The Prodigal

An affluent man
He had two sons
The older would heed
Advises indeed
The younger didn’t care
He demanded his share
He got his estate
Tried to seal his fate

He squandered his resources
Turned to wrong sources
Became a drunkard
Whose walk was wayward
He followed his lusts
His wealth wouldn’t last
He served in a pig farm
Gone was his charm
His plight was awful
When the swines had their bowlful
He consumed their scraps

He remembered his father
Would be with him rather
Where food was abundant
But he’d been repugnant
He came to his senses
Filled with repentance
He hastened to his home
No more would he roam

His father caught a glance
From a distance
He ran to his darling
On his son, he put a fine ring
Around him, he wrapped his arms
His embrace was warm
He ordered his servants
Cloth my son in new garments
Kill a fattened calf
Life has been tough
Let’s throw him a feast
He’s been through worse

Such is the compassion
of our father in heaven
He lives the ninety-nine
in search for the lost one
So let all the prodigals
Indulge in the gospels
To experience salvation
And be free of damnation

-A poem by Maria Joseph





Steganography – The practice of concealing a message in a message. Not so hidden 🙂

Morbid, listless & baseless
Enshrined in the regrets of yesterday
Ever sure, logic and reason must remain faceless
This much is sure, coasting to the edge of gray

Must I deign in this filth,
Ejected from the throne room of grace

Insipid of the salt of life,
Near dark tranquility

Hark the caterwaul of the banshee
Embrace the stillness of the night,
Arms wide open
Vegetating to the vacancy of emptiness
Ensnared by the compulsion of subliminal sleep
Near deaths’ grip.

Steganography : Friedman’s photo

Steganography : Friedman’s photo

The individuals facing the camera were the a’s, and the ones looking away the b’s. The message spelled out was “Knowledge is Power.” Or rather, since they were four people short, “Knowledge is Powe” (a decoded version can be found here).

The Bitch & The Lord

A couple of years back, there was a pastor who used to counsel me. We used to meet at around 6ish in the morning. He was a great guy and I really admired his willingness to go the extra mile. One day as we were parting after our morning meeting, he called me and I turned back and looked at him. He smiled and said “You know you are a bitch right!!!”. I was a bit shocked, but then I realized he was just trying to wake me up from the maladies (or slumber) that I was suffering from. I am a servant of GOD…. because I know that I am saved.

Romans 8:1

1Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.


Forgiveness is a very difficult concept to understand.

Where have I been
these years of yearning.
My life riddled with the benign
caricature of a vagrant being.

You called me by name
You knew me from before time,
But I recognized the shame
of a life untamed

Bankrupt and insolvent,
my soul wreaked by an ailment
Emancipated and outed as a miscreant,
My sacrilege, aberrant and errant.

Hands that wrote away the onlookers
Men with stones to mark the hooker
Forgiveness in the hands of the maker
Tenderness and compassion, devine in nature

How oft can you find such love
How oft can you deserve such kindness
My LORD and my GOD
I will never perceive or
comprehend the nature of


Written by : Prashant Thomas

Vengeance : A Poem

Every time I feel the impulse to plot revenge fantasies, I remember what Jesus said to Pontius Pilate “You would have no authority over Me unless it were given to you from above. Therefore the one who handed Me over to you is guilty of greater sin.

Every time some one sticks a dagger down your gut, just remember its because GOD allowed it, therefore you needn’t be angry at the person who did that to you. I wrote this poem to help me remember something personal, so if you don’t get it, its because, I would prefer not sharing it with the world. But if you can read between the lines the message is clear



Cold-pressed by this solitude of an uncanny vanity
I stare at the horizon in quiet contemplation
Ruminating the vicissitude of an aeon gone by
Of things gained but lost in time

Nonchalant and nondescript,
In a world impoverished by abject apathy
Where once was quiet repose,
has been drowned by the obsequiousness of ignominy

Here I am, the monologue in a dialog
My voice drowned by the clamor of the masses
Lulled into the lassitude of wasted assays
A metronome for the usury of legal wranglers

For as they merrily jaunt at the misery of their stooge
They vault themselves to the mercy of their maker
For it is inscribed in the ancient of times,
that vengeance is mine, I will repay.

Written By: Prashant Thomas

In Memory of my dad

I was working on this when my dad was really sick. I never got a chance to complete it because the application license ran out. My father has since passed away, but every time I hear this tune, it brings back memories of his struggle with COPD.

Love you dad.