Longer than she loved me has she only tolerated
What she cannot change - her birth -
Though loudly she proclaims that isn't true.

Longer than her childhood are the years
That flowed between the bad one and our now,
When mended teacups still won't hold the tea,

No matter that I add more glue and paint
And fill it carefully with nothing very hot
And place it always on a saucer.

Still it leaks and threatens to give way
Scalding both of us again
With selfish pain and angry, spiteful hurt.

More days than she was mine have passed
As I became bystander on the curb
To only watch and never join her on parade.

More weeks than I was happy am I sad-
I dropped the cup-she stepped on it
And now the ragged pieces don't quite fit.

It makes no difference how I tried
Or what I paid in pain and guilt,
I cannot make the teacup whole.

So I give her the newest one
And take the mended one for me.
I never really cared for tea and we're all out of cocoa.
ljm

Small on the skyline,
This beautiful ship I’ve launched-
Testing the waters and her seaworthiness.
I stand on shore and strain to see
The sun glint off her sails as they unfurl,
It won’t be long before the horizon
Reaches out and takes her from my sight.

And yet she circles back again,
To the safety of this harbor
Where the ocean gathers calm and still.
But I know the tide is freshening
And the wind is for adventure.
I long to let her glide away but
It hurts too much to open up my fingers,
So I heave and pull on the mooring rope
Striving to keep her next to the pier-
Proud of the way she rides the swells-
Thrilled with the cut of her mainmast-
Excited with visions of where she can go-
Still I’m reluctant to bid her bon voyage.

For I have no ticket - this isn’t my trip,
I’ll have to be happy with postcards
From places mundane and wildly exotic-
Hoping she’s not out at sea too long and
That killer squalls don’t find her.

I’ve built her well - she’s sound and good.
There’s great common sense on the rudder.
The maps are laid out in orderly rows
And her spirit holds steady the sextant.

The tugs on the rope are outdoing my fingers
And I’ve had to begin to let go.
I must save some strength to lift hands in farewell
And keep vision clear through the teardrops.
        ljm

My little brush with small dustpan
Is called a Table Crumber.
But I do not do fancy meals
That worry about bread crumbs

Instead it often sweeps behind
The Kitchen cupboard baseboards
For all the bits that fall that way
While I’m preparing dinner.

The standard broom is way too big
To get into those corners
To find the crumbs and bacon bits
That fly off of the counter.

So while its job is alternate
And not in fancy settings
My little brush is valuable
A fact Im not forgetting.
                             ljm

This ****** Mac is still not working
I know there is an evil lurking
I took it to the Nerd-king’s shop
And told them to give it a pop
I picked it up this very morning
And they did not give me a warning
They said it now was working fine
Yet I can’t type a decent line
All the bugs are still a-bugging
So once again I’m back a-lugging
This thing to them for one more try
If they can’t fix it I will cry
And drown them all in floods of tears
And go to jail for 20 years.
So I’ll be here a day or two
And gone again a half week through
Thanks to those who wished me well
I love you more than words can tell.
Reminding you for one last time
To never say that I can’t rhyme.
ljm

My mac has had one too many nervous breakdowns and is headed for the hospital this afternoon.  I expect to be without him for 2-3 days while they ream out all the boogey Men and Trojan Horses. I hope it doesn't take any longer. I'm uneasy when I'm away from HP. This is where all my dreams are safely stashed.  Please leave the light on for me.

I’ll never own an aeroplane
But I’ve jumped out of one a dozen times
And felt the freedom of a Meadowlark.

I’m not an expert on French wine
But I’ve been up the Eiffel Tower
And looked out over the City of Lights.

There is no building named for me
But I stood on a scaffold in a burned out cathedral
And saw it as a beginning, and not as the end.

I’ll never wear a giant diamond ring
But I’ve glued sparkling bits of glass
To a thousand hand made things of beauty.

I’ll never walk a long red carpet
Though I have starred in more ‘productions’
Than any actress with gold statues on her shelf.

They’ll never give a dinner just for  me
But I’ve fed hundreds with the best meal of their life
And cleaned up all the dishes afterwards.

I do not need a body guard
But I’ve watched guardsmen stamp their feet
Outside a Palace that looked nothing like a home.

I’ll never write an acceptance speech
But I’ve seen lines I’ve written in print
And read them to various audiences.

I’ll never stand upon the moon
But I’ve seen the Fjords and Hula Girls
And stolen my very own iceberg.

