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  Dec 2016 Steven L Herring
GaryFairy
born with a halo shattered
human afterbirth in dirt
withered wings, feathers tattered
protrusions of pain and hurt

only an angel can be born
held by the devil's hands
flesh becomes hard, when its torn
only an angel understands
I wrote this a few years ago. I don't think I have posted it for a while
  Dec 2016 Steven L Herring
Mike Essig
on poetry*

A poem is only a mouthful of air
until it is read.
Imagine it. Craft it carefully
from your heart's flesh.
Seal it in a bottle
of clear, pure words.
Set it adrift on
the ocean of time,
life's restless surge,
until a few congruous spirits
pluck it from the sea-wrack
and recognize a message
that illuminates their souls.
Readers find writers;
never the opposite.
O morning sky of endless blue
Tinged with purply-pinky hue
You tell me of His mercies new
Whose heart pursues my own

O geese in wingèd winter's flight
Your honking cries arouse delight
And lift my gaze to seek thy sight
As wooing from His hand

O softest breeze which skims my face
And stirs with such mysterious grace
My soul to reach for Love’s embrace
You brush me with His kiss

O snowflakes falling to the ground
You pierce my heart without a sound
To crave a purity only found
Beneath a bloodied cross

O setting sun in half-light glowing
Waning day’s last glorious blush showing
You paint with fire my spirit’s own knowing—
This life is fading fast

O stars of midnight’s blackest sky
Paraded forth, you pull my eye
Toward One Who speaks this ceaseless cry:
“I’m coming back for you.”

O creeping fog to dawn’s light clinging
You whisper, Love’s veiled message bringing,
With haunting echoes faintly singing,
“Lose all of you in Him.”
~~~

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of His hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge. They have no speech, they use no words; no sound is heard from them. Yet their voice goes out into all the earth, their words to the ends of the world."  ~ Psalm 19:1-4a

~~~
Steven L Herring Dec 2016
Ground Hog's Day
Better pray.
Ash clouds send us all to the man to pay
tribute to the fallen soul of America.

Got a pocket full of ***** to give,
but that's it!
When I'm out, I'm out *******!
Don't come up and ask me for ****!

The apocalypse is a joke told to the masses to justify
all of the terrible things tyrants have done to terrify
us into falling for all of their lies!

But I am my own brand of devil.
I am my own brand of a ghost faced, scowling rebel,
and I will spread my brand across a thousand deserts
and a hundred seas to set the slaves free again!

Tell your Jesus mine is different.
Tell your Mary my martyr is a *****.
Tell your pastor I hate hymn.
I'll scream my praises to the most high
under a dark, grey sky!

I'll palm mute a motor mouth.
I'll put pressure on a liar,
and eat the weakness from a wraith.
I'll set your church on fire!
I am the funeral pyre...
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