Intro:This poem descends into the moment betrayal is no longer hidden and rage learns to speak. What begins as loyalty rots into illusion, and from that fracture, wrath is born—not as chaos, but as intention. Read with caution: this is the anatomy of a soul pushed past forgiveness. Outro:And when the echoes fade, what remains
In the relentless tick of the wristwatch, time reveals its cruel indifference—Father Time eroding youth, flesh, and fragile hopes into dust, while death lingers like an inevitable embrace. This piece confronts the quiet terror of running out of moments for authentic love, crushed instead by the heavy, hollow weight of lust and repeated defeats. What
Even though the image of Jesus commonly portrayed in the Western world is historically inaccurate, mockery only carries power when it is directed at the true God—the One who holds authority over the world and the universe. Wearing that specific figure around the neck is not random; it targets the real authority behind the symbol,
This poem is for people haunted by eyes that once sparkled with wonder, now overflowing with ruin. She chose and obsessed—to go to the soul cage.I wrote this once I saw: love without real caution is just code waiting to flood.Faith sank deeper when pretence ended and her obsession met my disarray.No sermon here just
Description This poem offers a contemplative glimpse into the poet’s mind as they engage in everyday activities. The poem begins with the poet reflecting deeply while eating a slice of pizza, contemplating their spiritual fate. They reject the idea of going to hell and express a preference for going to heaven, demonstrating reverence and seeking
The poem “Eminently…” by Joseph Le Artist captures the double-edged nature of ecstasy: an overwhelming force that initially electrifies the soul and psychology but ultimately acts as a curse, pinning the speaker down like a fallen angel chained to earth. This intoxicating high feeds vices, nightmares, and a once-heartless existence, revealing itself as bondage rather
The strangest thing about human desire is its capacity to clothe illusion in the radiance of truth. We behold the caramel glow of skin, the flowing mane of hair, the whispered “Papi” that promises to uproot mountains, and we name it beauty—perhaps even salvation. Yet beneath the sunlit surface lies an upside-down dimension, a realm
In this poem, I’m reflecting on my own journey with a mix of confidence and self-awareness. I start by admitting that I’ve got a clear grasp of who I am—plenty of understanding about myself—and I’m upfront about the fact that I don’t see myself as the best-looking guy you’d spot wandering around in the daylight. I’m no head-turner, and I’m fine with that. But then the tone shifts as I dive into what’s changed. Those women who used to laugh at me, who’d poke fun at my expense, they’re the same ones now falling for my words. It’s like my poetry and creativity have flipped the script—they can’t resist the pull of what I craft.
I’ve got this knack now for drawing in these refined, elegant women, the classy types, and it’s become almost a compulsion for me, a kind of restless drive. I lure them in, pulling them into what I call my “poisonous chamber”—this intense, intoxicating space where my poems come alive, fuelled by raw passion. It’s not just about seduction for the sake of it; it’s the act of creating, of pouring myself into those lines, that hooks them. The poem’s got this edge of triumph, like I’ve turned the tables, and what once held me back is now the very thing that gives me power.
Intro:This poem descends into the moment betrayal is no longer hidden and rage learns to speak. What begins as loyalty rots into illusion, and from that fracture, wrath is born—not as chaos, but as intention. Read with caution: this is the anatomy of a soul pushed past forgiveness. Outro:And when the echoes fade, what remains
In the relentless tick of the wristwatch, time reveals its cruel indifference—Father Time eroding youth, flesh, and fragile hopes into dust, while death lingers like an inevitable embrace. This piece confronts the quiet terror of running out of moments for authentic love, crushed instead by the heavy, hollow weight of lust and repeated defeats. What
Even though the image of Jesus commonly portrayed in the Western world is historically inaccurate, mockery only carries power when it is directed at the true God—the One who holds authority over the world and the universe. Wearing that specific figure around the neck is not random; it targets the real authority behind the symbol,
This poem is for people haunted by eyes that once sparkled with wonder, now overflowing with ruin. She chose and obsessed—to go to the soul cage.I wrote this once I saw: love without real caution is just code waiting to flood.Faith sank deeper when pretence ended and her obsession met my disarray.No sermon here just
Description This poem offers a contemplative glimpse into the poet’s mind as they engage in everyday activities. The poem begins with the poet reflecting deeply while eating a slice of pizza, contemplating their spiritual fate. They reject the idea of going to hell and express a preference for going to heaven, demonstrating reverence and seeking
The poem “Eminently…” by Joseph Le Artist captures the double-edged nature of ecstasy: an overwhelming force that initially electrifies the soul and psychology but ultimately acts as a curse, pinning the speaker down like a fallen angel chained to earth. This intoxicating high feeds vices, nightmares, and a once-heartless existence, revealing itself as bondage rather
The strangest thing about human desire is its capacity to clothe illusion in the radiance of truth. We behold the caramel glow of skin, the flowing mane of hair, the whispered “Papi” that promises to uproot mountains, and we name it beauty—perhaps even salvation. Yet beneath the sunlit surface lies an upside-down dimension, a realm
I find myself drawn to this blazing force within me—my “fiery fire”—a restless, burning energy that I crave to awaken fully. It’s as if I’m seeking to dissolve the frost encasing my heart, a coldness I’ve carried too long, tucked away in a place I call the “void less dark.” That phrase feels right to me—a shadow not pitch-black, but muted, a half-lit emptiness where I’ve lingered, neither lost nor found. Philosophers like Heraclitus might see this fire as my life’s constant flux, a heat that promises to reshape me if I let it.
