cornered
secretive journeys of unknown eyes
follow helplessly through firm air
the new shield
meant only for she who is immortal
sacred
and pure
sets sail for a heart of oblivion
chartering courses yet to be taught
a childless excursion
seeping into a well-known chasm
and yet
boredom worries few
tethering sinew stretched taut
jumbled words of wisdom sought
their carabine stalking guilt to err
and you
Copyright L.M. 2006.
yesterday I did a lot that will be forgotten
during the day
and upon arrival of the night I sat
within sight of stars and a friend
unable to contain my joy
I don’t care what it meant
it was part of my present
the little questions that crawl
slithering like wily wordsmiths
stab of criminality
inauthenticity
pressure
but I ignore them all
for whatever was meant
was all part of my present
I never ignore the truth
but sometimes it takes a while
and processing asks a fee
when something requires action
it finds a way of surfacing
and regardless of intent
it was all part of my present
if there is a problem with my words
perhaps it’s my turn for the blame?
well, that’s alright, I am strong
I know who I am
and I know what I need
I ask no one’s consent
to take part in my present
moderation is essential
and those who judge harshly
will lead a boring existence
for rules and standards and doctrines
bastardize life
where any threat of deviance
begins the cycle of torments
I live by me and my present
I should not be misunderstood
we all need a conscience
but show me a tribunal
for all our small misdeeds
and I will show you a hymnal
that touts many creeds
so you will see, and thus lament
your state of being, your sole attempt
and every hour you might repent
but I shall bask in my present
why care you of their dissent
life itself bids you relent
she mourns so many lives unspent
tomes filled with these nonevents
the only one you represent
is you, so follow your intent
it is your world to reinvent
and do what makes you most content
now should I like to end my words
with you
right here
my dear
I shall
Copyright L.M. 2007. (originally posted here at 2:15 a.m. tonight.).
back on the isles
a confusing white mess
a figurehead files
off her silvery tress
standing up straight
never meant taking aim
in sinking her plait
you avoid taking blame
she walks along, slow
with a bird on each hand
her tumultuous glow
mirrors water on sand
and this do you cross
with your opening light
upon the wave’s toss
in the soft silken sight
your pining betrays you
as you spy from afar
your pining betrays you
as you gaze at her star
your pining betrays you
too distracted to note
your pining betrays you:
her locks are afloat
Copyright L.M. 2007.
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