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The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when in a famished state I hunt,
In pastures green and lush with abundance,
He renews my spry and exuberance.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
In gardens of drought He will fortune plant.
He leads to quiet pools of fresh water
from which I draw strength and endless laughter.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He does my requests for pleasant paths grant.
Even when to deepest darkness I stray,
He lovingly paves a most glorious way.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when my foes seek my life to hunt,
His rod and staff give me all the comfort
that allay my fears of every discomfort.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He does my sumptuous feasts and banquets flaunt
for my blood thirsty adversaries to see
from abased locations on bended knee.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
Even when Satan tries my soul to haunt,
His goodness and mercy will follow me
until His heavenly abode I see.
A poem based on the biblical Psalm 23
selina Jun 26
it is one thing
to follow her into the dark

it is another thing
to borrow her fragmented words
and hold her in one hand
and a scale in another
and call it justice

but, by God
(whichever one you’d like to cite today
the kind one, the cruel one, and so on),

it is a whole different thing
to seize her by the neck
and rip the words from her throat
and twist them into cotton *****
and dip them into holy water
and force them back into her mouth
until she can no longer breathe
and no longer live and no longer exist
without drowning in a sense of helplessness
because we, the people, will always remember exactly how
you took your greed and shoved it into her mouth
and down her throat, until you stifled the cries of
‘my body, my choice’ with a book of myths and a man’s voice
weren’t you supposed to be our voice?
what was this all for? was the money so loud that
you could not hear the echoes of pro-choice?
our rage—will it be worth those thirty silver coins?
the SCOTUS decision on roe v wade and plan parenthood v casey was heartbreaking
I.
In the beginning
God was,
And the blackbird
Was not.

II.
And Adam called it a blackbird;
And that was the name thereof.
ScaryGary May 25
What does it mean to be begotten
does adam think jesus is spoiled rotten
is eve still holding an ace up her sleeve
who is the serpent trying to deceive
Just jotted it down right now..may finish it
Battered by idolatrous affections,
my soul cried out to Him whose love is true
to cleanse my wants and with His grace renew
my thoughts from toxicating past infections.
“Feast on My Word,” He said, “and you shall find
everything you need for restoration
in My promises of assured salvation—
deliverance for spirit, heart and mind.
When trusting Me, I’ll keep your soul in peace
and unfold joy as you learn to obey,
to follow Me upon Life’s Highest Way,
where burdens know My paramount release.
Through longings, losses, trials, sorrows, pains
My Word unleashes monumental gains.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Into the deep, God’s calling me nearer.
Eyes set on Jesus, I feel less afraid
to plumb His holy mysteries, to trade
the shoreline’s shallow surf for currents dearer.
Immersed within God’s Word, He meets me there
with treasures buried underneath the ink,
invites me of His grace-filled seas to drink,
pledging His own inheritance to share.
The love of God! How could thoughts e’er capture
Christ’s boundless waters of sublime delight?
(unmarred, untainted, free from guile or blight)
Yielded, though, heart bathes in, tastes Love’s rapture.
In worship soul can reach to highest bliss
when Jesus is the King that soul doth ‘kiss.’
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Andrew Fort May 12
The river is quiet
with velvety darkness.
The moon leaves her perch,
the clouds as her garment.

A trail of dreams,
lucent with meaning,
battered, not broken,
follows, careening.


He rowed through the bayou,
  Searching for the stars;
But the branches of the cypresses
  Had captured them in jars.
His little iron lantern,
  Flick’ring kernel of light,
Won’t discern though it burns
  Gold as sylvite.

You saw him there,
  A statue of wax;
You took your hammer
  And shattered the glass.
Though, like a bird,
  He’d molted his cloak,
You remembered the password—
  To which he awoke.


You did not know (for how could you?)
  That I was all alone.
But still you deigned to look at me
  And bind my broken bone.

My anxious wings had taken flight;
  The perch bore not a trace—
You taught me how to not recoil
  When human hands embrace.

You didn’t know what you had done.
You didn’t know what you had done.
You couldn’t have known what you had done.
  But thank you anyway.

Oh, Jonathan—
May your heart enfold:
Can’t you see your gold?
Can’t you see you’re gold?


