"mouldly" poems
What is this, Lord Jesus, that Thou shouldst make an end
Of all that I possess, and give Thyself to me?
So that there is nothing now to call my own
Save Thee; Thyself alone my treasure.
Taking all, Thou givest full measure of Thyself
With all things else eternal—
Things unlike the mouldly pelf by earth possessed.
But as to life and godliness, all things are mine
And in God's garments dressed I am;
With Thee, an heir to riches in the spheres divine.
Strange, I say, that suffering loss
I have so gained everything in getting
Me a friend who bore a cross.
~ Jim Elliot (1927-1956)
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 11:01 AM UTC
they come
and they go
like tides
like the moon
and the sun
when they come
they bring wine
they bring smoke
they bring lust and rage
when they go
they leave empty bottles
******* and cigarette butts
earrings in my sheets
and a mouldly taste on my tongue
every once in a while though
they clean up before they go
they take out the trash
and leave little notes on my dresser
when i wake up they are gone
my empty bottles are gone too
and their notes make me feel lonely
its not the way they show up
its the way they leave
i think i prefer the mouldly taste
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC