The slate is clean, as it should be.
The chalk’s beside it on the table.
But this is not a quiet room in
Peaceful calm surroundings.

The table is knee deep in mud
Of the most obnoxious ugly kind,
Spread deeply as far as eye can see
That must be somehow waded through,

Avoiding getting mired in it or even
Falling down and getting coated
With the muck that won’t come off
And will smear the pristine slate

To make unreadable any words
Of kindness, justice or fair play
That those unsullied might have written there
In hopes that all the fear was fog

And somehow we will find a way to
Sweep the mud into the drain
And justice wash away the stain
So Democracy can rule again.
        ljm

Four years is a  long, long time
To watch what we’ve long worked for
Erode bit by bit or in big chunks.
How will we survive the watching
While being headed off at every curve
By sycophants who stand in line
To get in on the unearned spoils
Of ravaging ecology, economy
The middle class and truth.

Fourteen hundred and sixty days:
What can we hide in basement corners
To keep it from being broken or soiled.
What can we bury in the back yard garden
To know it’ll still be there for us to use
When the ravaging is over and we can breathe
And try to reassemble democracy
From the leftovers and the cast-asides
That evilness bequeathed to us on leaving.
                 ljm

You’re never going to have the cake
Learn to like the taste of bread.

You’re never going to wear diamonds
Learn to appreciate cut glass.

You’re never going to hear applause
Learn to marvel at the stillness.

You’re never going to win the gold
Learn to admire the shine of copper.

You’re never going to be adored
Learn to love just being liked.

You’re never going to live forever
Learn to be your best today.
                 ljm

I think I’ve come to believe in God
And that He did indeed create the Earth.
But I think He created lots of Earths
And flung them across the galaxies.

I think perhaps He had some off time
And idly rolled up ***** of clay
Each one different from all the rest
Each with its own pattern of life.

I think He had a wonderful time
Draining His imagination
Of all the possibilities
For sentience of various kinds.

Like a crafter making quilts-
Each pattern varied from from the rest,
The planets took on different forms
And life evolved down many lines.

That’s why the cosmos puzzles us
And makes creation hard to grasp.
We need to spend a lot more time
At art and crafter’s shows.

ljm

A morning of overcast sky in Nevada
Is very like landscapes painted by El Greco.
Cobalt sky smeared with silver gray shadows
In a candy floss tumble of gunmetal clouds
Gives a subtle light that makes things mysterious
And creates a canopy of comfort for a winter day.
ljm

Twas the month before Christmas
And all through the town
The early bird shoppers
Could scarcely sit down.

The turkey was eaten
With ravenous passions
The quicker to race out
And grab the new fashions.

The bargains were lurking
Inside every mall
Inviting the greedy
To dash away all.

To forget about family
Forget to give thanks
To goal is to get stuff
Without breaking banks.

The early morn line up
Now a thing of the past
With stores never closing
You’ve got to be fast.

A big screen TV set
For three hundred bucks-
The  last one is taken
And that really *****.

If some other shopper
Should get in your way
The only solution?
That ole pepper spray!

You push and get pummeled-
You put it on plastic
You’ve landed a bargain
And that is fantastic

The Muzak is playing
The same Christmas songs
We know them all backwards
We’ve heard them so long.

You wend your way homeward
So proud of your action
To cancel Thanksgiving
And earn satisfaction.

The holly was strung up
Before Trick or treat
If you wait til Thanksgiving
You’re gonna get beat

By all of the merchants,
A few neighbors too.
Can’t beat ‘em? Then join ‘em-
What else can you do?

You wait for December,
The goods are shopworn
With scratches and paint chips,
And boxes all torn.

The only solution
Is one to remember:
Avoid all the trauma
And shop in September.

For a month before Christmas
The whole world goes mad
We use up the season
And that makes me sad.

I long for the mem’ry
Of Christmases past
When family mattered
And shopping came last,

Behind all the sharing
Of love and good times
Without all the hassle
Portrayed in these rhymes.

Exhaustion has claimed us
We need to lie down
It takes all your courage
Surviving downtown.

So you wear your kerchief
And I’ll wear my cap
And we’ll try to grab us
A short winter nap.

