HIS DREAMS
At least the ones that he recalls and tells me
Nearly always have a story based on ***.
A group of women capture him
For Show and Tell and more -
For naughty games with other names,
A **** movie A to Z.

MY DREAMS
Vignettes with no song to sing
Pieces from a jigsaw puzzle
Scattered all across the floor
The pieces come from different boxes
And they never make a picture
And there’s never any ***.
       ljm

She smiles with eyes as dead as stone
And hates the work she does so very well,
And the ungrateful mob she does for.

She speaks in friendly, helpful tones
To mask the scream that dances just below her throat
And searches for the moment of escape into the din

She’s always there, as sure as there’s a sunrise.
Though her spirit sails on distant, foreign seas
Her feet are sunk in work-day sludge that traps her here.

Though she longs for clean and simple
Her duties bury her in convoluted mire.
She’s given up trying to scrub it all away.

A million little stabs have wounded her
Beyond the hope of graceful ending
To a life pulled down by circumstance and pain.

With no hope of stars in azure skies at dawning
The light that once shown from her eyes fades out
And her smile becomes an exercise in muscle stretching.

She does what she’s expected to with weariness
That goes beyond arthritic joints and too long hours.
She feeds the wolf and wishes it were not so.

But wish in one hand - spit in one
Her mother often said, and see which one is filled up first.
She always listened to her mom, alas.

And so she trudges slowly on.
She doesn’t know what else to do.
Another day to stumble through
And no tomorrow in her soul.
               ljm

1.  The only escape from this nightmare is death
     But that’s not escape - it’s nothing but a blackout.
     The only hope left flickers and dies
     Like an ill-tended summer campfire
     As the lucky numbers refuse to compute,
     And all that’s left is sand and sun     
     That scorches all attempts to find a way
     To make accommodations to the heat.

      Safe for now inside a fragile stucco igloo,
      What will happen when the statement comes
      That says we can’t afford the ice
      That’s needed to stave off the burn,
      And there’s no shady place to go and hide.
      With no escape to dream filled sleep
      There’s only counting minutes on a clock that                                                          never  moves.                             
                                                                ­                                    
2.   The ragged sleeve is not caught up at night
      And the road ends at a chasm of despair.
      The winds and tides are out of sync
      And morning comes at midnight.
      Writhing in the tangled sheets, I’m
      Thinking thoughts with no way out,
      Of what was always bound to come,
      Riding on another bad decision.

3.   Death will not lure me this night -
      Too cruel to leave him here alone
      Without the necessary tools to live
      And find a road that leads to hope.
      If only slumber was my friend
      And I was not out counting stars
      When it’s too dark to find my way
      And all the nearby world is snoring.

4.   Huddled in a corner with a pen
      The paper blots up tears and ink
      And offers no hope of surcease
      To seeds of panic poised to grow.
      If only a little rain would fall.

ljm

The  purple ripples in the air
Advise you that there’s anger there
Anger that is not contained
By someone who was anger trained.

Listen to the things he shouts
He’s mad as hell without a doubt.
Here he comes towards your door
What is he so ******* for.

You didn’t barge into his lane -
To cut him off would be insane.
You only gently honked your horn
And now you get his shouting scorn.

He bangs the window of your car
And you now know he’ll go too far.
It’s clear he is a total ***
So stomp your foot down on the gas.

Leave him in a cloud of smoke
And give yourself the final joke.
Leave him shouting in the street
And tell yourself “Revenge is sweet”
ljm

Like all the rest I say
I am not an addict
I can stop this any time.

I do it just for fun
And relaxation.
I can stop this any time.

But my life is poisonous
And this is the antidote
Still, I can stop this any time.

Tomorrow I will prove
That what I say is true-
That I can stop this any time.

I’ll pack myself onto a plane
And exit to a 4-wheeled cell
That forces me to stop right now.

How will I fare,
Deprived of that which
Is impossible to stop?

I’ll tough it out Cold Turkey
And find a way to come back here
For I don’t aim to stop this any time soon.
ljm

Where have the daily poems gone?  
That’s how I start my day, and I miss them.
June 27 was the last date one showed on my Mac.  
Was nothing worthy in the ensuing week?  
Is Eliot unwell?  Who chooses the Dailies?
Is that person also unwell.
Does anybody know anything.
Somebody tell me something.
                        ljm

There is an addictive beauty in sadness
It’s easy to get hooked on pain
It’s a one-way street to depression
With no way to get out again.

You feel so good after crying
You sometimes must invent a good reason
There’s some kind of comfort in sighing
It gets you through Holiday Season

The craving for sorrow is endless
It lures like a velvety shroud
That shields from the world’s melancholy
When the ache begins keening out loud.

A funereal smile may be moving
And earn you a pitying hug
But Somehow you must forswear Anguish
And stop yourself craving this drug.
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

A generation never knew
The thrall Diana wove about her.
Never felt the shimmered glow
That radiated from her.

Her memory must be kept alive
For generations yet to come.
No history book could do the job
As well as looking into those blue eyes

She wasn’t just a lovely face
Dressed in stunning fashions.
The passing years must not forget
The monumental good she did.

It’s trite to dab our eyes and say
She made the world a better place.
But there was not a single moment
When that fact was proved untrue.

She never got to write the coda to her song -
That was taken from her by a car crash
Wrapped in who-killed-Kennedy confusion,
Leaving us to never know the answer.

Those little boys are worthy men
And better than a monument.
She did her job - perhaps too well -
And the whole world paid the price for it.

Meanwhile Slimy ******* and his ***** eat cake.
                 ljm

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

She sent three thousand mother’s daughters
Up the Church aisle to be married
But the Wedding Director’s only daughter
Slinked off to Vegas and was married by Elvis.
ljm

I am a vintage model car
Sought after greatly in my time
Sleek and shiny
With fancy wheels
Capable of great speed.

Driven hard for all those years
I’m ready for an overhaul.
My engine’s powerful and good
But other things have failed.

My side-view mirror’s cracked
One door wIll not unlock
My turn signals do not work
I need some new upholstery
And a little paint would help.

However when you turn the key
I roar into impressive sound
And get you where you want to go.

No one admires me any more
I’m just a useful tool
But I remember long ago
When I was the new car on the block
And people looked as they passed by.
ljm

Feral winds blow through my mind
Creating mists I can’t see through
The road leaps up to trip my feet.
And when I stumble, all the pieces
That are me, get shaken up
And settle in a different way.

Flailing arms at foes I cannot see
I battle memes that have no name
And promise to report me to the boss
Who somehow didn’t turn out to be me,
And I am left to put my time card in the slot
Which sets the bells of checkmate ringing loudly.

Promises that were not made
Are broken in the headlong rush
To be the first one up the steps to no-place
Where the doorknobs all are putty
And the Sandwich man says
Have one more.  And this one isn’t poison.

The calendar has learned to dance
And practices a fox trot as
The pages dip, then glide away
And soon it is the next decade,
But I don’t have the taxi fare
And guess I’ll never get there.

I think I’ll never see one hundred.
That’s my fondest wish from childhood
But it reads backwards in the mirror
And the wind keeps blowing shut the door.
I saved my pennies for the ticket
But I’ll never get to see the movie.

Here I am with ball and jacks
And no one knows what they are for
I probably should pick them up
But that would mean I’m going home.
The streetlights haven’t come on yet
So I can stay and play some more.
           ljm

Full moon veiled in a silken mist
Outline dim and wan
Mocking the hour when last we kissed
Now that love has gone.
ljm

A  sliver of the moon
Wearing the North star as a hat
Perches over a cotton candy sunrise
In an otherwise clear sky.
Morning in Nevada.
ljm

The Iambic well is a writer’s Hell
It has captured many a poet
And often those not on their toes
Fall in before they know it

Through forty years of smiles and tears
I’ve struggled to avoid it
I’ve danced around that killing ground
Which only just annoyed it

So it sent out a water spout
That grabbed me by the ankle
I fought it off and lived to scoff
Which caused that well to rankle

I got away but to this day
I find my lines Iambic
It’s such a shame my verse is lame
I’d hoped it would be tantric.
ljm

Violin with just one string
Tuning peg turned green with mold-
How can music come from that.

Flugelhorn with dented bell
And valves turned red with rust-
Who can blow a tune through that.

Radio with no antenna
Broken plastic dial won’t move-
No songs to dance the airwaves now.

Warbler with a sore throat in
A covered cage in the other room-
Can’t out sing the crows outside.,

A singer’s soul in a tuneless box
Perfect rhythm trapped in mud-
Melody in turmoil to get out.

Envy, longing, deprivation
Effort, failure, mockery-
One who should but cannot sing.

One entitled to the music
That shakes mountains,
Calms the frantic, dulls the pain.

Given only little tastes
Of what that paradise would be
If only she could sing.

Why was her voice given to
A multitude of those
Who have no need or yearning.

Why was she deprived of song-
Of that one balm to heal and mend
The every breaking of her heart.

