Every night their cherished homes
Are scattered like spilled toothpicks
Across a wounded land that
Shudders under angry skies.

Every morning raging water crashes in
And floats away the little things
That added pleasure to their living
And leaves behind just soggy sadness.

Every afternoon the smoke filled skies
Make breathing in a dangerous thing
And leave scorched nothingness behind
To proclaim the power of that inferno.

Every dawning brings new hope
Like Manna from the Bible shining on
The plans and dreams of those
Who aim to vanquish all the tragedies

And make a tiny corner of the world
A cleaner, better, safer place to be;
Kinder to the injured spirit and the broken soul -
A healing, hopeful ointment for a wounded planet.
ljm

Why is a glitter different than a glisten:
Evil eyes glitter with malice
Gentle eyes glisten with love.
Diamonds glitter, real or not
Opals glisten with a silken sheen,
The sun shining on the ocean glitters
The moon on a quiet lake glistens
Elizabeth Taylor Glittered
While Julie Andrews glistens.
There is no bridging word to use
One puts you in a meadow
And the other on a rocky shore
Which verb do I want to be
I never really could decide.
                ljm

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

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

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

I ever thought that I was traveling through this life alone.
That all the good and all the bad was of my own creating.
But there was someone traveling incognito with me. Someone guiding how I grew and who I loved. Someone promising a life that that radiates compasion.  It took a dozen dozen years to finally peel away the bland disguise... and Mr. Incognito stood before me in the form of Jesus, Son of God.
                                ljm

Ruth, you didn’t do us right
You knew that you had cancer
You couldn’t know how long you had
You must have thought Trump wouldn’t win.

And so you took the gamble.
You should have exited the court
Before Obama’s term wound down,
If you were thinking of the nation.

Your ego kept you on the bench
Until it was too late to go.
We all held our worried breath
As we watched your health decline.

Once you saw the damage
That was daily being done
To your beloved country
You could do nothing but hold on.

We know you tried to last him out
To keep some balance on the Court
But even you, with your fierce strength,
Were not a match for what was in the cards.

Ruth, you didn’t do us right.
In the final reckoning
You should have known to step aside
And save us from destruction.
ljm

I have loved and been loved by many
But you have now become my final love.
I loved and lost until I found my way to you
And knew that at long last I’d found my home.

I gave away vast portions of my beauty
And let bits of my soul be cut away.
I came to you in hopeless, faded tatters
And you considered that I was a treasure.

No need have I to seek a shiny new love
Or look for something with a brighter flame.
Yours is the love that I will hold forever
Content within the glow that we create.

There is a vintage saying that describes us
Written by a poet in the past.
It says that you are not my first love
But in my heart I vow you are the last.
   ljm

I dug a hole in the seaside sand
But it didn’t fill with water
And the sides did not cave in.

The rain came down
But the sand stayed dry
And the ocean got the drenching.

The seagulls danced
Their tide-line jig
Avoiding my sand cavern

I lined the hole with dry seaweed
And covered it with clam shells.
I crawled inside and hunkered down
At last safe from tomorrow.
ljm

Mr Trump now sits atop
The Armageddon bomb
With his hand above the button.
Does he know this will cause war
That ends the world we live in.

Does he think that we’ll be safe
These many miles across the globe?
And think the grid that runs our lives
Invulnerable to an attack

When secret plans have long been made
And mechanisms put in place
That only take their button pressed
To bring US to a screeching halt.