And we’ll say to ourselves
As we turn out the light
Merry Christmas to all
And to all a good night.
    ljm

The sky is absolutely wrong-
Clouds just never look like that.
The tumbled shapes are so not right.
There is a norm for tumbled clouds,
But this sky isn’t even close.
The shadows on their bottoms also are not right-
That’s just not how the sky should ever be.

And…Oh My God !….Is that a rainbow?

But rainbows are supposed to look
Like horse-shoes planted upside down
With one end hiding a *** of gold-
Always, always, always…
That’s the way a rainbow works.
This one is a glowing orb
Shining on the tip end of a shaggy cloud.
It has all the colors it should have
And in their proper rainbow order but
It doesn’t have the requisite two ends.
It shimmers into disappearing edges
In the middle of the tea-time sky.

No chance of any *** of gold
From a rainbow never touching ground.

It’s absolutely wrong to be there
In the middle of those misshaped clouds.
Raising questions that have no answers.
Is this the sign that the Bible promised
To welcome in the final days…
And tribulation for a thousand years
When judgement comes to everyone
And all the hens come home to roost.
The world below, in utter chaos mired
Must somehow look above the trees
To see the Portents in the sky.
             ljm

Echos from the distant past
Hide out in dusty stations
Waiting for the Midnight train to Georgia.

Feet ******* with burning cramps
Stumble through the buttercups
That always used to turn chins yellow.

But my-oh-my there’s cherry pie
Baking in the oven
That used to cook on Douglas Street.

Good grief never did exist,
I’m sorry Charlie Brown-
You need to find a new phrase.

The Ferris wheel goes up and down
Without a sound except for all
The children screaming as they fall.

Why did my Daddy **** his hand off of my leg
When Mom walked past the bedroom door.
Why can’t I manage to forget

That I have nothing to remember.
            ljm

11/20/24
ACTRESS

My life is a show
that I’m putting on
for
the audience of all those around me.
I strut and preen
and
I prance on life’s stage,
but
the script that I learned’s
not the show that I’m In
and
I’m always stage left
when I should be stage right.

I drop all my cues,
Can’t
remember my lines,
and
almost tripped over the footlights.

What
am I doing on this giant
stage.
Do the words I say
Have any meaning.
Do my
dance steps convey any feelings
to the
audience
made up of those who know better
and oblige me this turn in the
spotlight
ljm

Pretty girls get listened to
Fat old ladies are ignored

A lovely face will unlock doors
A homely face will find them closed

A shapely figure’s always noticed
A shapeless one’s invisible.

This is the way society works
Not even pretending to be fair

How do I know about these rules
I have lived by them - Three out of six.
ljm

How many mountains must I climb
To catch a glimpse of sunrise.
How many boulders must I move
To clear a path to my doorway.
And how many rivers must I ford
To leave this gloom behind me.
ljm

Lost:
Her
   Wedding Ring
         in the ashes
  of a fire
  Home burned
            to the ground

