For kicks I typed into Google my name followed by the word Poetry.
I was taken to a list of several sites showing my name, but the one that got my attention was  "Lori Jones McCaffery: Poetry."  I clicked on that and bam ! there was my whole chronological listing of titles, exactly like you'd find it here.  Anyone can access every poem by clicking on the title. Who put that list on Google?  Is everyone's list on Google too? I didn't give permission to anyone and I'm a bit upset.  It's kind of fun to have all my stuff available to anyone interested but I would have liked to have been asked first because I have been plagiarized before and had to fight for my writing.

Sometimes you have to run really fast
To keep the dark from catching up with  you.
ljm - I think

A The evil little voice still speaks… 8
B Says I can do it all alone         8
C Says I don’t need to call on God, 8
b That I can manage on my own. 8

A A twin to Job, I stumble on. 8
a The mental tools I need are gone. 8
B I cannot seem to find my way 8
b Or summon up the will to pray. 8

A I’ve lost myself along the way. 8
B I somehow didn’t read the sign. 8
a I cannot face another day 8
b With all these shackles on my mind.         8

A I need to fall on bended knee 8
a And ask the Lord to set me free - 8
B To give me back my confidence 8
b And help me climb down off this fence           8

A To help me overcome this angst 8
B And pity for the mess I’ve made. 8
C To help  me get back on my feet 8
b And get a new foundation laid. 8
                  ljm

"Transporting a Dream" by Old Poet MK, brought back to mind an episode when I was in my 20’s, and working in an insurance office in San Diego with a night job as a waitress at a Beatnik Coffee House.  I was in love with a wandering folk singer who had left to perform at a club in Oklahoma City and I missed him terribly.
He called late one Friday night and said why not come there and drive back to California with him.  At first I told myself all the reasons it would be impossible. Then my heart told me I had to find a way to do it.  I called my supervisor and told a fib about my mom being sick and I had to fly to Washington State for a few days.
I emptied my piggy bank and the tip jar from my coffeehouse night job, but I didn't have enough for the ticket. I did have a series E savings bond tucked away, but nowhere to cash it in on a Friday night. This was long before we had computers and cell phones, so I had only my land line to help me.  
I called Greyhound and got their schedule and all the stops they made along the way to Oklahoma City.
As it happened they had a 20 minute rest stop in Mesa, Arizona at 10:15 AM. which was about as far as my gathered money would buy a ticket for. Good enough!  I grabbed some clothes and my E-Bond and raced to the bus depot. I gave them all my money, much of it in coins, and bought a ticket for Mesa. Soon the bus was loaded and I settled in as we rolled on through the night.  Too excited to sleep, I wrote several poems along the way.  When we got to Mesa for the rest stop the next morning I leaped off the bus and flew into a nearby bank (Talk about miracles - it was just across the street from the depot ) I pleaded with them to cash my Savings Bond so I could continue on. The handsome teller listened to my story and then called the bank manager over to hear it as well. That was the day I learned that very pretty girls can do things ordinary folk might never manage.  Without knowing me or really checking out my ID, the bank manager and handsome teller actually cashed my savings bond for me.
Had they not done that I would have been stranded alone and penniless in a strange city.  Only the confidence of youth and beauty could lead someone into a situation like that.
I raced back to the bus as it was loading again and bought my way on to Oklahoma City. I wrote more verse as I looked out the bus window on the way. Some of it very good.
There was tragedy though. I filled one little notebook with  poems and was well into a second one when it came time to change busses.  I somehow left the first notebook on the bus as I got off and didn’t realize it until well away on the second one. I was heartbroken. All I could do was write a sad poem about lost poetry - which I did.
When I arrived in Oklahoma City I was met with love, music and wonderful moments.
The drive back to LA. was exciting and romantic as we stopped to admire the scenery and take photos of each other.
What an exciting escapade that was. The folksinger was a lovely period in my life, filled with other adventures and Whippet dogs, but alas, not permanent. The relationship didn’t endure past two years, but the love of Folk music and Whippets did.