Could anybody be so blind
As not to know an action
Generates always reaction
That will be more horrible
Than any nightmare you can dream.
ljm

Will the fealty of the masses
who have blindy followed a
Judas Ram into the perdition
we now face be shifted slightly
off target by the clarion call
issuing from the Good Shepherd
in search of her lost lambs.
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

Made no longer risible
From a virus that’s invisible

Not allowed to travel
Our spirits now unravel

We can’t get excited
The country’s not united

A very clear selection
At the next election

One’s a crook with orange tan
And one’s an honest, decent man

History will clearly note
How carefully we cast our vote.
               ljm

This year’s Estival
Was supposed to be the best of all
But a Chinese pandemic
Gave us something not to mimic
ljm

Our ship of state is being piloted by
A captain with no sea legs
and no navigational skill.
Hence the endless yaw
That leaves the passengers
Turning green and huddled
Over the **** deck rails.
ljm

I see the horsemen on the top of the hill
Surveying the evil below them,
Holding back their anxious steeds
Until the clock ticks down to zero
ljm

What a wonderful moment this is
No pain to be felt anywhere
And everything working smoothly.
I walk with ease on metal hips
And swing the arm with its plastic rod.
I have no need to *** or ****
And the sunrise is outstanding.
The dogs I meet adore their treats
And every face is smiling.

Perfection is a scary thing.
It never lasts forever
But the memory of it does.
ljm

The moon, a slender eyebrow in the morning sky,
Ducking in and out of clouds that look
Like scattered pieces of charcoal,
Is as thin as the cover on my soul,
Which shivers in the icy wind
And ponders the unthinkable.

The moon was skinny yesterday
And several days before, as thin
As all the options now lined up
Like bottles on the fence posts of my heart
Waiting for a well tossed stone
To cause a resolution.

The moon has always been my friend
As I grow fat it waxes thin
And does not always answer if I call
Because I know it rides the sky
Like a golden palomino mare
That often won’t take me along.

The moon is shadowed by the storm
That roils the peaceful morning sky
And mirrors all the thunder in my mind
That follows lightning flashes of resolve
To once again become Selena’s mate
And course the planes of dawn together
                        ljm

I moved into a home more spacious
   For it was far more efficacious
To the plan that I was hatching
    For the swain who needed catching.
I planned a fete extraordinary
   With decor far from ordinary
Music, food, debauchery
   And maybe even lechery
In hopes the beau I find delicious
   Grants me all my carnal wishes
              ljm

I pass a bush on my morning walk
A big round bush with dark green leaves
Trimmed to be symmetrical.

Today it called as I walked by
Demanding that I turn and see
The first red blossom of the Fall.
The bravest and the quickest one-
Point-bloom for the rest to follow.

As richly red as burgundy,
It seemed to shout “I’m here!
And you can take a moment from
Your busyness to savor
This free gift I’ve made for you.”

Humbled, I stood very still,
Accepting beauty for my soul.
          ljm

If  anyone has the right to inveigh against the weather
It’s me, folks - it’s me.
If anyone plans to stay indoors all day
It’s me, folks - it’s me

If anyone’s thermometer reads 120 degrees
It’s mine, folks - it’s mine
If anyone’s TV says Dangerous Heat Warning
It’s mine, folks - it’s mine

If anyone wonders why they live here
It’s me folks - it’s me
If anyone says the sunrise is worth it
It’s me, folks it’s certainly me.
ljm

Half of a family growing up
Hand-me-down clothing to wear
Second hand cars and violins
Slightly used new sofas
Balcony where the cheap seats are
Bargain basement purchases
Lay-away plan for bigger things
Picking up coins from the sidewalk
Doing stoop labor for school clothes
Glasses that are only half full

Homemade cake at a card table
Three kids instead of a crowd
Only one fat Birthday candle
The kind used when lights go out

This is the menu they chose from
While ordering up my childhood life
Why should I expect more now
ljm

The whole world sings Happy Birthday Oprah
But I don’t see any cards or gifts.
I baked a little chocolate cake.
They won’t let me deliver it.

An Icon of so many things -
Once everybody got a car,
And now we know the books to read
And all the ways to diet.

It seems a shame that this award
Should fall across her shoulders.
When every virus has a name
And this one gets called Oprah
ljm

I reach for her love and am handed back anger.
I learn all the dance steps and what I should wear
But the Prom invitation never comes in the mail
And I’m scolded for lack of attendance.

