Jesus Christ within
is our glory
and hope filled
holy redemptive shine!
Jesus Christ Within by Debbie Harris
15 Monday Jun 2026
Posted in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational
Category Archives: Christian Poetry
The Unquenchable Inner Dawn – Jesus Christ Within, Our Glory and Hope-Filled Holy Redemptive Shine by Debbie Harris
15 Monday Jun 2026
Tags
Christ Centered Devotionals, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, theology
Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)
Dear Reader,
If these words have found their way to you, please know they were born from a heart overflowing with wonder. The phrase “Jesus Christ within is our glory and hope filled holy redemptive shine” arrived like a sudden shaft of light, and all I did was stand still long enough for the poem to pour through.
This is not polished verse written for applause. It is a quiet testimony: the same risen Christ who walked dusty roads two thousand years ago now makes His home inside ordinary people like you and me. He is not distant. He is the inner sunrise, the living flame, the hope that refuses to stay buried.
Whenever life feels heavy or the night too long, may these lines remind you to look inward. There, where no eye but faith can see, shines the glory of God in human clay. Carry it gently. Let it leak through your words, your hands, your quiet faithfulness. The world is desperate for this redemptive shine.
Thank you for reading.
May Christ in you grow brighter with every breath.
With grace and wonder,
The Poet
Jesus Christ within
is our glory and hope-filled holy redemptive shine—
a living flame no night can bind,
a sunrise kindled in the marrow of the soul.
He walks the hidden halls of bone and breath,
turns shadowed chambers into cathedrals bright,
makes every heartbeat a cathedral bell
ringing resurrection into the ordinary day.
When sorrow presses like a stone,
He is the crack of light that splits the tomb;
when fear coils cold around the heart,
He is the blaze that melts the chains to gold.
O holy shine, O inner Star of stars,
You dwell where no eye but faith can see—
yet every kindness, every quiet grace,
leaks Your glory through our fragile clay.
We carry You like lanterns in our lungs,
like dawn tucked beneath the ribs,
and wherever weary feet still walk this earth,
the redemptive shine goes forth.
Christ in us—
the hope, the glory, the unending dawn.
Let the whole world feel the warmth.
✨ Amen.
The Marks of the Deceiver: A Lamentation Upon Those Who Encourage Sin, Court Gold, and Bend the Scriptures to the Spirit of the Age by Debbie Harris
14 Sunday Jun 2026
Posted in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational
To the Reader
Dear Reader, beloved pilgrim journeying through this vale of tears,
In these latter days, when the very foundations of truth tremble beneath the weight of smooth deception, a clear and faithful voice arose upon the public square. It lifted a prophetic standard, not in the language of scholarly treatises or ornate rhetoric, but in plain, urgent speech drawn straight from the wells of Scripture. It set forth the unmistakable marks of the false teacher: those who no longer confront sin with holy severity, but who instead encourage it with gentle affirmation; who banish all mention of Hell’s righteous judgment; who crave the glittering praise of men and the comforts of worldly wealth; and who, with practiced cunning, twist the eternal words of God to harmonize with the ever-shifting spirit of this present evil age.
I have taken this timely warning—simple, biblical, and unadorned—and clothed it in the enduring garments of classical verse. Not to embellish or obscure the truth, but to engrave it more deeply upon the heart, that it might abide when the scroll of the screen has faded and the noise of the hour has passed. Poetry, rightly used, is a lantern in the darkness and a sword in the hand of the watchful. May these lines serve as both.
Read slowly. Read prayerfully. Let the words test the spirits, as the Apostle commanded. Examine every teacher, every doctrine, every pleasing sentiment by the unchanging light of Holy Scripture. For the enemy of souls has never been more subtle, nor his ministers more adorned in the robes of light. Yet the true Shepherd still calls His sheep by name, and His voice remains the same yesterday, today, and forever.
Cling to the old paths. Hold fast the faith once delivered to the saints. And may the God of all grace grant you discernment, courage, and unwavering fidelity in this darkening hour.
Matthew 7:15
Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.
2 Timothy 4:3-4
For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away their ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables.
2 Peter 2:1-3
But there were false prophets also among the people, even as there shall be false teachers among you, who privily shall bring in damnable heresies, even denying the Lord that bought them, and bring upon themselves swift destruction. And many shall follow their pernicious ways; by reason of whom the way of truth shall be evil spoken of. And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you: whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not.
