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

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’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

There used to be an index function on HP.  You could type in a name and be taken to that person's home page and their poetry.  It went away, and though I complained to Eliot York about the loss, it has not returned. He promided it would.
So I resort to this method, clumsy as it is.
There are others on my "Missing in Action" list.  Stay tuned.

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

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

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

On the sad day I discovered you
Would no longer requite my love,
My world was torn asunder.
I fell to my knees in vain attempt
To cadge some trace of fondness -
Some kindred feeling, perhaps, of love
But alas, there was no shred of
Kindness offered to my plea -
No hope of any love restored,
Which meant the undertaker’s man
Must undertake arrangement of
A testimonial gathering to mourn
The loss of my true love and life.
       ljm

BIRTH OF JESUS
WHAT HE GAVE US -
GREATER GIFTS
THAN WALMART EVER DREAMED.

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

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 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

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 heard him say what’s killing us
Is nothing but a myth
And that he has a lawful rightMore
To make my mother sick

He will not cover up his face
Though everybody does
He swears the constitution says
He needn’t.... just because

He wears a seatbelt on a plane
And also in his car
It seems that safety matters there
But only goes so far.

He knows that life is full of rules
And laws he must obey
And whether he approves of them
They guide him every day

But suddenly the healthcare guide
No longer causes him to jump
He’s free to make the whole world sick
Just like his idol, Mr. Trump.
ljm

S ometimes situations sneak around behind me
C ausing more frustration than my cup can hold,
R endering my calm demeanor less and less with
E very breath I take, which finally
A llows the rage to grab control and
M eans the only useful thing to do is scream
ljm

The marching band had practiced
The majorettes had tasseled boots
And the Tuba was very shiny.

The Grand Marshall was famous
And the car he rode was new.
With bunting all along the sides.

The soldiers in the honor guard
Rode horses striking as their flags
And their brass buttons glittered.

My float was finished just in time.
The theme was deftly chosen
And the final rose at last in place.

The streets were lined with people
Holding cameras and cell phones,
Their children sitting on the curb.

Motorcycle cops were set
To lead the whole thing off -
Their bikes let out a roar

That drowned the sound of pitter pat
As drops began to tumble
From an almost cloudless sky.

It became a shower, which
Became a heavy rain
And ended in a deluge

My little float was battered;
The flowers were all crushed -
All my hard work was gone

The only thing that I could do
Was call out for a rain delay
And take my float back home.

I have only wilted flowers
To remember that day by,
Pressed between the pages,
Of a scrap book on the shelf.
ljm

There has to be a way
Am I too dumb to find it

There ought to be a path
Am I too blind to see it

There should be candles for the darkness
Why did I never light them

There must be a passage through all this
Why is it I do not believe

People say there is a rainbow
How can it not be in my sky

Who is the person holding me back
Why are you waving a mirror.
             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

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

Clouds like a tumble of opaque bubbles
Spread themselves across a sky
Slowly turning pink along the edges.
The air is cool and there is no wind
The only sound is Romeo the dog
Barking in the distance.
Am I not the only walker out here
In this very early autumn morning.

The crushed rock lawns
Do not make dew, so nothing
Sparkles in the streetlights
That never let the road be midnight.
There are no lights in any houses.
Are some of them abandoned,
Waiting for the snowbirds to
Make their winter landing and
Increase the population and
The traffic on the highway.

The air is growing colder now;
My hoodie is zipped half way up;
My hands are tucked inside the sleeves.
I will not miss the scorching heat
That fried three months of sweaty walks
When five A.M. was never cooler than high noon.
It won’t be long until the heavy duty
Jogging suit comes out of the closet
And I see my breath before my face.

Walking in all seasons is a learning curve
For one who only lived in Spring
With Summer the remaining months
And storms were cause for staying home.
I am mastering the days, as now
These roads and walkways know my tread.
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

Will we ever find our way
Through the menace of this forest
And the storm now swirling through it.
Can we avoid the lashing wind
And hidden things that sting us.

