"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

They were kissing on the beach
He wanted a whole lot more
She said no and pushed him off
Triggering the evil in his soul

He kicked her head
Til she didn’t move
Then pounded it with
A cinderblock
Until she was obviously dead

He dragged her down
To the ocean’s shore
And heaved her in
Like a sack of trash
Then calmly walked
Himself back home

I guess that is what
A guy’s supposed to do
When a girl refuses
His advances.

What kind of world
Are we living in
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

If your Daddy was a Pop Star
Two Gold Records on his wall,
A&R men listen when you sing.

If your Mama was a Movie Star
Getting an audition is no sweat,
Just say your name, and you go in.

If your Dad was in I.A.T.S.E.         (Pronounced "eye-AT-see)
You know you can get in too-
Just learn a little of the trade.

If your Mother worked for Disney
There's a job there for you too
Unless you have no skills at all.

The Moguls talk diversity-
But that is only for their casts.
It's nepotism for the rest.

It is no longer who you know -
It seems to be who gave you birth
If you think you'd like to work
In that phony place called Hollywood.
                                       ljm

As a reward for my two-mile morning walk
Among the cookie-cutter homes,
And up and down the gentle hills,
Nevada flings the meaning of spectacular
Across the dawning sky.

A band of clouds that looks like giant scrambled eggs
First turns a neon cotton candy pink
With blue gray in the shadows.
As I walk with eyes turned up and wide,
It slowly morphs to brilliant golden.

Gasping at the beauty, not exertion from the walk,
I don’t need to look where I am going,
I know my feet will find the way.
At length the brilliant golden clouds
Begin to fade to silver gray and I am sad.

But then the Sun climbs over distant mountain tops
No doubt anxious to take a bow
For the breathtaking overature I’ve just seen
That will fill my day with sunlit memories
And remind me to next time bring my camera.
ljm

Is this going to be another joke-
A shiny nickel welded to the floor
So when I bend to pick it up
A paddle whacks me from behind.

Will this turn out to be a whoopee cushion
Hidden underneath my chair
So when I proudly take my seat
The room erupts in cruel laughter.

Will I put forth a major effort,
Break my back and heart in trying,
Only to find the load’s too heavy
For me to ever hope to lift it,

Too complicated to untangle,
Too precise for my small skills,
A recipe for certain failure
If I dare to take that step.

Doubts and fears are ***** traps
That I must circumvent to win
And if I find that I can do it
I can be the hero of my life.
    ljm

A week away from the TV set
Is the normal world still there?
Or has the madman burned it down
On his latest crazy tear.

We miss the roundup on the news
It’s different every night.
The elephant’s still cry witch hunt
While the donkeys do what’s right.

He’s angered every friend we have.
He doesn’t know a thing.
He never gives a single thought
To what his antics bring.

He kow-tows to our enemies,
He’d like to be like them
And rule with no one saying ‘stop’
To his next crazy whim.

He’s going to light a world wide fire
The middle class in flames
The wealthy standing by to watch
Like they were seeing games.

Hated by the civil world
He couldn’t give a toss
He wants a place in history
No matter what the cost.

He is already number one
In White House Loser’s polls.
He hopes to guarantee his place
With armies of red trolls.

If we don’t  show him the door
He’ll do what he does best
He’ll lead this country into war
And we’ll die with the rest.
                         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

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 Christmas lights have all been taken down and put away.
The chilly night is poorer for their loss.
The rain that couldn’t bother to be snow on Christmas Eve
Now lurks behind the clouds that hide the stars we never see
And wouldn’t know the names of, if we did.

The gifts have been exchanged for sizes that will fit
Except the one with blood on it that must be thrown away.
The thank you notes have all gone out to people far away
Who love us more than those next door who say the words
But hide the truth in cloaks of duty and necessity.

The paper hats and party horns were taken by the trashman yesterday
While we write elevens in our checkbook for the year
And contemplate the quicksand that encompasses the wall
We have no ladder tall enough to climb, or transport
That can whisk us to a top that’s not in sight.

Walking tall on stilts of hope, our balance is precarious.
We were not in the Rose parade or even on the sidewalk.
We still can’t see beyond the wall of hate that locks us in
and wobble ever more and more as we pace the perimeter
Looking for a door or gate and finding only bricks and mortar.

ljm

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

Haunted
Even midnight dreams are shadowed by
The most humiliating failures
And the inability to cope
In areas where I formerly excelled.