       Firemen dig
        Where the bathroom
           used to be
Now 2 storeys deep
      in charred rubble
           for the drawer
          where the ring
was last secured
~~~~
  
        Somewhere in a different
   state
   Another wife was
   praying that
          all who lost
           their homes to fire
              might find some
       family treasure
                           in the ashes to hold onto
     ~~~~

        Something  sparkles dimly
    as the ashes are removed
    Is it the wedding ring?
      It is.
          Black and crusted, yes it is
    Still round and every stone in place
   Such joy and celebration in
the midst of tragedy                                ~~~~

Miracle:
            
    A prayer has been answered
        for a Christian
       in Nevada
             And a treasure been
    delivered
   to
         a loving wife
       in California
              who may have lost her family home
    but now has faith in miracles.
ljm

She slipped away with no goodbye
No parting gasp or widened eye
One heartbeat she was here, then she was gone.

I didn’t know it was the day
When she would gently drift away-
The nurses said that time was down the road.

For many hours I’d held her  hand
And when I could no longer stand
I sat nearby to read a magazine.

I cannot say with certainty
The moment that her soul leapt free
I feel ashamed and live with secret guilt.

I never should have touched that book
It robbed me of a final look
That might have told me she was on her way.

I had to wait til Laura came
And here her call my Mother’s name
And cry out, O my God - I think she’s gone.

I tell myself it was Mom’s will
To slip away when all was still
But yet I should have stood there at her side.

I might have sensed her spirit’s flight
Or seen some otherworldly light
Instead I idly looked at wedding gowns,

I feel I didn’t make the grade
And ever since that time I’ve prayed
That she’ll forgive the lapse and love me still.

Wherever she is dancing now
I hope she realizes how
My love is wrapped around her like a crown.

And as she starts eternity
With body new and spirit free
I hope she knows her heart lives on in me.

I think about her all the while
Sometimes with tear-sometimes with smile
But she walks closer by me than before.
  
The wisdom that she shared with me-
The training in the way to be
Are part and parcel of my very soul.

I’ll always be a part of her
Through any change that may occur
My love and fond remembrance will not fade.

So though she left without goodbye
To claim her mansion in the sky
I know she’ll save a corner there for me.

And come that future afternoon
Maybe distant, maybe soon,
I’ll hold her hand in greeting, not farewell.

And she will say she overlooked
My sitting down with bridal book
And that she knows I did the best I could.

She knew the measure of my love
And as she joined the realms above
Considered me to be her good girl still.

Then all the pain I’ve hid inside
Will disappear and I can glide
Into my own eternity at peace.          
                ljm

So many pieces of 4x4 paper
So many names written on every one
So many needs that cry out for prayer
So many reasons for tears that will come.

People with illness that doesn’t get better
People still grieving for one that has died
People knocked down by the trials of living
People with terrible secret to hide.

Countries in shatters from climate change fury
Countries in rubble from war’s evil blasting
Countries all broken from the rumble of earthquakes
Countries who wonder if hope can be lasting.

So many villains afoot in our country
So many rifles in teenager’s hands
So many attacks on our family tree
So many arriving from far distant lands.

So many times we kneel in the morning
speaking the names of all those in need
Hoping that God will somehow be listening
And not turn his back on us as we plead.
ljm

America will now get what it voted for-
What it wanted more than decency.
It will unfold for 200 weeks.
Wish I didn’t have to be here to watch.
ljm

Nixon’s enemy list was
The Kindergarten primer
For the list that starts today.
                         ljm

Hello to **** America
Goodbye to the gentle folk of Ukraine
Goodbye to all hope for a Palestine
Hello to hatefulness and thuggery
Hello to self service and ego
Goodbye to seven Commandments
Goodbye to honor and trust
Hello to the end of the American Dream.
ljm

The shiny apple looked delicious
But it was high up in the tree
We jumped to reach it but we couldn’t
We found a ladder in the field
And carefully climbed up it
The rungs were covered with thick mud
And got our hands and clothes all *****
But we craved that shiny apple
Hungry as we were so long
Reaching out through tangled branches
It was in our grasp at last
Careful going down the ladder
So as not to drop the prize

Now time to take that first big bite
And oh how sweet the juices flowed
We’re stealing an admiring look
When suddenly we spot the worm-
It’s bad enough to see it there-
But what remains is only half
And something tickles in our throat
Will we fling the apple far away
To retch and spit and beg a mint
Or stay and eat around the worm.
ljm

How many times must the helping hand
Be bitten, slapped or pushed away
Before it never reaches out again.

With motives pure as a newborn’s eyes
I offer everything I can to help
With what I can’t afford to spend

And hours I really shouldn’t take-
And every time it is a sham
And all my help is nothing.

All I want is just one chance
To save a life or make the day
For someone who is sinking

And without hope of aid or rescue.
But it never seems to go that way
The homeless throw away my blankets

And tell me they can’t eat my lunch.
They take my funds and skulk away
To add it to their horde,

While I beat up my aching bones
To earn enough to try again
In eighteen hour workdays.

Is there really no one out there
Waiting for my caring grasp
To pull them from a certain death.

Is there no one disadvantaged
Who will bless fate for the coat
I’ve taken from my closet for them.

Is there no life that will change
In the minutest way because
I strived with all my might to help them.

This is life’s unkindest blow for me-
That I’m denied the hero’s role
And every hand I reach to save
Draws back and turns to walk away
With laughter echoing across
The distance to my downcast eyes.
ljm

F    Fear the water God says you must walk across
A   Allow your mustard seed to germinate
I     Implore the Lord to take your quaking hand
T   Trusting that your feet won’t sink into the brine
H   His hand is strong in yours, so step out now in faith.
                 ljm

If he loses, he promises war
If he wins, it’s total destruction
There is no safe pathway
Out of this dark woods of terror.

Can we balance a marble
On the tip of a dagger
And keep it from rolling off
And taking us down with it.

Can we dig a deep hole
That’s big enough to bury
All the laws that we need to preserve
So we can retrieve them one day.

If he loses he promises chaos
If he wins democracy dies
We must find a way to balance that marble
And manage to salvage our country.
ljm

Like a Gingerbread village
Smashed by an angry child
The
     broken
                  pieces    
                            lay
Scattered across the desert.
             ~/#^//~•º#~

Every shard a broken dream
And hopeless vision of the future.
Every
            pile
                    of
                          crumpled!rubble
Hides beneath it bleak tomorrows.
                  ~/#^//~•ª#~

What can ever be constructed
From the
                frac
                        tur
        ­                        ed
                                      shards of
Hopelessness and heartless evil.
That bar the road to being whole again.
                           ljm

We’re in a very darkened place.
The Sun is absolutely gone;
An angry wind is howling.
All the butterflies have flown;
The birds are hiding in the trees.

There is no music in the brook.
The lovely Marigolds are dying.
The candles that once lit the way
Have been blown out repeatedly
And not a matchbook can be found.

Random bursts of angst and fear
Throw black paint over hopefulness
And there are no stars in the sky.
We stand stock still and hold each other
Soon to learn which doom is ours.
ljm

I’m weak when I need to be strong
I’m lost and I need to be found
I despair and I cannot find hope
I reach out and nothing is there
I offer and no one accepts
I cry out but no one is near
Spirit in pain I stagger along
The sound of my weeping
Becomes my theme song
ljm

I hear the clanking of the gears and ropes
As the curtain starts its slow descent.
I’m rushing to get all my speeches in-
I thought the final scene would go on longer.

But I somehow forgot my lines, the prompter was asleep,
And I tripped across the brace cleats on my entrance
The apron edge is way too close.  I feel lightheaded.
I can see my understudy waiting in the wings.

I thought that I could play my role with some elan
For the entire duration of the local run
But seven shows with matinees to total nine
Have strained my voice and dulled my ears

So I can’t hit the high notes any more.
I know the lyrics and the tunes-
I play them in my sleep instead of waking up
But nonetheless I miss my cues and every note is flat.

The audience is unaware.  They haven’t read the book.
They cannot know the words left out, the blocking gone awry,
My struggle as I patch it up and try to hide
Behind my past reviews - when everything I did was right.

Tassels shimmy on the bottom of the velvet drape
As it slips down behind  me - out in front when I should be in back.
If only I could juggle - no one would suspect
That this will be my final curtain call and I have got it wrong.

Forty eight years of faithful service
Crumpled like a Kleenex and tossed away
By evil people with only ten names between them;
Forcing me to pack up all my grief and anger
And replat a blazing desert to make it be my home,

Far from where I’d ever want to be while
Deprived of what I’ve always loved to do
And surrounded by the things I do not like.
I had to replat the sand dunes of my very soul
To find a little valley where I hope to heal my hurt.
                            ljm

When an era ends a bell should ring
Even if it’s only tiny.
When the Curtain falls for the final time
The cast should get a flower.
When it’s all used up and there is no more