Why was she allowed to stand
Nearby enough to feel the air
Vibrating with the sounds of it

And not allowed to make her own-
To feel the rhythm and the beat
But not take part in shaping it.

Why was her feeling for the mood
Denied the chance to paint it
On the canvas of her throat

And send it out like pretty boats
On calm reflecting waters,
Even if nobody heard but her.

Where was the vibrato hidden
That she sought and schooled for years
Sometimes there, but mostly not.

Why her mental perfect pitch
Refused to translate to her voice
And became a sorrow birthing silence.
ljm

There is no magic in the world
If there was,
I’d be on Woodland Avenue
With an endless dollar in my pocket.

There is no magic in the world
If there was, i’d be strong and limber
And healthy as a horse
With beautiful thrown into the bargain.

There is no magic in the world
If there was
I could make everything better
For everyone who is ill or hurting.

There is no magic in the world
So I must make the best of
Where I am and how I feel
And try to maybe touch another heart.

That would be my very own magic.
             ljm

In this foreign, hostile land
Who will mourn me when I die.
In this place where no one knows my face
Who will lay a flower on my bier.
Who will say my name with tear stained eyes
And mark their journal with this date.

In this place I didn’t want to be
Who will notice when I’m gone
And feel the hollow left behind.
Who will long to see my smile
And know they never will again.
Who will cry for me here when I’m gone.
    ljm

Remember you?
My love, I'd sooner  forget my name
Than lose the memory of you.

Remember you?
My heart has filled its empty places
With the Glory that is you.
To sunder that would leave me maimed.

Remember you?
Every beauty I behold while we're apart
Will be a recollection, love, of you.

Remember you?
Only til my life goes down to dust
Will I, my love, remember you.
                                 ljm

Don't offer me a cardboard moon
In shining, gilded whispers
I've stood on midnight hilltops
And kissed the burning stars.

Don't promise me a royal someday
In phrases with their fingers crossed.
I've set my hour glass on taller shelves
And you, my dear, are just a ladder.
                                     ljm

Ebony birds with damaged wings
Fling themselves
Towards the darkened clouds
And find no draft to lift them.
Screeching in despairing cries
They slowly circle back to earth.

Second verse of same sad song
Echoes and reminders catch the light.
Unexpected findings ring the bell
That calls to life the waterfall.
Help is proffered by empty hands
To heartstrings that no longer tug.

And the clock goes round and round
And the Sun goes up and down
And the Moon grows somehow dim
On a path that only circles back
Into a room that has no door.
I’m home again, it seems.
ljm

More than my joy in the bright summer flowers,
More than the lure of the sea;
Not less than the sum of eternity's hours
The happiness you bring to me.
                            ljm

On this day of gratitude and thanks giving,
I want to say that I'm insanely grateful for
Hello Poetry and all the poets who share it
with me.  Knowing I can write my feelings
and emotions and share them with other
like-minded souls has been an almost religious 
 blessing in my life.  And I want to thank you
all, each and every one of you.
And wish you a very
                         HAPPY  THANKSGIVING

The ill-est of all winds has started blowing,
And my little pile of sand begins to disappear.
I swept it up so carefully, between
The rocks and all the hardest places,
I protected it from dogs and little children,
Guarded it against the rain and snow.

I never counted on the wind increasing.
Always just a zephyr, it brought butterflies
And the scent of Jasmine in the summer,
And cooled a sweaty brow while playing.
I didn’t notice as the wind speed grew,
A little at a time, until it was too late.

Now the sighing’s turned into a howl
That cannot be ignored or quelled.
It whips around the windbreaks I put up
And pushes on all objects in its way.
I race to cover up my sand pile
But I lack a blanket big enough.

I fling myself across to hold it down
But I don’t have sufficient hands or fingers,
And I see my precious, swirling grains
Begin to drift away into the cracks
And crevices of all those hardest places
Where I can never sweep them out again.

Picking up my tattered blanket at a lull
There is nothing left beneath but shiny rock.
The only sand, a few grains found
Embedded in the pattern of the weave.
I wrap myself up tight in it
And stumble out into the coming storm.
ljm

He struggled into an impeccable new tuxedo in order to make an impeccable impression on the judges as he attends the banquet that will award him a check and a gold medal for his impeccable manners at the etiquette Olympics
ljm

Dressed in all my brightest colors
               Why am I so blue
Surrounded by excited, happy people
               Why do I so need to cry.
                                  ljm

All that effort
With no real gain
Nothing to show for it
But tears and pain.

All that struggle
Against fearsome odds
Earned from the world
The briefest of nods.

