I want to be a kick-*** poet
I want to write things people read
And then say “******* !”
I want to upset the apple-cart
And kick them as they roll away.

I want to write words that will make
The reader throw the book across the room-
Then send him to the garden shed
To find a pitchfork and a torch
And sturdy cloth to make a banner.

I want to be a kick-*** poet
And move the shutters off the hearts
Of those who have it locked away,
And open them to love again
In ways they never knew before.

I want to clarify it all
In phrases understandable
So everyone who reads the lines,
That know the way to touch their heart
Will find some magic hidden in my words

I want to be a kick-*** Poet
Who’s thoughts astound and move the world.
To be the one they  listen to
When all else gets lost in the noise
And I can maybe lead them home.
   ljm

Your tragic family:
The little wealth
You had is gone.
No place
To call home any more.
No welcoming friends
To take you in.
There’s nothing left to do
But leave.

Leaving should be
Very easy.
Theres nothing left
For you to pack.
Nor any trunk for
You to put things in.
No need either
For a suitcase -
You’re wearing
Everything  you own.

Who can help you -
They need help too.
Who can find
An answer in the ashes
That are the tombs
Of relatives,
Cremated
With no prayers spoken.

How is it
You must fly away.
You have no passport;
You have no funds
Beyond the dollars
In your pocket
When you ran.
You can’t go to
The bank for more
The contents of the vault
Are charred.
And papers with
Your name on them
Are gone.

You cannot call.
The wires are down.
The towers melted in the blaze.
The Post Office
Is in ruins.
And no one answers
When you shout.

You have friends
And relatives
In other places
That are safe.
The only thing that you can do
Is wait
For them to come and save you.
I hear jet engines
Revving up.
Hope must not be
Let to die.
             ljm

Like an old fashioned clock
That has been wound too tightly
And too many times
I don’t always get it right.
A few minutes fast
A few seconds slow
But the sun always sets
When it’s supposed to.
ljm

My prayer list held a disaster
That was burdened with three more
There has never been a time
I felt compelled to pray for
Catastrophic multiples:
The burned out victims of Hawaii,
The earthquake rubble in Morocco,
Survivors of Libya’s flood deluge
Plus Hurricanes and Tornados
Here in the land that we call home.
And all within the last two months.
So many in such a very short time.
Each one a calamity of people
Where lives and dreams were all destroyed
With loved ones left behind to weep.

Are we seeing here a prelude of
Four Horsemen and Apocalypse?
Have they begun their awful ride?
They carry different banners now:
Not War, but the deadly fires of Hell
Not Famine, but death-dealing floods
Not Pestilence but shaking down tall buildings
Not Death, but gales of immense destruction

Some say there is another Horse,
A Fifth, called Nuclear Annihilation
His banner flaunts the end of time
That snuffs the world before the Trumpet blows.
It’s kicking at the stable door
And we can hear the timbers cracking.

But grazing calmly in the pasture
Is the dappled horse called Six
His banner is the slow starvation
Of everything that supports life.
He need not ride, he only waits
For greed, indifference and sloth
To find the way to **** the earth
And everyone who lives upon it.

Is there any place to hide
Is there anything to do
Any way to make it better.
Can which sacrifice atone
For what we’ve done to our own planet -
What we’ve done to our own lives.
One book seems to have the answer
It’s on the Best Seller list.
Almost every household owns one.
Almost no one ever reads it.
Maybe finally…it’s time.
ljm