Will sunlight ever penetrate
The darkness of these shadows.
Have we dropped sufficient crumbs
To follow back to safety
Or are they all dissolved in puddles

Will we be be soaked and blown away
Lost to to everything we love
Or find we stashed a flashlight
In a pocket we forgot
And we can make our way back home.
       ljm

Another harangue from the White House:
“Only what I say is true
What’s written up in the papers
Was published by those skewing blue”

You can’t believe a word they say-
These guys with intelligent brains
Who insist on only spouting facts
Instead of the truth of my claims”

“So listen to only what I say to you -
Don’t bother to read the fake news
I am the Lord of the Universe
So you must agree with my views”
ljm

Her writing tells the fateful truth:
Strings of letters that don’t make words
In a language no one ever learned,
So small as to look like microdots.

The hand that holds the reluctant pen
Feels normal til it tries to write,
And finds it doesn’t know the words
That are painfully born on the paper.

Practice only makes it worse
As disconnected muscles try
To learn again to make an A
And how the letters go together.

Her hand is weak and clumsy
The arm and leg feel heavy
Nothing does as it is told
By a brain now somewhat broken.

Back in second grade again
She practices her penmanship
And rows and rows of numbers
In hopes of graduation day.
ljm

Water’s running down the curb
Someone’s sprinkler head has failed
Shall I take my normal route
Or follow and see where it ends
Silly question - Off I go
I don’t often walk this street
It rises steeply at the top
The stream comes from much further up
But I’m determined to see where...
Oh! What’s that by the puddle there -
A tiny little humming bird
Darting just above the flow
I stop to watch - this is a treat
The tiny thing with atomic wings
Hovers here and there
Than lands at water’s edge
It’s only centimeters deep
But to him it is a river
At last he settles in the stream and drinks
His needle beak darts in and out
He doesn’t know I’m watching him
Entranced
And now he dips his wings and head
And fluffs his feathers in the morning air
Giddy as a toddler in a splash pool
It feels so good
He does the same thing two more times
While I stand stock still, transfixed
At last, refreshed and clean, he  launches
Into the heart of a nearby tree
And disappears from view
I can’t see him any more
So I move on -

The broken sprinkler still calls me
I find it only two doors up
A geyser by the driveway
Burbling up their water bill
The homeowners likely still asleep
In this very early morning hour
I don’t know the residents
So I don’t go knock on their door
I’m sure they’ll see it soon enough
And shut the water off
It’s blazing hot but I feel cool
Walking along the little stream
That’s running down a street
Called Rippling Springs - how appropriate
Each morning walk is a different gift
As I make this new place into my home
But spying on a humming bird
In the comfort of his morning bath
Is a treasure that’s above the rest
                     ljm

I ran into my British friend the other day and asked
what he and his wife had been doing lately.  
He replied “meander went to the cinema last night.”
ljm

How can you be so ridiculous
As to tell me I’m pediculous.
You must admit it’s not real nice
To tell a friend he’s full of lice
                             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

I search for the daffodils and only find the brambles       
I listen for the music and only hear the traffic
I reach for little prizes and get my fingers slapped
I memorize the words but they won’t let me sing them

I batter at these stone-clad walls but I cannot break through them
The ladder that I built fell short when I ran out of lumber
I found the only way around them ended in forever
So with this teaspoon I must dig until I have a tunnel.
ljm

Dancing in the midst of children
I writhe and dip and try in vain
To sidestep the unease that haunts me
And somehow spin away my pain.

This is the feast I was excused from
Long before I’d had my fill
Now I only watch the diners
Fresh come from my trough of swill.

I seek for caverns of forgiveness
Turning, gliding, bending  low
Reaching out in all directions
Stepping fast while the music’s slow.

Somewhere in the beat, nepenthe
Hidden in the mournful sound
Some small solace that might heal me
Help me back to solid ground.

Floating in the hazy twilight
Reeling from tobacco’s sting
I hide behind a veil of midnight
And listen to the words they sing.

Unknown to all by my design
I fight chameleon’s blending urges
And struggle to remain aloof
While searching for my futile purges.

Stretching muscles that complain
I swivel joints that protest loudly
Pushed by demons I can’t name
I hope that I can go down proudly.
    
As the thudding beat surrounds me
Pummeling my burdened brain
I wish that it could pound to flatness
Both my body and my pain.

