He has offered to share all his life with me.
He isn’t afraid that I’ll tidy up his dreams
And put them away so he’ll never again find them.

He’s willing to look at me each morning of forever.
It doesn’t worry him that time has already sketched in
The places where lines will be shorty etched.

He’s asked me to give him all my tomorrows
And hasn’t a fear they may not be worth
All the golden hope he’ll invest in them.

He has assured me that I’m a necessity to him
And won’t ever be classified as habit instead,
When, with the years, he grows used to me.

He needs me in spite of my tottering strength.
He wants me with all of my imperfect beauty.
He loves me in answer to my lifelong prayers
Perfectly.
                        Ls

She wondered if there’d come a time
God wouldn’t call her any more.
A time he’d say “I’m done with her
She won’t give up her sinful ways”.

She puts on holiness like rouge
And thinks good works will pay her way
But in her heart duplicity
Obscures the path she needs to walk.

She reaches out with ***** hands
To touch the spotless hem of faith
In hoping for a miracle -
That God still recognizes her.

But God has turned his face away
He’s knocked her door too many times
To find it opened just an inch

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

C O N T E S T   POEM  FOR  SUNPRINCESS

He picks up the microphone -
The switch is already on
He pushes the button anyway
And that turns it back off
He starts into his maiden speech.
Nobody hears a single word
But he keeps right on talking.
I’m in the sound booth at the back
Visible in the window
The audience turns and looks at me.
There’s nothing I can do.
The mic has been turned off.
So I am forced fake a smile
And take the blame
For his stupidity.
           ljm

Hell was supposed to be beneath us
Somewhere way down low in the cosmos
As far below as Heaven is above.
That is what I learned in Sunday School.

If this is true why is Hell not staying home
And minding it’s own business.
Why is it suddenly appearing here
In all  its fiery fury.

Poor Maui, California, Australia and Peru,
Spain and even peaceful Canada
Have been blistered by Hell’s wrath
And struggle to rise up from the ashes.

Have we thinned the walls between Hell and us
So flames can now escape their containment
And let us see what might await us some day
If we cannot change our direction.

If we ignore the planet we were given
And we avoid the rules laid down
If we assume there will be no judgement
And we can worship just ourselves

We’ll find that we’ve left the gate standing open
And the welcome mat for Hell is in place.
ljm

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

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

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

Why is Omni suddenly unable to post???
He got this message:

Forbidden (403)
CSRF vrification failed.  Request aborted.

What is this all about and why did it happen?
Hey, Algorithm guys...how about an answer?
Lets get one of our primo contributors up and running again.

Am I the only one who has been unable to access HP for well over a week?  Was it HP - or my cranky ole Mac?
I felt like I had been dumped, naked and bleeding by the side of the road in a rainstorm.  Hyperbole?  Maybe, maybe not. I now know how to identify addiction.  I would seem to be hooked  The writing has piled up, so get ready for a deluge from Lori-Mack.

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

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

Rain, falling in broken-goblet shatters
That splash and ricochet on the sidewalk
Wets my unprotected shoes
And slithers through my stockings
Chilling more than just my feet.

The "Monkey's Wedding" sun peeks through
At intervals to fire up rainbows
In the drops that move too fast to study
Here again and gone again
This dark and bright will blind me.

Rain, now sheeting like a ***** shower curtain,
Cuts off the view of what's ahead
And soaks my flimsy parka.
I never knew an Autumn storm
Could smell so strong of winter.

All the leaves that clung so long
Are beaten from the branches
To land on me like snotty tissues
From a nose blown somewhere in the ether-
And I feel tainted by them.

Rain that looks like it can fall for days
In places where its rhythm is unknown
Becomes a dirge as I trudge on
With soggy clothes and cloudy temper
Contemplating years without a Spring.

How I wish my stout umbrella hadn't
Vanished at the party, but I left it
In the hallway when the dancing started up,
And when I headed out into the storm
I couldn't find it anywhere.
                           ljm

Silent thunder shakes the windows
Causing birds to flee the tree outside
And fling themselves into the raging wind

Jagged lightning flames the sky
In all the colors of a sunrise
While the moon still says it’s midnight

Rain has finally found it’s way
Around the thirsty desert mountains
And readies itself for the deluge

Sandbags may hold back the flood
But they can’t stop tomorrow
And the monsoon putting on its boots

Dawning comes in dreary clothing
Gray and heavy in the hems
Waiting to start shrugging off

The weather, like a game of
Stack the Timber Tower
Debates the utmost time to tumble

Everything is battened down
Awaiting the first sprinkles
That will presage the downpour

The birds have come back to the trees
But they are silent like the thunder
While the city holds it’s breath

And watches out a million windows
With the TV standing by
As we all wait to meet the wet
   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

I don’t remember checking out
But when I came back that afternoon
Someone else was in my room
And all my luggage was out in the hall.

I knocked and didn’t hear a sound
Until I banged again much harder
Then I heard the rustle of approach
And locks turned as the door was opened.

My fists were clinched, my throat was tight
And I had vicious anger at the ready,
But shock drowned out my burning ire
When I saw who was facing me

She was very old and somewhat fragile.
Not the beauty she’d once been,
But dressed in jammies and a shawl
With fuzzy slippers on her feet.

She didn’t hear the words I said
And seemed to not see me very well.
She smiled a very gentle smile
And asked what she could do for me.

I told her she was in my room
And I had scads of things to do,
With projects to take care of
And chores that needed seeing to.

She stepped aside and let me in
Where I could see things were a mess
The furniture was rearranged
And my stuff stacked up in a corner.

I pushed on in and desperately
Searched for my deadline-diary -
There were things to not mess up
And errors that I must not make.

But nothing seemed where it belonged
And I could not remember where
I put the most important notes
That got me where I had to be.

The elder lady tried to help
But searched for words that would not come
And bumped against important things
That rocked and tumbled with a crash.

Beside myself I spun around
In desperation and despair,
Looking for something to grasp
To tell me I was not insane.

I turned to ask the Granny’s help
But couldn’t find her anywhere.
Like smoke in wind she’d disappeared
Even though the door was locked.

Exasperation then took hold
And I flailed around in circles
Til I caught a movement in the mirror
An stopped to take a better look.

I stood before the glass and gaped.
The dear old girl gaped back at me.
How did she get inside the glass
And where had my own image gone?

What happened to the visage of
The super-girl who juggled knives
And kept plates spinning in the air
While never dropping one.

The knives, I saw, were on the floor
Underneath the sagging couch.
The plates that I had kept aloft
Were neatly stacked beside the kitchen sink.

Astonishment became dismay
As I tried to reconcile
The me who went to work this morning,
Primed for conquering the world,

And the someone I came back to find,
Not certain where I left myself
Or even where to start the search
To see if I existed.

Bereft of thoughts and lost among her words
That float around and won’t be caught
I puzzle how this came about
And I don’t know the answer.

But I can not avoid the fact
That it’s my face in that mirror.

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

Thistledown on a gentle breeze
On it’s way to somewhere

Tiny petals setting sail
Across an Autumn puddle

Blackbirds sing in the Cat-tail reeds
And three puppies sleep in a tangle

I hold a cup of steaming tea
And sit on the front porch steps

As summer fades I recollect
The past year of my life

I didn’t win awards or fame
I didn’t inherit wealth

I finally learned to love myself
And forgive me all my failings

That opened doors I never saw
And gave me eyes to see

The beauties of the life I’ve made
And who I’ve come to be

The strength I didn’t know was there
The gentle hand I offer

I comforted that little girl
Trembling in a corner

Of the dark space in my soul
And told her it will be O.K.

The sunrise here is glorious
And we’re gonna be just fine.
                ljm

Did I step on a butterfly once in my youth
That I must live in such pain today

Did I not reach out to someone in need
That my days are now crowded with hurting.

