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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Alternative

eyes cast downward
you’ll never see the sky
how can you fly
with a fear of heights?
perennial heartbreak
won’t make you stronger
what doesn’t kill you just
makes life seem longer
painting pictures with your tears
you know it doesn’t have to be like this
write it
sing it
try just to be it
you’re only lost in your mind
you will be fine

      

      

Copyright L.M. 2008.

This Time

(bluesy type song)

take a chance, girl
don’t be stupid this time
take a chance, girl
you won’t be stupid this time

you don’t what to do
he sings her praises in bed
he doesn’t think of you
and it’s getting to your head

take a chance, girl
don’t be stupid this time
you don’t stand a chance, girl
but at least you’ll know why

well I’ll tell you what to do
when he plays with your mind
don’t let it get to you
and see what else you can find

take a chance, girl
don’t be stupid this time
one hard romance, girl
can only kill you one time

you don’t what to do
he sings her praises in bed
he’ll never think of you
he thinks of nothing instead

you took a chance, girl
you weren’t stupid this time
di’n’t stand a chance, girl
so stop wastin’ your time
stop wastin’ your time
stop wastin’, wastin’ your time

      

     

Copyright L.M. 2008.

Slate Grays

my hands are dry and rough from working
my eyes are small and used to squinting
my stature average, verging on petite
I have thin skin and veiny feet
my complexion’s poor, my tone is pale
genes say my bones will be quite frail
I have no nails as they are weak
my voice is too high when I speak
my mother thinks my hair’s too long
I think all compliments are wrong
I’m a sceptic, sometimes too much so
though I try to be fair to friend and foe
my opinions strong, my manner shy
in public you’ll never see me cry
in private I keep emotions tame
my anxiety has that cause to blame
I hate to shop, but buy a lot
no place could ever be too hot
I dislike snow, I dislike cold
I’m terrified of getting old
I have good friends who understand
I’m always later than I plan
I’m sensitive, and feel more pain
than I let off, or care to explain
I never intentionally drink alcohol
and for this, flunk social protocol
I dislike freckles, and have a bunch
I bend, I slouch, I slump, I hunch
I get depressed but never treat
I just stay up late and never eat
somehow, I’ve seemed to manage this wreck
to keep my addictive tendency in check
though these faults I easily admit
I’d like to think there’s some good to it
I’ll never regret the time departed
for when I love, I love whole-hearted

    

      

Copyright L.M. 2008.

Passed Presence

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.).

My Tiny Bag of Sand (February 2007)

under every pyramid
and bodies freshly tanned
finds the topic of my poem
it’s my tiny bag of sand

I can see it in my mind
like ideas newly planned
a little piece of Heaven
is my tiny bag of sand

people walk along the coastline
picking shells up in their hand
but they’ll never grasp the concept
of my tiny bag of sand

it’s my beauty, it’s my pleasure
it’s my way around the bland
it reminds me of a better day
my tiny bag of sand

   

      

Copyright L.M. 2007. (alternate end stanza:
it’s my beauty, it’s my pleasure
it’s my way around the bland
it reminds me of a better day
on vacation, far away
idolizing Hemingway
my tiny bag of sand )

One, Bad, Lane

I burn for you
yes, I need you tonight
it’s a wicked game you play
and I’m wishing you would stay
you work in strange currencies
on the other side of the world
and I’m right here
counting your 9 crimes my dear

I sent my message in a bottle
and with every breath you take
yearning for the angel of harlem
I feel better when I’m numb
in the streets with no name
we play this wicked game
in the name of love
we play this wicked game

round here, she’s always on my mind
but without stopping the love
we can never be one
and I’ve come undone
if I could, you know I would
I would take you on
want you for my Beautiful Blue
because really all I want is you

Copyright L.M. 2007.