Twenty five years later a similar adventure on a bigger scale befell me, but that’s a story for another time.
LJM

Waves of depression
That have no linkage
To the phases of the  moon
Ebb and surge
In a rhythm that confounds
The metronome by which
I calculate my moods
And face the horrors
That bedeck my daily life.

Winds of malaise
Appear from nowhere
On an otherwise
Still day
And rile the curtains
That protect
My fragile fabrications
From the vicissitudes
Of living on.

Claps of thunder
Rattle all the windows
Where I cower
In my futile hopes the rain
That they portend
Will not become a flood
And wash away
All the tiny flowers
That my hope has planted
In the dreary garden of my life.
ljm

My words keep bumping into yours
And having to stop to wipe a tear.
My thoughts tiptoe sadly over
Moments shared in brief exchange.

Fellow traveler on a highway
Crowded with ideas and dreams
We touched hands briefly now and then
And warmth became the bow that tied us.

Every path has many turnings,
Some of them with no way back.
But still the memory of touching
Warms the heart that’s left behind.

Travel on to other vistas
You’ve left behind a monument
That will shine as long as eyes
Enjoy the worlds that you created.
ljm

On the day I come unglued
And finally slip away
I hope the sky is freshly blue
Without a wisp of gray.

At the moment when my concert ends
And the final note is sung
I  hope I am with caring friends
And no black crepe’s been hung.

I want to simply disappear
To mingle with the wind.
I hope I sense when time is near
To bring things to an end

I’d hate to leave in gloom and rain
And hate it more in snow.
I do not want to cause more pain
Because It’s stormy when I go.
                                        ljm

A low-flying squadron of Mourning Doves
Swooped over the neighbor’s ten-foot wall
And strafed me with their grace and beauty
                                            ljm

When everything is monetized
And only tears are free
I think it’s time we realized
That’s not how life should be.

When you post your life on line
In hopes of earning cash
It should become a flashing sign
That it will one day crash.

Important things will fade away
In the rush to make a buck
Your only purpose every day,
To have financial luck

You’ll conjure up click-worthy memes
And pay no mind that they’re not real
That nothing’s really as it seems
As long as it’s part of the deal.

The boom will fall, that’s how it goes
And you’ll be left out in the rain
To learn what everybody knows
The lust for loot just causes pain.
                 ljm

When sadness is your occupation
And weariness your pay
There’s not a lot of point in asking for a raise
Or an extra day’s vacation.
               ljm

So some little sawed-off *******
Gets himself a big boy gun.
He’s got a plan to make people pay
For every slander aimed at him.

He takes a walk on a crowded street
Looking for a likely victim;
The harried mother, the overdressed man:
Who will have his bullets.

How about the couple in that car,
Fun to shoot through a window.
None of these quite fill the bill;
This is the wrong location.

The only spot is back at work
They don’t know he’s angry.
He smiled when treated like a dork
And they deserve his vengeance.

He enters through the double doors
Walks past the guard while smiling
Strolls into the head-man’s lair
And shoots him at least fourteen times.

He saves the last shot for himself
But this time he miscounts
And security men now pounce on him
And hold him til police arrive.

Hauled onto a cop car’s seat
He has but one regret
Not that he didn’t **** himself
But that he didn’t **** more others.
          ljm

Words of wisdom from Pastor Kay Arthur

Sin will take you farther
Than you ever intended to go.
It will cost you more than
You ever expected to pay
And it will keep you longer
Than you ever expected to stay.
L

What’s the point and where’s the purpose -
Writing things won’t make them happen.
The stories on the TV set
Are someone else’s version
Of a life we’ll never live or know.

Why keep pressing on when there’s no map
And all the street signs are in Latin.
Satisfaction can’t be gained
When they won’t let you finish
Any project your own way.

Who saw where the pathway turned
And didn’t take the time to tell us.
The hand that mans the tiller is not mine.
I spend my time below the decks now
Ever longing just to see the stars.
ljm

We live in a world where starved dogs
are left out in the blazing summer sun
wearing brutal heavy collars attached
to chains fit for a logging truck.

We live in a world where pickup trucks
plow through flocks of geese to **** them
and go nonchalantly on their way.

We live in a world where animals
are are bred to fight for fun and wagers
and losers are killed in grisly ways

We live in a world where industry
can lie for years while savaging
the ecosystem and pocketing the dollars.