Did I never walk for that extra mile
That each step today is a torment.

Did I not study the course close enough
That agony is what I have to learn.

Have I earned a lifetime of level-nine days
When to be only aching becomes a reward.
                 ljm

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

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

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

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

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

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

A lump she is
A useless chunk
Of human protoplasm
A mind that can’t untie the knots,
Now neatly wrapped in silver duct tape
On a shelf just out of reach of devastated fingers.
Claw marks mar the surface of the tape
Evidence of effort spent in vain
To free the intellect
Now unplugged
And useless
As a rock.
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

How many mountains must I climb
To catch a glimpse of sunrise.
How many boulders must I move
To clear a path to my doorway.
And how many rivers must I ford
To leave this gloom behind me.
ljm

The twice slapped hand
Won’t reach again
For what can never be obtained
But curls into a useless fist
To pound against the forehead.
         ljm

Seranaea told me I should
Write the skeleton of a poem
And wrap a scarf around it’s neck
And hang ornaments about it’s ribcage

If only I could do that
I’d plant Hollyhocks around it’s feet
And sprinkle glitter over all
And fire up background music.

But I am store-brand verse and prose
Arriving in a plain brown wrapper.
I’d be a good reporter, so they say
But what would that vocation do
To the kaleidoscope that is my soul.
ljm

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

Princess Diana came back last week
She wore all her pretty clothes
And looked stunning in her hats
She went about her ways as best she could
But there was no hiding all the sorrow in her eyes.

The luckiest girl in all the world
Chosen to one day be the Queen
And then demoted to a brood mare
By a Prince who was secretly a ****,

Her fairy tale had not even got it’s start
When she found out how it would end,
And she was trapped by tea towels
With her face imprinted on them.

She delivered all that was required of her
And even though the song was ended
Managed to write a second verse
Which the conductor wasn’t keen to play.

Yet the music gave her legs to stand on
And the tune grew to a symphony
As she performed it for the World
Who found the melody delicious
And her solos so profound.

Lady Di is back again,
That simple girl who saved herself
To become the lamb for royal slaughter
By a horde of calculating courtesans
Who knew she didn’t matter from the start.

Left to slumber peacefully,
On her private island
Lo these twenty years,
Safe from flashing cameras
And the machinations of the Crown
Diana may be dead but her legend is alive.
ljm

I couldn’t become June Cleaver for you.
You couldn’t be Marcia Brady for me.
I tried to put that apron on
And learn to make a *** roast, but
You took a grudge and nourished it
And watched it thrive for 30 years
While I turned into a withered husk
In the desert of lost affection.

I wanted to be your special friend -
Your one safe place in a tempest.
I built strong walls and a comforting fire
You never set foot past the doorway.
The welcome mat was never pulled in
And a small light was always burning
But you were lost in a different place
And wouldn’t let me try to find you.
ljm

The shiny apple looked delicious
But it was high up in the tree
We jumped to reach it but we couldn’t
We found a ladder in the field
And carefully climbed up it
The rungs were covered with thick mud
And got our hands and clothes all *****
But we craved that shiny apple
Hungry as we were so long
Reaching out through tangled branches
It was in our grasp at last
Careful going down the ladder
So as not to drop the prize

Now time to take that first big bite
And oh how sweet the juices flowed
We’re stealing an admiring look
When suddenly we spot the worm-
It’s bad enough to see it there-
But what remains is only half
And something tickles in our throat
Will we fling the apple far away
To retch and spit and beg a mint
Or stay and eat around the worm.
ljm

for Pradip Chattopadhyay

What is the magic that pulls us ever back
To gather in a circle of remembering
And sharing in the glow of friendship
That time and miles can’t dim.

Why do we make our plans and get the things
We need to guarantee that we will get here
Out of the hubub of still busy lives
And the lethargy of quiet ones.

What is the reward for walking native streets
And looking at the things that made us “us”,
When most of us have sunk our sturdy roots
In places very different from here.

