En.Citatepedia^®.ro

More Stories About the End

You don't understand the future!
So, why should i discuss it with you?
For life is not always the way you do see things around.

The sad thing is,
You always go to Church on Sundays with your Bible;
But you've never opened it to read it yourself!
For, there are more stories about the end written inside it.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I'd usually read the Bible a lot. Read little short Bible stories. And today, whenever I give speeches, I bring up a few of those Bible stories, because those are inspirations to me.

quote by Herschel Walker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Christ Is Only 18 Inches Away

This is something that some people would not believe,
But after they read and accept the Lord then they can understand what they will receive.
It is written in the Bible as follows, but in my words, For God so loved this Earth,

That God gave a son that had the Faith and Love for us from Birth.
For whoever believes in him,
Will not perish, but live with Christ inside of them.
Yes, this is not actually as written in the Bible,
But this for us to decide, and if you understand and choose who they want Christ or Satan it is we who are up for the gamble.

Now if we decide to take the right side and then will abide,
Because they will have Jesus deep down inside.
Deep down inside lies in our heart,
Only, if we knew about this from the start.
With this, we can now think about this in our mind,

Because with this knowledge, we can finally realize why God loved mankind.
God gave us the ability to decide and for us to go either way,
If we think of how far the distance between the Head and Heart then we realize that Christ is only 18 inches away.

poem by Frank Pulver
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Stirk

The end of slavery never ended slavery,
So watch around you and you will understand what i mean;
But the Bible is the most wonderful storybook ever written.

From Ur to Rome and from Nima to the U.S.A.!
And with the narrative issues of the truth from the Hebrews;
So Abraham begot Isaac and Isaac begot Jacob.

The evening and the morning were declared the first day,
So read 'Genesis 1: 5' to understand this muse;
And let true love divide the waters from the waters!

I am called Stirk and i am with the Bible,
But the truth of all things is always around you;
So be very wise always to analyse all things in life.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Church Going

Show me a health
That can context death,
There will be no escape
From age.
We shall all die some day,
And meet judgement day.
That is why we follow Christ,
And sleep while He rise.
In our sleep;
We dine in His house,
As we live in his heart.
Sundays!
Church going steals our day.
We are the Christians
Who worship in Jerusalem.
I was talking with a boy the other day
And to me he says:
Brother Benjamin
Why do we worship him?
And I said: We worship Him
Because there is non above Him
He sits on a throne up above,
And rule over us down below.
I worship him my dear boy;
Because I am Benjamin
And I wouldn't be
If not for Him.
They all go to church on sundays;
Because that is what the bible says,
But this is the only page they obey.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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Hidden From The Masses

The religions of Satan claim that they are teaching you the Bible!
And, they say that the Laws of the Creator are done away with;
because, the majority of the people are now caught up by the webs of entertainment! !
Which is now destroying each person's mind today;
However, the truth is hidden from the masses because,
They fail to learn and understand the ways of life as written in the very Bible they read.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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He Is Caught In Time

(after Mandi Engelbrecht)

The faces around him is a confusing sea
of unknown people for whom he does not care
and he keeps away from pleasure and enjoyment;
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

No beautiful girl catches his eyes
and he is afraid for all of life,
people on the street are strange and silly;
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

One dark night his wife left him,
talked cheerfully about her new lover,
took everything along even the last flower vase,
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God;

she told the whole world that he whores around,
that he peeps at other women,
that he keeps no Godly command,
he does not anymore know his Bible or God;

at the holy church he lost his job
when more and more people heard the gossip story,
he scolds himself that he is very stupid,
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

His whole life is broken into pieces,
around him there is only confusing impressions,
it’s as if all his friends now are mocking him,
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

He locks himself in his inner room
opens for nobody that knocks on the outside,
he finds no other work opportunity,
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

During the night he is single, almost a monk
and he lives from dark moment to moment
is caught in time, feels dirty and rotten;
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

There is another world in his poems,
in memories wandering, searching faces
and dreams of some deliverance are somewhat silly;
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

