jemslie123

With lilting cry and sweet harmonic call, They brightly make their praise known unto God. Thus dove and finch and songbirds one and all To their grand Maker in the morn applaud. Their wond'rous worship no man an abate, Nor quell the south winds smooth and temperate; They give the Sun's new rise an opus grand, And in the dappled sunlight doth they flit.

I AM NOTHING BUT A VESSEL. I am nothing but a vessel. I am nothing but a vessel of love; The sharp, stinging, poisoned kind That's needy and jealous and burns so strong, That burns like the midday Arab sun, But keeps itself hidden for shame. I am nothing but a vessel of anger; The brutish, jackhammer, psycho-killer anger That is never expressed but for the times It is bellowed and screamed in context-less obscenities In a car or in a field or in a forest And keeps itself hidden for shame. I am nothing but a vessel of misery; The wash-it-away-with-sad-songs, Drown-it-in-cheep-whiskey, Burn-it-away-with-a-hot-teaspoon, Why-the-hell-do-I-hat

Let no-one smile nor frown this day; Let no-one laugh nor cry: Today's the day our heart was broke; The day that our soul died.