We live in a world where it’s OK
to torture and then butcher creatures
in the name of research science.

We live in a world where six black robes
can force a young woman to bear a child
she doesn’t want and cannot feed
then scorn her for needing welfare.

We live in a world where far too many
want to rule as ****** did
and see no moral hindrance.

We live in a world where supposed truth
comes in countless clever guises
and far too many of them are false.
         ljm

I seem to be able to post writes on the first try these days.
How about the rest of you?
Things seem to have been reorganized to work better.
KUDUS TO YOU ELIOT.   THANK YOU.

OUR WORLD

We live in a world where starved dogs
   are left out in the blazing summer sun
      wearing brutal heavy collars attached
         to chains fit for a logging truck.

We live in a world where pickup trucks
   plow through flocks of geese to **** them
      and go nonchalantly on their way.

We live in a world where animals
   are are bred to fight for fun and wagers
      and losers are killed in grisly ways

We live in a world where industry
   can lie for years while savaging
      the ecosystem and pocketing the dollars.

We live in a world where it’s OK
   to torture and then butcher creatures
      in the name of research science.

We live in a world where six black robes
   can force a young woman to bear a child
      she doesn’t want and cannot feed
         then scorn her for needing welfare.

We live in a world where far too many
   want to rule as ****** did
      and see no moral hindrance.

We live in a world where supposed truth
   comes in countless clever guises
      and far too many of them are false.
            ljm

A poet whose words I so admire
Once turned my compliment around
And said I was his favorite too.
I didn’t have the word for thanks
Quite grand enough for how I felt.
I’ve never been a favorite -
Not in life, or work or even love.
He put a warm place in my heart -
A Cinnabon fresh from the oven -
That perfumes my day each time
I savor those kind words from him.
              ljm

He drove his honkin’ ******* truck through a single line of beautiful geese making their stately way along the road to a place they needed to go.  Traffic stopped to admire and take photos.   But the **** in the truck had a place to go and he intended to get there by the quickest way possible.
That way included  jumping out of backed up traffic, mowing down a dozen geese and going on his way.  He left them there on a bloodied road in the midst of the shocked bystanders, who tried in vain to save a few.  But all had flown to higher skies, and the geese still lined up on the road could only pause to see no hope, and continue on their way.  They didn’t fly and they didn’t cry in terrpr or in pain.  They continued on their steady march with broken ranks closed up behind them.
And where did the **** in his blood soaked truck end up that afternoon.  There was no place that required a cost be paid in gander’s lives. There was no meeting of such portent that a dozen birds must end their lives crushed beneath his wheels.
Was it urgency or savagery.  The answer is obscure but may be clarified in time when Karma or authorities make him stand up to recognize the beauty he destroyed, the watcher’s souls he seared in wanton waste of God’s creations.
Knowing that such brutality and evil so extreme can live among God-fearing people, kept hidden until useful, sends a burning chill down through my very soul.
ljm

Fate is a neon-lit pinball machine
And I am a little steel ball
Dodging the "tilt" sign as best I can
                                           ljm

I sat by my morning table grieving
And feeling sorry for myself
When I glanced out the kitchen window
And spied a strikingly beautiful bird
Slowly pacing among all the pebbles
That cover the surface of my back yard.

His  head was iridescent purple and blue
Flashing in the wintertime sun.
He didn’t seem to be in a hurry -
Just taking himself a casual stroll.
Looking around as if on vacation
And seeing the sights in a wonderful place.

I had no idea where he might have came from
Or if there was a name for his breed.
I only knew I found him a pleasure
Who turned a sad and depressing hour
Into something healing and warm
That I will remember for more than a day.
ljm

Too many bubbles in my life
Too many ding-dings on my phone
Too many engines on my train
Too many cobwebs on my plans.

Too much spinning around like a top
Too much tripping on my own two feet
To much hurry hurry in my day time
Too much worry worry in my night.

How can I expand the hours
How can I cross something out
How can I outrun the tick-tock
How can I survive this way.

