Amidst all this Kanyari talk that almost shook up the church, I had a visionary stream of thought about being real and religious. Enjoy

 

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I’ve been advised to kill a vice,

Haven’t seen a size, of feet that fit my shoes,
Or a mind like mine to synthesis
Thoughts only seen in a sinner’s eyes,
We’ve been raised to fear a long sentence in hell pending, penance,

God bless these sentences that I’m penning.
I’m into God’s words and odd art,
In pursuit of God’s heart,
I search in a church with strong praises,
Some people at the wrong places,
Pastor-ed by Parody Preachers Propelled by Parading the Gospel of Prosperity and Pros at Pirating the scripture,
I’m not just tainting their image I’m Picasso painting the picture,
I’ve fought fate,
I’ve had to forfeit,
A fro like my forefathers for a faith,

Because my name is Denis and I’m a Descend-ant,

In the Denim of a generation gene that ought to be Decent-and,
I’m Dedicated to Decoding the Decadence of this Decade
That would rather wallow inside
Than swallow their pride,
But I’m hopeful like Noah after the flood,
With a swallow in sight,
My word go deep in minds of poets but misunderstood by those of shallow insight,
Because He inspires my thoughts,

Keeps my creativity running louder than a Harley Davidson,
Wise with words yet I’m hardly David’s son.

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