Yours Truly

The enemy is all about making everything the same. he wants everyone, to look the same, talk, act, the same way. It would make his job a whole lot easier; and throw back at God one of the things He loved the most ... diversity. Exploration, inclusion, vision, culture, art, expressions, lyrical living, freedom and cultivation. - Everything He created us for. 

The more I look at my generation today, the more I realise the grey-ness that we are facing. 

We think we're being forward thinking, we think we are pioneering in all things. 

But we're not. 

- Have you heard the chart-music ? - Mozart would have hung his head in shame. 

Modern art anyone ?

Minimalism furniture , a generation of girls who all want to have the same accentuated, facial, body features. Wear the same things.

- Now yes one could argue, that these things in themselves are forms of art; and you're right. But if you've ever walked the streets of London or Paris, toured castles and distinguished homes, listened to ancient civilasation histories, you'd see just how 'far' we've come. 

I've bought into these lies, and I think as I began tapping my foot into the world of 'modernality'  I realise , I don't want any part of it.

I will not be morphed into what society claims for young women to be , I will not be confined into mindsets of un-originality. 

The further away humankind moves away from our Creator ... the less we live as Him ...

and He is exactly that . The Creator.

Art and Music, and Scenic Landscapes, textures, and flavours, and dance, culture, cultivation and and variety ... these are all things He orchestrated. And I want to be a part of it. 

A botanical garden is not a field of yellow tulips; greatness comes from variety. 

I may be a flower quickly fading, but from now on , I vow to not look around at all the other flowers. But to just bloom; and follow the Son. 

Yours Truly

War is like two little boys deciding on which toys to play.

The folly of it all. Sometimes the toys get broken

Death springs forth form the life that was never lived.

Redeeming the time that shall not be. Incessantly.

The degrading immaturity of the decisions of one.

Affecting the wisest truest victims. Showing the folly.

The brash primitive nature, that is supposed to not be.

But me, if not but covered over by the righteousness of the Christ.

In His dejection. exposes the worst forms of all that has ever been.

The mud the clay unformed un-entered by the breath of life that gives life.

Life. In all its fulness. the expression of one’s self. To the full.

To the tips of the fingers the hairs on each head.

Pause the quest for wealth and instead.

Discover what it means to be truly human

Cultivating, demonstrating, indefinitely frustrating oneself. – causing us to look above.

To the instructions for which to love.

 How does one seek the Maker ?

Look at your palms.

Define the reasons of existing- and what is left ?

Nothing that is not ceasing. Apart from the Christ. The rock on which our world doth stand.

Walks before us, hold out your hand. And show Him fully. By being yours truly.

Walking beneath the firs 'a green
When a crack I hear, though nothing seen.
To turn and find an egg now hatched,
Before its time, a fall unmatched -

A force beyond its mothers own ,
Has taken its life before it was known.

The earth and its person can seem too cruel ,
the raging fire with unlimited fuel .
Consumes the lives and endlessly drives
away the spirits from bodies.

And like that fragile egg I know.
that life can come and life can go.
So I look to the One who made it.

Closer to Thee is all I can be,
The world around me is fading away.
One day I will flee into eternity
But in which destination will I stay ?

By Lakechia Jeanne
DoPoetry©

I will be merciful ,
as You are merciful .
Mercy is what I seek .

Your Hand that remained extended when turned away.
makes me wanting, makes me meek.

The meekness and mercy You showed
baffles this corrupted mind.

Oh if such a treasure on earth I could find -
the silences of Your heart despite the blows

The eternal pain that no one knows,
each time a soul turns away.

But I come to you ,
for You enabled me to ,
see Your mercies with each new day.

I want to forgive, I even declare it .
But the feelings of hardness remain.

I want to forgive, my body cant bear it .
the constant hurting and pain.

I see how You dealt, when in the ground You knelt ,
and asked for the suffering to end.
when the hands You created slapped Your sacred Face.

Yet I have been wronged indirectly,
I cannot tell anyone of this but You.

So I'm asking;
Give me the mercy that I need to extend ,
For I do not have it within.

As You forgave me may I forgive others
For I do not want to sin.