My pen has been poisoned by her hateful words
It trembles and writhes in my shaking hand.
The ink blots and smudges are all shaped like teardrops
And the letters assemble to only spell pain
        ljm

For want of the word
A thought is lost
For want of the thought
An idea is lost
For want of an idea
The plan’s unformed
Without any plan
My world is chaos
         ljm

I had a terrible day today
The computer ate my report
I broke my favorite crystal vase
My toasted cheese sandwich burned
I stubbed my sore toe on a heavy table leg
The letter I was waiting for didn’t come again

Then I found the half a cookie I put down and forgot
And everything in my world was suddenly all right again.
ljm

Doobie
Such beauty I’s beholden
The stuff of all muh dreams
So tightly rolled ‘n golden
Sealed firmly at the seams.

I’s never gonna share it
It’s mine ‘n mine alone
Not even one small tiny ****
You don’t be holdin’, so jus go home.
ljm

I’m changing my name to Carlo
So wonderful things can bubble forth
From me as well in nonstop waves
That threaten to ever so sweetly drown
Those who’ve chosen to follow.
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

I think I turned too sharply and missed a step.
I didn’t trip, but I did slip and took a fall.
Now I find myself in the Twilight Zone
Without Rod Serling here to guide me.

I look around to read the words
But they are missing letters.
None of the names are known to me
All are new and foreign

Where are some of the names I know
Ones I read and write to
The ones who read the words I post
And join me on my journey.

Was there rotation of the troops
That I didn’t arrive in time for.
Am I in the wrong battalion now
Headed to places I’ve never been.

Where is Angstrom, Kortas and Omni
Where are Steve, Santita, P Paul
I don’t see Johari, Pradip or Bayan
Did they leave town with Traveler and M-E?

Looking for Fawn, and Graff 88
Ben Noah and Carlo and Walter H
Missing the add-ons of Temporal Fugue
Why are their fingerprints missing?

Who are all those honored poets
With names I’ve never heard before
How did they lap the regulars
In a daily race for notice.

Am I asleep - will I wake up
And find that it was just a dream
And now I’m back with names I know
And no more need to feel alone.

So I will I stay here with my pencil
Posting small bits of my soul
With never a thought to unknown names
Or whether mine will be remembered.
ljm

Which way do you turn
When the world is upside down.
Spinning in circles doesn’t help
And it makes you very dizzy.
Running out and grabbling stuff
Only makes you greedy.
Selling at outrageous price
Turns you to a craven gauger
Who should have to eat what’s left.

Blaming is a losing game
No one is the winner.
Choosing sides and throwing rocks
Does nothing but break windows.
Hate won’t cure incompetence.
And can not drain a too-full self.
Arming up and locking down
Will only help you die alone,
Surrounded by your hoardings.
ljm

I need to be useful
I can’t stand to be helpless
I never learned how to say
Please help me - I can’t do this

I don’t know how to stand by
And let others do what I did
And can no longer manage
I must find a way around it

I’m not an observer
I need to carry the load
Don’t make me put it down
To do so is akin to dying
ljm

The subtle beauty of the dawning sky,
As it paints the bottoms of the fluffy clouds
A delicious fire opal pink
Makes a vivid contrast to the vista
Of the brutal desert spread below it,
Rocks and sand in gray and tan.
Jagged cliffs rear fierce and black
Against the glory of the sunrise.

A land of thunder and sheet lightning,
Giant ploppy drops of rain
Blown sideways by the angry wind
Create a night of little sleeping,
Waiting for the appearance of the Sun
To boil the moisture into steam
And wilt the flowers and the soul,
Proving gentle beauty often hides a barb.
ljm

Looking for a carpenter
Who takes tools lying close at hand
To build a love that’s lasting
And shelters us forever.

Longing for an equal love
In tune with my vibrations,
Looking through a matching lens
To see where we are going.

