When you’re young it’s brand new. The feeling is fresh but when you’re old you see people come and go until you yourself finally have to say goodbye.
Hum… in all of my years of living on planet earth, I’ve never seen a scarlet potato.
It’s different, it’s unique.
It shows no sign of being painted.
The sun’s natural rays made something unique.
I wonder if it’s anything like a regular potato.
I wonder if it’s edible.
It’s the only one in the bunch and it grew on top of the ground.
I wonder if nature is trying to tell me something.
I’m the first person to ever see something like this;
at least the first person to recognize its value.
I’ll study it, or should I just leave it alone?
Things are changing or is it just my imagination?
Curious, I decide to eat it.
It doesn’t taste like regular starch potatoes.
I don’t think I should have done that…
My skin begins to turn purple.
My curious mind has turned me into something different, something out of this world.
The scarlet potato.
I wanted to tell a superhuman story but I was then faced with reality.
I wanted to lie and give people false hopes but there is a force that is super. This I know to be true.
It’s real and if you listen closely you will hear it.
When you’re down and out it speaks to you.
When you’re in trouble it’s always there protecting you and when it’s your time, it takes you home.
This force can drive you to do things that are unbelievable.
I can confirm it to be fact in this superhuman story because when I’m weak and I ask for strength, it comes abundantly.
You may feel left out, dead and forgotten, but no matter who you are there is a force that creates miracles.
Even those with an abundance of power cannot explain this force.
It’s uncomprehending, it’s unimaginable, it’s amazing, it’s super.
It makes grown men cry and it brings people to their knees.
It evens things out, it turns small men and women into superheroes.
It gives an average joe the ability to face the bully.
It gives a dummy brains.
It turns tragedies into miracles.
It turns feeble minded individuals into superheroes.
Man and woman can lie, cheat, and deceive this Christmas but the only force that can light the eastern sky is the force of good.
Be good, and I promise you that the light will always be there. It stays in the eastern sky and when my time is up it will create more superheroes like me.
Who am I?
I’m the Christmas Superhero and when reality hits only my superpowers can save you.
Who am I?
I’m a force for good, I’m there when you’re sleeping, and I’m there when you’re awake.
Who am I?
I’m the Christmas superhero, I’m a force for goodness sake.
The Christmas Superhero
You may not know it, you may not even believe it, but I’m there.
The Christmas Superhero
It’s an unknown force for good that flies in and saves the day.
It’s hidden deep inside your heart, use it for good and then you too will be able to fly above the earth and into the eastern sky when the light calls you home.
The Christmas Superhero.
The force is stronger than magic. It’s real super human strength.
It always saves the day, and better yet, it always saves Christmas.
I’m a man down on his luck.
I have no food to eat and not too much family left.
Life has brought me to my knees and I see tragedy almost every day.
I have my own addictions that I deal with because deep inside I’m in pain.
While everyone else sits in comfort enjoying every meal, I saw a tornado, hurricane and earthquake kill my people.
When someone asked who will volunteer this Christmas, I left the little that I did have and said,
“I will go.”
May God be with us and may evil never win.
“I will go.”
1. Gym socks.
3. Some fresh shaving razors.
4. A gift card to my favorite grocery store.
5. A hug.
6. Some washing detergent.
9. Shaving cream.
10. A fresh pair of Gym shorts.
11. Some suit ties.
12. And a brand new radio for my bedroom.
It was a week before Christmas and I was angry.
I mean come on, everything that preacher man said in the pool pit was a sin and a lie.
Folks had to be crazy to believe his mess.
Sex is bad, everything that feels good is bad, everything I like to do is bad. I must be losing my mind, I have to sit in a box and pay him every week to be good and go to heaven. Wow!
Here I am feeling bad about my own natural feelings that God gave me, while this preacher man is feeling good around Christmas and I’m broke.
What kind of voodoo is this?
Why does everything that I like send me to hell?
Frustrated at him and his congregation’s money game I decided to play the evil serpent in his Christmas play and reveal the truth, but his sheep were to blind to see.
I’d become a slave to this preacher man’s dream of a gold church on the hill in his father’s mansion. I’d become a slave to this man’s heaven, this man’s church, this man’s cult. I’d also become an enemy for revealing the truth.
In my own prison, I put my Santa Claus hat on and stole Christmas by painting his pure church black. I was churched out.
Hungry, and left alone, I’d become a black sheep.
I couldn’t take it anymore, independent and upset, I spread my black wings and flew away while that sad excuse for a preacher shaved the fur off of his sheep and sold it to make a profit.
That man is making a killing off of my misery.
Surrounded by wisemen as a child they often fade as time passes by. You become older and the wisemen die.
Jealousy and envy can slowly kill and destroy any movement, it’s evil, and too many leaders in a room are the proof.
I adopted children and I had to get them ready for the world so I sat 3 books under a tree with some toys to see what was in their future.
Ryan picked the construction book, he might be a builder.
Lyra picked up the superhero book, she might be a doctor or an athlete.
Frank picked up the Bible, he might be a preacher, politician or a businessman.
Watching them take their gifts and run to their rooms, Lyra stopped, turned around and decided to come back and thank me for being her father.
At this moment, my heart skipped a beat. If I make it pass sixty, there’s a good chance that she’s going to be the one to take care of me someday.
At this moment in time, I can only imagine, but I’m sure the mover of time knows something or Lyra would not have thought twice about me after she got her gifts. She also gave me a hug and told me that she loved me.
The 3 Books of Christmas