Troy Osman

Nashville, Tennessee, USA

Troy, born April 1, 1972, grew up with a weird sense of humor. He was very intelligent. But when he was in about seventh grade, he started having problem with schizophrenia. He spent a lot of time in hospital setting, but managed to get his High School diploma and took Psychology. Now, he's been through a lot of discouragement, but hopes to manage a career with his music, poetry and avid Christianity. He's very happy to be nominated for the International Poetry Hall of Fame. (and hey, don't tell him I said this, but I think it's going to his head!)

Soul's Cathedral

There is no life without a spirit
Even with animals this is so
The amoeba has no brain to think,
But propels itself to and fro
The dust of the earth,
From which we're made
Has nothing to choose and decide
The only reason a cell is alive
Is because there's a spirit inside
DNA transfer may form the cerebrum,
But that's just the framework it forms and repairs
The brain, the cathedral of multicellular thought,
Is phenomena beyond compare
Freedom of thought cannot be maintained, as is
Thought, just by random synaptic affairs
And nothing can alter the truth of our Maker,
The Awesome Creator, who's lofty, yet cares!

Your Secret Parts

When you are overwhelmed with subtle anguish
And your morbid attitude stagnates your soul,
It's hard to find peace, because it's not in full view.
In the midst of your struggle, you lose control.
But everyone born has a person inside them.
The inner self: the spirit (or heart).
So gaze in yourself for the pathway to freedom
Because no one else knows what you love more than you
We all have interests. It could be the arts.
The language of poetry capturing hearts.
But only the Lord knows it all in one gulp
The memory you know is in your secret parts
And you can reminisce it whenever you want

A Universe is Born

Self-existent deity,
celestially displayed,
spoke into potential
and the Universe was made.

Look into the heavens
and behold the starry host.
Seldom does man look up
to marvel and to boast

By his hands he stretched them out,
across the endless space,
like an artist sets his canvass
or a potter forms his base.

Gas compresses into clouds,
clouds clump into planets and stars,
Gravity pulls matter in,
atom contact, reaction spin.

How great a God to
galaxies form!
A wave of hand
and A UNIVERSE IS BORN!