Someone should close the cupboard.
When the time is up and the whistle blows
We should all put down our hammers.

Sometimes the end is loud and brash
Sometimes as silent as sunrise
But which-ever way it comes to be
It always seems to be too soon.
It seems there should be one more try
Or even just an epilogue, instead
A note was posted on the door
And the era of folk music quietly ended.
             ljm

I'm just allowed to read 5 poems. I can't scroll down for  more.
I don't know what mistake I've made for Eliot to close the door.
I know I'm not the only one with no access to the index
Which I consulted constantly from forgetfulness and reflex.
Is there some way to make amends and put things back to right
Or are we all to drop our pens and fade into the night.

Will Eliot do something new and leave us on our own
Or are his plans a secret - totally to us unknown
Will Hello Poetry ever come back and be the way it's been
If we should lose our access it would be the gravest sin
I've offered Elliot a check instead of monthly nicks
But I've not had a word from him - up to his usual tricks.

I'll keep submitting what I write and see if it's displayed
And if it  never does appear, sadly I will be dismayed
If I am not the only one facing this conundrum
Let me have a word or two and tell me who it's from.
Then I won't feel I've crossed a line and there's no hope for me
And all together we will wait to see what we can see.

Every morning I kneel and pray
For the needs of other people.
But nobody prays for me.
Fourteen ways my body fails
And my mind is failing too.
Yet nobody prays for me.
My needs are on the bottom shelf
I carefully set it up that way.
So nobody prays for me.
I thought I was invincible
But my needs outweigh my strength.
Won’t somebody somewhere pray for me.
             ljm

An artificial crimson blossom
In the garden of God’s roses
I’m made of silk and wire and glue
On a slender stem of green bamboo.
Artistry makes me look real
And though I turn to face the Son
I can’t create perfume to offer
And I stand out painfully
Among the genuine creations.
Waiting for the Gardener
To notice me and **** me out
To die among the brambles
I tried diigently to escape.
              ljm

Can all of the real Chrstians,
The ones who actually
Follow the commandments,
Outvote the Quasi Christians
Who hold their Bibles upside down
And can not quote John 3:16

Probably not.

But add them to the multitude of  
Non religious voting people
Those who read and understand
The message written on the wall,
And  know they want to vote again
And have a choice when four years pass.

Then maybe yes.
                ljm

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

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

The tipping point for Gaia
  Stares us boldly in our faces.
   And yet we try to look the other way,
    Seeing only what they want us to see,
     Believing all the lies they tell us daily.
      How deep into destruction must we fall
       Before we realize we’re doomed and
        It’s too late to pass the blame
         And far too late to fix things
              ljm

Other places, other times
Send hints of melodies
That echo in the hollow air
And call repeatedly to me

To leave the harsh and bittersweet
And find a way that leads
To those remembered days
Of usefulness and joy.

The notes play on an endless loop
That turns sad dreams to Musicals
And interferes with getting on
With all the mundane that is life.

Those other days and times are gone
They cannot be recaptured
The only thing they leave behind
Are notes of sad and wistful longing.
ljm

Am I the only one on HP
Who is finding it impossible
To parse the Byzantine new
System Eliot-the-Great has
Foisted on us in the name
Of becoming available
In your back Jeans pocket
Wherever you may be?
LJM

I’m riding on a carousel
I didn’t buy a ticket for.
Each horse’s harness represents
A non-life-ending malady.

The ride will not come to an end
And spins too fast for jumping off,
But I can carefully switch mounts
To ride on something different.

A gilded stallion paws the air
On the far side of the circle
But I can’t manage to get there-
Something’s always in my way.

I can’t get past the Tiger mount
With it’s angry rasping throat
Or by the zebra with a broken foot
To ride the healthy Courser.

I inch my way by the dappled mare
And dare not tough her bridle.
Spotted I already am
And I want to ride a Mustang.

The ride has gone on far too long
I’ve ridden half the Ponies
I haven’t gained the mount I want.
An aged gelding’s all that’s left.

So I’ll ride it ’til the music ends
And the carousel stops turning
I’ll stumble off and turn to face
The fate that I’ve been learning.
ljm

Unfit to be loved
Not even by God
Who’s promise is
Love everlasting.

Unable to heal
From wounds too deep
The scabs that were hope
Are constantly oozing.

Covered in scars
Generated within
There’s obviously no use
In praying for help.

Huddled in corners
of futile existence
The Sun never rises
And rain falls as tears.

The clock never wavers
The moments roll on
And time has no meaning
Unless there is love.

But love is illusive
It’s not bought and sold
It  must be accepted
Or else it grows cold.
            ljm