So many questions - with no replies
So many efforts - so little gain
So many teardrops shed in vain
So many times I’ve said good-bye.
ljm

She numbly sits in a ragged sleep shirt
Her life in tatters all around her,
Pieces scattered bent and broken
It’s cold and raining in her soul
And she lost her new umbrella.

Celebration banners flap in tatters
From the New Year party deemed long over.
Confetti pools in puddles at the curb
Staining rainbows in the murky water.
The echo of the midnight chime a memory.

Three hundred unfulfilling days await her
Should she stumble to her crippled feet
And stagger to the place that should be home.
But there will be no cocoa by the hearth fire
Or anything that might engage her mind
Except the fact that there will be no rescue.

Sitting numbly in her ragged sleep shirt
She has no thought of any better place
Available to someone with an injury like hers.
An wound that cripples ingenuity
And renders her unwelcome
In the tangled depths of her own mind.
        ljm

The grass is usually green
The sky is always blue
That’s irrefutable they say.
But then sometimes
The grass turns brown
And the sky is black
With storm clouds.

Deep inside we always know
The grass returns to green.
The sky will soon be blue again.
Identical to Married love
That tends to wax and wane
With the passing of the years
While the basis stays the same.
                         ljm

I gave half of my heart to Jesus
And the other half wallows in doubt
Casting dark shadows over my soul.

Why does the road always seem crooked
When the Bible tells us that it is straight.
Is it because I can’t read the map clearly.

Why are my every-days so dark and gloomy
When God’s love shines with such a bright light
That only requires opening the shutters.

Biblical verse is awash in enigma;
Where one place orders that you must stand tall
And another proclaims that you need to bow down.

The  half I committed is safe and contented
The half that is doubtful is lost and alone
The two halves at battle have left me immobile
For neither has won and only I lost.
               ljm

Kindness is a luxury that all can afford.
So why is the world filled with so much evil?
Patience is an attribute not hard to acquire
So why’s everyone in a frantic hurry.
Forgiveness cures so very many ills
So why is revenge flavor of the month.
Happiness is an attainable state
So why is humanity so upset and angry.
God’s still in Heaven with hope to bestow
So why is humankind too stupid to know.
ljm

I’ve been a lot of places
And gazed into their heavens
But nothing tops the fluffy white
Clouds that float above Nevada.

Voluptuous whip cream tumbles,
Drifts that could be brand new snow,
Arrayed across a sky so blue
It can’t believe itself is real.

No yellow tinge or smokey blur
Those clouds explode beneath the sun
And often times play hide-and-seek
When it becomes the afternoon

They almost never carry rain
Even when  their base turns dark
They tease the desert sands that way
Then on a whim they wend away.
ljm

Dreams of gossamer can’t withstand
The cold winds of reality.
Castles built from hopeful sand
Cannot outlast the rising tide.
Plans constructed on a wish
Are greeted with an empty hand
And you are left in broken pieces.
Tears don’t make a useful glue
And sighs don’t weave a tether.
You’re in a room that has no door;
Somehow it doesn’t matter.
You cannot go - no one can come
And everything is as it was and is
And time will never change it.
ljm

I’ll be there when you call
I’ll be there if you fall
In you I’ve found my future
I’ll be there
I’ll be there

I will watch while you sleep
I will hold you when you weep
My eternal love won't fail you
I'll be there
I'll be there
                      ljm

Why is it that I post two writes - my common practice - and don't begin to see any likes for up to 2 weeks.  Do writes stay in Limbo?
Yesterday and today I see comments on "Purpose" which I posted 2 weeks ago. What's going on? I have 2 more in the pipeline - where are they? When will anyone see them?
Is this just my writes, or does everyone encounter the same delay?
And how soon will you see THIS one?  Posted 5/21.

With their store-bought *****
And Botoxed faces
With Gucci bags and corset laces
They smiled on us like we were Rubes

Who didn’t know the stuff they learned
From whispers at the Polo Bar,
And how some gal became a star
Rewarded for the tricks she turned.

To them class is designer’s names
On things worth less than half their price
They always seek the biggest slice
Of that big pizza known as fame.

They’re always at the big events
When there are cameras around.
If there are headlines to be found.
Their statements seldom make much sense.

