Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2012
The preacher man is up there hollerin':
Spittin' hellfire don't fall here, only grace,
But ****, such a hot, fiery grace it is,
People screamin' all over like they was burnin' in it --
Maybe they are,
Burnin' up with thirst, cryin' out about
Walkin' through a desert, tryin' to get to that livin' water . . .
But not me.
I don't see no desert, and I ain't thirsty
'Cause I got me the biggest old lake o' water,
And it's just jumpin' and dancin' there under the sun:
It's all mine and I can drink it, or swim in it,
Or just lay on the bank on my back and soak in the smell of it.
So no, I ain't screamin',
I ain't hoppin' up and down like my feet was on coals.
I'm quiet, quiet, cool and quiet,
And I'm the most alive out of all o' them,
Livin' and just so **** happy
'Cause you are my livin' water
And I love you.
ORLA
Written by
ORLA
760
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems