Rage at the king, get a piggy back.
Reel in a mastadon, cage a queen.
Drag a poppy lark, seep a quandary.
Pop a quiz down the inlet,
Stripe a flame on the condo.
Rip a shredded beef, catch a pickled beet.
Jump to matching quartermasters,
Sing a soliloquy.
More’s the merry, quite to carry.
Lift a bunny head, bite an ear.
Pole a chopping block, suit a stranger.
Yellow upchucks, circle chainsaws.
Broken wagon, bumping along.
Syrupy servant, slave to the throng.
Apple core, garbage maker.
Slide down the chute, sweet as paper.
Eleven angels, swept away.
Sunny anthem, better day.
Eggshell happy, loud triumphant.
Nothing sacred, nothing wanted.
Up the downspout, close the question,
Get’r done. Put on headset.
Leave a jury, make a note.
Rally flurry, dig a moat.
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Pin causation from bust frog bored jury mole it
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Walking on water
Is possible
If you are God,
But Jesus said
We would do
Even greater things,
With the power
Of the Holy Spirit.
It’s hard
To believe that, though,
When I get so caught up
In my own limitations.
Sometimes I wonder
If God can really use me.
But God used the apostles,
And they were
A ragtag group
If there ever was one.
But I am not a preacher,
Or a healer,
Or a teacher.
What can God
Do with me?
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Stumbling along the sidewalk 