The Kingdom Seeker
The Diary of Saint Thomas the Divine
by
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Manhattan was wonderful - a vibrant, delicious, scintillating,
tantalizing, mesmerizing, electrifying, stupefying spectacular of sights,
sounds, faces and places; truly, it is the best place to stroll through in
the summertime. Perhaps I would run into a luscious beauty whose
spirit would unite with mine in an invisible or maybe not so invisible
pas de deux; the Puerto Rican girls in Washington Square park were
terrific dancers and they’d be there with their boyfriends, gyrating and
gesticulating, prancing, spinning, twisting, whirring, and whooshing
about the square to undulating, euphonious Afro-Latin songs; suddenly,
life was a dance, and summers in the city could fill one’s soul with the
rhythms of Puente, Colon, Anthony, Martin, and Santana, and, for
a moment - one precious, glistening, iridescent, fleeting slice of time
- there was love and peace in the city as if in a dream. After a time, I
started feeling very strange on these walks, as if I were being followed;
everywhere, it seemed to me, gay men were stalking my heels; this
became quite disturbing; New York City has a large gay population,
and it isn’t inconceivable to me that some sort of network had been
constructed to embrace someone who looked like he might make a
new member as I spend a lot of my time alone, unfortunately. Men
who spend most of their time alone as I do are suspect around here.
One might well suspect I was just paranoid. I thought so too for
a while until an incident early in the summer of 1986. I was on my
way home by train from Manhattan, having walked around a bit, girl
watching as was my custom. I again got one of those queer feelings that
someone was watching me. I didn’t know it then, but now understand
that I was exhibiting a type of clairvoyance, almost like Spiderman’s
“spider-sense.” Instead of getting off the train as usual, I decided to step
off a stop early and walk the extra distance. Instead, however, I quickly
jumped back on, the doors closing abruptly behind me. Peering out
the window of the now slowly advancing subway car, I noticed a tall,
white man, with curly, brown hair and a slim build become unnerved
when he looked back and didn’t find me on his heels. My reaction
was to swiftly pat myself on the back and
say, “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”
I was being’ monitored. I didn’t get very worried about this or other
strange occurrences, despite their novelty. These early days of the Sp-rit’s
stirrings in my life did, eventually, have me delving into the Bible
more and more often. Sometimes I would greet whole chapters, other
times just a passage or two. I had acquired the idea from Marcus,
several weeks before, of opening my Bible and reading whatever words
<><>
Manhattan was wonderful - a vibrant, delicious, scintillating,
tantalizing, mesmerizing, electrifying, stupefying spectacular of sights,
sounds, faces and places; truly, it is the best place to stroll through in
the summertime. Perhaps I would run into a luscious beauty whose
spirit would unite with mine in an invisible or maybe not so invisible
pas de deux; the Puerto Rican girls in Washington Square park were
terrific dancers and they’d be there with their boyfriends, gyrating and
gesticulating, prancing, spinning, twisting, whirring, and whooshing
about the square to undulating, euphonious Afro-Latin songs; suddenly,
life was a dance, and summers in the city could fill one’s soul with the
rhythms of Puente, Colon, Anthony, Martin, and Santana, and, for
a moment - one precious, glistening, iridescent, fleeting slice of time
- there was love and peace in the city as if in a dream. After a time, I
started feeling very strange on these walks, as if I were being followed;
everywhere, it seemed to me, gay men were stalking my heels; this
became quite disturbing; New York City has a large gay population,
and it isn’t inconceivable to me that some sort of network had been
constructed to embrace someone who looked like he might make a
new member as I spend a lot of my time alone, unfortunately. Men
who spend most of their time alone as I do are suspect around here.
One might well suspect I was just paranoid. I thought so too for
a while until an incident early in the summer of 1986. I was on my
way home by train from Manhattan, having walked around a bit, girl
watching as was my custom. I again got one of those queer feelings that
someone was watching me. I didn’t know it then, but now understand
that I was exhibiting a type of clairvoyance, almost like Spiderman’s
“spider-sense.” Instead of getting off the train as usual, I decided to step
off a stop early and walk the extra distance. Instead, however, I quickly
jumped back on, the doors closing abruptly behind me. Peering out
the window of the now slowly advancing subway car, I noticed a tall,
white man, with curly, brown hair and a slim build become unnerved
when he looked back and didn’t find me on his heels. My reaction
was to swiftly pat myself on the back and
say, “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”
I was being’ monitored. I didn’t get very worried about this or other
strange occurrences, despite their novelty. These early days of the Sp-rit’s
stirrings in my life did, eventually, have me delving into the Bible
more and more often. Sometimes I would greet whole chapters, other
times just a passage or two. I had acquired the idea from Marcus,
several weeks before, of opening my Bible and reading whatever words
<><>
rhythms of Puente, Colon, Anthony, Martin, and Santana, and, for
a moment - one precious, glistening, iridescent, fleeting slice of time
- there was love and peace in the city as if in a dream. After a time, I
started feeling very strange on these walks, as if I were being followed;
everywhere, it seemed to me, gay men were stalking my heels; this
became quite disturbing; New York City has a large gay population,
and it isn’t inconceivable to me that some sort of network had been
constructed to embrace someone who looked like he might make a
new member as I spend a lot of my time alone, unfortunately. Men
who spend most of their time alone as I do are suspect around here.
