Remembering this poet and his alter ego are supposed religious Zealots and this is a poem of theirs...

Sinbad the SailorMan By Sinbad the SailorMan, 10th Aug 2010 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL http://nut.bz/1p72z9mm/
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Poetry

The poet once again is trying to influence and describe his new spiritual insights to the followers of his little fold. Always wondering if they see and or if they can hear what he sees and hears. Is his message being receive or is he deceived?

Bone of my Bone


Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh
Your desires are not hid from me
These passions your fruits
Do not they belong to me?

From hence you came

A gift from me to you
From you to me?
No dust, no sand, or golden band
Only empty sea

You are fully revealed to me and I to you
Could I let you suffer alone?
Dare I go on
No chimes, for all Times

To me you belong, as I to you
Oh what Else could I do?
Separated myself alone
Flesh of my flesh bone of my bone

After the Stone is Rolled Away


This is not your home
Nor is it our time
Yet we will shine
For all time

Stars in our crowns
Frowns turned upside down
Justification instead of purification
Mere mortal souls

Yet we are so bold

Streets of gold
For not any feet to walk among
Only just spirits may glide upon
No traps, no fears, tears all gone

No stripes to bare, no yokes

No jokes about strife or life
Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh
This life was, but only a test
To your testimony

Have you eyes to see?
Can you believe in me?
Have you ears to hear?
Or are you yet, deaf and blind to me?

Does your love sit idol
Have we no hands to work, for us ?
For me? Is there not any trust?
Is our life, is it just a bust?

You have feet dear? I’ve seen you walk
But, do you not know, yet, how to talk?
What happened to give and to take?
Our lives; is it, just one big mistake?

From here to there
Truly we dared
With out a single care
Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone

You left me all alone
Separated My Spirit from Its flesh
But Yet there is One final test
This Life it is, but ones Quest

Your senses are now gone
Were they designed to fail?
No longer are there any roses left to smell
Bone of my bone, your flesh is now gone

I am; yet alone, your God my son

by
Sinbad the Sailor Man

Tags

Bold, Bone, Chimes, Crowns, Empty Sea, Frowns, Fruits, God Flesh, Gold, Home, Mortal Souls, Passions, Religion, Religious, Times

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