Who have we beome as life and time
Have lifted us and pulled us down-
A few to never rise again-
But most to stand astride the life we made

And tell the world and one another
That the soil of Longview nourished us
And helped us grow to be the trees
That make the forest beautiful.

That Cowlitz County lumber cut straight and true
And built a sturdy framework
That the young can climb to find their way
To make the world a better place.

We stood up proud and did our job
Now we can enjoy what we created
And share it once again with those
Who were with us at the starting of our journey.
ljm

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

There is no hope for the hopeless
Nor help for the helpless.
All is blackness and despair.
All prayers are unanswered,
All dreams are faded into mist.
The carousel comes to a stop
And all the horses trot away
To where the music isn’t crows
Rasping in the nearby trees.
The sun is unforgiving.
There is no hope of rain
Or anything replenishing.
There is no reward for winning.
Effort draws a penalty.
Saving up means losing all
And the road is barricaded.
How many ways are every which
And how many turns required
To grow dizzy enough to fall
And know there’ll be no picking up.
The universe has only endings.
All new beginnings are in vain.
Only pain and endless darkness:
The new reward for a race well run.
ljm

I swim a sea that has no shore or bottom
The North Star hides behind a cloudy sky
The winds increase with every passing moment.
The waves, once flat, are looming very high.

A jellyfish has stung me on the ankle.
My side is knotted in a painful cramp.
My arms are growing numb with endless flailing
And the clockwork of my mind has gotten damp.

Before the rust locks down all hope of thinking
I must tread salty water for a span;
Stop contemplating how I dumbly got here,
Somehow devise a working rescue plan.

Can hope be found amidst the desolation
Of knowing all the errors that I’ve made:
Believing I somehow could walk on water
It didn’t matter how my game was played.

Though I had several copies of the rule book
I never found the time to sit and read,
So I jumped in, expecting native cunning
To lift me to the top, where I would lead

Those lacking my superior perception
To places they had only dreamed about.
I’d be hailed and lauded as a savior-
Instead I only heard the fearful shout

Of those who swim behind me in an ocean
That shows no sign of coming to a beach-
That certainly will pull us down and drown us
As angry yells become a frightened screech.

The sea I swim that has no shore or bottom
Is really just my ego in disguise-
So big it blocked my vision and my hearing
Til only now, at last, I’ve heard the cries

Of hopes too waterlogged to keep on floating
Of soggy dreams that never can come true- more
Of efforts wasted training in a puddle-
Of agonizing clarity of view.

At last I’ve come to recognize this ocean.
I know what’s on the nonexistent shore.
It’s swim or sink so I keep stroking forward
Although there is no reason any more.

And though my strength is quickly disappearing,
There’s really nothing that I haven’t tried.
So I just flounder onward in my struggle
To somehow make it to the other side.

Knowing there is no one there to greet me-
Knowing there is nothing there at all-
Knowing that no miracle will save me-
No one will ever see the tears that fall

In vain attempt to expiate my folly;
To pay atonement for the things I’ve lost.
To somehow make my life not end up wasted-
To gain some value from it’s painful cost.

So left arm, right arm, kick, kick, kick.
I gain an inch and just as often lose one
The sea I swim that has no shore or bottom
Will take me with the rising of the sun.
ljm

Groups casting aspersions
Are a spiteful diversion
That borders on *******
And invites incursion
By the cops -  and dispersion.
ljm

The Ferris Wheel is slowing down
  The ride is almost over
    The zooming up was thrilling
      The view from there exciting
        The downward swing was also fun
          Because it turned to rise again.

                                  It seemed the ride would last forever
                              But we knew that wasn’t true
                          We just refused to think about it
                      Til slowing motion made it clear
                  The ride was coming to an end
              And it would very soon be time
           To loose the seat belt and get off
        And walk amongst the land-bound
    Remembering the view from high
While heading for the Tilt-A-Whirl.
             ljm

It becomes more clear than ever
to those who follow Christian faith-
Those who know the storyline
But are still waiting for the cast
To be announced and pictured.

