Hieronymous707

Jesus’ Feat

2025-12-10T09:17:00.004-05:00

Confession is good for the sole of a foot.

I hope you can cope well when my foot is put

to task. If you ask me a question I'll say,

“Walk a while. Wear a smile. Have a great day

wherever you are, whether far or much nearer.”

I don't know how I could make this any clearer.

If love is the law, then love who you will,

but if you ask me, Jesus was king of the hill.

Anybody can run flat, and anyone can coast,

but should it ever come to that, he loved hills the most.

Hills are where he hit his stride, and hills are when he stretched,

so hills are how I show a pride and joy that you will catch

when you see my rhyming time each word, measured precisely,

ascend your stares, as each rhyme climbs to reach its peak quite nicely.

Peek, and see through poetry, past Jesus’ feat, and climbing.

As sermons mount, start to count how many times my rhyming

references my deference to such religious practice

as to expose the feat. My toes show just how long I have been at this.

“Seeing the crowds, he went up on the mountain, and when he sat down, his disciples came to him”

Matthew 5:1

Christian Existentialist

2025-12-10T08:45:00.002-05:00

I am the very essence of a Christian Existentialist.

I misquote Soren Kierkegaard, and Saint Jerome’s my nemesis.

I write my verses faithfully, and this one is my exegesis.

I am the very essence of a Christian Existentialist.

This Christian Existentialist defines himself, insisting only

on such premises as this, in a self-existing, lonely

solitary state, hereby related by an Existential

Christian, since that's what I am, simply, at my most essential.

I am the very essence of a Christian Existentialist.

Everyone who knows me calls me Corey, or Hieronymous.

I cannot speak with certainty on anything except just this:

I am the very essence of a Christian Existentialist.

As a Christian Existentialist

I have my own personal Jesus.

I cannot prove that he exists,

but live as if he sees us.

My Jesus saves each pebble to

Rub the heel inside each shoe

To tenderize its hardened sole.

Jesus, he’s just like Dr. Scholl.

Snorey Corey

2025-12-10T08:03:00.002-05:00

They call me “Snorey Corey” ’cause I bore them all to sleep.
I start to tell a story, and people start counting sheep.
I’ve done most of my best reading while other people slept.
Consider that my promise, and this verse my promise kept.

zzz

I am against the Bible, and would not read it at all,
if it weren’t reliable for sleeping, since I fall
fast and deep by reading verses, versus reading not.
It meets the sleep I’m needing when I’m reading on the pot.

zzz

So, I’m against the Bible. You should know that from the start.
I have one in my pocket, pressed “against” my chest and heart.
For those who are in need, I read and while away the time
with verses I’ve rehearsed, and these slumber-inducing rhymes.

zzz

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 
— Matthew 11:28

zzz

First Light Verse

2023-01-20T07:41:00.024-05:00

Rabbits are bounding around in the yard, and
I hear a few deer munching leaves near my garden.
Boy and girl squirrels flit and twirl up oak trees.
This morning’s first light brought me sights such as these.
This morning’s first light was so bright and inviting
that I thought I might set it right down, in writing,
because I knew you should be given fair warning
in case you also like first lights, like this morning’s.

I emerge from my cocoon, born upon the shore of a small tree surrounded lake. A late evening light glows in the sky as tree swaying wind moves delicately through branches, and gently touches my face. The sound of water trickles itself through the threshold of quietness, and before me you lie petaled with blossoms by your side. I approach, and you smile open to me. ‘Taste’, I hear, so I taste, and find myself at large in the immensity of a womb seeded with stars, then once again descend into being, Glorious Angel.