Empty Vessel

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As children bring their broken toys with tears for us to mend,

I brought my broken bank to God because he was my friend.

He laughed a merry laugh at me, then tears rolled down his eyes.

“I didn’t pay you well enough to teach stories full of lies!”

“What do you mean, my Master? What lies was it I told?”

“You told a story that was brave; a story much too bold!”

“Well, you’re the One who made me. You’re the One who said

to love your enemy like yourself, even if your enemy’s red,

or green, or blue, or black, or brown, or even pasty white.”

And so, our conversation continued through the night.

I told God how I loved him, I told him how I cared

for the lost little children I tried to help, and all my heart was bared.

I told him about Satan, who’s just a little boy.

I told him of THE Anti-Christ, and my sacrifice of joy.

I told him of my family who will not speak to me.

I told God of my heartache as I sat upon his knee.

“Well done my faithful servant. Your reward is my great shield!

And, a harvest of love like you’ve never seen way out there in the field!

And here’s a sword of truth, you’ll need it for the battle.

The enemy doesn’t like it when my servants start to tattle.

But speak the truth to liars, and the truth will set you free!

Cause there ain’t no shame in loving liars, especially loving me.”

I took God’s hand and kissed it, I thanked him for his time.

I still didn’t know how I’d pay my debt when he didn’t give me a dime

from all the years of serving the children he sent my way.

And all the years of servitude to a man who now demands pay.

“Dear Jesus, please bless Tiny Tim, and please bless little Rob.

Please bless every single rich, unethical, godless snob!

It is just like you said it’d be, when I live a life like you.

When I reached out to the homeless, you said I would feel homeless, too.

When I reached out to the godless, I’d see through different eyes.

I’d see that little Atheists are puppies in God’s eyes.”

Then Jesus came before me and I saw a pool of tears.

“It’s been so many centuries, so very many years

since we last danced together,” he whispered in my ears.

I smiled at the ancient scars left upon his head

from the crown of thorns that he wore as he was left for dead.

“Oh brother! It’s good to see you! Where the hell have you been?

I’ve been going through life like the enemy’s wife!

It’s good to see you again!”

“The enemy’s wife? How could you? When you were promised to me?

How many husbands have you had? Has it been a thousand and three?”

I held his eyes unwavering, for he knew every thought.

I knew my sins were paid with a price, and sinners all get caught.

“Or more, my Lord and Master, in one life or another.

I am a sinner, that’s for sure, as I tried to love your brother.

And, Rob? He says he “knows” you! But his actions aren’t in line.

He’s greedy and needy, full of hatred and fear,

of your daughter who once was divine.”

“Rob? The Robber of children? Or, my beloved voter of Trump?

Oh no, my dear, it’s very clear they both can kiss my rump!

And anyone else just like them, who hurts my little sheep

While they’re at school reading books and not getting very much sleep!

And, then they can kiss my royal feet, and then they can kiss hand.

But, it is you who can kiss my Holy lips, for you’re the bravest in the land!”

“Oh Lord, I am not brave at all! For I am just a fool!

I thought I saw you in a bar, shooting a game of pool!

I thought I saw you on the corner, begging for some change.

I thought I saw you in the mirror, and it was very strange.

I thought I saw you in the one who came knocking at my door.

But then I learned the story you told was based on old folklore.”

Then God and Son both became one and filled me with their ghost.

I laughed a merry laugh of scorn, because I was their Servant and Host.

God needs to pay his servants in something more than words.

Otherwise, being a Host to God is business that’s best for the birds!

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Oregon born, Bardass Poet, Bat-Shit Crazy Stand-Up Comedian, Entertaining Social Activist, Mamadadaist Artist of 8 kids, Weirdo Wonder Woman, Narc Researcher

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Lorrance Herring

Lorrance Herring

Oregon born, Bardass Poet, Bat-Shit Crazy Stand-Up Comedian, Entertaining Social Activist, Mamadadaist Artist of 8 kids, Weirdo Wonder Woman, Narc Researcher

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