I’ll never be Mother of the Year
With many outstanding Children
But I created perfection once
And she’s my legacy to the world.
                      ljm

She never ever let us meet him
Never told us his full name
We only learned it when she shared
the photo of a document in jest
Where he adopted our Grand dog
And became her official Dad.

She asked if we would dog-sit Bella
While they took a Vegas break.
I know they are going to get married
And we’ll be left here with the dog.

There will be no celebration-
He’ll wait in the car while she comes in
To drop off Bella and rush back out
Precluding any conversation
Or questions about the trip.

That scene will play it’s second act
When they come to get the dog.
Him in the car and her a rush.

I’ll check her hand - is there a ring -
Not sure she’d ever even wear one.
I’ll have to call her father for the news
If I want to know her status.

This is the way I live my life
Shut completely out of hers.
The lovely dog our only tie
I pray that Bella never dies.
ljm

Tarnished sequin in the Jewel shop of life.

How did I get put in with the diamonds?

I don’t pretend to even be Zirconium.

I’m not where I belong and don’t blend in.

Where’s the art and crafts department.

That’s where I hold court

And sometimes get to be the Queen.

ljm

IDES OF MARCH

What’s the purpose of it all
It’s only raining dust and grit.
The sky is weeping spatter
And the only sidewalk is
On the far side of the street.

They shined up Highway 95
But out front here is nothing
But deep breaches in the tarmac
And anything that doesn’t hurt
Me manages to itch.

All the good stuff is locked up
In upstairs rooms down endless halls
Where something has been splashed
Across the carpeting
And the door is always padlocked.

The book inside is second handed
And it’s marked up in random places
That don’t align with what
The index says should be there
And the Ex Libris page is missing.

The day is pecking at its shell
Of hopelessness and need
In hopes of gaining freedom.
The prayer wheel is no longer spinning
And the crimson candle has gone out.

There are reasons for it all
It’s written up in Sanskrit ink
And plastered on the backyard wall
That keeps it all inside or out
And I’m stuck in the middle.
ljm

Like a newborn sparrow in a tall tree nest
You hunker down with your beak wide open
Chirping for a worm.
But you’ve broken my wings so many times
I can no longer fly
And I flop helplessly amongst the branches
Watching as we starve.
ljm

You can’t lash out in burning anger
           Unless you’re young or beautiful.
           Trying that at sixty-five
            Just makes you an old hag.
At twenty-five a shapely leg
            Can kick a hapless door
            And pitch away an object scorned,
            But let a gramma throw a snit
            And they say she’s demented.
Why is anger set aside
            As only for the young.
           And those beyond those magic years
           Must settle for a quiet rage.
       ljm

Meadowlark Oratorio
Trees decorated with birdsong.
Wildflowers in full bloom way too early.
Bougainvillea rehearsing for their big show.
The never-ending wind has blasted Springtime
Into Laughlin while May’s Lion takes a nap in his den.
ljm

I don’t need a big miracle
A little one will do.
I don’t need my feet
To feel like feet again
That would be asking a lot.
I can still deal with
My failing right eye
And what’s going on in my throat.
It’s really a simple thing that I need
I just want to sit down and **** -
Every animal does it…
No thinking or planning involved.
But nature’s denied me
That every day deed
And that is the miracle I need.
ljm

Falling in love with you was very easy.
You were exotic and beautiful to see.
A gateway to a very different lifestyle
So unlike the sad frustration I had known.

        Staying in love with you hasn’t been as easy.
        Differences we thought were small grew bigger
        And ways to to deal with them entailed much work
        But I never ever doubted that you love me

With a love that also holds a lot of need.
My love for you encompasses my own need
To lead us safely through the shoals of living
And be of use to your life and our world.

        The love that is our true foundation
        Never wavers in the storms of life
        And I’m beside you til the final curtain
        Proving that my love for you won’t die.
ljm

Born at home and almost left behind
When the ambulance came,
I’ve spent my whole life
Trying to be remembered
And not overlooked.
ljm

A nation ravaged by political *****
Unable to look around and see
The mess they made that we must live in.
Seeing only the cookies on the counter,
Not minding the crumbs all over the floor
And the rats that are enjoying them.

Hearing only the Devil’s whisper
Oozing from the screens they watch
Telling them that Christmas tree lights
Are worth the death of all the reindeer.

Remembering a yesterday that never was
And trading in tomorrow for a fantasy
Of “there’s still time to fix the problems”
And “It’ll be all right on the day”.

