there is a red sparrow  
tasting caramel pecans in the backyard while I lean
against the kitchen counter reminding myself
‘your so passionate about submissiveness and dominance'
(relevant volume of an alleged innumerable intact)
that it’s another morning with a warm cup of coffee
and by the time I arrive at the subway station, there is a man
sitting on a bench painting temptation with blue, reds and purples
whispering oblivion monsoons
and real affection;
yet there is a silence reverent to
a ballad of praise; conjuring all
of the autumn phases, but halfway through the night
I could discuss about clinical studies with the
bittersweet absence of an empty
entrance “debilitated by spring
roots"

- G

the
secrets are happening over unpaved floors,
the summer goodbye, the lovers that were only fantasies in a leviathan envy -
that I pretended to be a melted oath
caught between thunder and rain,  but "I'm trying to get
myself together" because
I exist and you are a  
"outspoken
downtown whirlpool"
lost in the smoke from the hookah lounge next door,
being insightful about "our" butterfly effect
being better

- G

you've seen me face identities
that seem seductive,
that there was little time to retreat into an haunting
image,
but an urge for the past has came back
asking for
larger vows
that question every knock on an empty
room
"but winter is cold," and the warmth of the sun
is once again left me behind
a non ordinary
crisis

- G

Sometimes we laugh and sometimes we cry
Enjoying our moments in wealth and good vibes
But there are those times when we get caught and despair,
Only a miracle can save us, dear friend,
                                                              from our poetry's tragic end.

One night fully spent in the wake of long hours,
With thoughts streaming loud: You'll be mine,
Look what we've prepared for you!"
The images moving in slow motion in waves,
Only a miracle can save us, good friend.

Peaceful times disturbed, lust for life,
                                                        lust for the eternal love,
Why don't we dare to know all this justice?
Why am I asking for more sorrow and trouble?
Only a miracle can save us from ourselves.

Leaden sky blanket of soaked thoughts
Adding wars back,
Giving the pale impression of illness,
Enthusiastic thunders,
Changing weather,
Swirl of birds
Darkness reflection of a world beyond
Imagination.
Changing weather,
Prosaic surfing, swivel,
Swirl of conspiracy
Theories
Conspicuously visible,
Relented turf
In a bout of self-pity.
Awake from this tragedy
Of disillusion
Finding the way to a clean resolution.
Enjoyment of theories
Opening,
Look for heaven.
Where is my perfect heaven?!

Let your soul
Feel the luxury
Of the gold
In your heart
Let your mind
Feel the breeze
Of the peace
At the shore
Let your life
Feel it’s existence
At the bottom
Of the void

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

               Keep a Sharp Lookout – This Fog Won’t Last

           My country was made for noble hearts such as yours.

                       -Aslan in Voyage of the Dawn Treader

When we can’t turn outward, we turn inward
That might not be such a good thing, you know
We are probably out-of-practice, busied
With meetings and work and coffee-shop dates

For now our lives are solitude and screens
Pajama feet and emptiness, and if
We call someone, who is it who answers us?
“Be still, and know that I am Internet?”

Oh, no. The night is misty indeed, but the stars -
The stars still shine; be brave, and look for them