There are horses in the stable
Warriors with coats of different colors
Snorting as they kick the doors
That strive to keep them safe inside
While waiting for their riders.

Their riders are donning uniforms
And making preparations
To mount their waiting steeds
And thunder out across the world
To prove the Holy Book is true.

These are the Horsemen Of The Apocalypse -
Stuff of legend and religious lore,
Baring names that generate fear:
Names that now are listed here:
Netanyahu, Xi and Kim, Putin
And his aide de camp named Donald
Who tends the horse but does not ride.

Who will be astride which colored horse?
Putin rides the white one known as Conquest.
Netanyahu rides the red;  
It’s brand spells out the word for War.
Xi rides the Black horse, Pestilence -
Unleashed upon the recent world.
The pale horse symbolizing Death for all
Is ridden by Kim the Rocket Man who sits beside
His Doomsday Toys, waiting for the light to change.

The light cannot stay red much longer.
             ljm

Conversation at a bar:
Joe- “I had to make a Citizen’s Arrest last week”
Bob- “Really?  What caliber did you use?”
     ljm

Fluffy little Teenage boy
Tiny peeny in his pants
Always in the outside lane
Never with the in-crowd.

Only a big gun can change that
But it’s useless in the closet.
Searching for an avenue
To join the late night news parade

Nothing in your neighborhood
Or even in the local town
To stir a reason to go forth
And save the world from everything.

A road trip is the way to go -
Take a drive and join the fray
Let the world see you’re the man
Who’s come to set some wrong things right.

But it doesn’t go that way
You’re confronted many times
By those who see that you
Should not be out there with a gun.

This only makes you angrier
And more determined in your goal
To show the world that you’re in charge.
The proof lies bleeding on the street.

So there was injury and death.
It didn’t make your peenie grow.
And now you have to answer
For the tantrum that you threw.
                ljm

An enclave of vast differentness
From almost everywhere.
A place where
The mainstream has diverted
And left a backwater
Of rebel flags on pickup trucks and
Department stores that
Don’t sell any ladies dresses.
A place where t-shirts loudly shout
“It’s my right to make you sick -
The Constitution says so.”
A place where thinking’s so alike
It could be called homogenized.
Where rumors suddenly become facts
And checking them anathema .
Where tennis shoes are worn to church
And cargo shorts to weddings.
A place bathed in self righteousness
With tolerance a myth.
A place that’s situated
On a small but mighty river
That ebbs and flows
From day to day at the whim
Of men in shirtsleeves
Who control the dam,
And leave their trucks parked just outside
With the flags still proudly flying.
                   ljm

The tiny river in the gutter
  Flows inexorably  on
   Crossing over two wide streets
    In it’s determined journey to
     The storm drain in the cul de sac.

Rocks impose no barrier;
The river simply flows around,
  Creating little islands in the stream
   That make the water ripple in the sun.

The small end of a cigarette
  Becomes a tiny  boat
    I watch it as it sails along
     On a journey to oblivion.

I follow to the storm drain grate
  Where the falling water makes no sound,
   As it slips quietly down the maw
    To become part of some other flows.

Will it end up at the Waterworks
  To be freshly cleaned and sanitized
   And pumped back through those miles of pipes
    To quench thirst at the kitchen sink

Or will it join the other storm drains  
  Making their winding pilgrimage
   To join the nearby Colorado
     River and begin the trip again.
                                              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

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

Gotta get out of this desert place
With cloudless sky and burning sand
With lizards under every bush
And crows in every withered tree.

Wanna go where the air is cool
And soft refreshing breezes sway
The tendrils of the flowered vines
That climb the branches of the trees

But Kismet’s karma has decreed
I need some more of hot and dry
The place I go will be the same
except for one small saving grace.

The sun takes all the heat along
When it decides to go away
So things cool down at evensong
And I can live another day.
ljm