Faces

I’m a son to my mother
A father to my daughter
A child to my God
A follower to my Lord
A leader to his followers
I am a creation that creates
A gift that gives
A soul that soars through the wind
I am but one man
That has many faces
Trials and tribulations
Of the everyday
Led to the fantasies
Of false realities
Now, I am given the sight to see
What is in store for me
Reality is, He will lead me
My spirit explores the word of He
So that I may spread the Eternal Entity that Be
To the hearts that can not see
To spin agony into harmony
To turn saddened souls back to G O D
Let us bond in faith
And look upon the face of the one that is of grace

D. Thomas
2/20/01

History Repeats

"The Lord must be furious with me and everyone else in Israel and Judah, because our ancestors did not obey the laws written in this book. Go find out what the Lord wants us to do."

2 Chronicles 34: 21

Third Eye

I disect
The dialect
Communication
Keeps the nation
In hallucination

Bloodlines monopolize
While another set of blood ties
Are on the uprise
Generations
Are hypnotized

They both devils in disguise
Think I don’t read between the lines?
They think I don’t see the lies
They act like friends
Really are foes
Talk behind my back
Think I don’t know

But I’m coming back
Like Return of the Jedi
A Knight of Christ
Wise, with a third eye
Strength and might, that of a samurai
Jesus trains me as a magi

Knights, rise up!

D. Thomas
2/11/07

Family Portrait

My seven year old daughter drew this at school the day before my son was born. Now, the thing is, we didn't know if we were having a boy or girl. Isabella, my seven year old, somehow knew it was going to be a boy. This picture is of Isabella holding her new born baby brother, Juney, and her little sister Catherine. It's moments like this that make life beautiful. She's not a bad artist either, I might add. I couldn't draw this good at seven years old.

Life is Good!

She Cries

Confused are her ways
Touch is all she needs
Love is all she desires
Alone she is
Her mind on fire
Torment set in
She sits and talks with herself
For no one else listens
Her soul is screaming
Pleading to be heard
But the voice of, blows in the wind
Falls on deaf ears
All she wants is love
Someone to care for her
Where is my knight
She asks
But shining armor turns to rust
As years pass
Her voice fades
Her soul cries

D. Thomas
2/2/07