My Lord You Brought Me To This Rich Land
My Lord, you brought me to this rich land.
Your blessings overflow out of the hands of your people,
the brains of your people,
the hearts of your people,
the autopsies of your people.
Wait for me
to bring my best
as these brought their best.
To offer my self,
To offer sacrifice,
To make (in) awe and gratitude,
For the fat-land-oil-people you’ve laid out before me,
on repulsively seductively repulsive boards in vaults,
For the person you have made me to be,
'cause God don’t make no junk,
But all I do,
all I bring,
all I have
to offer is marred,
scarred by my Self-
Inability-
Flitting-
Distraction-
Consciousness-
Appraisal-
Failure-
Hunger-
Drought,
My Lord, isn’t there a blessing left
in Milkandhoneyland
For me?
Copyright © Lawrence Strauss | Year Posted 2020
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