But there’s a tension I can’t ignore. This fire I tend, this soul I ignite—it’s fleeting. A bonfire roars only as long as I feed it, and my cold heart, my void, they hover close, ready to reclaim me. I wonder if this is what Sartre meant by crafting meaning in the face of nothing—a refusal to let the dark win. Or maybe it’s Nietzsche’s voice I hear, urging me to embrace this cycle of melting and burning, to affirm myself again and again. I’m caught in that dance, desiring my own renewal, holding my soul’s light steady against the shadows I know too well.
Intro:This poem descends into the moment betrayal is no longer hidden and rage learns to speak. What begins as loyalty rots into illusion, and from that fracture, wrath is born—not as chaos, but as intention. Read with caution: this is the anatomy of a soul pushed past forgiveness. Outro:And when the echoes fade, what remains
In the relentless tick of the wristwatch, time reveals its cruel indifference—Father Time eroding youth, flesh, and fragile hopes into dust, while death lingers like an inevitable embrace. This piece confronts the quiet terror of running out of moments for authentic love, crushed instead by the heavy, hollow weight of lust and repeated defeats. What
Even though the image of Jesus commonly portrayed in the Western world is historically inaccurate, mockery only carries power when it is directed at the true God—the One who holds authority over the world and the universe. Wearing that specific figure around the neck is not random; it targets the real authority behind the symbol,
This poem is for people haunted by eyes that once sparkled with wonder, now overflowing with ruin. She chose and obsessed—to go to the soul cage.I wrote this once I saw: love without real caution is just code waiting to flood.Faith sank deeper when pretence ended and her obsession met my disarray.No sermon here just
Description This poem offers a contemplative glimpse into the poet’s mind as they engage in everyday activities. The poem begins with the poet reflecting deeply while eating a slice of pizza, contemplating their spiritual fate. They reject the idea of going to hell and express a preference for going to heaven, demonstrating reverence and seeking
The poem “Eminently…” by Joseph Le Artist captures the double-edged nature of ecstasy: an overwhelming force that initially electrifies the soul and psychology but ultimately acts as a curse, pinning the speaker down like a fallen angel chained to earth. This intoxicating high feeds vices, nightmares, and a once-heartless existence, revealing itself as bondage rather
The strangest thing about human desire is its capacity to clothe illusion in the radiance of truth. We behold the caramel glow of skin, the flowing mane of hair, the whispered “Papi” that promises to uproot mountains, and we name it beauty—perhaps even salvation. Yet beneath the sunlit surface lies an upside-down dimension, a realm
I find myself drawn to this blazing force within me—my “fiery fire”—a restless, burning energy that I crave to awaken fully. It’s as if I’m seeking to dissolve the frost encasing my heart, a coldness I’ve carried too long, tucked away in a place I call the “void less dark.” That phrase feels right to me—a shadow not pitch-black, but muted, a half-lit emptiness where I’ve lingered, neither lost nor found. Philosophers like Heraclitus might see this fire as my life’s constant flux, a heat that promises to reshape me if I let it.
