Charles Karia

What is the testing crisis of faith?
Is the crisis a mighty fiery desert,
That you feel when you need health,
But your fervent prayers bring it not?
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She swears she didn't start the game,
That the soft of her leg was touched,
She swears she didn't like the game,
Though she never pulled her leg away.
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When a tribal power slyly desires,
To cement unity among the deceived.
He demands animals burnt on fires.
And also libations made of blood.
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You will see if deep you peep,
Clumsy dances of wolves and sheep.
With steps choreographed to maim,
In a sad dance of a deceived team.
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God is the one who doesn't change,
Yet he is always turning a new page,
Now we are in winter, now in spring,
Please discern what the new eon'll bring.
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The day your mother got married.
They danced, sheep were slaughtered
According to your tribes doctrines,
From the deep descended the spirits,
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Sands of the sahara are countless,
So majestic are planets and stars,
The sun is strong in heat and might,
And so bright is the moon at night.
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Have you heard how, people sometimes pray,
With very loud voices, their enemies they slay,
That slippery road, todeception starts thus,
Its the way to confusion, a realmental mess.
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Truly we are a wonder, a people of class.
How can we in this age, allow a tiny mess,
Eliminate all the pleasure, the fantastic fun?
At a modern clinic,so concealed and clean,
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Have you been alone at the mountaintop?
To cry about the ready yet restrained whip,
And hear the lament of God who is now a stranger,
To his own contented and undiscerning messager.
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There are those myopic beings, who are deceived by what,
Only eyes of flesh can see; what the sensesrelate to.
Yet beyond this life, in the other realm there is a way,
So glorious and precious, complete with an eternal bliss.
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Perhaps I should soon in a church stop,
On a Sunday, afternoon just to say hallo.
Listen to the the music, enjoy the holy feel,
In the meantime then,to the good lord say hi.
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On the grapevine, one day while on the go,
From mouths excited, but forgetful thereof,
Miracles I heard, but who is to archive them?
Instead of spreading, the supernatural potpourri,
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As you make me depart, this warm womb spa,
So beautiful I'm made, graceful than my peers.
Young and tiny though, today on this beauty I pray.
One thing I ask about this body, please don't say no;
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Have you been to a church, where a sermon was hot?
Didn't you see the excitement, and how hearts melt,
Vows are made so rash, pledges to give all cash,
Then the day after, after TV and gossip how the faith crash
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Today my naive pal, is the day of judgement,
Heed well my voice, like granite act tough,
Everyone has his price, be content with the bribe,
Don't play the savior,like what Jesus did,
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It is not in vain that your race,
To forever seek my face,
In my presence lives lengthen,
Andall dark fears I dampen.
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There was a time I heard, but now I know,
Of a places of favour where grace freely flow,
This is where guidance oozes from his presence,
Which is zillion times sweeter than grapes.
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Like the rash Abraham in the days of old,
There is a roaring preacher man of today...
He felt a call and saw it could attract gold,
And immediately with fury was on his way.
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God's voice is a knowing, a conviction of his will,
It will come in his word, or when we are still.
In his presence you'll distill, his hearts desire.
And then your doings, will produce his fire
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