Power no longer hides in shadows it flickers on our screens, injected into daily life while we run the wheels built for someone elseās amusement. Eyes open, minds on cruise, we mistake repetition for truth and noise for freedom. Epstein becomes a symbol of the rot behind the curtain, where influence circulates quietly, systems feed
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 bornānot 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 indifferenceāFather 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 Godāthe 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 obsessedāto 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 “Eminentlyā¦” 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
“Triumph Over Circumstance: Stoicism Fuels My Soul”
When I say, “This system canāt kill my vibe,” Iām claiming a strength that runs deeper than the chaos around me. The systemābe it the 9-to-5 grind, societal pressure, or lifeās relentless demandsātries to crush me, but I stand firm. Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic emperor, would nod at this: he wrote in Meditations, āYou have power over your mindānot outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.ā My vibe, my creative spark, is untouchable unless I let it be. Psalm 46:1 echoes in my heart: āGod is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.ā Thatās my resilience of spiritāa Stoic and spiritual fortress no system can breach. Searching for how to stay strong under pressure? This is my secret.
Triumph Over Circumstance: Stoicism Fuels My Soul
The systemās weight is realāIāve felt it press down, threatening to dim my light. But I channel Stoicismās wisdom: external forces can chain my body, not my soul. Epictetus, another Stoic, taught that itās not what happens to me, but how I respond that matters. My vibe persists, a creative vitality that laughs in the face of oppression. Itās more than survivalāitās triumph. I lean on John 16:33: āIn this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.ā Jesusās words fuel my endurance, blending with Stoic grit. If youāre researching “Stoic inner strength” or ways to keep your spirit alive, Iām living proofācircumstance bends, but I donāt break.
Creative Will: My Resilience Redefines Me
Before this, the system nearly wonāmy artistic soul flickered, almost snuffed out. Yet here I am, vibe intact, a testament to will over wreckage. Stoicism says I control my inner citadel, and Iāve rebuilt mine with every brushstroke, every word. Romans 5:3-4 guides me: āWe glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.ā Thatās my journeyāsuffering forged resilience, and resilience birthed hope. The systemās a shadow now, powerless against my spirit. Looking for “spiritual endurance scriptures” or how to protect your creative spark? Iāve learned this: my vibe, my essence, is mine to guardāand itās stronger than ever.
Power no longer hides in shadows it flickers on our screens, injected into daily life while we run the wheels built for someone elseās amusement. Eyes open, minds on cruise, we mistake repetition for truth and noise for freedom. Epstein becomes a symbol of the rot behind the curtain, where influence circulates quietly, systems feed
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 bornānot 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 indifferenceāFather 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 Godāthe 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 obsessedāto 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 “Eminentlyā¦” 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
In this poem, Iām reflecting on my own journey with a mix of confidence and self-awareness. I start by admitting that Iāve got a clear grasp of who I amāplenty of understanding about myselfāand Iām upfront about the fact that I donāt see myself as the best-looking guy youād spot wandering around in the daylight. Iām no head-turner, and Iām fine with that. But then the tone shifts as I dive into whatās changed. Those women who used to laugh at me, whoād poke fun at my expense, theyāre the same ones now falling for my words. Itās like my poetry and creativity have flipped the scriptāthey canāt resist the pull of what I craft.
Iāve got this knack now for drawing in these refined, elegant women, the classy types, and itās become almost a compulsion for me, a kind of restless drive. I lure them in, pulling them into what I call my āpoisonous chamberāāthis intense, intoxicating space where my poems come alive, fuelled by raw passion. Itās not just about seduction for the sake of it; itās the act of creating, of pouring myself into those lines, that hooks them. The poemās got this edge of triumph, like Iāve turned the tables, and what once held me back is now the very thing that gives me power.
Power no longer hides in shadows it flickers on our screens, injected into daily life while we run the wheels built for someone elseās amusement. Eyes open, minds on cruise, we mistake repetition for truth and noise for freedom. Epstein becomes a symbol of the rot behind the curtain, where influence circulates quietly, systems feed
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 bornānot 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 indifferenceāFather 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 Godāthe 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 obsessedāto 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 “Eminentlyā¦” 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
I find myself drawn to this blazing force within meāmy “fiery fire”āa restless, burning energy that I crave to awaken fully. Itās as if Iām seeking to dissolve the frost encasing my heart, a coldness Iāve carried too long, tucked away in a place I call the “void less dark.” That phrase feels right to meāa shadow not pitch-black, but muted, a half-lit emptiness where Iāve lingered, neither lost nor found. Philosophers like Heraclitus might see this fire as my lifeās constant flux, a heat that promises to reshape me if I let it.
But thereās a tension I canāt ignore. This fire I tend, this soul I igniteāitās 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 nothingāa refusal to let the dark win. Or maybe itās Nietzscheās voice I hear, urging me to embrace this cycle of melting and burning, to affirm myself again and again. Iām caught in that dance, desiring my own renewal, holding my soulās light steady against the shadows I know too well.