But there’s a tension I can’t ignore. This fire I tend, this soul I ignite—it’s fleeting. A bonfire roars only as long as I feed it, and my cold heart, my void, they hover close, ready to reclaim me. I wonder if this is what Sartre meant by crafting meaning in the face of nothing—a refusal to let the dark win. Or maybe it’s Nietzsche’s voice I hear, urging me to embrace this cycle of melting and burning, to affirm myself again and again. I’m caught in that dance, desiring my own renewal, holding my soul’s light steady against the shadows I know too well.
Intro:This poem descends into the moment betrayal is no longer hidden and rage learns to speak. What begins as loyalty rots into illusion, and from that fracture, wrath is born—not as chaos, but as intention. Read with caution: this is the anatomy of a soul pushed past forgiveness. Outro:And when the echoes fade, what remains
In the relentless tick of the wristwatch, time reveals its cruel indifference—Father Time eroding youth, flesh, and fragile hopes into dust, while death lingers like an inevitable embrace. This piece confronts the quiet terror of running out of moments for authentic love, crushed instead by the heavy, hollow weight of lust and repeated defeats. What
Even though the image of Jesus commonly portrayed in the Western world is historically inaccurate, mockery only carries power when it is directed at the true God—the One who holds authority over the world and the universe. Wearing that specific figure around the neck is not random; it targets the real authority behind the symbol,
This poem is for people haunted by eyes that once sparkled with wonder, now overflowing with ruin. She chose and obsessed—to go to the soul cage.I wrote this once I saw: love without real caution is just code waiting to flood.Faith sank deeper when pretence ended and her obsession met my disarray.No sermon here just
Description This poem offers a contemplative glimpse into the poet’s mind as they engage in everyday activities. The poem begins with the poet reflecting deeply while eating a slice of pizza, contemplating their spiritual fate. They reject the idea of going to hell and express a preference for going to heaven, demonstrating reverence and seeking
The poem “Eminently…” by Joseph Le Artist captures the double-edged nature of ecstasy: an overwhelming force that initially electrifies the soul and psychology but ultimately acts as a curse, pinning the speaker down like a fallen angel chained to earth. This intoxicating high feeds vices, nightmares, and a once-heartless existence, revealing itself as bondage rather
The strangest thing about human desire is its capacity to clothe illusion in the radiance of truth. We behold the caramel glow of skin, the flowing mane of hair, the whispered “Papi” that promises to uproot mountains, and we name it beauty—perhaps even salvation. Yet beneath the sunlit surface lies an upside-down dimension, a realm
The Sixth Tread from “Call Me A.C Green..(Poem): “Virginity as a Gift: Building Integrity for My Future Wife”
“One DM from a girl resembling Vanity… My sex drive is packaged as a gift for my future wifey.” That’s the line I walk—a fleeting temptation in my inbox, a spark that could ignite my sex drive, yet a choice to hold it back. Virginity isn’t just a status for me; it’s a gift, something I’m shaping with every “no” I say to the now, saving it for my future wife. A message pops up, her words dripping with allure like Vanity, the singer whose beauty once captivated the world. But I scroll past, not because I’m immune, but because integrity matters more. Kant’s principle whispers in my ear, and scripture seals it: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church” (Ephesians 5:25). My virginity is a promise, a piece of me I’m building for her.
Temptation’s Knock
Temptation doesn’t come with a warning label—it slips in quietly, like that DM lighting up my phone. She’s not just a name; she’s a mirror of Vanity—stunning, magnetic, a test of my resolve. My sex drive kicks in, a natural pulse I can’t deny. I could reply, let the conversation flow, see where it leads. No one would know. But I stop myself. Not out of fear, but out of something deeper—a principle I’ve chosen to live by. That moment isn’t just about resisting; it’s about building, stacking another brick of integrity for the man I want to be.
Vanity’s allure fades when I think of what’s ahead. Temptation promises a thrill, but it’s fleeting—a sugar rush that leaves me empty. My sex drive isn’t the enemy; it’s a force I’m channeling, a gift I’m wrapping up for someone I haven’t met yet. One swipe, one reply, could unravel that, but I’d rather hold it together for her.
Integrity Over Impulse
Integrity isn’t loud—it’s steady, a quiet strength that grows every time I choose the long game over the short one. Kant, the philosopher, talked about the categorical imperative: act in a way you’d want to be universal, a rule for everyone. For me, that’s what virginity becomes—a principle, not just a personal quirk. I’m not saving it because it’s easy; I’m saving it because it’s right, because I’d want my future wife to trust me with her whole self too. It’s a standard I set for myself, a way of living that says my word, my body, my soul—they all mean something.
