The Land Where Prophets Preached The Gospels
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About this ebook
The art of poetry continues. But this time the art has become a science. Prophets used this science to serve mankind. They also used this art to expand time. The Land, which these prophets came from has passed. But the legacy still lives. The legacy will never die because this is something God promised us before death. No matter how much wealth you have you can never have enough knowledge. No matter who much knowledge you have you can never take too much advice. The land, we dwell in, is quite similar to the land of the prophets. We just haven't discovered this yet. The land, which we live in, is now nothing but a waste land for the skeptics and scholarly. A land bent on wealth but not on honesty.
Sheldon Hollis
Hello, my name is Sheldon Hollis. I was born in Chicago, Illinois and raised in Omaha, Nebraska. September 1, 1993 is when an artists was born. I am an author, poet, and screen writer. My dream is to cement a legacy that will live on forever. But I know to cement a legacy you must first blueprint your legacy. In life nothing comes easy but you should want it to be that way. If there were no road blocks, what story would you have to tell? How would history remember you. Every day, when I wake up, I think about my legacy. I wonder, sometimes, how people will remember me. To create a legacy, you have to first create a blueprint. And when you're done creating your blueprint, you start sculpting out your legacy. This journey will be long but I know this journey will pay off. Legacy is hard to achieve but I know my legacy will be remembered.
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The Land Where Prophets Preached The Gospels - Sheldon Hollis
I sat back and watched as life passed me by.
Even though life is a process it never had the chance to ask me why.
The thunder on Venus made a nasty cry.
Everything solid lost its poise the minute Ashley cried.
I don’t mean to sound negative but wow is me.
The moon is closing in, we need a sign to show indeed.
Consciousness is a waste of breath and fresh air for prophets who look past bushes that burn.
Astronomers with instruments that are able to see past the sun are mesmerized by the moons that turn.
There is no justice for those who have lodged hearts.
There is no canvas for the poets who draws art.
A poet has passed, we know this, because the ink spilled.
The death was such a travesty we had to bless the sinking fields.
I couldn’t see through night, but luckily I was able to see through the fog.
Revolutionary is what I tried to draw, but deep down inside I was new to the cause.
The sun up close is orange but when I moved away it became canary yellow.
To weather the storm the moon had to become very mellow.
There’s wonders behind every cause and every lone arrow.
The truth that is awaiting will not curse those whose minds are stone narrow.
When poets fall I believe there will be a new trend.
Hopefully before that time comes the world will end.
Poetry is just another language. It may be hard to comprehend but trust and believe the words will blend.
Poetry isn’t fair to everybody so don’t think you will become a scholar if you finish but don’t begin.
The Nature of the Earth
God never told me that life would be this way.
I’m enraged and I feel the best time to wonder is on this day.
My mind, that use to be open, has now become a mind that wonders in a world that’s misty.
The angel that placed me in my mother’s womb is no longer with me.
I find it unfair that Lucifer has his father, yet I, a child of God, has nobody to lean on.
The mind that’s outside of our reality is actually nonexistent he just seems strong.
A conclusion like this shouldn’t be conclusive just yet.
But how can I not feel this way when I am lost in this abusive sun set.
I am not of this world, so why do you treat me like one of them.
I’m like a helpless raindrop hanging on one of summer’s limbs.
I’m like a bird unable to hatch.
Your actions are nothing but words that I’m unable to catch.
Belief on earth is meaningless.
I’m surprised that I’m the only person seeing this.
I’m unable to identify myself. Especially as nature occurs.
The withering of the wilderness is what makes me unsure.
I’m confused on whether you play a role in my reality.
I did things not for attention but for you to be proud of me.
My mind is unable to understand these things that are understandable.
But understanding Lucifer is like understanding summer’s animal.
I guess there are something’s that are meant not to be understood.
But at least I can be at peace knowing that I fought for good.
Never I Will
Never will I get involve in somebody else’s fairs.
Never will I ask for prayers during a time of musical chairs.
Never will I forget about those who cared.
Never will I denounce the prophets who are rare.
Never will I forget about the cast stones and my past homes.
Never will I forgot about the accordion with the saxophones.
My brothers have forgotten about the promise land but I never will.
My sisters and queens are in search for an honest man but finding them they never will.
Never will my brothers live up to the expectations of