Bob Gotti

Rookie (03/15/1957 / New Jersey)

It’s All Relative - Poem by Bob Gotti

This life some say is all relative, effecting how they choose to live.
Times may change, this is true, but should it change me and you?
If indeed this life is relative for you, whom or what is it related to?
Not all, you can be assured, is approved or endorsed by The Lord.

Cultures do rise and cultures fall, all at the hands of The Lord of all.
Christ who created all, my friend, will be the same in the very end.
In these ever changing days, sure and unchanging are His ways.
Eternal laws aren’t compromised; by Him wickedness is despised.

Anything that is contrary to Him, could my friend, be laced with sin.
For Satan wraps sin in a disguise, making sin pleasing to our eyes.
But Believers have the mind of Christ, to point us all to Eternal Life.
Are you moved by things on earth, or by the spirit of your new birth?

A Christian’s life should be relevant, to The Spirit whom Christ sent.
For we are to become sanctified, to live our life for Christ who died,
This is to live life as a sacrifice, reflecting the ways of Jesus Christ.
While we live our life down here, we should live it in reverent fear.

All our ways should be relative, to Him who died so we could live.
Living our life for Jesus Christ, recalling He paid the ultimate price.
And knowing that it was related to, His Father’s will for me and you.
And everything is related friend, to where in Eternity you shall end.


Comments about It’s All Relative by Bob Gotti

  • (5/28/2005 4:39:00 AM)


    Hey Bob, I was thinking about miracles and stuff. Do you think Jesus can pull the tablecloth out from under a set table without upsetting the plates and glasses and stuff? The reason I’m asking is that I tried it at a café last Tuesday. I even prayed first but that didn’t help. Everything went flying. I think the devil was there and he sabotaged it. See, there was a guy sitting at another table and he had the weirdest smirk on his face. He was wearing a hat so I couldn’t see if he had horns, but I’m pretty sure he was the devil. I wanted to follow him home and torch his place (you know, fight fire with fire, that sort of thing) . But I hardly wanted to go to jail on an arson rap. Hey, don’t you think it was wrong to name that baseball team the “Devil Rays? ” Mighty suspicious how the devil has managed to infiltrate our language. I think it might be a sin to eat deviled egg. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: friend, change, birth, father, life, fear, culture, rose



Poem Submitted: Saturday, May 28, 2005

Poem Edited: Friday, May 7, 2010


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