This isn’t about shutting down my sex drive—it’s about giving it purpose. That DM might stir it up, but integrity keeps it in check. I’m not perfect; some days, the temptation feels like a tug-of-war. But every time I walk away, I’m stronger, more the man I want her to find when the time comes.
Scripture’s Blueprint
Scripture gives me the why behind the what. Ephesians 5:25 isn’t just a verse—it’s a vision: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” That’s the kind of love I’m preparing for—sacrificial, selfless, all-in. My virginity isn’t a badge of pride; it’s a piece of that giving, a way I’m starting now to love her like Christ loved. It’s not about rules—it’s about relationship, about showing up for her with something pure and whole.
Then there’s Proverbs 4:23: “Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” My heart’s where this battle plays out—where temptation meets integrity, where my sex drive meets my faith. Guarding it isn’t passive; it’s active, a choice to protect what flows from it. That DM could crack the door open, but Proverbs tells me to lock it tight—not out of paranoia, but out of care for what I’m building.
A Gift Worth Waiting For
Virginity as a gift isn’t a cliché to me—it’s real. It’s not just about my body; it’s about my character, my commitment, the way I’m shaping myself for my future wife. That girl like Vanity? She’s a shadow, a flicker of now. My future wife is the flame I’m saving this for—a love I haven’t seen yet but believe in enough to wait for. My sex drive isn’t wasted; it’s packaged, tied with the ribbon of integrity, ready for the day it’s hers.
This gift isn’t about denying myself—it’s about defining myself. Every temptation I turn from is a step toward her, a piece of trust I’m earning before we even meet. Kant’s principle keeps me honest; scripture keeps me hopeful. Together, they turn my virginity into something active, not passive—a choice I make for love.
The Man I’ll Be
So I let that DM sit unanswered, not because I’m better than anyone, but because I’m building something bigger. My future wife deserves a man who’s wrestled with temptation and won, not by luck, but by principle. My sex drive is hers, a gift I’m keeping safe with every “no” I say today. Vanity can’t sway me—not when integrity’s my compass and faith’s my guide.
On life’s court, I’m still A.C. Green—sharp, steadfast, unashamed. My virginity isn’t a burden; it’s a promise, a piece of me I’m crafting for her, day by day.
Intro:This poem descends into the moment betrayal is no longer hidden and rage learns to speak. What begins as loyalty rots into illusion, and from that fracture, wrath is born—not as chaos, but as intention. Read with caution: this is the anatomy of a soul pushed past forgiveness. Outro:And when the echoes fade, what remains
In the relentless tick of the wristwatch, time reveals its cruel indifference—Father Time eroding youth, flesh, and fragile hopes into dust, while death lingers like an inevitable embrace. This piece confronts the quiet terror of running out of moments for authentic love, crushed instead by the heavy, hollow weight of lust and repeated defeats. What
Even though the image of Jesus commonly portrayed in the Western world is historically inaccurate, mockery only carries power when it is directed at the true God—the One who holds authority over the world and the universe. Wearing that specific figure around the neck is not random; it targets the real authority behind the symbol,
This poem is for people haunted by eyes that once sparkled with wonder, now overflowing with ruin. She chose and obsessed—to go to the soul cage.I wrote this once I saw: love without real caution is just code waiting to flood.Faith sank deeper when pretence ended and her obsession met my disarray.No sermon here just
Description This poem offers a contemplative glimpse into the poet’s mind as they engage in everyday activities. The poem begins with the poet reflecting deeply while eating a slice of pizza, contemplating their spiritual fate. They reject the idea of going to hell and express a preference for going to heaven, demonstrating reverence and seeking
The poem “Eminently…” by Joseph Le Artist captures the double-edged nature of ecstasy: an overwhelming force that initially electrifies the soul and psychology but ultimately acts as a curse, pinning the speaker down like a fallen angel chained to earth. This intoxicating high feeds vices, nightmares, and a once-heartless existence, revealing itself as bondage rather
The strangest thing about human desire is its capacity to clothe illusion in the radiance of truth. We behold the caramel glow of skin, the flowing mane of hair, the whispered “Papi” that promises to uproot mountains, and we name it beauty—perhaps even salvation. Yet beneath the sunlit surface lies an upside-down dimension, a realm
“I’m one swipe away from fulfilling my sexual appetite, but letting God take control keeps my soul from going wild.” That’s the edge I live on every day—a single flick of my finger could unravel everything I’ve built, yet I choose to hold back. It’s not because I don’t feel the pull; my sexual appetite is real, raw, a wild part of me that roars to be let loose. But I’ve learned that giving in doesn’t tame it—it sets it free in all the wrong ways. Instead, I trust God to harness that energy, to keep my soul steady when temptation presses in. Kierkegaard called this a leap of faith; scripture puts it plainly: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart” (Proverbs 3:5). One swipe could change everything, but faith keeps me grounded.
