Last words from, a journey to the cross

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Last words from, a journey to the cross

Last words from, a journey to the cross

 

 

Last words reserved from…

 

A journey to the cross

 

Last words observed from…

 

A journey to the cross

 

Last words are heard from

 

This journey to the cross

 

Watch…these…. LAST

 

Words emerge from, the journey, to the cross

 

 

 

 

Judas, how rude so crude of you, to join the main oppressors!

 

Not a lesson learned from the professor, but a confession earned from adolescence

 

Betrayed Jesus, choosing the suicide, backed into depression

 

Because….

 

One man’s affliction is…

 

Another man’s addiction so...

 

Jesus was beaten to the nth degree with Satin’s rope!

 

Battered him, until his skin was yolk

 

Scattered him, until the sin was broke

 

But what the Father knew, they didn’t…

 

 Jesus was the yoke

 

But they WHIPPED him senselessly

 

Cause to them, his world; was just their joke…

 

SKIN TEARING, FLESH FOLDING, BACK BLEEDING, BRAIN MOLDINGPAIN

 

Still insane, they placed their “thoughtful crown of thorns” on him; which carried uncomforting corruption

 

On his head, they mocked and turned from him, CRACKING his BACK until eruption!!!

 

SPLISH…BLOOD SPEWING IN FLOODS…SPLASH…MINDS CLUTTERED IN FEAR…SPLISH…SOULS CAN’T EVEN BUDGE…SPLASH…MALACHUS CAN’T EVEN HEAR CAUSE…

 

He lost his RIGHT ear in John 18:10, now’s he’s LEFT, with one earring; bearing one form of sin

 

From within, Jesus was the “pair-a-dice”, in which they gambled away

 

With men’s frantic ambitions hearts jump, and scramble astray cause…

 

HIS BLOOD PAVED STREETSJESUS

 

THE EARTHLY MIND MEETS JESUS

 

FLOGGING HIS FACE BEATS JESUS

 

OFF HIS FEET

 

JESUS

 

LEFT TO HOLD ON BY HIS KNEES……JESUS…..

 

 BURROWS his toes in dirt to escape the inhumane pain

 

This place without the gentle breeze,

 

His blood drips without restrain

 

Jesus was FORCED TO mail the letter, as he hung onto “dear life”

 

Just imagine death eating at your brain, telling you “it’s alright”

 

Its all-wrong cause…one can’t even fathom the full pressure of TRAINS, in the form of chains, GRIPPING and MELTING off your wrists

 

They spit in your FACE; you face your form of pain, on a list

 

FLOGGING

SMACKING

BEATING

THRASHING

BRUISING

LOSING

BLOOD FROM

SLASHING

 

By now, your body and brain, may feel as if they’ve been through

 

So I try to portray, though my writing can’t even describe with what he went through…

 

 Continue…

 

You come out wearing a purple robe hearing…

 

Crucify! Crucify!

 

The Devil whispers in your ear…

 

“My my my, it’s time to die”

 

Pilate pushes you to priests, and temple guards, who can’t decide

 

Though your body’s extremely weak. Take up your cross. It’s time to die…

 

 

In this midday heat you struggle to walk. You stumble. And fall beneath the weight of it

 

Simon says he was forced to help Jesus.

 

So he gave up time, but Christ gave up his life and took the fate from this

 

And you arrive after the…. LAST WHIPPING, SKIN TEARING, BACK BLEEDING, BRAIN MOLDING PAIN, CRACKING BACK, SLPISH-SPLASH, SPLISH-SPLASH, RIGHT, LEFT, HIS BLOOD PAVED STREETS JESUS, THE EARTHLY MIND MEETS JESUS, FLOGGING HIS FACE BEATS JESUS, OFF HIS FEET ONTO HIS KNEES, JESUS BURROWS FORCED TO TRAINS GRIPPING MELTING FACE, FLOGGING, SMACKING, BEATING, THRASHING, BRUISING, LOSING, BLOOD FROM, SLASHING

 

The journey may have seemed long, though it has yet to start

 

You brace yourself at Skull Hill, for what’s about to happen, is bitter and tart…

 

Still, you taste it…

 

They push you on your face, as the cross shatters your splintered back

 

And flip you with disgrace, grabbing your arms, not even a hair on your body holds on to relax.

 

Everything leaves as they rip you in-to place….

 

Pulling your hands, engraving their nine-inch nails on you

 

The high rulers throw dice on your garments, as they release their form of hell; on you

 

The nails hammered in slowly…

 

You cringe biting the remains of your teeth…

 

 Scars stretching from Nazareth, to Damascus

 

All you hear is words from above, blocking out those from beneath

 

When they finally raise you up, your whole view is red darkness

 

You hang on with broken flesh…

 

Your bones are frail…

 

So stale, that breadcrumbs could break them

 

Just then, lies and bacteria seep in…

 

“You’re not the Son of Man, and you won’t ascend to heaven,” the snake hissed…

 

But Jesus knew himself, and knew the enemy’s bullet loaded with 9/11…

 

 Would pass by; had simply just missed

 

What were these people thinking? What did they plan to pursue?

 

Luke 23:34 “Father forgive them; for they know not, what they do”

 

In this, we couldn’t even imagine complete separation from the Father…

 

As Jesus endured 3 hours of darkness…

 

He still went farther…

 

His love for us, is eternal and pure, as he took up this mission

 

The way he bore and took in pain, was more than repetition

 

The hyssop branch unto his lips, to fill his deep replenish

 

He lifts his head in John 20:30, and says, “It is finished”

 

 

 

Last words emerged from…

 

 The journey, to the cross

 

These last words were heard from…

 

This journey, to the cross

 

You watched and you observed from…

 

A journey, to the cross

 

Never let His words, be reserved from…

 

Your journey…

 

To the cross

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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ramblingrose commented on Last words from, a journey to the cross

12-19-2009

"Therefore doth my Father love me, because I lay down my life, that I might take it (up) again. No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it (up) again. This commandment have I received of my Father. John 10:17-18 How wonderful that Jesus bore the sufferings of the cross in our stead. He bore our judgment so that we too may have power over the grave and death. Sweet eternity. As sad and horrifying His suffering was he had to shed his spotless, sinless blood as an atonement for sin. We are saved by His life! "So I try to portray, though my writing can’t even describe with what he went through…" How true these words. We can not imagine the suffering, the agony and the shame that he bore. In him was no sin at all and yet he died, the Just for the unjust. Truly, that is something to be very thankful for. We have been plucked as brands from the burning because of faith and trust in the one sacrifice for sin, forever! Lord and Savior Jesus Christ! The message is not lost on those whose spirit bears witness with His spirit that we are His. I enjoyed your poem very much.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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