1 Timothy 6:5 — “…supposing that gain is godliness: from such withdraw thyself.
Jude 1:4 — For there are certain men crept in unawares, who were before of old ordained to this condemnation, ungodly men, turning the grace of our God into lasciviousness, and denying the only Lord God, and our Lord Jesus Christ.
In shadowed halls where once the Gospel rang
With thunderous truth and purifying fire,
Now soft-tongued serpents weave a silken song,
And call their honeyed lies celestial choir.
They shun the blade that severs soul from sin,
Nor speak of Hell’s unquenchable abyss;
Lest trembling hearts should turn from pleasure’s din
And seek the narrow path of righteousness.
Their eyes gleam bright with gold and mortal praise,
They court the crowd and court the critic’s nod;
While heaven’s treasures gather dust and rust,
They heap their barns with fleeting, earthly laud.
The sacred Scroll they twist with cunning art,
To suit the age’s ever-changing whim;
Where Scripture stands austere and set apart,
They bend its spine to make it mirror sin.
O pilgrim soul, by grace with eyes made clear,
Flee these false shepherds clothed in wolves’ array!
Cling to the plain and ancient Word sincere,
That burns like beacon through the darkening day.
Let no man’s charm, nor crowd’s approving roar,
Nor glittering gain seduce thy steadfast feet;
The Shepherd true hath spoken long before—
His voice alone shall guide thee through the deceit.
Thus stands the test: by fruit the tree is known,
By doctrine pure or doctrine overthrown.
Hold fast the faith once delivered to the saints,
Till Christ in glory claims His own.
You Err, Not Knowing the Scriptures”by Debbie Harris
13 Saturday Jun 2026
Posted in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational
A Letter from the Poet
Dear Reader,
I’m writing to you with a gentle heart. Even though you have read the Scriptures cover to cover many times—and that is truly wonderful—I still sense the same gentle warning Jesus gave: we can sometimes err because we do not fully know them in the deep, living way that opens our hearts to the power of God.
Life moves fast. We chase the latest trends and glowing screens, and even a well-read Bible can quietly collect a little dust on the shelf of daily life. The Sadducees knew the Torah well, yet Jesus told them they had missed its heart. They brought Him their clever question about the widow and her seven husbands, doubting resurrection. With kindness He answered from the burning bush: “I am the God of Abraham… I am the God of the living.” They knew the words, but not the living power behind them.
We do this too. Even after many readings, we can become half-hearted in our listening—quick to quote in debates, quicker to judge, slower to let the Word heal and restore us. Biblical knowledge is a treasure, yet without fresh dependence on the Spirit, it can stay head-knowledge instead of heart-transformation.
But here is the beautiful invitation: God’s mercy is still wide open. The same resurrection power that raised Jesus longs to breathe fresh life into every part of you and me—today, not just yesterday.
So, dear friend, if this resonates even a little, hear it as a loving nudge rather than correction. Come back to the Living Word again, not as something you’ve already finished, but as a place to meet the living God once more. Read it slowly. Let it surprise you again. There you will rediscover His power and the joy of life restored.
You are deeply loved, and the Lord is always glad when we return to Him with open hearts.
With warmth and care,
The Poet
Matthew 22:29
• KJV: Jesus answered and said unto them, Ye do err, not knowing the scriptures, nor the power of God.
• NIV: Jesus replied, “You are in error because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God.”
• ESV: But Jesus answered them, “You are wrong, because you know neither the Scriptures nor the power of God.”
• AMP: But Jesus replied to them, “You are all wrong because you know neither the Scriptures [which teach the resurrection] nor the power of God [for He is able to raise the dead].”
You err because you barely know the Scriptures,
You’ve never truly read them, end to end.
You chase the latest trends and glowing screens,
While ancient truth lies dusty on the shelf.
The Sadducees once mocked the hope of rising,
They asked about a widow and her seven husbands.
Jesus answered from the bush still blazing:
“I am the God of Abraham—I am the God of the living.”
We do the same: biblically illiterate,
Half-read, we twist the text to win our fights.
We quote to wound, not knowing how to heal,
Yet mercy waits where death itself takes flight.
Turn back, my friend—open the Living Word.
