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While Masses Die like Flies
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


While Masses Die like Flies


The risen Christ’s no longer dead

As many have believed

For just like fools when Satan led

Blind to being deceived


They fail to see The Truth at hand

To witness Heaven’s love

Believing still to understand

No one can rise above


So it has been two thousand years

Unknown Christ died to save

With sin festooned, riddled with fear

Fooled within the grave


Believing Christ had never been

Had never walked this earth

No child before was ever seen

Who came through virgin birth


For far too long were bibles rare

God’s word few souls could read

And those who could failed grace to share

Salvation’s Living Seed


Today; the world is fancy free

The high street’s overflow

So man and child should plainly see

What wisdom ought to show


But still The Truth is seldom heard

Believing Satan’s lies

Most schools today have banned God’s Word

While masses die like flies


So what’s to do, what can we say?

Which has Heaven revealed?

Even a child may lead the way

If only hearts would yield.....

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Submitted: Friday, March 20, 2015

Last Updated: Friday, March 20, 2015

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.

Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson

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