It’s all being taken, bit by bit
And the part that should be railing
Declines and finds it hard to care.

First the beauty slipped away
Followed by the figure.
Memory then tagged along
Searching for the smartness.

On the stroke of one midnight
It all turned even grimmer.
I 'd slept through the afternoon
While I became a lesser person.

Helicoptered New Year’s Eve
Began a never ending list
Of things diminished - or all gone
Discovered in the passing days.

Time drags on and so do I
Uncovering new losses
Of things I never will get back
And striving not to miss them.

My goal is further down the road
They say it is too distant
But battered though my life may be
I still intend to make it.
ljm

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

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

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

My how the staid and tradition-bound
House of Windsor has changed
When an avowed harlot is to be crowned Queen Consort
To rule beside a ****** co-conspirator on the Royal Throne.
Princess Diana must be spinning in her grave.
Not to mention Princess Margaret.
                              ljm

I learned a brand new word today
And know who it applies to.
I thought I knew pejoratives
As well as a Thesaurus

But this one sounds a bit made up.
I stumbled on it glancing through
A  list of vintage words and terms
I came across this morning.

I’ve said it over many times
Enjoying how it sounds
It kind of rolls across the tongue
And could be used for joking

But it’s for more than just a laugh
And here is what it means:
“A shrewd, unprincipled person
Especially a politician.”

I will not be naming names -
Too numerous to list
But choose the one that you like least
And call him Snollygoster.
              ljm

Dodging memories that bring me pain
I scurry through the obstacles
I set up for my foolish self
To keep me from the place I need to be.

I bruise my shins repeatedly
On dangers that I did not see
Due to the fancy mask I wear
That blocks half of my vision.

The need for haste is manifest
By ever looming banks of fog
That somehow scheme to bar my way
And keep me from salvation.
                 ljm

What is all this tensile for
Nobodys coming here
Why is eggnog in the fridge
Who is there to cheer.

Why the mistletoe hung high
There is no one to kiss
Why the Christmas Carols play
When no one feels the bliss

Why no gifts beneath the tree
Why go to all this work
Because this party is for me
And you sound like a ****.
          ljm

Once again the bullets fly
Once again the chldren die
Once again the parents cry
Once again we wonder why

When will we all stand and say
The problem is the NRA
And all the congressmen they pay
To turn their heads the other way.

We need to all stand up and shout
All together we’ll have clout
We need to organize a rout
And vote the slimy ******* out
       ljm

Once, not so very long ago
I lived as a somebody -
Important in a lot of people’s lives.
They depended on me and I was there.
I never failed a single one,
Delivering more than was expected.

Once I could be counted on
To always know the answer
Or to find the way around a problem.
They came to me because they knew
I wouldn’t let them down
Or walk away until the job was finished.

Not so very long ago
I was the acknowledged expert
And they came to me with
Questions, needs and problems
That I knew the answers for
Or where to go to find it.

Once I bowed to accolades
And admiration’s smiles
As it came clear I was the best
Of all the others in the realm
At making plans and dreams come true
With words and song and moving images.

Now banished to a foreign place
Where no one knows my name,
I’m just another random face -
A shopper at the mall.
The one behind the grocery cart
Who comes and goes unseen.

Here, no one knows what I can do
Or where I’ve been or what I know,
Or what I’ve built and left behind.
They deal with problems I could solve         more
If I was who I used to be again.

Now I wander in a place
That has no earthly need of me
And what I know and do -
That plays a foreign melody
And dances to a different beat
That I can’t find the rhythm to.

I try to find the raveled thread
The put a hole in who I was
And took away my cloak of purpose,
In hopes that I can catch it up
And mend the gap that renders me
Invisible and useless.

ljm

How many ways are there to hate
To loathe, despise, and vilify.
How many fantasies can you build
Where evil returns to those who birthed it.

How many kinds are there of hate.
Cold as an ice floe or burning hot.
Sharper than a scalpel blade, or
Duller than a breaking heart.

How do you work with so much hate.
Build a stair and climb above it
Or fabricate a prison cell
That robs you of the sun.

How do you learn to  swallow hate
And **** it out the other end
Without it tearing up your guts
And leaving you a *******.

How do you spell the names of hate
In blood or bile on ***** walls -
Or glitter on the seaside sand
While waiting for the tide to ebb.