There stands the power of God, and life restored.
The Root and the Tool: When the Love of Money Becomes Anathema but Money Itself Remains a Faithful Servant by Debbie Harris
12 Friday Jun 2026
Posted in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ, Holy Bible, Inspirational
Poet’s Note
Dear Reader,
This poem was born from a deep ache I could no longer silence.
We live in an age where the Church is too often measured by budgets, buildings, and bank accounts rather than by brokenness before God and hunger for His Word. The tragic deception is real: too many have grown more fluent in the language of “seed and harvest” than in the piercing truths of Scripture. The very pages that gleam with divine gold and silver are left unread while earthly gold and silver command the altar.
I do not write to curse prosperity or honest gain — those can be beautiful gifts when held with open hands. I write to expose the quiet idolatry that creeps in when the sound of money becomes sweeter than the voice of the Holy Spirit. When Mammon is welcomed into the sanctuary, the Cross is quietly moved to the side.
My earnest prayer is that these lines would awaken a holy discontent — a longing to treasure the Bible above every financial promise, and to love Christ more than any blessing He gives. May the refining fire burn away every false gospel, and may Scripture once again become the loudest voice in the house of God.
With trembling hands and a watchful heart,
The Poet
Money itself bears no stain of the curse;
It’s servant and tool, like the ox or the plow.
It feeds hungry thousands, it builds up the Church,
It clothes naked orphans and waters the brow.
Prosperity flows from obedient hands—
A river of blessing when channeled aright.
The temple was gilded by generous plans;
The poor were remembered in tithes and delight.
But love of this money—the clutching, the lust—
This root of all evils that strangles the soul,
This anathema poison that turns gold to dust
And trades living water for glittering coal.
It hardens the heart till compassion runs dry,
It whispers sweet lies in prosperity’s name,
It crowns self as savior while Jesus stands by
And watches the rich fool forget his own name.
Christ flipped the tables on profit and greed,
Yet dined with the wealthy and let them provide.
He warned of the danger, yet never decreed
That honest abundance itself must be denied.
So let money serve freely where justice demands—
A faithful envoy of the Father above.
But guard well the altar: no idol may stand
Where the love of the Lord burns hotter than love
Of silver or gold or the treasures of earth.
Choose now whom you serve. Let the Bible rehearse:
God first. Then the coin as His humble envoy—
Never the master. Never the curse.
The Tragic Deception: When Christendom Loves Gold More Than the Gold-Filled Pages of Scripture by Debbie Harris
12 Friday Jun 2026
The Tragic Deception
(The Church and the Golden Idol)
1 Timothy 6:10 (KJV)
For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows.
Poet’s Note
Dear Reader,
I wrote this poem with a heavy heart and a burning spirit.
In a world drowning in prosperity sermons and golden cathedrals, it grieves me to see Christendom often loving the sound of coins more than the living fire sealed within the gold- and silver-filled pages of Scripture. Money is not evil — it is a tool, a servant, a means to bless and build. But when the love of it slips quietly onto the throne of the heart, it becomes the most ancient and subtle idolatry: Mammon in the sanctuary.
This is not a condemnation of honest wealth or faithful stewardship. It is a lament and a warning. The Church was never meant to compete with the marketplace; she was called to confront it with truth, purity, and sacrificial love. When the rattle of riches grows louder than the voice of the Spirit, tragedy follows.
My prayer is that these words stir you — not to shame, but to holy jealousy for the Word of God above all else. May we return together to the refining fire. May Scripture once again be our greatest treasure.
With urgency and affection,
The Poet
Matthew 6:24 (KJV)
No man can serve two masters: for either he will hate the one, and love the other; or else he will hold to the one, and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon
If Christendom bows to the chime of cold gold,
To silver’s soft rustle, to currency’s call,
More than the Scriptures where treasures untold
Lie layered like fire in refining’s pure hall—
Then tragedy reigns in this demonic deceit,
Where shepherds grow fat while the sheep starve for bread,
Where marble cathedrals and ledgers compete
With the voice of the Spirit long silenced and dead.
The gold-filled pages lie dusty and dim,
While vaults overflow and the pulpit grows tame.
They preach “abundance” but crucify Him
Who warned that a rich man can die in his shame.
O Church, wake and tremble! This lie is your snare—
A glittering noose wrapped in “blessing” and “seed.”
