No Bars Left

A Poem by Apollos

Writer’s Block personified.

In a world where we abbreviate our own abbr’s...
I’ve decided to run a PSA that you should pick up a dictionary if you run across one of my words you find ever so contrary...ok?
I even say words that I have no clue what they mean yet somehow fit the context.
Must be the Spirit then so if He resides within you then go ahead and pick up your own pen and see where Y’all will begin...

I’ve attempted to rhyme every syllable till my mind turns sublime.
Cooking up bars so The Chef will be impressed with my complexity.
Hyperbolic in thought as it seems to be the best way to preach about what ought.
Let me beseech you as I teach you in an attempt to reach you.
Not desiring to be like the rest as I tend to rap about the unrest that develops inside my chest.

Professing a Name that operates different then this World’s Game.
Unchanged in my ways as I reflect on society’s attitude towards perfection.
Feeling the dereliction which means the pressure of not going your soul’s direction that The Lord predestined as your election.
I personally call that “Pulling a Jonah.”

So put the phone down.
Take a sip of that Holy Spirit Soda.
Let’s contemplate how we want to make these words go Solar.
Let’s see where the Ghost wants to host this mighty fine bunch of The Lord’s Chosen.

And the funny thing is, this whole rhyme was supposed to be about the times after I write my dimes how I feel I’ll never write again.

Yet here... I am...writing again.

It’s like I was listening to Audible and Coach told me call an audible for the initial Prevent Defense I had put on my mind’s imagination.
A sin infatuation that lead me to volunteer to work at a tobacco plantation.
Even MTV wouldn’t approve of that sanitation as they rather have you vape that cherry, grape, Splenda gestation.

Now I’ve had all this build up on the flow that it seems now it’s time to impact your soul.
Provide a payoff for all this reading I’ve made you toil.
But perhaps this soil has still got some fertilizing that it needs to accept.
Maybe I like it a little too much when I consider myself a Reject.

Oops!
I forgot again that I got that Son injection!
Blind Simon right in his eyes when he thinks Your Will can be bought like a possession!
Legion just a series of demons on his knees pleading to be leading the proceeding amongst the pigs that kept squealing as they deafened all those bleeding...
They fell off a cliff.
Sons of Sciba crying out to act like some Believa’s but turns out they were also possessed by The Decieva!
*Pushes glasses up*
I guess they forgot what my Lord & Savior, Jesus Christ said, that a Kingdom divided against itself will always be in dread....

Ok. Enough fun with the puns.
Enough staring so much at The Son.
Quit acting “as He is so are you in this world.”

If you keep up with the buffoonery then it might be time to check into the Looney Bin with all other men who question the world’s spherical nature.
In a roundabout way you need to be spoken to with a more flattened out speech per say.
Don’t you dare smoke a blunt and say this world is a saucer or a plate.
No more dates for you as who would ever mate with a ciss-gendered male who doesn't believe we evolved from primates?

Oh yeah...this is called No Bars Left.
I’m guess it’s time I accept I’m an “Intolerant Faker” who promotes His Maker as a part-time Baker giving out Bread to all who would partake in His Loving Divine Nature.