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Tell The World (2)
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Tell the World(2)

I AM The Lord my love is real

To life I AM The Way

I AM The Truth coming to heal

If only youíll obey

If to the world you wish to cleave

When heartís remain as stone

One day this life youíre bound to leave

In hell to walk alone

Donít waste the time Iíve given free

Donít drink from Satanís cup

Be humble, wise, come unto me

Will I not lift you up?

Not all who come will pass the test

Not all will see my face

But those who try, who give their best

Will never find disgrace

Iím real Iím true my promise too

One day youíll comprehend

What comes to those with life anew

Whoís humble knees now bend

Think well my child from whence you came

The filthy things youíve done

Now think of those still lost in shame

Who need my Lamb & Son

Youíve nothing now to lose my child

Your time is mine to give

Before the last oneís reconciled

No single soul can live

So now go south, go to the north

Go east and to the west

The Truth to life, take swiftly forth

Before you think of rest..... †


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Submitted: Sunday, October 21, 2012

Last Updated: Sunday, October 21, 2012

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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