The Cross is not commerce; the Kingdom not fair
When Mammon is master and Jesus recedes.
Return to the furnace where truth is assayed,
Where money is vapor and Scripture is flame.
Let love of the Word be your only parade—
Not the rattle of riches, the curse of ill gain.
The Triumph of the Most High: Encouragement for Believers When the Wicked Spring Forth as Grass – Psalm 92:5-9 in Classical Heroic Verse by Debbie Harris
12 Friday Jun 2026
Tags
Biblical Truth, Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, Royally Redeemed, Spiritual Warfare
A Note from the Poet
Dear Believer,
When evil seems to flourish all around us—when the wicked rise like unchecked grass and the workers of iniquity appear unstoppable—take heart. The Lord sees it clearly and declares with divine finality: “Nope.” Their moment is brief, their root already severed beneath His sovereign hand.
This is the triumphant heart of Psalm 92: the temporary bloom of wickedness contrasted with the everlasting exaltation of our God. Read these lines when discouragement presses in. Speak them aloud. Let them remind you that justice is not delayed forever—evil will be cut down, scattered like chaff, and overthrown, while the Lord reigns on high, forevermore.
You are not alone in the fight. The same God who cuts down the proud upholds the righteous. Stand firm, believer—your King has already spoken.
With courage and hope,
The Poet
(A Classical Rhyme Poem – For Believers)
Psalm 92:5-9 (KJV)
O LORD, how great are thy works!and thy thoughts are very deep. A brutish man knoweth not; neither doth a fool understand this. When the wicked spring as the grass,and when all the workers of iniquity do flourish; it is that they shall be destroyed for ever: But thou, LORD, art most high for evermore. For, lo, thine enemies, O LORD, for, lo, thine enemies shall perish;all the workers of iniquity shall be scattered.
O Lord, how great Thy works in glory blaze!
Thy thoughts profound outshine the sun’s own rays.
The brutish heart no sacred wonder knows,
Nor fool discerns where Thy deep wisdom flows.
When evil seems to flourish all around,
And wicked men spring forth as grass unbound,
When workers of iniquity take wing
In fleeting bloom and boast they cannot fall—
Take heart, believer! Hear the sovereign call:
God sees it all and thunders, “Nope!”—their root
Is cut beneath His hand, their doom assured.
But Thou, O Lord, art high forevermore,
Exalted far above all time’s short shore.
Lo, Thine enemies, O God, shall fall and fade;
Thine enemies shall perish, unarrayed.
All who work iniquity take flight,
Scattered like chaff before the whirlwind’s might.
Thy throne stands firm, Thy justice reigns alone—
While evil’s pride is swiftly overthrown.
Stand fast, believer: though the darkness swell,
The Lord has spoken—evil shall not prevail.
The Laodicean Heart: Rejecting the Love of Money, the Demonic Prosperity Gospel, and Returning to First Love by Debbie Harris
10 Wednesday Jun 2026
Tags
Christian Poetry, Inpirational, Inspirational, Spiritual Warfare, Taking A Biblical Stand Against Evil, Triumphant, Victorious
From the Poet
Dear Reader,
This poem is born from the urgent warning of Revelation 3 and the piercing insight of John W. Ritenbaugh: we have too often traded the pure nourishment of God’s Word for the world’s spiritual junk food. The love of money — not money itself — is the subtle root that feeds Laodicean complacency. True wealth can be a powerful tool in the hands of a faithful steward who uses it for the glory of our Triune God: feeding the hungry, supporting the gospel, and advancing His kingdom.
But the prosperity gospel is a demonic perversion — another gospel that the Apostle Paul warned must be accursed. It dresses greed in the language of faith, promises earthly crowns while robbing souls of the Cross, and leaves multitudes wretched, poor, blind, and naked while they feel rich.
If you have drifted into lukewarmness, hear Christ knocking today. Repent, return to your first love, and serve Him wholly — whether in abundance or in need. He remains faithful; His security for His own is sure. Let this be your awakening, not your condemnation.
May the Great Physician heal what the love of mammon has wounded.
In His service,
The Poet
We sipped the world’s sweet wine at ease,
And called the vintage rich and fine;
Our tables groaned with gilded feasts,
Yet starved the soul of bread and vine.