But that day is going to be next Tuesday.
ljm

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

In my weary soul I hear the drums
That mark the cadence of expiring.
The beat is irresistible
And though my feet are torn and bloodied
I can not but take another steep.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

The road has been a rocky path
With danger just around the bends
And bandits in the roadside trees
Notching arrows to their bows.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

Another day, another hour.
How many minutes are left to me.
How many more steps must I take
Before the drum turn into violins
And I am free to join the Minuet.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom
ljm

The drums of doom are echoing
Across the barren hillsides.
  Heavy carts on wheels of hatred
   Loaded high with steaming tubs of vitriol
    And the ugly trolls who brewed it,
     Are rolling down the twisted roads,
      Toward a city newly named Perdition,
       There to dance the Sarabande
        While flocks of screaming Peregrines
         Circle through the storm black clouds
          And all the shutters are nailed tight
           Against the wind that that rattles doors
            And augurs the millennium.
ljm

Is anyone teaching  A I  to pray?
Is it learning the Ten Commandments?
While we’re making them into mechanical Gods,
Have we introduced the two to each other?

                  ~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~

Will a robot prove God is a myth
And assume that throne for itself.
Will a Robot create a different world
And people it with only machines.
ljm

Dancing on the tightrope of a breakdown
I wonder just how good my balance is,
I teeter on the wire one careful footstep at a time.
I don’t look down; the solid concrete waits for me below
I can’t look left or right for fear I’ll lean and tip.
I focus on the other side but it’s not clearly seen-
Is it my eyes or has a fog rolled in to trick me-
To leave me stranded and precarious.
I’m developing a cramp and one toe has gone numb
But still I slide the other foot along
And grip with every particle of strength I own.
I have to make it all the way across
There is no net below to save me.
But the other platform seems so far away
And my umbrella feels as though it’s made of lead.
Why is there no cheering from the crowd-
I guess they’re fascinated by the clowns down there
And never ever bothered to look up.
ljm

I want to be your playmate
Dancing on the bubbles of our joy.
I want to be your everything
Providing all you need and more.

        I want to be your hiding place
        When storms of life surround you.
        I want to be the face you see
        When you wake up forever.

                 I want to be a steady beam
                 To light the ways we travel.
                 I want to be part of your life
                 As long as God will let me
                              ljm

If you know no one will read it anyway,
It doesn’t matter what you write.
You can be too honest to fool yourself
Or any of those who know the answers.

You can shout epithets at the heart of the cosmos
And whisper sad fables to the marigolds.
You can spread thin slices of your wounded soul
On buttered bread with the crusts cut off.

You can climb up a rock to see where you’ve been
And spray paint graffiti on the walls of existence.
You can carve up life’s meaning like an over done turkey
And hang velvet flocked wallpaper over it all.

If no one will look at the words you have written
You’re free to sing lullabies in quiet places
Or ***** up vitriol that scours the surface
Of the mirror reflecting the world that should be.

You can tap-dance across the bloodied shards
Of what was crystalline and you.
You can pull a plug and watch the swirl
As synonyms for hope pour out onto the ground.

You can fold the page into itself again
And yet again, and it will never disappear.
The ink may fade, but still remain enough
To make it possible to never deign to read the lines.

Was ever there a freedom such as this.

                                   ljm

Tuna sandwiches on white bread
Carried in a paper bag
Josh Groban on the CD player
Season Three of 2 broke Girls
Matching shoes and purses
Vacation in the Pocanos
Subscription to People Magazine
Pennies in a piggy bank
Silver-beige 4-door Accord
A little college but no degree
Always ten pounds overweight
Celebration meal at Sizzler
Artificial Christmas tree pre-lit
A mole that wants removing
Off white walls, pale green carpet
Outfits from mail order catalogs
Paydays with no yearly bonus
Jeopardy and Wheel of fortune
Polyester perm press everything
Bic Stik ball point pen
Swanson's TV dinner
Flip phone with no camera
*** two times a week and Sunday
Writing verse nobody reads
                   ljm

Wringing what little joy I can
From a disappointing existence,
I go along my daily way
Wearing a pasted on smile

So no one ever will detect
The abject misery I hide
That seethes and boils inside
This construct of a person.

    I dot the I’s and cross the T’s
    And show up when expected.
    I pay the bills when they are due
    And share a bit with the needy.