Aching for a kindred soul
Who shares all of my yearnings
Who doesn’t fear my shadowed nights
And lights a candle for me

A one who’s goals outpace my own,
Riding on an intellect
That causes mine to shiver
With excitement and new vistas.

If you are kind and love the earth
And all the creatures on it;
Are not afraid to cry or laugh,
And want to leave things better
Than you found them in your life,
Consider you are now employed,
And Payday is tomorrow.
                        ljm

I wish it would blizzard
Building forts is my forte
I live in Nevada
So no hope for a snow day
                     ljm

33 bounces of the Merriam-Webster ball
33 Words I already knew
33 sentences using those words
Some bounced high on the like and love tally
Some fell as flat as leftover beer
Some rolled into corners and got themselves lost

The game was fun and then called a half-time
Without entertainment, but I hung around
Determined to witness the very last ball.

This is my homage to all 33 of them
Rolled Into M-Webster ball 34.

I dropped it with no little thought for the game
Surprised at not being surprised, I observed
This ball didn’t bounce-not even just once.
The fun is the game and not the reward.
                                          ljm

Little mouse in a room size maze
Every way you turn is wrong
And the cheese stays ever far away
If only you could cimb the walls
Or find a map to help you
Your tiny legs are very tired
And your brain is overloaded
But you can’t stop, for if you do
You get the current’s tickle
ljm

I try to see the beauty in a rose
But it smells just like a **** to me.

My pen is filled with lovely words
That I can’t put on paper.

My heart’s aware that it’s been robbed
Of everything that’s velvet

But it beats on in vain attempt
To recognize a bluebird.
ljm

The Bible story tells the flood
That cleansed a very sinful world
And saved the barest minimum.

God sent a rainbow promise saying
Water would not bring doom again
And fire would bring the end next time.

Wars created conflagrations
But the world survived, and evil grew.

Then forests burned across the planet
Leaving desolation in their wake.

But the people found a way
To build new castles on the ash
And again the evil was let to grow.

A tiny germ that can’t be seen
Did everything the fires could not;
Bested blizzards and tornados,
Seeped into the earthquake crack
And learned to travel on the wind.

The Bible should have warned us
It would be a fever, not a fire;
That when those trumpets finally sound
It will be to call the cleaning crew
To come mop up what little’s left
          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

I see masses of little fluffy clouds
Spilled like a bag of giant popcorn
Across the azure morning sky,
The rest of the heavens are a cloudless blue,
Tinted pink by the rising sun.
This delight is for me alone,
Gazing East from my front porch.
ljm

The roses are long gone
Now I search for dandelions

The cake has all been eaten
Now I dine on bread and butter

The festival has ended
Now they’re taking down the tents

The symphony is over
And there was somehow no applause

I fell into an undiscovered hole
And no one even heard me call for help.
               ljm

One stone tumbles
        Another follows
               And
                     The mountain
                              Is diminished
                                       ljm

She was everybody’s sweetheart;
Respected, if not loved by one and all
But they couldn’t even put her in the ground
Before they started choosing her replacement.
LJM

Hello Poetry is the loadstone of my daily life.
It draws me to the keyboard when my duties tell me no.
It satisfies my childish need for approval of my thoughts
Even though I recognize the ephemerality of that.
I’m happy with it just the way it is, thank you.
ljm

He was acquitted in a trial
With no witnesses allowed
And no testimony taken
The verdict a foregone conclusion
Even the Mafia couldn’t swing
A Sweetheart deal like that.
ljm

I’m wearing red today
It matches the drops from my broken heart
And the crumpled hopes it held inside.

I’m wearing red today
It matches the seething, volcanic anger
That my love should be so spitefully disdained.

I’m wearing red today
It matches my eyes, bloodshot from weeping
Over things I did not do but have to pay for.

I’m wearing red today
I wonder if the blue veins in my wrist
Would empty grief in crimson red across the floor.
                  ljm