Is there in this darkling cosmos
Any shelter for my broken soul
Or am I chasing moths on quicksand
Doomed to hold an empty bowl.
                                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 mask I wear
Says I am OK
That everything is perfect

The song I sing
Says I feel fine -
My body isn’t failing

The words I write
Are mostly lies
Of better times tomorrow

The wand I wave
To change the world
Was purchased at a dime store

The flag I raise
To greet the day
Is hanging upside down
ljm

The blue lights will again split the sky
Though not without a battle.
The names will once again be read
But by voices on recordings.

The lingering pain, now aged nineteen,
Has not been killed by any virus.
It lives on in a thousand hearts
With no choice but ro grieve alone.

The flags are hung just half mast high
The marching bands are silent
The media is reticent
To add to the depression.

Memorials are quarantined
No gatherings allowed
But love and memories abide
In every heart this date has touched.
ljm

Darkness swirls like smoke
From a stirred up campfire
Memories burn bright and falter
Snapping in the chilly air
With crackles that resemble laughter
The sun, a memory of yesterday
Shines in other distant places
Where hollyhocks grow tall
And lilacs scent the morning air
Midnight is an all day thing
Purchased with a credit card
That never makes a payment
And notices come postage due
Gloom is a song with seven verses
And many voices in the choir
All with past due statements
The Piper is standing at the door
With outstretched hand and waiting
The cupboard usually is bare
And there’s no chicken in the ***
The candle doesn’t make much light
And sunset comes at noon
The darkness swirls like smoke
ljm

Years of knowing I wasn’t wanted
Have poisoned the tenderest
Portions of my soul.

Butterflies have become moths
And the music is always out of tune.

The sunset is an ugly smear
And sunrise holds no promise.

Flowers do not yield perfume
And all the birds are Ravens.

Words that used to comfort me
Now echo back in hateful tones

I tell myself there is a light
And try hard to believe it.

But it’s illusive and it fades
Each time I think I see it.

Wanting to be wanted
Turns out to be a foolish game.

How can anybody want me
When I don’t even want myself.
ljm

Fictitious love was all you had
You offered it like it was gold
But it turned green in my warm hands
And all my happiness turned sad
It wouldn't do much good to scold
For not becoming wedding bands

I once gave somebody a beautiful gift
A life changing treasure to keep
Given with love and no little risk
I hoped I had saved someone’s life

I honored that feeling for all of these years
My own little heroic glow
Something of value was given to her
And I owned a small part of the prize

I didn’t bird-dog the rest of her life
I set her free to evolve
Hoping that she would make use of her gift
To better the world that we live in

So many years have passed since that day
So many miles have we traveled
Such sudden sorrow to learn of her death
And the waste of the gift that I gave her

I do not know if her life was good
Did she go in the wrong direction
Did fate beat her up - give her no place to hide
Except in the depths of a bottle.

Not even fifty - so much more to live
I wonder what ravage befell her
That knocked her so low that her only hope
Was the path that led to the tavern

She left behind a beautiful dog
That she’d rescued as I once did her
She left me with a different grief
For a girl and a gift not unwrapped
ljm

If Jack the Ripper lived in OZ
He'd have a double name
He'd be   "That Ripper Jack the Ripper"
He was very good at what he did.
                                   ljm

You wear a flowing satin cape
Lined with brightest red
Your top hat is not really hollow
No matter what you said

You said it’s truly magic
You think we are insane
You do a little slight of hand
And call it legerdemain

But I suspect a shyster
Is hiding in that cloak
So I won’t choose a walnut
I don’t want to end up broke.

No matter how they switch around
The pea is never there
It doesn’t matter what you choose
You miss it by a hair.  

Most magic is a sucker’s game
That we all gladly play
The hand IS faster than the eye
It has to be that way.
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

Some feel they are impervious;
That they alone can flout the rules
And go in crowds to crowded places,
Yelling epithets at any who complain.
How foolish is it possible for them to be -
Once they pick it up, they take it to their aged
Mother who doesn’t wash her hands so well. Soon
Everybody in the house is sick - and one will die. For what?
                                  ljm

Acrostic

In a life where malaise
Is the word of the hour and
Rules what the day will become,
I wander from this irritation
To that unknown grumble
And wonder why I feel so bad.
My need to keep going
Is fed by the longing
To see what’s ten years down the road.
         ljm

1.  Funny how reality is easy to disguise
     In the hours of sun and busyness
     But it lights up like a neon glow
     In the minutes before dawning.

