XY

in a scorched red building
on the thirteenth floor
see the ten candles sliced
watch as they drop down more
out the window a new hill
wasn’t there the day before
(wasn’t there the day before)
after pilots set their gaze
through the blackened night
death-grip on a promise
eyes frozen on site
out the window another pile
tell me now are you still right?
(are you still right?)
charging for the gates
tens of thousands of men
taste of fire and blood
drop to the hills again
all the faces blinded
bit by the dogs that guide them
seeth at the dogs that bind them
throw the flowers to the soil
they’ll never grow
see the luna moths congregate
decimate
affiliate
then burn in the flames
simple ones to tame
belly-up in the lake
no weapon but the knife in his back
belly-up in the river
blue with the cold shiver
slivers of his spine
scattered along the shore
with pieces of his “holy” mind
and the sacred child
it’s all just rust and coal
you can see the cursed depth
of everything that won’t be left
rust and coal
stop beside the road
see the black plumes rise
sever the cloudless skies
and mark the stones with peaceful lies
sending them back
to the arms
of America

Copyright L.M. 2008.  (written May 10th, 2008.).

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Perspective

can you see the mountains for the clouds?
I look down on this rural painted valley
and cannot distinguish
oh I know the sight well
Mount Airy rising like a throne
above all else
solid and stoic, like a rook
signalling a new state
the land of barren beige roads
the ones that reflect the Sun
in continuous arcs, like rainbows
leading us to golden shores
King Airy — the guide to heaven’s door

     

         

Copyright L.M. 2007.  (written in Virginia a bit, mostly in North Carolina, on way to Florida.).