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Appalling pride
(why Adam's bride
and Adam the fruit
forbidden tried)

is all the rage.
The world's a stage.
The players must
receive their wage.
I.
In the beginning
God was,
And the blackbird
Was not.

II.
And Adam called it a blackbird;
And that was the name thereof.
Summer showers
fall from heaven.
A rainbow bends
above my head.

I pray twixt the hours
of seven & seven.
With God I'm friends,
& God isn't dead.

He makes the rain
to fall on all,
the unjust & the just,
the birds & the bees.

The hardwood stain
of Adam's fall
turns flesh to dust
& spreads disease.
?
mosquito,
made by
God
con spirito,
buzzzinging
by my
ear
(while birds are singing),
God
made u
,but y
?
As true as the trinity
And Christ's divinity,
And as real as gravity
Isn't, my total depravity
Is undeniable.
But God created me justifiable,—
Me, who's more of a Don Knotts
Than an Isaac Watts.
As I breathed in deep fresh air,
its sharpness a timely kick to my lungs,
I uttered words of praise to God –
these words were unfeigned honest feelings.
Instantly a smothering weariness slackened its grip, faith and nature the sure-fire tonic to fragments of a bruised soul.
Overhead, Terns coasted: side to side like a pendulum.
Swirling unseen, the wind stroked my exposed skin
as the springy grass began to waltz between my uncovered toes –
the sunlit reflections on a glassy brook
unveiling a gaiety
etched on my widening smile.
Crisp water in cupped palms slapped against my butter-soft cheeks
that flushed a plump-wine-red
(full of fruitful vigour),
and satisfied the thirst for assurance – invariably found within the Lord.
Published in Calla Press Literary Journal Spring Issue I 2022. Copyright ©️Joshua Reece Wylie 2022
Of all the mothers in my life,
     Mom, you're the very best of all.
I thank You, God, for my very good mom,
     The bestest mom since mankind's fall.
The world's a farce and false, and You
Alone, good God, are Truth and true.
Lord, tread me down if, Lord, You must.
Lord, tread me down in my disgrace.
Lord, tread me down, grind me to dust,
But put Your footprints on my face.

Lord, tread me down, the LORD eclipse,
And stomp me where my words I eat:
Deign to allow my ***** lips
To kiss the bottoms of Your feet.
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