Tormented
By my need to get it right
While watching myself get it wrong
And race in all directions
In the hope of fixing things.

Ridiculed
And made to answer for
The things I used to do so well
And now can’t do at all
While there’s no place to hide.

Waking
From another graphic vision of
My inability to do the things that I did best
That specter follows me into the day
Eliminating any hope of joy.

Crying
One more day begun with tears
And lack of understanding of
The reason for the torture
That my dreams inflict on me.

Thinking
Was I bad and evil in my youth
Has it come back to haunt me now
No, I do not think that’s it
I am my own worst enemy.
The one to blame is only me.
               ljm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No time to Shilly or to Shally.
No time to Dilly or to Dally.
If all you’ve got is Tittle-tattle
I’ll just up and go Skedaddle.

Got no time for Hugger-Mugger
Won’t put up with Argy-bargy
Rigamarole will have to go
Outside to eat yellow snow.
ljm

A
My hatred simmers in a *** on yesterday’s stove. The store was out of what I needed to spice it up and I left my Visa card there. My neck is sore from keeping my chin up. I’ve hung the acid soaked sentences out back where the wind and sun will dry them. I marked a map and programed GPS but somehow I  still managed to get lost. There is no future, only now, and I can’t read the instructions Google won’t translate for me.  I have a dollar bill to keep me fed with manna in the morning and a hamburger at night. There is a screaming fit locked up in a closet in the basement. Resignation looks around and wonders who resigned - It couldn’t have been me.  The dam that won’t release the tears shows signs of cracking at the bottom. The bow that shoots the vengeful arrows has a broken string. Standing tall will only render me a better target. •The pillars that support my worth are festooned with poison ivy. The waves of loss and terror crash and roll but I’ve become a cork.
I float.
                      ljm

                                                            ­      
                                                                ­                                            B
•NOTIFICATIONS•

•M­y hatred simmers in a *** on yesterday’s stove.
•The store was out of what I needed to spice it up and I left my        
   Visa Card there.
•My neck is sore from keeping my chin up.
•I’ve hung the acid soaked sentences out back where the wind and
   the sun will dry them.        
•I marked a map and programed GPS but somehow I still
   managed to get lost
•There is no future, only now, and I can’t read the instructions
   Google won't translate for me.
•I have a dollar bill to keep me fed with manna in the morning and
   a hamburger at night
•There is a screaming fit locked up in a closet in the basement.
•Resignation looks around and wonders who resigned - It couldn’t
   have been me.
•The dam that won’t release the tears shows signs of cracking at the
   bottom
•The bow that shoots the vengeful arrows has a broken string.
•Standing tall will only render me a better target.
•The pillars that support my worth are festooned with poison ivy.
•The waves of loss and terror crash and roll but I’ve become a cork.
•I float.
                           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

I have no use
For the military Boys
Prancing around
With their nuclear toys.

I have no use
For the heads of state
Ignoring the climate
‘Til it’s too late.

I have no use
For Supreme Court Judges
Bending the law
To their personal grudges.

I have no use
For the lovers of Trump
I have a nice lake
Into which they can jump.

I have no use
For the trolls I attract
Attack all you want
I’ve never yet cracked.
             ljm

The fabric of society dangles by a feeble thread
That trembles with the the heavy weight of anger
And is stretched beyond what possibly
Can hold it all together

Weavers rush to reinforce the ever thinning yarn
But the sheep that usually supply the wool
Are scattered in the meadows of contention
And a worthy shepherd can’t be found.

How long can the tapestry, once honored and revered,
Remain in place upon the walls that form the room
Which shelters us from the visisitudes of living
In a world of hatred and divide.

It must not crumple to the floor, cut loose from
What sustained it through the centuries,
Leaving walls with gaping cracks that let inside
The freezing winds of vengence.

Will there be a place to hide and recreate a loom
In hopes of managing to learn to weave once more
And patch the rends in what was rescued from the floor
And seal the walls of hope again.
                                                         ljm

I once wrote a list of things
That represented me :

Smoke from a discarded cigarette,
Rain on the Ocean,
A saturday matinee.

I wrote that I was a penny
On a train track, waiting.

             ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Well guess what, folks-
The engine  has arrivd.
        ljm

Wrapped around by dawning
cotton candy clouds,
I turn and turn
to scan them all.
Squadrons of Starlings
punctuate the quiet
as the crooked moon
decides it’s time to maybe set.

On a gravel hill that
overlooks a minor wasteland,
I selfishly enjoy
a time that’s mine alone;
reminding one who felt
hard-done-by,
that in reality she
rolled the dice
and won.
     ljm

I had a stroke on New Year’s Eve,
The night before my Birthday.
There were no candles on my cake
Or fireworks in my midnight sky.
No one sang Happy Birthday
As the helicopter flew me
To a distant place of healing.

I had a stroke on NewYear’s Eve.
It came to me on stealthy feet.
No sagging face or falling down.
The golden hour passed unnoticed;
Just a heavy arm and leg, to
Make me pause and wonder.
But then my hand picked up a pen.

I had a stroke on New Year’s Eve;
Discovered when the trembling hand
That held the pen no longer knew
The alphabet or how to form the letters.
When writing became micro dots
And repetition didn’t help
What once was sloppy, now unreadable.

I had a stroke on New Year’s Eve.
My life is changed forever.
I didn’t die, not paralyzed,
I got the finest care.
I will get back what I have lost
But with it comes a lifelong fear
Of another lurking in the shadows
ljm

Maggots are crawling in the
Dying body of America.
Fed by lies and subterfuge
Left untreated by those
Who’s only interest is their paycheck.
And those who sold their souls for electors.
      ljm

The crows are screeching in the trees
The wind is howling in the eves
The door that kept tomorrow safe
Is swinging wildly in the gale.
The glow that might have been the sun
Is really from a raging fire
That’s fanned by mistrals out of place
Who bring with them an icy chill
That kills the tiny forlorn hope
Now hiding in a dusty closet
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

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

We all know error 501 - locks us out in the cold
Today it's error 500 - this is getting very old.
The Home page is locked beyond my reach
I'm going to pull my hair and screech.
Is it the site or is it my mac
Getting back at me for my attack.
I don't know and I don't care
There's poetry I want to share
So let me get to my home page
Before I fly into a rage.
And write some more of this bad verse
It's awful now, but  could get worse.
                                     (ljm)

The weight of my anger grows too heavy to carry
I search for a place to at last lay it down
But there’s a steep wall  on my left, a sheer drop on my right
And those coming behind me behind me are pushing me on

My disappointment is as tall as a mountain
Big stone at the bottom I’m too weak to push up
I’ve worn out a groove on the road to the summit
And life carved a path for it on the way down

I once loved an SF writer named Harlan
His anger made mine seem like a mere whine
How I envied his command of the language
The words of his hatred set fire to the pages

His anger was TNT in a small package
The fuse so short it couldn’t be seen
The world around him resembled a matchbook
And Society always offered a light.

But that was a journey I took long ago
He strode into sunlight - I slipped into shadow
He never taught me to make bonfires of language
And I so wish I’d stayed til that lesson was learned.
ljm

The doors that looks could open up
Are padlocked to us now.
The passing years have turned the key
And we are locked outside.
Standing in the icy rain, still trying to get in
Where beauty generates the warmth.

The more bedraggled we appear
The more we disappear.
The paper on the wall becomes
The pattern of our lives.
We arch the brows and paint the lips
And dye the silver strands

But nothing short of neon lights
Will draw attention to our mein.
We see the glance like lighthouse-sweep
Wash over us and then away
As quickly as revolving beams
And we are left here in the dark,

Remembering the longing glance-
The interlocking of the eyes
That told us we had been approved
And freed to move about the sphere
Where all the pretty people were,
And we were added to that sum.

How bittersweet to meet the days
We knew were there but still refused to see
Encamped along our road of life
Like brigands poised to steal the last
Of shimmer from the faces that we wore
And leave us all with masks of wrinkled, sagging age.

ljm

THERE IS A SAYING:

THE INSTRUCTIONS FOR LIVING OUTSIDE THE BOX

ARE WRITTEN ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE BOX.

How is it possible to love that  which I hate so much.
What sort of mind-warp enables me
To seethe one moment and smile the next.
What eraser clears the blackboard of my anger
So an hour from now it’s empty and
All ready to be scrawled across again.

I don’t understand why I settle for moments
When what I really want is a  lifetime.
To be the yang to an extraordinary yin
Instead of mama chicken shepherding her brood of one.

