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Sunday Squibs

 



Those who refuse to suffer fools tend to be insufferable themselves. 



God is like the mighty stream 

That pours out of a hydrant 

I want to rise to upper realms

But splatter on the pavement 



God is like a carousel 

To ride I start to run 

But then I see the carny stands

And stop to have some fun 



I complain even when nothing is wrong. 

It’s easier to be amusing about my troubles than about my happiness. 



Once I read books. Then just book reviews, and now I let friends describe the books they’re reading to me. 

In exchange, I preach to them my take on salvation. 



A proper gander raised in town 

Meets a goose out in the wild

There is no way it can be known

If gosling is his child



We do our best in comfort zone

Let us stay on the well-trod road

Forced to change we piss and moan

And end in panic mode



The preacher gives to the flock 

Food that's fit for their station

To the child- pie in the sky 

To the mature- crucifixion 



Parents drop their love bombs

They've done so down the ages 

Sometimes they hit the mark

Sometimes there's collateral damage 



I cannot understand you

I feel I'm deaf and dumb

The saints say we still can find 

Joy in this conundrum 

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