ISAIAH POEMS: Each of these poems is inspired by a verse from Isaiah.

“The mighty man will become tinder and his work a spark;
Both will burn together,
With no one to quench the fire.” Isaiah 1:31

Fire races up a tree tall
Making a matchstick
Man.

A spark starts in the wayward heart
An ember hidden at the root
Appears dormant
Seems safely extinguished
But a tender breeze
Tainted with perfume breathes life into a
Raging wildfire
Ravaging the topography of the soul.

All I have made is at once consumed
Although often revealed through man’s many years.
In a moment the world I was growing
The plans I was planting
The dreams I was watering
The people I was weeding and pulling out
Were eaten,
Dug up,
Dried out,
Poisoned.
Destroyed.
All my labor was vanity.
All I created was consumed.

All a man creates comes to nothing
Without one to quench the unruly passions of the soul.
Plant your own garden and watch it wither.
Tend the great cedars of your God
And you will be sheltered beneath these great limbs.
Fire will not destroy the man who trusts in God.
In His garden you will be restored
And sustained.


“Their land is full of idols;
They bow down to the work of their hands,
To what their fingers have made.” Isaiah 2:8

I have made a man.
I have made a man great.
In my own eyes.
Made myself great.

“Where did you come from, man?
Did you form yourself from the dust gathered beneath your feet?
Were you a spark between your father and mother?”

I have made a woman.
I have made a woman strong.
In my own eyes.
Made myself to rule over man.

“Where did you come from, woman?
Were you taken out of man to master him?
Were you created to begin a battle with your soul’s mate?

I have made a world.
I have made world with me at its center.
A world that revolves around man and woman.
We have made ourselves great.

“Where are you going in all your greatness, man? Woman?
Have you made a way to escape inevitable death?
Where are you going, man?
To what end is your greatness, woman?

No, I have made a man.
I have made a woman.
I have made a world for them to live in.
I am greatness alone.
I am the only way to escape death.
I am the only way to live.
I am.


“Stop trusting in man,
Who has but a breath in his nostrils.
Of what account is he?” Isaiah 2:22
Who do I trust in?
What will last?
Of what is worth?
Tomorrow I might die.
Why do I go on living like I won’t?
Death is all around me.
The stench is not sweet in my nostrils.
No one breathes in deeply as they pass a trash heap on the sidewalk,
So why do we breathe in the perfume of the prostitute of our heart?
Why do we revel in our carnal revelry?
“Eat and drink for tomorrow you die.”
If this is true, then why do we feast all the more upon our own flesh?
Are we carnivores of our own soul?
Feeding upon our own destruction.
Passive-aggressive masochists that we all are.
Self-mutilating.
Self-destructing.
Poisoning our bodies.
Putting to death the mind.
Self-prescribed doctors
Medicating the moment
Writing fake prescriptions
For the body
But forsaking the soul.
Stop trusting in man.
Stop trusting in self.
Stop trusting in what you think you know.
Tomorrow you might die, you say.
But what if you are already dead?
Your death began the day you were born.
(You began dying the day you were born)
“Apart from Me you have no life.”
Your life a movie.
Tomorrow may be the conclusion.
The discovery that you’ve been dead all along.
So eat and drink today if you want to live.
Eat of Me: The true bread of life
And let My living water kiss your parched soul’s lips.
Eat and drink of me to truly live.
Trust not yourself, but the truth I AM.
I Am the truth that gives life to this dying man’s soul.
Come.
Eat.
And drink.
For you I have already died.


“The look on their faces testifies against them;
They parade their sin like Sodom;
They do not hide it.” Isaiah 3:9
She stands on the street corner.
You hide your sin behind a wall
But the Lord, he sees it all.

They are poor and need a shower
But you clean your body
But not your soul.

He makes him money on the misfortune of others
You withhold your fortune from the one who makes you.

Sin becomes standard fare
In a country that has forsaken God.
A God who is fair.
A God who is just.
A God who will judge us
for the truth we have created.
For manufactured methodology that we’ve invented to avoid accountability
To a higher power
A license for our own leisure.
A license for our own lust.
A license for our own legacy in life.
Sin becomes standard fare
In a country that has forsaken God.