          I’m organized, personified
          As an outstanding citizen,
          But deep inside where truth
          Be found, a desperate mirage

              That hides an angry little girl
              Who knows she’s being cheated
              Of all the things she knows she’s won
              And watched awarded elsewhere.
ljm

(4)
Warm Vanilla scent
Drifts from Christmas kitchen
Bringing back my youth

(5)
Seven and two fives
Parsed and added carefully
Just make seventeen

(6)
Rainy winter sky
Dripping down the windowpane
Paints a broken heart

(7)
Sleeping daffodils
Cozy in their buried bulbs
Wait for springtime sun

Is anyone teaching AI to pray?
Is it learning the ten commandments?
While we’re making them
Into mechanical Gods,
Have we introduced the two
To each other?

Will the robots prove that  
God is a myth
And assume that throne
For themselves?
Will the robots create
A different world
And people it with
Only machines?

Who is asking
And who is replying
To these fundamental questions?
                  ljm

Like walking into a massive spider web
Feelings of doom wrap around my face.
I frantically try to brush it away,
But sticky tendrils yet remain
And I have trouble moving on.
ljm

Where would we be had Al Gore been elected-
If Florida and the Supremes hadn’t blatantly cheated
To get their boy into the White House.

Would these 20 years past still have been wasted,
Bowing down to the Miners and the big Oil Cartels.
Would the heat of the Earth have continued to grow
At a pace that promised and guarantees doom.

Or would saner minds maybe have listened
To scientists with just one agenda in mind
Trying to stop the drumroll of destruction
And preserve this world God gave us to live on.

I don’t have an answer - do you?
ljm

In the valley of the Apricotted Sunrise
The black mountains with their jagged cliffs
Rise up each day to block it - and fail totally.
No mountain can hold back the dawn.

Seeping across the Eastern sky
Like an oncoming ocean tide
What was black and cobalt blue
Finally gives up the fight
And turns the color of a peach.
A delicious Arizona morning.
        ljm

What if John Lennon was correct:
“There isn’t any Heaven and there isn’t any Hell.”
What on Earth do we do now?
ljm

The Tiara is back on the dresser.
My party shoes are on the floor.
The clock is well past midnight
And I’m the Birthday Girl no more.

My day was rendered as perfect
Everything went just as planned.
There were no major mix-ups -
A blessing from God’s divine hands.

The floats were created from magic
They were stunning in their appeal
The roses in so many colors made
It hard to believe they were real.

The bands each outdid the others
Their Tubas lined up in big rows.
The flag girls and pompoms were twirling;
Drum Majors were putting on shows.

The weather was cold in the morning
But warm in the late afternoon.
My tiara caught other’s attention
And that sent me over the moon.

We ended the day at the movies
To watch whatever was playing
“The Aquaman” was a debacle
That’s only if I’m kindly saying.

This birthday is etched in my mem’ry
A diamond among yearly pearls.
A treasure bestowed by a loved one
Who crowned me the luckiest girl.
                        ljm

Being a New Year's Baby, I always grow a year older at 12:01 AM, so I try to stay up to see the effect it will have on me. Tonight will be a big one - adding a 5 to four score and still on the march to glory.
Nobody comes to Birthday parties on January first - too hung over.  But at least I've never have to work on that day. So I watch the Pasadena Rose Parade in my PJ's and drink cocoa toasts to myself.
It's not all that bad.  In fact it's usually pretty good.

I swim a sea that has no shore or bottom
The North Star hides behind a cloudy sky
The winds increase with every passing moment.
The waves, once flat, are looming very high.

A jellyfish has stung me on the ankle.
My side is knotted in a painful cramp.
My arms are growing numb with endless flailing
And the clockwork of my mind has gotten damp.

Before the rust locks down all hope of thinking
I must tread salty water for a span;
Stop contemplating how I dumbly got here,
Somehow devise a working rescue plan.

Can hope be found amidst the desolation
Of knowing all the errors that I’ve made:
Believing I somehow could walk on water
It didn’t matter how my game was played.

Though I had several copies of the rule book
I never found the time to sit and read,
So I jumped in, expecting native cunning
To lift me to the top, where I would lead

Those lacking my superior perception
To places they had only dreamed about.
I’d be hailed and lauded as a savior-
Instead I only heard the fearful shout

Of those who swim behind me in an ocean
That shows no sign of coming to a beach-
That certainly will pull us down and drown us
As angry yells become a frightened screech.

The sea I swim that has no shore or bottom
Is really just my ego in disguise-
So big it blocked my vision and my hearing
Til only now, at last, I’ve heard the cries

Of hopes too waterlogged to keep on floating
Of soggy dreams that never can come true- more
Of efforts wasted training in a puddle-
Of agonizing clarity of view.