The love of money whispered low,
A golden calf in velvet guise;
Not money, but the lust for more—
This root of evils blinds our eyes.
One may possess great wealth with grace,
And steward all for Triune God—
To feed the poor, advance His work,
And spread the truth where feet have trod.
Yet false prophets arose and lied,
A demonic gospel, slick and bright:
“Faith brings wealth and health and ease—
Your best life now, by seed and sight!”
This wicked twist, this twisted word,
A false “gospel” born in hell’s own fire,
Feeds Laodicean hearts with lies,
Promising crowns while souls expire.
“No need of Thee,” our ledgers claimed,
As barns o’erflowed and hearts grew cold;
We bowed before prosperity’s throne,
And worshiped what our hands had framed.
No thunder shook the cushioned pew,
No altar flame demanded all;
We drifted soft on lukewarm seas,
Content to heed the siren’s call.
“Rich, increased,” the mirror lied,
In garments bright and eyes half-blind;
We judged our strength by what we owned,
While cancer gnawed the hidden mind.
The love of riches, deep and sly,
Spread tentacles through thought and deed;
It choked the Word, it quenched the cry,
And turned our zeal to withered seed.
Two masters called, we tried to serve
The self and God with equal art—
But hearts divided rot and split,
And scatter like dry leaves apart.
O wretched, naked, poor, and blind,
Though gold we clutched with fevered fist,
The Great Physician stands outside;
He knocks through every storm and trial—
“Repent, and let Me come inside.”
Arise, O Laodicean soul! Reject the lie of mammon’s priests,
Cling to the Cross—be hot, not least!
A Quiet Word to the Seeking Soul: Reflections on the Fear of the Lord and the Holy Hatred of Evil, Drawn from Proverbs 8:13 by Debbie Harris
10 Wednesday Jun 2026
Dear Reader,
I greet you with a quiet heart as you pause here before these lines. The verse from Proverbs 8:13 has long stirred my spirit: “The fear of the LORD is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.” In a world that often celebrates self-exaltation and clever speech, these words cut through like a clear blade. True wisdom, I have come to believe, begins not in soft tolerance of sin but in a holy and decisive hatred of what God Himself hates.
This note is for the quiet seeker—the one weary of empty pride, tired of crooked paths, and longing for a reverence that purifies rather than merely comforts. May these reflections, born from meditation on Scripture, help kindle in you that same godly fear: a fear that does not cower but stands upright, rejecting arrogance so that humility may flourish, and turning from perverse words so that truth may dwell freely in the soul.
Read slowly. Reflect deeply. And may the Lord grant you wisdom that is first pure, then peaceable, and altogether lovely in His sight.
With reverence and goodwill,
The Poet
Proverbs 8:13 (KJV)
The fear of the LORD is to hate evil: pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth, do I hate.
A Classical Rhyme Poem: Wisdom’s Holy Hate
In reverent awe where wisdom’s voice doth call,
The fear of God shines forth as heaven’s light;
To loathe all evil is its sacred thrall,
And turn the soul from shadows of the night.
Pride, that vain serpent coiled in mortal breast,
With arrogancy swelling like the sea,
The crooked path where tempters lure to rest,
And froward lips that speak iniquity—
These doth the righteous heart with fervor spurn,
As holy fire consumes the dross away.
No gilded boast, no haughty glance shall burn,
Nor twisting words lead wanderers astray.
O soul, embrace this fear, both pure and wise,
That hates the dark yet loves the dawning skies;
For in such hatred, true devotion lies,
And heaven’s gate before thee open flies.
Pride’s Golden Chain and Violence’s Blood-Red Cloak: A Meditation on the Prosperous Wicked in Psalm 73 by Debbie Harris
09 Tuesday Jun 2026
Posted in Christian Poetry, Exalting Jesus Christ
A Modern Classical Poem on Psalm 73:6 with Contemporary Examples)
Dear Reader,
From the Poet —
I write these lines not in anger, but in honest wonder, much like Asaph of old. I too have felt my feet slip when I saw the arrogant flourish — their polished feeds, their untouchable empires, their easy smiles while others bleed. The influencers, the CEOs, the activist machines that brand and cancel with clinical precision — they wear pride like designer gold and violence like a tailored suit.