2.  Fairy tales and other fancies
     Float just out of reach and vision.
     As the sound of hammers down the street
     Drown out the song of morning blackbirds.

3.  There are Pansies with their velvet mein
     Growing somewhere out of sight
     But wishing will not bring them near
     Nor will it make the desert bloom.
                     ljm

I search for the daffodils and only find the brambles       
I listen for the music and only hear the traffic
I reach for little prizes and get my fingers slapped
I memorize the words but they won’t let me sing them

I batter at these stone clad walls but I cannot break through them
The ladder that I built fell short when I ran out of lumber
I found the only way around them ended in forever
So with this teaspoon I must dig until I have a tunnel.
ljm

I love and honor each comment that is offered after one of my writes is posted.
Lately I haven't seen a fair number of comments until days later, after I  click on the name of my  poem as listed with someone else's comment.  I don't know if it's the HP site or my ancient Mac (Soon to be former Mac) that is causing it, but it annoys and embarrasses me.
I just want to let it be known that I respond to all comments that I read, and if there Is no response from me, you know I somehow didn't see your poem or your comment.
  ljm

Drowning in disappointment
Covered by dark waves of grief
Searching in vain for some happy
Wondering who was the thief

Aching to find validation
Betrayal the meal of the day
Longing to find some approval
Not knowing who stole it away

Clawing my way to each summit
Ignoring the cuts to my soul
Determined to climb every mountain
In hopes of at last being whole
                     ljm

There are things I must not think about
For if I do, I will hear the rumble
Of a Tsunami coming and
I’ll be swept away in a churning wash
Of memory and regret.

There are words I must not ever hear
They’ll cut me to the bottom of my core
And scissor open wounds no
Surgeon could stitch up again

There are photos I must never see
Of a happiness I can not share
And if I look, I’ll crumble into ashes.

There are places I can never go
For if I do it all will end.

And everything will have been for nothing.
ljm

If you don’t want the entire U.S.
To suddenly erupt in volcanic flames
You convict those four evil cops
And chain them to a rock pile
In the hostile Nevada desert
Til they have made enough small gravel
To pay for every bit of damage
This country and its people suffered
So they could take a black man’s life.
ljm

Acknowledged as a beauty
In her youth, with a trim
Little figure that
Slowed the traffic
It did not stop,
She sailed through
Forty years
Like a butterfly.

The luster
Started fading
From her wings,
And oh so slowly
She became a moth,
Ever circling in closer
For bit more of the light.
ljm

The way was steep and rocky
A cliff on one side and a drop on the other.
I had not worn my hiking boots,
They were too old and broken down
And I could not afford new ones.  
My flimsy little tennis shoes
Felt every stone and crevice.

The wind was colder than I thought
Against my light-weight summer jacket.
I had no mittens for my hands
So I kept them in my pockets.

The sun was out when I began
The air was warm and the wind was calm.
The path was smooth and leveled out
With lovely vistas to be had.
I strolled along among a crowd
Of friendly, cheerful people
Until the path began to rise
More steeply than the posters showed,
And folks began to drop out one-by-one,
Not willing to surmount the rocks
That cropped up in the winding way.

I had a need to see the top
So I kept taking one more step
And one more breath of mountain air.
Cheerfulness grew difficult
As bigger boulders blocked the path.
But there was always a way around,
Although the footing was unsure.

I once looked over the drop on my left
And was gripped by paralyzing fear;
But I feared more to end my quest

My feet were sore, my hands were cold;
My nose was red and running.
But I could see the banner at the top
And my name was written on it.
Suddenly I was not alone
And I was not a failure.
I did what others could not do
And did it on a shoestring.
I had no fancy gear or help.
I climbed that mountain on my own;
So don’t tell me what I can’t do.
ljm