Black Poetry : A Message From God To A Black Man The Image Of Thy God.


Well-Known Member
Jan 15, 2003
Brooklyn N. Y.
My father I am blind and cannot see.
I have been the lynching of my own family tree.
There are times I question thee.
My weakness of my pain that flowed within my soul.
Surrender your pain to me.
You were only put upon this earth,
to prove your loyalty.
Stand tall I thy God, the image you my son.
Shall never fall weakness to the devils storm.
I have forgiven thee many times, but I shall
turn a deaf ear until you walk as a man.
I have given you the jewels of my trust.
Now you my son shall give back hornor,
You my son the image that I walk.

You are in transformation incubation from the earth,
as you gain your wings.
The pain that you suffer is only a tribute to me.
You are in transformation lean your head upon me.
My son has given his life that you may be free.
I suffered as well.

My creations turned there back on me.
The pain, which you suffer, is the pain as my son.
I am God creator and you are the son.
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.
You have now felt my son’s pain you are as one.

There were no deceptions in my commandments,
which man chooses to change.
The sins have fell upon the children,
son I feel your pain. Rise up my son,
get up of your knees. Only pray to me.
I will take you to the next level.
Once I have baptized your soul,
which you will reach a higher level.

I have never left you my son.
Just awaited your call.
Teach the words of wisdom. Reclaim your stool.
Take a journey with me son,
as I show you the way.
Never close the door on wisdom;
it will only hit you in the face.
Remember God is love, and your rewards,
would be on earth.

Tell the world I love them,
and our communication will become strong.
Teach the children love,
which they will bare great fruits.
Never close out wisdom this is the key to my door.

Love all this is the link,
between the heavens and earth.
Teach the children they will leave,
a legacy of your hopes and dreams.
Self sacrifice and love,
is the key to the Golden Gate.

Cry no more my son your mission is not complete.
I have never forsaken you, I have been right there.
Only the righteous and conscious,
will see the realms of my gate.
There is no validation of the ignorance of man.
Their children will be curse upon the land.
Raise my son and cry no more.

You were the chosen and you hold the key.
You my son was created in my image.
And your body is the church.
Keep it clean an order, I will do the rest.
The paradise, which I prepared for my children,
which they live for idols with no self worth.
I leave you my son in the name of love.
Take the message to my children that God is love.

Copywriter Jacqueline Amos 2002

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