Yet Psalm 73 is not merely a complaint; it is a pilgrimage. It leads us from the screen’s green glow of envy, through the painful sanctuary of truth, and finally into the steady hand of God.
He has the will to stand up for Biblical truth — that rare soul who refuses the chain and rejects the cloak. He speaks when it costs him followers. He refuses the easy donation or the trending hashtag. He chooses Scripture over applause, even when the mob turns its hate-map upon him. In a world that rewards the proud and silences the faithful, such a man is a living rebuke to the wicked’s temporary throne.
My prayer in crafting this poem is simple: that you would see the chains for what they are — glittering, heavy, and temporary — and choose instead the only portion that never rusts. May God raise up many more who have the will to stand.
If these verses sting, let them sting with hope. The same God who steadied Asaph steadies us. The proud will one day stand exposed before truth; the faithful will rise clothed in something far better.
Read slowly. Reflect deeply. And may your heart find its forever home in the One who outlasts every trending throne.
With quiet confidence,
The Poet
Psalm 73 (KJV) – Complete Relevant Verses
1 Truly God is good to Israel, even to such as are of a clean heart.
2 But as for me, my feet were almost gone; my steps had well nigh slipped.
3 For I was envious at the foolish, when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
4 For there are no bands in their death: but their strength is firm.
5 They are not in trouble as other men; neither are they plagued like other men.
6 Therefore pride compasseth them about as a chain; violence covereth them as a garment.
7 Their eyes stand out with fatness: they have more than heart could wish.
8 They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression: they speak loftily.
9 They set their mouth against the heavens, and their tongue walketh through the earth.
10 Therefore his people return hither: and waters of a full cup are wrung out to them.
11 And they say, How doth God know? and is there knowledge in the most High?
12 Behold, these are the ungodly, who prosper in the world; they increase in riches.
13 Verily I have cleansed my heart in vain, and washed my hands in innocency.
14 For all the day long have I been plagued, and chastened every morning.
15 If I say, I will speak thus; behold, I should offend against the generation of thy children.
16 When I thought to know this, it was too painful for me;
17 Until I went into the sanctuary of God; then understood I their end.
18 Surely thou didst set them in slippery places: thou castedst them down into destruction.
19 How are they brought into desolation, as in a moment! they are utterly consumed with terrors.
20 As a dream when one awaketh; so, O Lord, when thou awakest, thou shalt despise their image.
21 Thus my heart was grieved, and I was pricked in my reins.
22 So foolish was I, and ignorant: I was as a beast before thee.
23 Nevertheless I am continually with thee: thou hast holden me by my right hand.
24 Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and afterward receive me to glory.
25 Whom have I in heaven but thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire beside thee.
26 My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion for ever.
27 For, lo, they that are far from thee shall perish: thou hast destroyed all them that go a whoring from thee.
28 But it is good for me to draw near to God: I have put my trust in the Lord God, that I may declare all thy works.
The Poem
Pride loops around their necks like heavy gold,
a chain of verified checks and blue-tick fame.
The influencer sneers from her filtered throne,
counting the likes that shield her from all blame.
Violence they wear like a designer cloak,
tailored in boardrooms where contracts crush the poor.
The CEO smiles while factories choke,
laying off thousands, then yachting offshore.
The SPLC brands its targets with a seal,
a hate-map chain that glitters in the press;
they weaponize the word, then count the meal—
donations swell while reputations bleed to death.
They scroll their triumphs under neon skies—
the politician tweets his rival’s swift demise,
the online mob that cancels, doxxes, lies,
the activist empire built on fear’s sharp rise.
No crack in conscience mars their polished grin;
they feast on outrage, harvest every tear,
turn sorrow into headlines, loss to spin,
and call it justice when the losers disappear.
Yet some arise with holy fire and will —
they stand for truth when every comfort flees,
refuse the chain, reject the cloak of ill,
and plant their feet on what the Scripture sees.
Though branded, mocked, and stripped of worldly gain,
they hold the Word that never rusts or wanes.
Yet midnight comes. The algorithm stills.
The chain grows tight, the cloak begins to fray.
A quiet room, a failing heart that chills—
the empire’s lights go dark by break of day.
The righteous, stumbling, eyes green with old ache,
still finds a hand that steadies when they fall.
While pride lies rusting, violence stripped and fake,
the faithful rise, possessing all in all.