He plants African marigolds, roses and jasmine;
feels the earth in his hands and too much pain,
he is broken and almost bankrupt;
he does not anymore understand his Bible or God.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Faded Pages

Recently I started retyping
a manuscript of short stories
I had written twenty years ago.
The pages were faded;
too much time being opened to the sun.
As I typed, I smiled
at the things I had written
and the dialogue I had created.
The stories are about a cat
and looking at the world
through his eyes and thoughts.
I had even created him a language
that I had to write a glossary
at the back of the book to explain
what some of the phrases meant.
There is a vast array of characters
and most have a funny turn.
I also remember what prompted me
to write the stories long ago.
My original intention was to write
one story and one story only,
but a friend of mine at the time
persuaded me to write another and another.
Before long, a volume was finished
with enough stories to start another.
From a one off story I have written over sixty now
about the cat and all his friends.
Now as I flick through these faded pages,
which I haven’t read in years,
I find myself being reunited
with many long lost friends.

26 January 2009

poem by David Harris
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The Holy Bible

The Bible has the keys to heaven’s gates!
The living God (One most High) speaks, it states;
Its stories are real including dates;
The God of love and goodness, sin, He hates.

The bible tells the ways, Christians should live;
First place to soul’s upliftment, man must give;
The more we read, the more wisdom we get;
The ‘blind and deaf’ will one day much regret.

The Bible speaks of many mysteries;
Old Testament is full of histories;
“Every word will come true, ” the Lord, God says.
The man is saved who well repents and prays!

All men must read the bible’s every page;
When life is lived by it, you turn a sage;
The gospel tells of Jesus Christ’s message;
For men who live in sins, hell is the wage!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-7-2006

poem by John Celes
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Burn

This world rejects me
This world threw me away
This world never gave me a chance
This worlds gonna have to pay
I dont believe in your institutions
I did what you wanted me to
Like cancer in the system
Ive got a little suprise for you
Something inside of me has opened up its eyes
Why did you put it there did you not realize
This thing inside of me it screams the loudest sound
Sometimes I think I could
Burn
I look down there where youre standing
Flock of sheep out on display
Saw your lives burned up around you
I can take it all away
Something inside of me has opened up its eyes
Why did you put it there did you not realize
This thing inside of me it screams the loudest sound
Sometimes I think I could
Im gonna burn this whole world down
I never was a part of you burn
I am the agent I never was a part of you burn
I am corruption I never was a part of you burn
I am the angel I never was a part of you burn
Of your destruction I never was a part of you burn
I am subversion I never was a part of you burn
Secret desire I never was a part of you burn
I am your future I never was a part of you burn
Swallow down all that fire
Written and performed by:trent reznor

song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Friend

i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,

i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests

and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence

as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)

there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,

please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:

write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Woman And Poetry

writing poems together

with that woman is so much fun

i write mine, (i am much better than that woman)

i ask her to read my poems she obliges with her spectacles

as she opens her mouth to syllabicate

i gulp some saliva to my mouth

this woman is terrible

she makes me giggle

i have her word for word i have her metaphor per metaphor

there is no time to discuss

i like her to undress this time

i'll take the magic of her word

this time i will open my mouth

this time i will read all of her

i will not discuss i will not understand

i will just feel these metaphors

this mouth this tongue this body

this most important poetry

this love this lust this moment

after we have written

our poems together.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I remember when
some Sundays were spent in bed,
getting to know each
other's bodies, to please,
now, Sundays, we go to church

tanka by Abigail Greene from Fire Pearls: Short Masterpieces of the Human Heart (2006)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Bible Verse

I asked the child why did she curse
Her answer was, she knew not a Bible verse
She never went to church or knew how to say a prayer
So all that she knew, was how to curse and swear,
I was told that her mother had taught her well
But never taught her about heaven or even hell
And all that she knew is from what she had read
While listening to the words that her mother had said.