All that caring-
Reaching out
No one cares
What I’m about.

Bloodying fists
Against brick walls-
I’m ready to answer
But no one calls.
          ljm

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

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

I knocked on numerous doors before
But never was let inside
Until I found you.
Now I discover pathways open
That were invisible to me before,
And thank you.

I turned away from so many things
That couldn’t be understood
Before I knew you.
Now suddenly a pattern forms
And life begins to make sense when
Shared with you.

I gave my memories away
To people who couldn’t use them
Previous to you.
Now each episode becomes a part
Of the growing treasure that is my
Life with you.

I was hungry and cold and sad and tired
Before you saved me.
Now I’m filled with warmth and joy and strength -
All the gifts you gave me.
Ls

Several poets have told me
That I wear the wrong hat;
I should be a journalist
And let it go at that.

That I should write who-what-when-where
And put it out as news
And turn my eye to everyday
And pay the newsman’s dues.

I can’t put my quill pen down
And give up making rhyme.
I have vistas in my soul
That snare me every time.

Though I dance among the fairies
My words create brick walls
Devoid of hollyhocks and lace
When answering the calls

That urge me to take pen in hand
And share what moves my heart.
The need to see reality
Will doom me from the start.

I won’t wear a reporter’s hat
The double yous can rot.
I’ll keep searching for the elves
Whether finding them or not.
ljm

Footprints in mud or sand don't last.
They fade with time and tide.
Footprints on the heart are
Concrete and somehow abide.
                       ljm

Wandering lost and addled
In a tangle of unseen wires and buttons,
Tripped up by all that I don’t know
And mocked by the little I do
I stumble into yesterday
To find the reason I’m alone
With everyone around me.

Why they all know the magic words
And I don’t know my A  B Cs.
How did I, in my younger days,
Not learn that I would need those codes.
Didn’t I know the world would turn
And leave me stumbling behind
As I just sat writing poetry.
                                        ljm

I PLAN TO DIE AT AGE 45
NO MATTER HOW MANY YEARS I’VE LIVED
-stolen

Writhing sea of dancing faces
Roiled by electric currents
From a storm that I can’t see-
No high, no low, no ebbing
Just tumaltism from
One Sean cut to another.
In the middle is a wooden box
Painted big and black and square.
On it is a Nereid
Arms out flung, long red hair flying
Turning in the basting of the spotlights
So willow-thin above the starfish in the tide pools.
Powered by the lack of sun
She floats her rhythms
On the breakers
And becomes a beacon
For lost eyes and hopeless dreams.

How I wish I was her sister
Cousin or best friend.
How I’d love to fusion with her
Show her where she got her licks.
But I hold back- I don’t dare it
My time was yesterday
Today is hers alone
I must be jetsam on the shore
So sad that my tide’s moving out as
Hers is rolling in.

If I could only be her peer
Instead of Sea Waif’s mother.
ljm

Burning at the very gates of Heaven,
The raging flames of Hell engulf
What two wars and the plague
Could never ****.

Brought down by a careless worker
Who must learn to live
With what he’s caused,
While a city falls down to its knees.

Precious Paris, you wept with us
When the Twin Towers fell, so now
We reach out for your trembling hand
In comfort and in sorrow shared.
                            LJM

Angles and arches
Niches and hallways
Surprising new spaces
Rough on the outside.
Smooth on the inside
Bright by the windows
Dark in the corners
The shape of my home
The arc of my life.
ljm

She never refused my assistance.
She never refused my checks.
She never refused my loving her.
She only refused my sharing
Any small part of her life.
I wasn’t to know of her feelings.
I wasn’t to meet any friends.
I never got told her ambitions
Or shared when she met a new love.

She never said to get out of her life-
Not in so many blunt words-
Just ever too busy to meet me.
And only Voice Mail on her phone.
I’m strictly forbidden web browsing
And everything possible’s blocked.

I own nothing I that I can give her
That didn’t come from my exe’s mom,
The only mother she seems to admire.
My treasures will go to my sister’s kids
And their children, who don’t even know me.
Her windup of my earthly affairs
Will be quick and “Call One Eight Hundred”.

For someone who tried so desperately hard
And never gave up for a second
It seems life’s given me so little back
It almost was not worth my efforts.

She never will change - it’s too late for that.
There’s naught I can do to repair things.
My life’s ended up in a very dark corner
And that’s where I’ll finish my days.
ljm

Gently in your hand
My heart
Softly in my mind
Your will
Forever

Deep within your love
My own
You and I and He
Who made us one
Forever
        Ls

Our road has not been straight, my love.
It has not been an easy journey.
Our path was filled with barriers
And led through lands of many dangers.