I wouldn’t want to be like them
Living such a plastic life
Longing for the surgeons knife
To give them beauty on a whim

I’ll go on my Rube-like way
Without the glitter and the glam
I’ll just stay the way I am
And live a happy, useful day.
ljm

You disappointed me
Your charger was a hobby horse
And you were white with fear.
ljm

I have no purpose any more.
I’m a painter who’s gone blind
And a singer who’s gone deaf.
There is no call for what I sell.

I still daub colors on a board
To smell the Linseed Oil again
I hear the music in my head
And mouth the words in silence.

There is no surgery or cure,
What’s gone is lost forever.
And I must find a way to live
In silent darkness, if I can.
              ljm

Camilla owes her crown to Diana.
If Diana had been a traditional royal Spouse
She’d have turned a blind eye to Charles’s betrayal
And just enjoyed the perks of Queenhood.
But - alas - she loved that perfidious son-of-a-monarch
And couldn’t abide being only his *******.
Had not she stormed away from that Sovereign Throne
Madam Parker Bowles would have had to remain
The grasping and greedy, outstandingly common
***** that she was and will ever remain.
And Charles could have then joined in the very long line
Filled with unfaithful Kings and their cheated-on queens.
                 LJM

I am someone you can count on.
If I say I will, I do.
If I say I can, it’s true.
I labor on when the rest are gone.

You can trust me with your secrets.
I’ve no need to tell the world.
My gossip flag is always furled.
So you will never have regrets.

I’m the one who’ll stand beside you
As you wade through thick and thin.
I’ll be like your next of kin
And I will always see you through.
ljm

You abandoned me thirty-five years ago.
Why can’t I walk away from you now.
You said I was toxic and poisoned your life.
Why am I still your main shelter in need.
You punished me for the thing I did wrong
And turned a blind eye to the things I did right.
You cheated me out of sharing your life
And you never noticed you cheated you too.
                     ljm

The wind has stopped
blowing
A leaf settles slowly
on quicksand
and does not sink
The wind has
stopped howling in
the canyons
but the fires
burn on
and you
dare not
walk across
the quicksand
to put them
out.
       ljm

Shimmering with dew, it stands there
One perfect moment in time.
Has it been, or is it yet to be?
                    (lsj)

In the dimness of my bedroom
Morning creeps across the floor
Hoping it can wake me early,
Planning to trap me one more time
In the dream world that I live in.

The room is cold, but I am warm
Under the goose down of my duvet,
Striving to paint over dreams
That left me naked and ashamed.

Dreams that ever play in reruns
Of my failures and shortcomings,
Constantly reminding me that I
Am not the person I profess to be.

That all the good deeds that I do
Can not erase the darkness in my soul
That I refuse to recognize
Or let escape the cell I’ve trapped it in.

Oftentimes the morning Sun
Will aid me in escaping
From those dreams into the life
I work so hard to purchase

With effort and the exercise
Of what I’ve learned the hard way,
In hopes that on a distant day
I’ll be who people think I am
And I can dream of butterflies.
ljm

The feast is over
All the guests have left the table
I hung around until the very end
But never got invited
Looks like I’ll have to make my dinner
From the crumbs.

The party’s ending
The orchestra has packed it’s violins
I kept the beat and wore the smile
But no one signed my card
And I suppose I’ll have to hum the tune
And dance alone.
                                  ljm

Gaping, sponge-filled well of need
Proboscis longer than eternity
You’ve ****** the plumpness from my soul
And left a wrinkled, withered husk
Yet still you cry you’re thirsty.
                         ljm

Diana is spinning in her grave
To see Camilla crowned as Queen.
The living proof that if you ****
Yourself in the highest places
There is a chance you’ll wear a crown.

And if you put on Goodie’s 2 Shoes
You still cannot disguise the dirt
You wallowed in to win the prize
That rightfully belonged to Di.
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

I went to the squantum faire.
A handsome lad was there.
He admired my raven hair
And seemed to really care
So I began to share
More than I’d ever dare

He seemed like someone rare
My excitement hard to bear
We made a fulsome pair
Alas he was just a snare.

