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Who am I?
Who am I? That the Lord of all the earth, Would care to know my name, Would care to feel my hurt.
Who am I? That the bright and morning star, Would choose to light the way, For my ever wandering heart.
I am a flower quickly fading, Here today and gone tomorrow, A wave tossed in the ocean, A vapor in the wind. Still you hear me when I'm calling, Lord, you catch me when I'm falling, And you've told me who I am. I am yours. I am yours.

by Casting Crowns




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Saturday, June 07, 2008

Food poem

There are times where food matters the most
There are times where food is given to the lost
And there are times where food is just 'makan'-ed by the ghosts

The chef cuts the hen's neck
boils and fries till check
He lays it all out on an Aluminium tray
For ghosts to eat till fray

The ghosts just grab and chew
making odd noises like, "Yum!" and "Crunch!"
For the food was just chill

Then came the fellowship
laughter strewn all around
People making faces chip,
"I look so round!"

How wonderful the buffet was
When everyone was fed
Tummy full till gas
And to release it was just sad...

----

an odd little thing I wrote which I came across in my May 2006 archive.
cracked me up.


~12:37 am