“Idle youth, enslaved to everything; by being too sensitive I have wasted my life.”

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  • finnisam 14h


    The barbéd thorns of death now encompass me
    and round about mine enemies assail.
    Heavenward looking I long to be set free,
    yet my Redeemer winces at the nail

    that I drive through his wrist willingly.
    A soon-regretted action, tears stream
    and His sorrowful pain I choose not to see,
    claiming ignorance so that I can seem

    free from the debt that has to be repaid.
    In faith I long to love Him, but faith does fade.

    The Saviour with bloodied lips and serrated skin
    speaks in pained breaths from that wretched cross:
    “My son, be not afraid, I forgive your sin,
    but please, forget not the cost.”

    I assent, in faith I hope to remember,
    but piece by piece my mind does dismember

    the memory of Christ my blessed Saviour,
    until again my conscience seems to waver.

    “Forgive me, Lord, for I have sinned
    and the light of Your salvation was dimmed,
    but forgive me, just once more.”
    “I forgive you, now just endure.”


  • finnisam 2w

    For this sorrow entangles the senses,
    Confusing all happiness for pain.
    And hidden beneath a thousand pretences
    Of earthly joys and earthly gain.

    It rips away the voice that hummed melodic hymns,
    Strips the dignity of man and gives rise to countless sins.

    The dull pangs of remorse from another regret
    Is enough to invoke shame, but not enough to forget.

    Absolution. Absolution. I seek it now more than ever,
    And yet my heart and mind prevent me. I weep in silence.
    My relationship to Maker-God does this sinful state sever,
    For all these sordid passions cause unending violence.

    Teach me your ways, O Lord.
    Teach me your ways.
    For your Word is sharper than any two-edged sword
    And I long to see your divine face.

    Sweet Lord of mercy, great Lord of majesty.
    Your triune oneness is my salvation,
    Let this prayer be my oblation.
    I am blind, my Lord God, show me how to see.


  • finnisam 3w

    The Next “When” of Woe

    Sweet and sorrowful joy! Bleeding into dreams of eternity,
    the fading face of one that longs to love you.
    Drowning, despairing, dreading the next “when” of woe. Each homily
    is a scream soon silent, resounding for reasons true.

    Inhaling the shadow of an ideal, hoping in Heaven both loved and lost
    to the incessant implorations of instinct. Heavy-heart dragging deeper.
    Depravity beckons. Memories of misery and melancholy I host.
    Blood of the blessed Saviour stains my hands. Am I my brother’s keeper?

    An excuse so empty it echoes in the depths of my sapless soul
    and like and line repeated in reticence again, again, again. Strike
    after strike. Hearing my Lord scream with pain. I, wholly
    repentant, reluctantly in a state of sin, but to Satan I am alike.

    Monster of man! Awaiting light to dawn, languoring in the labours I perform —
    deemed lesser than a demon. Damned below the darkened Judas.
    Worthy of these self-inflicted afflictions, these sorrows of shame and scorn.
    Seeking the grace of a Saviour in sight. Yet, I, undeserving and helpless.


  • finnisam 3w


    The bristling and battering of wind and wave
    against the wooden cage that separates souls
    from the weathering storm that rants and raves,
    gnashing gruesome teeth as the tempest whorls.

    Ripping roots from their earthen homes, sod
    torn up by the breaking and beckoning of nature.
    Muttering merciful prayers, beseeching God
    to cease, to calm, to console and give favour

    as His sorrowful servants wend their wills toward
    His divine plan, in trust, in toil, in purest love.
    The tempest passes and man moves forward
    in wilful and wondrous obedience to Him above.

    Memories mould to form the future from the past,
    hollow promises of temptation relinquished
    as the languishing and languor lists not to last.
    Sweet Jesu soon sends a flame never extinguished.

    Giving grace to those that were guided by belief,
    tasting torture and daring death but with joy.
    Good Jesu stays silently and endures their grief
    for death was the last enemy that He destroyed.
    Fell-forces of darkness, foes of flesh and flame
    fall swiftly before the Saviour and his eternal Name.


