Armour of God Prison Ministries

Prison Ministry

                                   Serpent of Old

I remember,
peering through your eyes,
on a branch - o- timber.
Told them my lies,
easy to deceive.
How can it be,
evil they fail t o perceive,
perfection lost.
Death came,
for it's cost,
they now feel pain.
Never the same,
bit the fruit of taste,
harmony laid to waste.
Relationship distorted,
our job rewarded,
they lost their key
In the Garden with Even,
and where am I?
Roaming Earth with a new lie. 
By Jimmie Coy Songer 



A seed is a seed,

until it becomes a tree,

 spawning fruit of good or wicked deed.


Guard your thought,

or chance a costed lot.


Eyes are the window of a soul,

let in the light,

gain what darkness stable.

Trees of height,

towers over temptations's shadow,

and every defeat's gallow.


Roots are strong,

buried in history's sail,

grub worms throng.


Fruit may spoil,

knowledge brings new thought,

waters to end all drought.


A seed is a seed,

Until it becomes new life,

an end of wicked deed.


Seeds of love end hate and strife,

gather a basket,

scatters and cast it!