At last I’ve come to recognize this ocean.
I know what’s on the nonexistent shore.
It’s swim or sink so I keep stroking forward
Although there is no reason any more.

And though my strength is quickly disappearing,
There’s really nothing that I haven’t tried.
So I just flounder onward in my struggle
To somehow make it to the other side.

Knowing there is no one there to greet me-
Knowing there is nothing there at all-
Knowing that no miracle will save me-
No one will ever see the tears that fall

In vain attempt to expiate my folly;
To pay atonement for the things I’ve lost.
To somehow make my life not end up wasted-
To gain some value from it’s painful cost.

So left arm, right arm, kick, kick, kick.
I gain an inch and just as often lose one
The sea I swim that has no shore or bottom
Will take me with the rising of the sun.
ljm

As sere as the Nevada
Moraine surrounding me
My pen drips dust and sometimes sand-
And mud if wetted with my tears
Of longing and frustration.

The winds of war are howling
As the universe turns inside out
with all the wrongness being done.
Mother Nature has picked up her skirts
and flounced away in fury
That is costing endless lives
And devastation planet wide…
While my pen seeks its navel.

My wit, became a brilliant crayon
In realities now scorching sun,
Leaving Rally in a melted pool
Instead of banners on the wall.
It turned my fingers crimson.

Where the splint or plaster cast
To support the flagging wordage
As it dribbles from my pen and
Seeps away into insouciance
While the darkest corner of my mind
Cries out for help and world salvation.
My pen’s, become a giant sieve, stained
By what’s poured in and through,
With only dampness left behind,
The stuff that mud is made from.
       ljm

I'm much better at being sad.
I've had a lot more practice.
                       ljm

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

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

The bargains were lurking
Inside of each 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

I don’t hear the thunder yet
But I see the black clouds forming
I don’t have a lightning rod
And I’m standing in a puddle.
                                           ljm

The unsmelled rose on the back of the bush
Is mocked by the one in the vase
But water can not replace good soil
And the unsmelled rose laughs last.

ljm

The Ferris Wheel is slowing down
  The ride is almost over
    The zooming up was thrilling
      The view from there exciting
        The downward swing was also fun
          Because it turned to rise again.

                                  It seemed the ride would last forever
                              But we knew that wasn’t true
                          We just refused to think about it
                      Til slowing motion made it clear
                  The ride was coming to an end
              And it would very soon be time
           To loose the seat belt and get off
        And walk amongst the land-bound
    Remembering the view from high
While heading for the Tilt-A-Whirl.
             ljm

• I drew a healthy breath
   On awakening today.
• I came down the stairs
   And my knees didn’t hurt.
• The wind has died and
   The sky looks good so
   It’ll be a gorgeous day.
• My friends are well
   And celebrating too,
   Wherever they are scattered,
• My family is safe and sound
   In their distant places.
• I’ve been welcomed to offer help
   In feeding the poor and lonely
   In the kitchen of a church
   The sister of my own.
• So I feel blessed and offer thanks
   That there is still some goodness
   Left amongst the troubles of this world.
ljm

A victim of Lethologica,
I find myself ransacking my brain
For common everyday words I need.

Do I seem a fool or dementia patient?
I am neither of those - not yet anyway.
But my bumbling efforts to be succinct
Fall by the wayside as I stare into space,
Hoping that the word I desperately need
Is somehow magically floating there,
And stammering red faced when it is not.

The only thing that keeps me sane
Is my vast storehouse of synonyms
That I dig out to fill in for the better word
My frantic ransack did not uncover.
ljm

Awake too early once again
Afraid to read myself to sleep
Because of badness always hiding
In the bushes of my dreamlands.

Filthy restrooms, windows where there should be walls
People that don’t seem to like me
Things I need and cannot find
My life’s work an apology.

Tortured pets and wounded hopes
Mazes made of halls and stairwells
How fast I can’t run away
From dangers with their faces hidden.

Can I drive on narrow rails
And not fall to the canyon floor?
What happened to the coins I found-
All mine for the collecting.

Who is it I’m letting down
As I discover that I’m late
And all that should have been arranged
Is still locked in the closet.

Who are all the nameless faces
Everywhere not helping me
But mostly getting in the way
Of what I need to finish.

Wide awake before the dawn
I stumble from one nightmare
Hoping not to find another
When I go crash upon the sofa.
ljm