Why am I above the ground when who I am
Was murdered years ago.
Aren’t the dead supposed to be interred?
Am I a zombie of neglect and co-dependence
Hulking, blind of eye and blank of soul,
Across an aching painscape.
ljm

How can you solve the needs of the world
When every window is a mirror
Reflecting only vistas of you.

How can you feel the pain of the hungry
When tail coated waiters serve you your meals
Hundreds of feet higher than the truck on the corner.

How can you embrace the common man
When you consider him covered in germs
Wanting a cheerleader more than a guide.

How will you acquire respect that’s not bought
When you function on a ten year old level
With a Junior High bully as your mentor.
         ljm

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

On Monday I bury the last of my dreams
And give up my hopes for tomorrow.
I do what’s required to look in the glass
Resigned to become friends with sorrow.

On Monday I’ll pass over white and wear black
I hear the prediction is rain.
I’ll pray for the sun and prepare for the clouds
And seek out small joys in my pain.

On Monday it all takes a turn for the different
Will it get better or will it get worse
I’ll gamble my future on staggering odds
With nothing to save me but verse.

On Monday my heart will have gone somewhere else
As my will walks me into that room
And my mind searches vainly for some safe escape
From the depths of my self-tunneled tomb.

On Monday I’ll stand up and do what I said
The chips must fall down where they may
I’ll carry it through, though I’ll wish I were dead
It’s a price I can nothing but pay.
lsj

Half its contents stashed away
Or shipped to another state,
Primped, perfumed and prettied up
It no longer reflects who lives here.

It no longer echoes happiness
Or tries to hide despair.
It’s just another pretty face
Looking for a suitor.

It promises hope for someone new
Who will hang the walls with their own joy
And shed their sorrows in the garden
Beside the bubbling fountain.

It will be the gate to a neighborhood
And an enclave of belonging.
It offers safety from the storm
And the ravages of the city.

It’s up for bids beyond the price
To see who wants it most
Or has the deepest pockets.
With preference to those who’ll love it.

The house is open for the world to see
And guess about the owners,
Crying softly somewhere else
As they prepare, unwillingly,

To kiss a beloved home goodbye
And strike out for a new beginning
In someone else’s home, now theirs,
In hopes of finding Shangri-La
In the new world of Nevada.
ljm

It was such an exquisite marriage
The bride was lovely
The groom on his horse
And rain that fell as a sign of good luck.
The guests all arrived in their festive array
And it went as smoothly as carefully planned.
But the wedding cake - Oh my Heavens the cake !
A cake with no rival in the annals of time.
A cake that was baked by a host of proud bakers.
It had so many layers and so many flavors,
But way too much icing in billowing excess
With overgrown meadows of fondant flowers.
There was extravagant scrollwork around the edges
And even surprises baked coyly inside.
But it took way too long to light the tall candle
That finally decorated the top tier.
It was served up in dozens of little small wedges
To the multitudes of the invited guests
Who never saw the whole cake as presented
But only the dainty slice that they were served.
The party went on far into the night
And everyone had a fantastical time.
It must be agreed, twas a world class reception
Except for that cake - that too fabulous cake
ljm

What an awesome duty you have on Jan 5.

YOUR VOTE WILL DETERMINE THE DIRECTION OF THE ENTIRE USA FOR THE NEXT FOUR YEARS.  Wow!

Your election is not really about the incumbents and challengers.  It is about Mitch McConnell. Your election will decide if this one man, elected by one small state, will retain the power to keep legislation             he happens to dislike from ever coming to an open vote on the Senate floor. It will give him the continued power to ignore bills passed by the House of Representatives and lock them away in his desk, never to be debated, discussed or passed by the Senate.

Voting for your incumbents will keep the makeup of the Senate as it is, and give McConnell his power for another four years, so he can hamper progress for Joe Biden, just as he did for Barak Obama.  His Goal once again will be to stymie the President YOU just elected, and limit him to only one term by keeping him from enacting any of his agenda so he appears to be a failure.

If instead, you vote for the challengers, it will realign the Senate. It will  take away the kingly powers of Mitch McConnell, and give it back to the Senate as a whole. You will  give the President YOU elected a chance to enact some of the legislation that will heal our country, save the environment, grow the economy, work toward justice for all, and put an end to our being outcasts in the eyes of the rest of the world

It doesn’t matter which party you are in - if you want any progress to be made in the next four years - If you want to see the programs and ideals that caused you to vote for President Biden come true - you need to vote for both of the challengers in this election.