And as that person walks my way ,
May an overflowing love fill my heart.

May I reach out in genuine affection.
May it be a new start.

(Click here for the inspiration to this poem:
The High Cost of Mercy - David Wilkerson)

To the Church of whom these words will reach …

For New Years Eve I was asked to write a poem for our Churches NYE celebration , 2016 has been a very different year for our Church and I was somewhat quite unsure about what to say - so I remember thinking : what would Jesus write to our church ?
I left it till quite late, wanting to make sure I did just write what I wanted. But my heart was led to Revelation 3, where Jesus writes letters to the churches and so I began .

To the Church of whom these words will reach …

I love you,
I always have, and always will.
2016 was definitely unseen, but mighty trials of works were they.
Do not see the trials as defeat - for you are not defeated.
Do not see the setbacks as unforgivable sin, your sanctification is not completed.

Keep going.

The Kingdom of God is await for you,
When you seek Me first.
Do not take to the mammon for there is so much more, when for righteousness you hunger and thirst.
The riches in mind are not the things of this world - for there is so much greater
Do not settle for the asphalt here, there's something significant you need to remember:
See in heaven, the streets are paved with gold, and that is something one likes to repeat.
But I will be there, your gaze will be on Me, and the gold - well t’will be lowly, trodden beneath your feet.

You won't pursue it then so don't pursue it now.
Don't lean on your understanding you will find a way somehow
To get back to Me, your first love, your only love - for it is your heart that I want to see.

You see lack of knowledge can cause people to perish, but too much knowledge can do the same, to lose the power of the simple-ness of My Word, to take in vain My Name.
Do not forget so easily the lessons that were brought your way,
The battles with sin you fought, the new mercies you received each day.

You may have lost a brother, but I here gained a son,
Lean now one upon the other until the work is done.
Do not worry about tomorrow, do not fain at what is unseen.
For I will never leave you, not now nor certainly in 2017.

Even the brightest minds

Even the brightest minds know that there is a mind brighter still.
A thought so great, never to push beyond ones will.

Even the workers hands know there's a palm greater than his own.
A wonder to think, a heavenly throne.

Even the worlds best architect knows he cannot design the simplest natural feature.
There must be One most skilled, the great architect teacher.

Even the symphony's conductor knows he cannot to every note replicate.
There surely must be one like no other, one to divinely orchestrate.

Even the qualified shepherd, who's flock show his tendencies.
Knows there's a Good shepherd who for generations has protected from enemies.


Even a mother who gives a newborn life.
Knows that there is a Greater Life Giver who endured pain beyond belief to see me completely redeemed.



And so I yield to the Greater One , my Jesus for whom there is none

Other praises to give ,

More than; in Him, this life I will live.

The Wind and the bird.

I looked up noticing a bird on a wing
White with streaks of gray; delicate,  small .
It pranced up into the wind, oblivious to the flight.
Never once considering a fall.
Gliding it tapped into the glorious swish ,
One I could hear from my window pane.
A wind so forcing it could make me step forward
To close the panels and away refrain.

But not this bird.
The swoosh and gusting made it glide and ride;
Delighting in invisible blow.
Soaring, leaping, twisting in delight
Dance in the streaking sunlight glow.

And then The still small voice whispered to me in the quiet of my glare.
'You see that little bird - doesn't seem to be doing much there,
But you can learn from this nothingness how to glide through your way.
How to wake up each morning,
How to see each new day.

Fearless.
Trusting.
In complete serenity.
The Wind may seem scary to some.
But the bird says "Not to me !"


It doesn't worry about its height above the ground.
Whether it will be blown away never to be found.
It doesn't worry whether the wind is capable still,
To hold the feathers up strong, present beyond its will.
It doesn't fret about when the wind might stop blowing.
It trusts the after-math of breeze to carry it along.
It enjoys the rushing, gushing, passing streaks,
For the experience will give it a new song.'

"Yesterday the wind blew
It had proven itself in past so I knew,
I surely could trust it's gust anew
To let me ride through and through."

So now in this picture, I write and see
The Great Wind is God ,
and the little bird is me.

By Lakechia Jeanne
DoseofPoetry©