I asked the child why did she lie
Her response to me, it is better than to cry
As things got bad and then they turned worse
That's all that she knew, and she knew not a Bible verse,
Her mother had told her the things not to do
But then they differed from other's points of view
And all the child knew was from what she had seen
As she watched her mother, which was unforeseen.

I asked the child why did she steal
Taking from others for a terrible ordeal
She answered me, as she placed the goods in her purse
'It is the way that I am', and I know not of a Bible verse
Someday soon I will probably smoke and drink
Spoke the child to me as she began to think
But then am I not the girl that my mother did raise
And every day to my mother, I give her praise.

I asked the child why did she fight
She then said to me, it's better than being polite
Her mother's honor again she had to defend
And fighting is all that she could comprehend
So the child then wiped the pain off of her face
As she slowly walked away in sadness and disgrace
The last thing she said to me as we did converse
She said, I truly wish that I knew a Bible verse.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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Besides

When I look inside the lines
When I look beside the black and white
You put my world in color
You’ve painted me a picture of my life
With laughs, and love, and you
When I look inside your eyes
I feel your pain
I feel your love
I see my future with you

When I look beyond the sea
When I look inside the dunes
You make me fly, high above the water
You’ve opened up a passage of my life
With tears, and pain, and you
When I look inside the sea
I see how deep you are
I see the waves of your past
I see my future with you

When I look up in the skies
When I see through the clouds
I soar beyond all belief into the heavens and above
You’ve given me faith and hope for all the world
When I look to the stars
I see your faith
I see your dreams
I see my future with you

When I look at you
When I see your soul
We become one
You’ve given my life the colors, the passage, and the faith and hope I need
When I look to you
I have no more fears
I have no more troubles
And I see my future with you for now and forever

poem by Isabella Epona
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Never say, Never again

Never
Say never again
If you ever say, never again
You shall never be able to
Say never again
Even when you want to
Say never again
So say if not now
Than may be
Sometime later
But never say, never again
If you can’t understand
What I have written
Then read again
But for god sake
Do not say
Never again
You shall read anything
On never again
And please do not ask
Why I have written?
So much on never again
The answer is very simple
So that you read it
Again and again
And than say
Oh! my god
Never again

poem by Nirantar Dr.Rajendra Tela
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What Does the Bible Tell?

The Bible speaks about the love of God
That’s infinite and unfathomable;
The Bible talks of love of man for God,
Their obeisance and faith amidst great strife.

The Bible tells of stories of persons
Who chose the path of righteousness to vice;
The Bible narrates accounts of men
And women who stood steadfast in faith amidst trials.

The Bible depicts how God tests man’s love
And obedience to Will of Providence;
The Bible reveals all secrets of life
That’s everlasting and all heavenly.

The Bible lists the sins that are mortal,
Abominable and hated by God;
The Bible shows the path of righteousness
That leads all souls to the Abode of God.

The Bible hints how God can punish as well
And send all evil-hearted down to hell;
The Bible has the Words of the Maker
That will come true when earth and sun shall end!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-24-2009

poem by John Celes
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The altar

What use is a church,
what use are religious people to me,
when the love of Christ,
I do not in them and in it see
and when they act like religious fanatics
as if they are here to be judge and jury
and have all the facts?

Even going so far in writing,
to dare me to act with destruction,
when it lies in my hands?

And I refrain from that kind of thing,
scared that somehow, some of their members,
are sincere followers of Jesus Christ,
whom I may also harm.

I take the Bible as the book, the only one
which spells out the gospel of my life,
gives explanations of the beyond
and shows the things to come
and every day in humility
I stand on my knees,
trying to make my heart
the altar of my own church.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Some Stories

some stories
about ourselves
are also the stories of
themselves
and then we write
these stories and
pretend that these are
but some short stories
from our mind

now in different names
and places
we read them and then
we wish that some of
these short stories
are not true at all

sometimes for those
we want to be
we want to believe
them to be true

wishes and hopes and
regrets, what if? what if i
chose that rather than this?

we poets write about pain
and joys and we tell sometimes
that we only fake them

deep inside we are silent
we prefer just to be left alone

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Legacy

My great aunt bequeathed me her wardrobe;
hand carved and made from oak.
It matched the chest of drawers my mother had,
which my ancestors had made bespoke.