The Power of a Swipe
Technology has made temptation closer than ever. One swipe on an app, one tap on a screen, and I could feed my sexual appetite in an instant. It’s not just about dating apps—it’s the whole digital world, dangling possibilities that feel so easy, so right there. My wild side doesn’t need much convincing; it’s ready to run, to chase the thrill that’s always just a click away. But I know where that road leads: a quick high, a hollow crash, a soul left restless instead of satisfied. That’s the trap of the swipe—freedom that feels like a cage.
This isn’t hypothetical for me. I’ve felt the itch, the moment where my thumb hovers over the screen, daring me to act. My sexual appetite isn’t some distant thing—it’s a fire inside, wild and alive. But I’ve seen what happens when I let it rule me. It’s not liberation; it’s chaos. So I pause, breathe, and turn it over to something bigger.
Free Will and the Wild
Here’s the tension: I’ve got free will. I could swipe. I could say yes to temptation and let my soul run wild. No one’s stopping me—not physically, anyway. Kierkegaard, the philosopher, wrestled with this too. He called faith a leap, a choice to trust when every instinct screams to jump the other way. That’s where I am—one swipe away, standing at the edge of my own leap. My wild side wants control, but free will means I don’t have to give it. I can choose differently.
That choice isn’t easy. Temptation doesn’t just knock—it pounds, loud and insistent. My sexual appetite isn’t wrong—it’s human—but letting it steer me unchecked turns it into something destructive. Free will gives me power, but it also gives me responsibility. I could feed the wildness, or I could tame it. And that’s where God comes in.
Trusting God’s Control
Proverbs 3:5 hits me hard: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding.” It’s not about ignoring my desires—it’s about handing them over. I don’t trust myself to tame my soul’s wild side alone; I’ve tried, and it’s a losing fight. But God? He’s got the strength I don’t. When I’m one swipe away, I don’t just resist—I release. I let Him take the wheel, trusting that He knows what’s best for this wild, restless part of me.
Then there’s Exodus 14:14: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” That’s my anchor. I don’t have to wrestle temptation into submission—God’s already in the ring. My job is to be still, to stop my thumb from swiping, to let Him calm the storm inside. It’s not suppression—it’s surrender. My sexual appetite doesn’t disappear; it’s redirected, held for a purpose I can’t always see but choose to believe in.
Faith Over Frenzy
This is where faith becomes real. It’s not a vague hope—it’s a lifeline when my soul’s wild side threatens to take over. Kierkegaard’s leap isn’t blind; it’s bold, a trust that God’s got me even when I’m shaky. One swipe could unleash chaos, but faith keeps me steady. It’s not about killing my desires—it’s about trusting they’re better off in His hands than mine. The wildness isn’t gone; it’s just not running the show.
Some days, that trust feels like a wrestle. Temptation doesn’t back off—it doubles down, daring me to test my limits. But I’ve learned to lean on Proverbs 3:5, to whisper Exodus 14:14 to myself when the urge hits. Faith isn’t passive—it’s active, a choice I make every time I don’t swipe, every time I let God tame what I can’t.
A Soul Worth Saving
In the end, it’s my soul I’m protecting—not from desire, but from destruction. One swipe could satisfy my sexual appetite for a moment, but it’d leave my wild side hungrier, more untamed. Trusting God doesn’t erase the fire—it refines it. My soul stays wild in the best way: alive, vibrant, but not reckless. Faith turns temptation into a proving ground, a place where I see what I’m made of and who I’m made for.
So I stand, one swipe away, and choose God over the frenzy. My wild side doesn’t win—not because I’ve crushed it, but because I’ve given it to Someone stronger.
LifeandTimelessart 