Pelagius Pummelled by Petals


I hereby smite thee with my flower, you simpering Pelagian.
By the five petals of my predestinating tulip you shall wilt, wither and die. My TULIP flourishes, watered by the blood of martyrs, fertilized and flowering by God’s sovereign grace. Away with your merely human worldly wisdom. Christ cultivates a blooming garden of grace, and our Savior hallows the Augustinian fragrance flowing freely from this line of flight. It’s time to stop and smell the TULIPS !
Tremble and surrender, worldlings, before the eternal might of my gentle flower as it sings, blooming on a theological stalk, waving gently in the wind of liberty, a floral banner proclaiming freedom. Away with your works; out, out, and perish, you preachers of what cannot save. Give up, give in and praise the Lord of hosts for redeeming grace and unmerited favor.
This eternal flower must go forth conquering and to conquer. To hell with human potential, free will and progress falsely so-called. Blessed are the Antinomians, for they shall inherit the empty ruined tombs of Arminian theology.

La Kumbia Kalvinista

La Kumbia Kalvinista no es ritmo vaticano
se baila todo libre con la biblia en la mano

La Kumbia Kalvinista es la onda reformada
las sectas sí prometen—pero no entregan nada

Esta cumbia trascendente, pero poco conocida
es la cumbre de verdad y predestina pura vida

La Kumbia Kalvinista es la nueva nueva onda
la cantan las iglesias y ofrecen otra ronda

La Kumbia Kalvinista no lo bailan los de Roma
si un padre lo intenta terminará caído en coma

es un baile teológico que es absurdo mientras lógico
lo baila cada tribu, cada etnia y antropólogo

el papa mismo, y su esposa
bailan esta cumbia fabulosa
tu estado de animo no es nada
sino gracia predestinada

 lo bailan los sajones con cojones

 lo bailan las alemanas si le dan la ganas

este baile está basado en un ritmo luterano
apetece a los gringos, a los indios, y a fulano

no bailaban los franceses aunque Calvin era suya
si bailaban los escoceses y gritaban aleluya !




¿Haiku?  pues… no sé.
es algo chino, yo creo.
Es un poema.

Reset to Eden

Each day reminds me that I am depraved

fixated, titillated still with sin

and thinking I’m smart, I’ve ranted and raved

only to wake up again in this skin

wondering if I am actually saved.

Behold the deep cesspool I find within:

unhallowed Self, to whom I am enslaved,

doomed to start over every day.  Begin

again Lord Christ, that sanctifying work

you promised to accomplish through your Word.

Kill the vipers that in our garden lurk;

tell of your blood and all that it conferred.

Explain—as on the road to Emmaus;

or dull mortality may dismay us.

insanely bent on multi-
cultural suicide