We washed, cleaned, and wax polished it,
and placed it where our old one used to be.
It had a distinctive smell of moth balls,
but we were overwhelmed by its history.

My great aunt believed it to be sixteenth century,
and was built especially for the church.
Any further information that we could glean
would be well worthwhile search.

After the smell had gone I filled it with my clothes,
but then it began to smell of church incense.
It wasn’t bad enough to make the clothes smell,
but why it did, made no sense.

A few weeks later whilst I was sleeping
the sound of church bells woke me up.
This was most unusual for the time of night,
so I opened the window to take a look.

By the time I’d looked out of the window
the bells had stopped, so I got into bed.
I had no trouble getting back off to sleep,
and the bells went out of my head.

The next night the same thing happened,
the church bells rang out loud and clear.
This time I realised they weren’t outside,
they were somewhere else quite near.

The ringing was coming from the wardrobe,
so nervously I slowly opened the door.
I sort of expected to see a portal to a church,
but there was only the clothes I wore.

The bells became a common occurrence,
so much so, they didn’t wake me up,
but when I began to hear an organ playing,
my wife and I, had to take a look.

Again there was nothing out of place
except for the music which continued to play.
We couldn’t understand what was happening,
and this was happening everyday.

No harm was coming from the wardrobe,
so I accepted our unusual legacy.
I didn’t discuss it to the family, or anyone,
in the fear of them laughing at me.

Throughout the weeks the sounds became varied,
singing choirs of a gone by age.
Church services spoken entirely in Latin,
and sermons delivered with rage.

Weddings, Christenings, Funerals, and Communions,
and every Christian festival and feast.
This was without doubt an insight of the past,
but now it was affecting our sleep.

One night when a service had ended,
the wardrobe began to shake on the floor.
Noises of movement came from within,
and suddenly there opened a door.

I jumped out of bed rather quickly
and had a look around inside.
Cassocks were hanging upon the rail,
and my clothes had been cast aside.

This situation had now become intolerable,
something had to be done without delay.
I dismantling the whole of the wardrobe,
and burned it the very next day.

I never saw my missing clothes again,
and when my family asked about my legacy,
I told them everything about the wardrobe,
and how it grew into a frightening mystery.

Now that I’m able to talk and write about it,
some people smile, and don’t believe a thing.
But if they care to spend a night in my bedroom,
they will still hear the church bells ring!

poem by Orlando Belo
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oh yes, Mr. Shaun, the Bible was not written in English

The Gospel of Christ and, in general,
the Holy Bible are written with the inspiration of God.
The Prophets and the Apostles
have recorded in written form
a portion of the oral teaching of the Old Testament

in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.
in Hebrew and Aramaic as well as the New Testament in Greek.

These are the original languages of the Holy Bible from' which all the translations have been derived. God's inspiration is confined to the original languages and utterances, not the many translations. There are 1,300 languages and dialects into which the Holy Bible, in its entirety or in portions, has been

translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated. translated.

This does not mean that the translations do not convey the meaning of the Bible for spiritual uprightness of the readers in their own language. On the contrary the Bible should be spread and preached to 'all nations'. The missionaries in foreign lands learn the language or the dialect of. the new area into which they bring the Bible and other religious teachings. For example, the missionaries from Constantinople, Saints Cyril and Methodios, sent to Christianize the Slavic peoples in the 9th century, first translated the Bible and the ritual books into the language of the people.

yes, Mr. Shaun, my friend the Bible was not written in English.IT was written in HEBREW, ARAMAIC, and GREEK....

But i like it written in English too, how i wish it were written in such a
language,
with a sense of class
and fashionable disguise,

for without it, how could i ever understand, God,

oh, my, God!

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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