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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My Kitty is Not a Cheese Snob

My kitty is clearly not a cheese snob.

It appears as if he prefers the taste of Black Diamond (fake) cheese slices to La Ronde brie.

At times like this it’s obvious he was adopted.

Proximity

dusty
stinging burns the dry
pulling tight today
trying to set it up
and I look ridiculous
could you believe
it’s about time
she’s asking me
to make another appearance
shocking though it may be
it’s part of my defense now

a line upon my bottom lip
shaking from frustration
would you believe me
if I couldn’t be happier
since daily death leads fresh
to daily rebirth
and nothing’s more precious
than that sound of life
that view of life
this taste of life

a smell of deception
foul to the touch
with acrid hints
designs a fate:
much greater, hollow
like within a cave
where the echo
resounds its wave

mindful of a gilded hue
rosy-themed and crackling
sharpened wit adorns my view
stands alone attacking
saddled, ridden, oh the ride
blinds me now to take my eyes
sit atop the highest fence
and toss me down our common cents

Finished: 3:32 p.m., Wednesday, December 12th, 2007. (c.p.t., t.b.a.; a few edits finished around 3:46 p.m., same day.).