Quayside Psalter

 


My God,
seam my strength like a derrick
save me from contumacious envious, 
ignorant pluck
save me from inferiority that accentuates recognition
save me from hopelessness that flog 
one on a rock
Save me from the prod, from the gaol
Save me from the goad of fraternal doom
May I not just shrug off my forte
May another eyes not be my paraclete 
Things of the world? I couldn't stand it's gore
Why then do I stand?
I stand for them
They intend to wear you out
When you man another man 
trying to do God work for him, you waste your life
Love trumps over wickedness
If your evaluation never precipice a let go,
conducing a flagellation by a mind sub par
it isn't.
May the void be far from me, 
May my quiet sitting be enough in life's whirlwind
May my quiet sitting be suffice in life's storm
May mu quiet sitting be succor in life's sun
Greed path darkness in this hellish path
Effort and in sacrifice we affix the rungs and climb
It's a fight to be,
Why then should I explain my own survival to another
He too shouldn't be, He shouldn't be!!



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