Today I sit and glare
And sometimes even swear
That I’d been made a mare
And Motley’s clothes must wear.
ljm

I’m old and fat
And that is that
No saving grace
For my poor face
The past is gone
I must live on
And walk this road
With aging’s load
But I recall
When I was all
I’d hoped to be-
An answered plea
I was the best
Of all the rest
I reveled on
Then all was gone
But I’m still here
With mind yet clear
The years roll past
Each one more fast
But as they fly
I never sigh
I’ve had my fun
And now it’s done.
        ljm

Lured by the understated enticements
Of the fog that curls around my efforts,
I’m wondering if that could be the answer
To the questions that I’ve never ever asked.

There doesn’t always seem to be a floor
At the very bottom of the staircase,
So I’m wondering what I will find
When I step off of the bottom step.
            ljm

"Transporting a Dream" by Old Poet MK, brought back to mind an episode when I was in my 20’s, and working in an insurance office with a coffee house side job.  I was in love with a wandering folk singer who was then performing in a club in Oklahoma City and I missed him terribly.
He called late one Friday night and said why not come there and drive back to California with him.  At first I told myself all the reasons it would be impossible. Then my heart told me I had to find a way to do it.  I called my supervisor and told a fib about my mom having had a stroke and I had to fly to Washington State for a few days.
I emptied my piggy bank and the tip jar from my coffeehouse side job, but I didn't have enough for the ticket. I had a series E savings bond tucked away, but no where to cash it in on a Friday night. This was before I had a computer, so I had only my land line phone to help me.  
I called Greyhound and got their schedule and the stops they made along the way to Oklahoma City.
As it happened they had a 15 minute rest stop in Mesa, Arizona at 10:15 AM. which was about as far as my gathered money would buy a ticket for. Good enough!  I grabbed some clothes and raced to the bus depot. I gave them all my money, much of it in coins, and bought a ticket for Mesa, which was as far as I could afford to go. When the bus was loaded I settled in, and it rolled on through the night.  Too excited to sleep, I wrote several poems along the way.  When we got to Mesa for the rest stop the next morning I leaped off the bus and flew into a nearby bank (Talk about miracles - it was just across the street from the depot ) I pleaded with them to cash my Savings Bond. The handsome teller listened to my story and then called the bank manager over to hear it as well. That was the day I learned that pretty girls can do things ordinary folk could never manage.  Without knowing me or really checking out my ID, the bank manager and handsome teller actually cashed my savings bond for me.
Had they not done that I would have been stranded alone and penniless in a strange city.  Only the confidence of youth could lead someone into a situation like that.
I raced back to the bus as it was loading again and bought my way on to Oklahoma City. I wrote some good things as I looked out the bus window. on the way.
There was tragedy though. I filled one little note pad with  poems and was well into another when it came time to change busses.  I somehow left the first notepad on the bus as I got off and didn’t realize it until on the second one and away. All I could do was write a poem about lost poetry - which I did.
When I arrived I was met with love and wonderful moments.
The drive back to LA. was exciting and romantic.
What an adventure that was. The folksinger was a lovely period in my life, but alas, not permanent. He didn’t last but the love of Folk music music did.

Twenty five years later a similar adventure befell me, but that’s a story for another time.
LJM

Holding on so tightly to the final shreds of me
    I need to run and howl the forests down.
        I need to pound into submission
            Everything that jumps to bite me.
               I need to find a breath not gasping,
                  Hand on heart that isn’t racing,
                       Stomach free from panic acids.

Calamity stacked on disaster
   Perched atop catastrophe;
      Mishaps nestled in misfortune-
         Contretemps my middle name.

Fourteen traumas in a listing -
   Some stretch over several years.
     Stress points top the nation’s debt.
       Hated where I should be loved-
          Pushed harder when I should be resting;
             Attacked when I should be applauded-
                 Do I live in the Twilight Zone?

With the end of weeping, silence-
   Save the endless humming in my ears.
      Eyelids sore, too red and swollen
         Let the door and phone bells ring
            I have no things with which to answer.

How can fate keep spawning badness
   Coming up with innovative forms
      To slither out and trip me as I stagger by
         Trying to create tomorrow from the wreckage of today.
ljm