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Jimmy silker Jan 16
Got arseholed and lost in Glasgow
Wandered off into the hills
Eons passed it seemed in stasis
Ended up in the Bootes void
Came to with a start
As I floated inside of eternity
Took me ages to get a cab
Then I woke in Central station
Laided out on a bench
In the lap of some fella
Called Rabb.
  Jan 16 Jimmy silker
Nat Lipstadt
~For Lila and the others~

there exists
a subset of us,
those who
for whatever reason
do not write,
but “just” repost
other’s work

Above see the word
Just
emboldened
for this selfless task
is justice inherent

For this act of bringing others
to our over constrained attention is an
action of justice,
or more profoundly
doing away with
injustice  of
our human limitations

We could spend days entire
pursuing the works of others,
but life and the extraordinary demands
of writing anew, when the spirit is upon us,
are oft unable to spot, isolate, and
highlight
capture
the best of the rest,
and bless those
who reorient our eyes
away from our own bounded rivulets,
to the tried and truly,  away from
habitual familial familiar good stuff,
but bring us revelations of gems,
caught within the mass maskings of missives that grows hourly, exponentially to
out attention,
to reorient
our attention,
to their filtered selections

Let us say in unison then
a blessing of gratitude
to The Reposters:
*Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, to give thanks to those who enable others, to reach us this season
Jimmy silker Jan 15
Once there was nothing
But nothing
Wasent having that
It wanted to be something
Something other than nothing
Yet there was nothing
And that should have been the end of that
Then there was something
So nothing must have worked it out.
Jimmy silker Jan 15
Here comes the chosen one
Back for another go
The disc beard man
Has laid them low
So he had to depart

For Canaan calls them home
A new land by the water
That they might grow in strength
That they might  be what they aught to

Led from the desert harsh
To the haven
Of the bay
To begin again in hope
To bask in the nurturing  rays
Of the soon glory days

So King David has returned
And that fits
For he is
Between Moses and Christ
To these poor Evertonians

Last seen approaching low
At the bottom o Shaw St
Riding side saddle on his ***
He'll be there by this evening.
the rains have ended
night whispers its cooler words
you are my blanket
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