The whole world is watching.

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

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

All my paths are serpentines
That lead around in circles.
My destination is so far
I cannot see it in the haze
That eddies in my vision.

I planted hollyhocks and marigolds
In the garden of my dreams.
I had no way to water them;
They withered in the Summer sun.

I haven’t any more to lose.
I’ve given everything I have.
There’s nothing left but hopelessness
And waiting for the final end.
ljm

I'm scolded even in my dreams
By the inner me who judges
Everything so harshly.

All I do is try to help
And even in my slumber
This is not allowed.

Sleep knits up the raveled sleeve of care
So Shakespeare says
But I unravel in my dreams.

I'm lost, I'm chased
In in a house of many rooms
And cannot find my way.

The clock is running out
And I'm not ready
So the wedding will not start on time.

And though I look, I somehow never see a bride
As I am searching for the candles
And bows I need to do my job.

Variations on a theme
That always spells inadequate
And failure to my sleeping mind.

Why am I so mean to me
Am I so bad, compared to all-
And who must I live up to.

What angry fire burns deep inside
That nightly roasts my spirit
In the oil of it's incompetence.

Why can't I ever win the race
Or find the prize in question
Or be the one to take the bow.

I am my own worst enemy
A therapist once said
Why didn't I believe him then,

Forgive myself and let me be-
To see if I could build a dream
That ended with me smiling.
                    ljm

I’m an ordinary girl
Born of ordinary parents
On an extraordinary day.

They came from ordinary people
Who lived out ordinary lives.
They never really had a lot
And seemed content with lesser.

How is it then that I was born
Always wanting something more.
Seeking that beyond the screen
Not satisfied with all at hand.

Why did I not fit the mold
That formed my sis and  brother.
It seemed to work out fine for them
But was a prison cell for me.

I bashed through those restraining walls
To seek my future my own way
Finding cliffs I could not climb
And oceans I could never swim

There was a narrow path to take
But I preferred to dance the edges
Gathering the shiny baubles
That melted in the setting Sun
And left me where I am today
Living an ordinary life

And seeking to plant Hollyhocks
Where only cactus ever grows.
                   ljm

Every morning I kneel and pray
For the needs of other people.
But nobody prays for me.
Fourteen ways my body fails
And my mind is failing too.
Yet nobody prays for me.
My needs are on the bottom shelf
I carefully set it up that way.
So nobody prays for me.
I thought I was invincible
But my needs outweigh my strength.
Won’t somebody somewhere pray for me.
             ljm

On a front-row-center throne
The Would-be King relaxes.
             Besides him rests his Lady-Queen
             In tsunamis of green satin.

He’s enjoying all the accolades
In the Hallowed Halls of drama
Surrounding their appearance,
                         Where the monkey trio entertains
    And fashion marches to and fro
    Clutching heavy bits of tinsel.

All is merriment and joy
Until the Jester makes a jape
   That earns a queenly frown
   Which stirs the King to wipe his smile
And stalk onto the dais
         Where he
                         slaps
   the Jester on his cheek,
  And wearing traces of a smirk
Marches back down to his throne.

The Jester lofts a lame response
Into a sea of stunning silence
      Then the air turns shades of Royal blue
                              And American TVs go deaf
                                               For thirty-seven                                                 ­                                     seconds
While across the seas the
  Audience enjoys the
    Braying of a *******.

Believing he’s impervious
Or maybe he is Sampson
         The King pulls down the ancient walls
                   Of cherished film tradition
Reducing what was dignified
           To a rank back alley rumble
Then later makes a fake obeisance
Awash with phony tears and snot.

                   All hail the King of Hollywood
   They should take back his golden prize
        To penalize his hubris -
                And let him know rules still apply.
And cause some real tears in his eyes.
           ljm

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

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 offered you my hand - you spit in it
I said I’d walk along with you - you tripped me and I fell
I tried to sing the song you wrote - you unplugged the microphone
I told the world how great you are - you told them I’m a liar

I tried to follow on your path - you covered it with broken glass
I sent you every cent I owned - you never cashed the check
I mailed you all my hopes and dreams - it came back postage due
I got the message finally - I gathered up my love and walked away
                   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