Psalm 5

A painter once gave his ear to his love
give Yours to my words
O Lord.
Grant me the chance to sigh
Listen for my helpless calling, crying
“My King! My God!”
To You I speak this eve

pre-noon, I wake, I see the sun
Lord, You overhear me, my first sound
I stir.
My voice unveils my needs
To You.
And there I linger, eager, serene
expecting…

You really don’t enjoy evil, do you?
Wicked live nowhere near you,
‘least as far as mine eye sees…
Arrogance kneels on the floor
of men’s hearts
Who can’t stand near you
(they know you hate scoundrels)

So…
Liars dissolve as powder
in your hand
those manipulative blood-lusting
less-than-men you abhor,
and I’m trusting you on this.

Yet I, simply by your reservation
can walk through your doorway
fearfully bowing evermore
honoring you at your temple
and bracing for it.

You’re right. Prod me toward right – Your right.
O Lord.
Pave a road just for me
Right through the jungle of enemies I see
Right through this maze of terror.

No sound from their mouth brings assurance
For it shoots off their heart’s destruction
Making their throat a fresh-dug grave
An unclean cadaver within
And so their tongues
deceive.
As a poetic, flowery, fresh head stone…

God, they’re guilty! LET IT BE KNOWN!
May that murderous spirit
Bury them alive
beneath the soil
they shoveled.
Throw them away for their untold sins
uncountable piles of filth!

They deserve their dump for their rebellion.

But allow us who find shelter, find refuge in you
joyfully ever sing for bliss
Shroud us, wrap us, protect us in love
Under your canopy children rejoice
Shield us with favor, bind us above
As surrounded, our echo resounds
Hear our voice.

Author: Lancelot Schaubert

Lancelot Schaubert has sold his written work to markets like The New Haven Review, McSweeney’s, The Poet’s Market, Writer’s Digest (magazine and books), Poker Pro, Encounter, The Misty Review, Carnival, Brink, and many other similar markets. He reinvented the photonovel through Cold Brewed and was commissioned by the Missouri Tourism Board to create a second photonovel — The Joplin Undercurrent — that both fictionalizes and enchants the history and culture of Joplin, Missouri. His work terraforms new worlds, tears the veil between the natural and supernatural, and jests with the paradoxes of classical metaphysics. When he’s not writing (or tinkering with cinema-ish narrative), he’s dabbling in dozens of different books, listening to people tell their life stories, camping, fishing, exploring unfamiliar territory (there’s a lot in New York), tinkering with new languages (Spanish, currently), exploring random disciplines like chemical engineering, as well as messing around with improv comedy (at UCB) and leisure de main and music. PLEASE SEND SOUP — he loves soup. Yes, even if it’s summer. Find him in Brooklyn, New York with his wife, Tara, and their attack spaniel, Echo.

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