You threw me to the snakes
leaving me to fend for myself,
discarding me like an object that
you had grown bored of.
And,
when i crawled out from the pit
more powerful than before,
venom coursing through my veins ,
I became the monster.
I became the one to be feared.

How easy it is to forget that monsters are not born
but made
and my dear,
you are responsible for every inch of the creature I have become.

The door is slowly opening
I can hear the hinges creaking
As it is forced to move.
What pagan wind invades
The solace of this silent chamber
To move what has grown stationary
In the effort to hold back
The machinations that are
Fluttering like brazen banners
On the brightly gilded lances
Of the mavens of decay
           ljm

the mirror runs the length of the bar.

we down our drinks
and the bar empties out into the street.

across the street
the unemployment building is burning.

the tender, passionate flames
sets the night on fire.

blue eyes looks up,
she says to me,
"wanta go on a date?

i'll make all your dreams come true,
wouldn't you
love to love me?" she hooks her arm
through my arm and smiles,
"$20 and up depending on what you want."

"what's you're name?"

"Marie."


Gretta and Marie are kissing and turn
to me and give me that
Cheshire cat smiling


and for a moment
the ****** of the impossible
when the 5th floor collapses on the 4th floor
the flames shot up
like the 4th of July

and everyone cheers.


but then the fire engines come.

we file across the street
and into the bar,
unhappy faces,
angry faces stare.
the party was over.

and the mirror runs the length the length of the bar.

Hindered by the need for practicality,
The song that longs to heal the world
Remains unsung.
The steps that would have mended broken spirits
Remain undanced.

Blinded by the need to see reality
The cotton candy dawning clouds
Turn stormy gray.
The breeze that eases all the doubt and fear
Grows into a howling gale

Deafened by the clarion call of duty
The cries of broken little birds
Cannot be heard.
The words that float on images of grace and beauty
Remain unwritten.

Stunted by the evil of aphasia
The verses that could have lived forever
Lie entangled on the tablet.
The Laurel wreath that had my name on it
Lies now withered on the floor.
                  ljm