Endlessly adjust

Turned from God we will,
Proudly turn to dust,
Overturn until,
Emptied by our lust,
Driven to distraction,
Redefine disgust,
Alter our attraction,
And endlessly adjust.

All is not illusion

All is not illusion.
A chasm does exist.
Evil is confusion.
God we do resist.
Alive without His love,
Zombies all we are.
When push comes to shove,
Our fall we find how far.

Off the bus

Off the bus, away the talk,
Too commanding, God His Word,
Crippled, broken, hard to walk,
Disabilities preferred.

Only Christ removes the curse,
Terminal our skepticism,
No rest in peace inside the hearse,
On to higher criticism.

Lies pragmatic

Lies pragmatic form the static,

Idle words of pride destroy,

Ricochet our souls erratic

Full outside His just employ.

Too magnified

On our own too magnified

Through his Word objectified

Feelings just vibrate our pride

Safe in Him we must reside

The epithet

We shutter at an epithet

Proud of our humanity

Then take God’s Holy name in vain

Arrogant for all to see

Fallen creatures all are we.

Pride

Until we’re dead our self a crutch,

In love with it beyond too much.

We cringe at the physician’s knife,

Embrace disease that robs our life.