose for their existence,at least reality has done that for me.

In every century a disease,virus or plague of some kind hits a village,town or country.
Demise wreaks.

Relative judgement of time and circumstance.

The not so civil world is equally,socioeconomic and politically turmoiled as,City of The Nile.
Tempted to close my file,
I illustrate...age long poxes and viral infections,check.
The tilt above constant in the balance of nature,water and light.
Care free attitude and demeaning of humanity thus infringing of rights,tick.

It makes sense now.
The prophecies are extenuated,all must come to pass.

Only then shall the dynamic world of extremist cease to exist.

Restoration of Divine Light beckons.

M.O.O aka unknown chronicle

under the SUN

Glebe,globe,earth or world name it.
Good,best,bad then worst frame it.
Truth,lie,unknown some mystery,shadow it.
All under one source,heat it.

Them that say truth,preach good,and make the world a better place do so in the light.
Angels rejoice when mankind returns to the Lord in the heat of the day.
True love thrives at the stroke of the morning sun,as rayed ringed bonds shine upon witnesses.

But,then the witnesses engage in slander,wrong,evil and demonic acts.
As the sun withdraws to illuminate the other half of the continent.

Marvel,ponder and decipher why the Creator made it that way?

Then look as the ungodly,tussle and violate peace in the white day.

I find time,time less,meaning, meaning less.

When i watch them worship the moon.

Beguiling them to respect the dark,love pain and embrace fear.

Sun-glosses at the hemisphere.
The atmosphere welcomes the resurrected Son.

He that dwelleth above the sun.

M.O.O aka shadow of light.

THEY ARE

I'm not there yet,the welkin hasn't shone an aureole above me yet.
I do not fret,since they already are,who they were born to be.
I'm holding back my voice,as their echo bursts through the valley of silence.

Now a dance of truth.

Pictures of young innocent new born,
On net-sites remind me of the wrathful horns.
Has one,signifying deformity,that toucheth the hearts' of steel minds,been blown?
Tears surround joy,i so curse the existence of artificial clowns.
Sadly twirl,drown in sympathy and pain when i impersonate these young souls.
The price of change in age and people,my spirit cries foul.Spasms of fear in the unknown grips me.

For the elite,born in perfection and meta-morph in wealth.
To later rule the disabled dwelling in arcane ill health.

I plead,stop the bleeding join the poor in prayer,call unto God to save us.
Those that are and shall be.

By M.O.O. aka C.E

My genesis and revelation.

ALL THAT’S BEHIND ME IS POETRY,

AHEAD OF ME A LONG STORY,

TO MY RIGHT A LOVELY COMEDY,   

TO THE LEFT A HORRIFIC TRAGEDY.

ABOVE ME THE GREATEST AUTHOR.

BELOW ME THE WORST EDITOR.

By Moses evol.

REVELATIONS

Unto me, world, revealed

Say then, everything is re-lived

Much unearthed, the natural

Plenty hidden, the artificial

Both, when time looses

Simultaneously are the verses

Child out of unknown curiosity

Moves a rock, from point of gravity

Daunting task it seems or sounds

To it docile is the ground

Just to consider somewhat forgotten

Creation, soiled away from men

Swipe off the dust

Out that ancient chest

Unlock turnover papery archives

Learn, gone days of our lives

Words or joined letters?

Secrets they tell us

Uncover, what we all know

Tell me about, unattended shows

What happened to them?

Did they reach hell or heaven?

To us, that seal, divinely concealed

Events that shall be revealed                                                                                                                     

BY M.O.O`

IN TROUBLE

Speaking sometimes treason

Seeing unauthorized plans

Walking without reason

Touching prohibited palms

Hearing illegal speeches

Tasting forbidden dishes

All that would, project trouble

And destroy all this

When I trespass

Verbally offend

Who do I turn to?

When I lust

Destroy his creation

Must I seek his remake?