Power no longer hides in shadows it flickers on our screens, injected into daily life while we run the wheels built for someone elseās amusement. Eyes open, minds on cruise, we mistake repetition for truth and noise for freedom. Epstein becomes a symbol of the rot behind the curtain, where influence circulates quietly, systems feed
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 bornānot 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 indifferenceāFather 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 Godāthe 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 obsessedāto 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 “Eminentlyā¦” 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
I find myself drawn to this blazing force within meāmy “fiery fire”āa restless, burning energy that I crave to awaken fully. Itās as if Iām seeking to dissolve the frost encasing my heart, a coldness Iāve carried too long, tucked away in a place I call the “void less dark.” That phrase feels right to meāa shadow not pitch-black, but muted, a half-lit emptiness where Iāve lingered, neither lost nor found. Philosophers like Heraclitus might see this fire as my lifeās constant flux, a heat that promises to reshape me if I let it.
But thereās a tension I canāt ignore. This fire I tend, this soul I igniteāitās 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 nothingāa refusal to let the dark win. Or maybe itās Nietzscheās voice I hear, urging me to embrace this cycle of melting and burning, to affirm myself again and again. Iām caught in that dance, desiring my own renewal, holding my soulās light steady against the shadows I know too well.
Power no longer hides in shadows it flickers on our screens, injected into daily life while we run the wheels built for someone elseās amusement. Eyes open, minds on cruise, we mistake repetition for truth and noise for freedom. Epstein becomes a symbol of the rot behind the curtain, where influence circulates quietly, systems feed
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 bornānot 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 indifferenceāFather 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 Godāthe 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 obsessedāto 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 “Eminentlyā¦” 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 Sixth Tread from āCall Me A.CĀ Green..(Poem): āVirginity as a Gift: Building Integrity for My Future Wife”
“One DM from a girl resembling Vanityā¦ My sex drive is packaged as a gift for my future wifey.” Thatās the line I walkāa fleeting temptation in my inbox, a spark that could ignite my sex drive, yet a choice to hold it back. Virginity isnāt just a status for me; itās a gift, something Iām shaping with every ānoā 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 Iām immune, but because integrity matters more. Kantās principle whispers in my ear, and scripture seals it: āHusbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the churchā (Ephesians 5:25). My virginity is a promise, a piece of me Iām building for her.
Temptationās Knock
Temptation doesnāt come with a warning labelāit slips in quietly, like that DM lighting up my phone. Sheās not just a name; sheās a mirror of Vanityāstunning, magnetic, a test of my resolve. My sex drive kicks in, a natural pulse I canāt 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 deeperāa principle Iāve chosen to live by. That moment isnāt just about resisting; itās about building, stacking another brick of integrity for the man I want to be.
Vanityās allure fades when I think of whatās ahead. Temptation promises a thrill, but itās fleetingāa sugar rush that leaves me empty. My sex drive isnāt the enemy; itās a force Iām channeling, a gift Iām wrapping up for someone I havenāt met yet. One swipe, one reply, could unravel that, but Iād rather hold it together for her.
Integrity Over Impulse
Integrity isnāt loudāitās 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 youād want to be universal, a rule for everyone. For me, thatās what virginity becomesāa principle, not just a personal quirk. Iām not saving it because itās easy; Iām saving it because itās right, because Iād want my future wife to trust me with her whole self too. Itās a standard I set for myself, a way of living that says my word, my body, my soulāthey all mean something.
This isnāt about shutting down my sex driveāitās about giving it purpose. That DM might stir it up, but integrity keeps it in check. Iām not perfect; some days, the temptation feels like a tug-of-war. But every time I walk away, Iām stronger, more the man I want her to find when the time comes.
Scriptureās Blueprint
Scripture gives me the why behind the what. Ephesians 5:25 isnāt just a verseāitās a vision: āHusbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.ā Thatās the kind of love Iām preparing forāsacrificial, selfless, all-in. My virginity isnāt a badge of pride; itās a piece of that giving, a way Iām starting now to love her like Christ loved. Itās not about rulesāitās about relationship, about showing up for her with something pure and whole.
Then thereās Proverbs 4:23: āKeep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.ā My heartās where this battle plays outāwhere temptation meets integrity, where my sex drive meets my faith. Guarding it isnāt passive; itās active, a choice to protect what flows from it. That DM could crack the door open, but Proverbs tells me to lock it tightānot out of paranoia, but out of care for what Iām building.
This gift isnāt about denying myselfāitās about defining myself. Every temptation I turn from is a step toward her, a piece of trust Iām earning before we even meet. Kantās principle keeps me honest; scripture keeps me hopeful. Together, they turn my virginity into something active, not passiveāa choice I make for love.
The Man Iāll Be
So I let that DM sit unanswered, not because Iām better than anyone, but because Iām building something bigger. My future wife deserves a man whoās wrestled with temptation and won, not by luck, but by principle. My sex drive is hers, a gift Iām keeping safe with every ānoā I say today. Vanity canāt sway meānot when integrityās my compass and faithās my guide.
On lifeās court, Iām still A.C. Greenāsharp, steadfast, unashamed. My virginity isnāt a burden; itās a promise, a piece of me Iām crafting for her, day by day.
LifeandTimelessart 