One might well suspect I was just paranoid. I thought so too for
a while until an incident early in the summer of 1986. I was on my
way home by train from Manhattan, having walked around a bit, girl
watching as was my custom. I again got one of those queer feelings that
someone was watching me. I didn’t know it then, but now understand
that I was exhibiting a type of clairvoyance, almost like Spiderman’s
“spider-sense.” Instead of getting off the train as usual, I decided to step
off a stop early and walk the extra distance. Instead, however, I quickly
jumped back on, the doors closing abruptly behind me. Peering out
the window of the now slowly advancing subway car, I noticed a tall,
white man, with curly, brown hair and a slim build become unnerved
when he looked back and didn’t find me on his heels. My reaction
was to swiftly pat myself on the back and
say, “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”
I was being’ monitored. I didn’t get very worried about this or other
strange occurrences, despite their novelty. These early days of the Sp-rit’s
stirrings in my life did, eventually, have me delving into the Bible
more and more often. Sometimes I would greet whole chapters, other
times just a passage or two. I had acquired the idea from Marcus,
several weeks before, of opening my Bible and reading whatever words
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About the Book
This critically acclaimed book by the holiest man ever born in America - the first Black captain of a White athletic team in world history and at a Christian high school and among the greatest track and field athletes of all time pound-per-pound - is about how the author predicted the record-breaking hurricane season of 2005 ten months in advance to George Bush, Vladimir Putin, Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, Ismar Schorsch, David Posner, Ariel Sharon, Pope John Paul II, Michael Bloomberg, the Clintons, Raymond Kelly, senator Charles Schumer, and numerous others after claiming to these very same people both to be the greatest man Jesus ever knew and to have been killed (see 1 Corinthians 15:12-22) more than twenty times over the previous two decades by Satan and his murderous band of sinners, many of whom are gay men whom the author despises with a passion exactly because they always have a plan as regards a woman’s only pride and joy – her Christian husband - as such men are extremely rare, holy, and enormously special! In fact, such men are gods or kings. Mr. Adams has the Christian gift of prophecy and has done so accurately many, many times since 2005, all proving that Mr. Adams is indeed a very close friend of the Creator of the universe - a righteous man or prophet of the living God and akin to a Christian Vishnu, the ancient destroyer of worlds. The author has not fornicated or done drugs in nearly thirty years, hence his claim of sainthood. The better of people are great which is why you should always take their advice. The book contains two proofs of God’s existence in the universe by likely the greatest lay theologian of all time – of the ruthless connection between science and religion, one of which Sir Isaac Newton almost discovered over five hundred years ago. What Isaac Newton could not, Tom Adams, an inner-city, Black, child now a man, has done twice over. What the world truly needs is more baby-power and this book brings it in force. Baby-power are the facts that truth, beauty, love, faithfulness, and innocence are universal languages, unlike sin, and are such because saints, although rare, are real too. The book also adduces the secret of the only way known to the angels of heaven to create value or generate wealth – something every C.E.O. will need to know, especially in these volatile financial times - a secret that will make the book's readers billionaires within their lifetimes, guaranteed, assuming they are still young. According to the Holy Spirit, this book is the most perfect non-fiction title ever written and at this by what amounts to an almost completely unpracticed, neophyte, scribbler, him being more an engineer by temperament. Kirkus Discoveries says of “The Kingdom Seeker: the Diary of Saint Thomas the Divine,” in a mixed review:”….beautiful,” “ …surprisingly well written,” “…competent religious rant,” and says that it, “…captures the rhythms of common speech in a startlingly precise and perceptive manner that recalls Jack Kerouac,” and says that “… any other books this man writes assuming he forgets about religion will be well worth reading.” Many kings and righteous men have either died in battle or been assassinated, but this is a book by a king that has defeated death over and over again for the last three decades and for this reason you must buy it immediately, because out of Africa come kings too. Why read any book that isn’t written by a prophet of the living God? It would, of course, be nice if Jesus Himself had written books. I, like anyone else that has good sense, am not very excited about reading anyone's books but His or seeing anyone's performances but His. But this is obviously to be short sighted. You should buy this book right now not only because it is very, very good but also because it is very, very important. This book is cheaper and earns its author the highest royalty possible anywhere only if purchased directly from this site. Be warned that the title of this book is not "Pagan Hordes of Israel," so this a book that many in America will not like! Any Christian that ever fails or isn't wealthier than Bill Gates at birth is under attack, but you have to be one of the real ones to have it this way. There are at least three kinds of failures in life: The first kind doesn't believe in himself when he obviously has the talent; the second and more common kind believes in and relies upon only himself but not God; and the third kind doesn't believe in, utilize, adequately compensate, or even acknowledge an obvious winner; we the gods know this and that all three kinds are losers! Everybody should simply ask God for wisdom, insight, understanding, discernment, and good sense like I did when I was a nine-year-old boy, and He will surely give you these things. You guys are the ones that have to put in my cause for beatification with the Vatican; I can't do this myself! More info available at TheKingdomSeekerOne.Blogspot.Com and YouTube channel TFADAM16.
About the Author
A Roman Catholic faith healer, stigmatic, Knight of Columbus, Boy Scout, future Harvard engineer, scientist, medical doctor, economist, decathlete, secular Franciscan, deacon and theologian, and a soon-to-be Roman Catholic saint, the author is the first-born, illegitimate, offspring of a wealthy pharmaceutical salesman from Georgetown, Guyana, and the valedictorian of Perote, Alabama, high school, class of 1955, both now deceased. Born in