Troubles calling, coming, to avoid

Humbly turn to Him

BY M.O.O

VIOLENT WORLD

They hit and mocked him,

Sinner’s faces were grim.

This is today’s world,

Modern, in the end a word,

Death,

Earth,

Seemingly reborn to violence,

His death was a second chance.

Redemption,

Fear,

Kidnappings, day- light.

Robberies, dark's might.

Armory attacks at dusk.

Strikes destruction, laborers’ task

The space I live in,

Soon we will be leaving.

For I can’t take the viol-net.

Sounds that pluck peace and dent

My future anymore.

Out and far, gone, to explore.

By M.O.O

FORGIVE US

The world is at peak-sin,plastic to skin.
Morality has been skinned,left bare by immoral music and gin.
The good exist in flints,doing the positive after artificial suffer-some sprints.

The last hope of leadership has been dissolved,then drained by cultist groves.
That openly hide reality,by selling souls periodically.

Watch how they wage war,the unrest,as they laugh by the bar.
They go as far as by the false altar turning water to tar.
Make us drink filth, and preach of an unseen rebirth.

Man impersonates evil and advocates injustice to the maximum,
symbols of love and good watch and act dumb.

Forgive them both,the doers of the prince of the world's word.
Have mercy upon the listeners to the voice of He who wields the double edged sword.

By M.O.O aka the seeker of redemption.

i

i'm small.
May have grown tall,
to Him am still small.
So i write I as i,
for my presence in the world,
Is as the absence of dark in the light.

It's never a grammatical error,
Just acknowledging am prone to err.
Insignificant in the universe,
Yet notable when i write a verse.

i'm never gascon about my gift,
If i were my message would shift,
From intention to detention,
By critics from the artistic nation.

i exist for one reason,
To praise He who sent His Begotten Son.
The only one who is Who He Is.
The ultimate start, superior most Genesis.

By i. . moses. Aka c.e

...ISM's of LIFE

Science explains prisms. History spreads Darwinism.
Religion defines schism. Believers seek baptism.
World practices racism. Human rights' activism.

Leaders structure tribalism. Rebels begin anarchism.
Extremists attempt revolutionism. Conceptualists hinder altruism.
Patriots uphold communism. Nepotists trickle capitalism.

Atheists propagate terrorism. Victims sight cultism.
Spread of apocalyptism. Confirmation of satanism.

Rescind from materialism. Seek Holy spiritualism.

By M.O.O aka the pinnacle of poet-ism

VANISHING POINT

We know nothing...
We only strive to comprehend the vast dense universe,out of curiosity of what lives past that.
Trust me man shall never explore beyond what was before him,
Not until he acknowledges that the spiritual exceeds the physical.
Not before he seeks the knowledge of the Creator of time.
Never shall man see what he must not see before detaching from his body.
Not unless he while alive is chosen to visit heaven only to return to spread the Gospel.

The mysteries of the supernatural are eternally existent.
It's a Holistic Spirit that rises above earth,spreads across our galaxy,permeates the unreachable ones,omegaly pours out into the unknown edge of the universe.

That's the transcended vanishing point that we can't conceive.

By M.O.O the decimal of appearance

TIME

The inventor Himself is timeless.
Alpha and Omega they call him.

I'm that second within a minute.
In sixty words i hope to travel through your dreams.

By the minute as the beat ticks i resolve to make that longer,in sixty subtle ways.
Wishful thoughts of hours,as harped music plays.

I project into the future and see what HE already knows.
Meet the divinely chosen leaders in garments white as snow.

Catapult into the future beyond the first,to view a changed world.
Live amongst nations and men who are true to their words.

Peak into that distant Holy City that lurks in a dimension untouched by dayor night.
My wrists then submit to cuffs hallowed by the purity of light.

The past would matter no more to me.
Let the sickening present be.

Interfere not with the Omnipresent Clock.

By M.O.O aka the chronometer of hope