The constellations still evade—
  I’ll climb the tree.
Keep ascending; no dismay
  (This I decree!)
I’ll catch a star, I swear, some way—
  On wings of chim-choo-rees.
But if I die before that day,
  Will you take one home for me?

. . . . .

There in that desert,
Hot as the stars,
I played my harp
And you the guitar

And with the smell
Of creosote
On the cool wind
You shed your coat.


Wending through the branches,
  Aloft in the sky,
Laughing and joking
  All through the night,
You found your love,
  To my great delight—
And when you pair embrace,
  I can’t help but sigh.

Let me bear that spear
  Thrown by your dad.
(“Don't worry or fear;
  The blood’s not so bad!”)
No!—could you have been saved
  Had I been there in time?—
For I’d rather brave
  That dagger in your spine!


Jonathan, my dearest friend,
  Won’t you lift your eyes?
Though you bleed and from there grieve,
  The seed of God’s inside.

I see your fear, though not so clear,
  For you take care to guard.
But you will neither raze nor pierce
  Your son where you’ve been scarred.

You hardly know how much you’ve grown.
You hardly know how much you’ve grown.
You can’t imagine how you’ve grown.
  But you have. You have.

Oh, Jonathan—
May your heart enfold:
Will you see your gold?
Will you see you’re gold?

. . . . .

The grass may wilt and flowers fade,
  But He steadfast remains.
And though carved ice resigns to melt,
  It runs into the lake.

For what are we but jars of dust?—
  Made that we may bear
The image of Him who painted us,
  Who deigns to hear our prayer.

We do not know where we will go.
We do not know where we will go.
We can’t begin to fathom where we’ll go.
  But—know it’s not in vain.

. . . . .

When moths at last consume my clothes,
  Will you remember?
Where stone-faced, dusty night arose,
  Will you remember?
When light endures its final throes,
  Will you remember?
Should I be lost within this grove,
  Will you remember?

When street-doors shut and grinding slows,
  We will remember.
Though hunters maim and shades enclose,
  We will remember.
All praise to God—the veil’s deposed;
  We can remember.
Because from death the Son arose,
  We can remember
  He will remember.

When, from my grave, the cypress grows,
  You will remember.
And when you sleep 'neath mountain snow,
  I will remember.
The epilogue eternal goes—
  “We shall remember!”
Forevermore we shall compose,
  cleansed by the ember.


      Oh, Jonathan—
      May your heart enfold
            (And should I be told?):
      Do you see your gold?
      Do you see—you’re gold?
Á Liam,
mon ami—
mon frère.
.
“A friend loves at all times,
and a brother is born for adversity.”
Proverbs 17:17
God
What is it?
No one knows
But everyone has an idea
A summary of the book of Job
Differing sins bicker amongst
Each other as to who shalt
Permanently shape me
After their ways and until
The end of my days.
Nay!
Let thy ways oh Yahweh
Become my second nature
That I may breeze through
tempation with ease.
As the World
turns
I can hear the world
Yearn
They're unruly and desperately
reck-less
seeking for love on ever-
lasting
terms
But they proceed with no concern
they're unable to discern or
learn
Not heeding the many
warnings and dan-
gers
Unaware of the many
forces that lin-
ger
Now as we stand by idly
as we witness
this cruel state of
Ig-nor-ance
We're losing our
Innocence
instead of making sense
of what's
going on
Unconvinced
of the shapes that are
taking form
We're miss-in-
formed
sowing the seeds to breed the
Devil's
Spawn
Provoking violence within the
mindset
of the spiritually blinded
While letting our
Silence
speak the truth
of the spirits that blind
Us
Reminding us
of where we Fail
A rude awakening
outa the
Spell
Snapping outa the
Trance
of being frozen in a
mea-ning-less
stance
For our only chance to
Survive
Is to thrive in our
circumstance
Moving on in advance
observing Truth
Learning to pro-
gress
As we focus in our aims
to Arrest
these
developments of
Carnality
We're pulling down the
Devil's
Faculty
Exposing Principalities
wherever
they
may
Be
Ephesians 6:12-20
Written around the early mid 2000's
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