Sometimes our shoes grew worn and thin
From trudging through the obstacles
And it would have been much easier
To stumble to our knees and fall.

But one of us was always strong
When the other’s strength diminished
Though there were times we could have quit
We clambered up and moved along.

We now float calmly in still waters
Knowing that our craft is strong
As we at last enjoy the sunsets
And listen to the nightbird’s song.
  ljm

Vultures circle on the horizon
They land on nearby trees and wait
They make no sound at all
Fluff their wings in anticipation
And their eyes are fixed and shiny
So evil bright and shiny

Their number grows each passing hour
And their silence terrifies much more
Than the howling wind that echoes
From the distant rocky canyons
And roils the low hung clouds above
And stirs the low slung clouds

The broken trees who’s fruit is vultures
Bear no leaves and don’t remember
Ever having such a coat or
Sap that rose up in the springtime
To foretell a new beginning
There ware no new beginnings

Their only memory is drought
And brittle stands against the wind
That snapped off branches, limbs and buds
And left but bleached out skeletons
To mark the passing of the years
         The passing of so many years

Through the wounded vegetation
Run barely visible tracks or trails
That seem to start from far away
And end up on the other side of it
With lots of detours along the way
Detours all along the way

There is no safety anywhere
In this barren desert place
Where nothing grows but spiny things
Not tall enough to create shadows
In the unforgiving burning sun
The unrelenting sun

A wounded bunny, colored like the sand
Sits very still, afraid to move
Survivor of a former battle
It has almost no strength left
And not even that much hope
Used up every bit of hope

If only there were den or burrow
If there were brambles with their thorns
They might provide a hiding place
A chance to live another day
To do the things that bunnies do
And live the way that bunnies live

Waiting for a miracle or magic wand
In a place where those do not exist
The bunny, frozen in the hope
The birds will find some other prey
And may not see him crouching there
Prays for escape by crouching there

Suddenly the sky explodes
With beating wings and raucous cries
The thunder of a hunter’s gun
Has launched the birds in frantic flight
And one lies dead upon the sand
So newly dead upon the sand

While the hunter pokes and eyes his prize
If such a bird can be a prize
The little bunny bides his time
Until it’s safe to hop away
So he can live another day
And plan to live another day
ljm

Words are threads of many colors.
That can be woven into something
Beautiful and strong.
I said that to Melan of Innocence once
And it’s true.
She is a weaver of gossamer truth.
Warp dipped in LOVE and then woven
Through heartwarming weft
To form fabric both beautiful and
Astoundingly strong.
ljm

Your tragic family:
The little wealth
You had is gone.
No place
To call home any more.
No welcoming friends
To take you in.
There’s nothing left to do
But leave.

Leaving should be
Very easy.
Theres nothing left
For you to pack.
Nor any trunk for
You to put things in.
No need either
For a suitcase -
You’re wearing
Everything  you own.

Who can help you -
They need help too.
Who can find
An answer in the ashes
That are the tombs
Of relatives,
Cremated
With no prayers spoken.

How is it
You must fly away.
You have no passport;
You have no funds
Beyond the dollars
In your pocket
When you ran.
You can’t go to
The bank for more
The contents of the vault
Are charred.
And papers with
Your name on them
Are gone.

You cannot call.
The wires are down.
The towers melted in the blaze.
The Post Office
Is in ruins.
And no one answers
When you shout.

You have friends
And relatives
In other places
That are safe.
The only thing that you can do
Is wait
For them to come and save you.
I hear jet engines
Revving up.
Hope must not be
Let to die.
             ljm

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

I’ve not been kissed in 30 years
I’ve almost forgotten how it feels
I have a man who shows he loves me
But kissing’s not part of the deal

I used to practice on my hand
And think back to my younger days
When dates consisted of a film
And hours of kissing in a car

He won’t say why our lips don’t meet
Breath doesn’t seem to be the reason
Nor the fullness of my lips
I’ve asked but there is no reply

There is a little airport peck
When I’ve been far away someplace
But it’s mostly for the show
To others locked in warm embrace

Is it because he’s Capricorn
Well I’m the same sign too
And I would love to hug and kiss
And do romantic things with him

But I expect that this is how
We’re going to spend our final days
Me longing for a tender kiss
And him still pushing me away.
           ljm

I came in the very first
In the race to golden treasures
And was told I had no entry form
And only those who paid that fee
Could carry off the trophy.
            ljm