Well... Tried getting into writing poetry again. I failed. :-( Oh well, maybe the second poem will be something nice.
I can't think of any worse a place. That constant smell of blood and big fart. Me as a cashier serving the human race. Serving the world at Wal-Mart.
Thought of being their is just...gross. If I shake my starkness, my austere expression. I'm stoked toast, in the eyes of these guys. Their eyes. Their flesh, Their pride of life. Those are their seasonings, not all but most. To be nasty and to be worldly they're very wise. You can feel their anger, their hate, their strife. As they approach, waiting for my concession. Serving these worldly people, young to old folk.
I sing a tune in my head.
I want to kill you, he says. But I don't why. What's up with this guy? I've done nothing wrong. It came as a surprise. Sort of made me shake. He'll be gone after long. So I work and I think. It's not just this man whose mind is gone. It's all of them. Boy this sure does stink. So I search for the way out of this place. The Son of God. Saved by grace. I nearly cry.
These people wish I were dead.
But they wished the same on of whom I'm saved. Await the last day. When we can leave. Do I know what weapon this man up his sleeve? I wont fear them. I'll be brave to the grave. So the man wants to fight me. To take my life. I bear the Sword of the Spirit. The armour of light. Would you stand someone cursing your children out? Would you let them into your house? That's how I know that what's wrong will soon be right. And I can't believe it, but I do believe.
There's no more poetry to be said.
So if you come to my aisle with a nasty intention. I'm reciting words in my head above your comprehension. There's no comparison to the lowliness of the love. That I defeat with your hate with strength from above. Save your words and spare me your hate this day. Vengeance is the Lords.