  • finnisam 4w

    Wherefore does he mutter those incessant, rambling prayers?
    And how can he keep at it when everyone just stares?
    His lips tremble, tears are streaming down his cheek
    And he sobs in silence, unable to speak.
    This boy becoming a man, yet clinging to his pain
    For all the good it’s done him, for all the sorrow and shame.
    Where does this boy run when all else seems to fail?
    The answer lies within himself, and the word “Hail”.

    It’s a shame for his own feelings, to be concealed
    In such a way. A shame for his lips to be sealed
    But a price he does pay. Time passes on and on
    And this boy cannot catch the joy before it’s gone.
    ‘Tis a cage of self-made woes, his simple mind,
    Unable to fix those sorrows and unable to find
    Meaning in them. So it goes with life, questions
    With no answer. Countless miseries and repressions
    That only live in unspoken words.


  • finnisam 5w

    A Night in Mid-December

    The fire was fading to its last ember,
    ‘Twas a night in mid-December.
    I heard the dogs howl in the endless night
    And sought comfort in twilight.

    She slept soundly, I remember her breathing
    Slowly. With not a care. Inside I was seething
    That there should exist one so blessed and fair.
    I cursed the day she met me and chose me
    Above all the rest.
    I laughed and smiled and looked at her with glee
    For it was her I loved the best.

    She was as perfect as a shimmering dawn
    But I would not let her ope her lids. I scorned
    The gifts of the divine
    and wanted her forever mine
    Separated from her creator forever
    So her life I sought to sever.

    Soundly she slept, very soundly slept she.
    I put my hands upon a pillow,
    Lifted it slowly so she might not wake nor see.
    ‘Twas a night in mid-December,
    A night I did never again remember.

    I placed the pillow upon her face,
    She struggled until she had breath no more.
    In those closed eyes shone divine grace,
    And that sight shocked me to my core.
    My sin was clear
    And I felt true fear.

    I oped the window recklessly,
    The fall I cared not to see.
    I jumped, falling to my death,
    And she regained her breath.
    Think not of how I speak to ye,
    It is my punishment for eternity.


  • finnisam 5w

    For mankind is nought but dust,
    In the Saviour’s cross we trust.
    Ready to endure affliction for our Lord,
    Taking no vengeance, drawing no sword.
    Humility and love are the tools of the trade
    For in the image of God we are all made.
    Divine reflections on the journey of life
    In periods of triumph and disaster, joy and strife.
    No matter how evil the world may seem to be,
    We thank our Lord Jesus Christ
    For giving us eyes to see.


  • finnisam 6w

    Remember brethren to trust in Christ
    And thou wilt see Him in Paradise.
    Build up one another in love,
    Set your eyes on God above.
    Meditate upon His life, death, and resurrection,
    Only then canst thou obtain perfection.
    Seek first His everlasting Kingdom.
    He is with thee until the end of the age.
    Sinners; into the arms of Christ bring them,
    If thou doest so, Satan wilt be enraged.
    Run the race that is set before thee
    For then ye will know the truth,
    And the truth shall make you free.

  • finnisam 6w

    They crucified a broken king,
    beat him down and flogged him.
    Forced him to carry a throne of wood
    soaked in sweat and soaked in blood.
    Condemned by his own people,
    denied by his trusted disciples.

    The crowd turned their eyes to Rome,
    and no crime could they find him guilty of.
    And so he came to be deemed guilty
    by a court of hatred that lacked authority.
    Golgotha awaited his bloodied body
    as the soldiers mocked the son of Mary.

    Arms outstretched for humanity,
    nails driven into his hands and feet.
    We saw the Saviour and still did not see
    that the cross he died on was a king’s seat.
    “Forgive them Father, they know not what they do.”
    Forgive us Jesus, for we killed you.


  • finnisam 6w

    Made of flesh and formed of soil
    the fate of man is endless toil.
    The deep awaits the spirit of mankind
    until a new light dawns, seek to find.
    Only those who choose can see the light,
    eyes made to see through the night
    and the entrapments of this deceiving world,
    but the human mind is weak, once unfurled
    it wraps itself in bonds of sin and despair,
    laments the state of things as unfair,
    blinds the eyes to what lies ahead.
    Faith, hope, love, soon all are dead.
    Then the hallowed light shines anew
    and the spirit knows that it is true,
    darkened hopes emerge from my breast,
    grant unto me, O Lord, eternal rest.