How do you give back so much hate -
Fed Ex will not deliver it.
A carrier pigeon could not fly
With such a heavy parcel.

How do you juggle such mountains of hate
And not miss a catch and be buried.
How do you drop it at the edge of the road
And travel on unburdened.

Please, somebody, tell me.
                         ljm

I’ll be there when you call
I’ll be there if you fall
In you I’ve found my future
I’ll be there
I’ll be there

I will watch while you sleep
I will hold you when you weep
My eternal love won't fail you
I'll be there
I'll be there
                      ljm

I’ll be there when you call
I’ll be there if you fall
In you I’ve found my future
I’ll be there
I’ll be there

I will watch while you sleep
I will hold you when you weep
My eternal love won't fail you
I'll be there
I'll be there
ljm

We’ve given our souls to Facebook
We naively took the hand
Of those who offered us candy
Laced with mind controlling words.

And we, like sheep, converged around
The lies and obfuscations,
Believing everything was true,
Ignoring shadows in the looking glass.

Everything keeps changing
But it always stays the same.
Those who see the stop signs
Are run down by those who don’t.

Our lives are full of ***** dishes
And our dreams are thick with dust.
The sun comes up, so we feel fine.
Who notices the storm clouds.

We worship at the small blue square,
Heeding the Siren’s deceptive song.
We offer up intelligence
On the altar made of midnight tweets.

Sleepwalker-like, we stumble on,
Convinced there is no cliff ahead,
That what the Judas Goat proclaimed
Will see us safely on our way.

We put up photos of our meals
And morph our face to kittens.
We have a thousand friended friends
But not a one who knows us.

We’ve sold our souls to the internet.
It cost us everything we had,
And now we can no longer see
We teeter on the precipice,
ljm

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

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

Sometimes you have to run really fast
To keep the dark from catching up with  you.
ljm - I think

Agony is dripping off of me.
It’s leaving puddles that will spoil the rug.
I’m tracking footprints of it
All across the kitchen floor.

My misery is a shrieking wail
That has the local canines all on edge,
And could entertain by breaking glass.

My hopelessness is fog so thick
I cannot see across the room.
It snuffs out any candles lit.

And yet you do not notice
You do not see
You do not hear
You do not know my flame’s gone out.

How am I to make you share
This awful death I’m dying -
Or must I do it all alone.
ljm

Sweetly reaching for my hand
A rattlesnake curls up in yours.
Smiling oh-so-carefully
To hide your poison pellet
Delivered with a kiss.

Platitudes and honeyed words
With fishhook barbs inside them.
Lies disguised as candy bars
Offered out with sticky fingers
Mostly crossed behind your back.

Promising that all is peaceful
And there’s no danger to be seen.
Alarms and sirens drown those words
And say my world is burning here,
And sinking in a morass there.

If only words were scimitars
To slash a way to truthfulness
And cut the evil from the hearts
That proclaim love for one and all
And secretly deliver hate.
ljm

There is nothing
All the jars and cans
Sit empty on the shelves.
There is no hope for more.
The roads to everywhere are closed.
And Greyhound doesn’t stop here any more.

Everything is nebulous.
The equipment is all broken down
And rusting outside in the rain.
We ordered from a catalog
But never got a shipment back,
And our check was never cashed.

There is nothing in the pipeline.
The doorbell doesn’t seem to work.
The screen door has a hole in it,
Patched with pages
Ripped from next week’s calendar,
And the phone declines to ring.

Everything is over now,
The happy times
Are past and gone.
All that’s left to us is weeping
And the Kleenex box is empty,
So the tears make puddles on the floor.

All we see through tear filled eyes:
Another day in paradise.
            ljm

This country is in dire straits
The great unwashed now
Outnumber the intelligencia
And truth and facts
No longer rule the day.
The gates are swinging open
For the Robber Barons to hold sway
As Gaia begs for mercy.
Everything is up for sale
Including honesty and souls.
The sexiest thing obtainable
Is power in it’s crudest form.
No female DNA is safe.
Children learn it all by five
And **** themselves by ten.
The One Percent hold all the cards-
The rest of us use credit
With totals we can never pay.
Everything is Monetized
Except unwanted children-
No one’s solved that problem yet.
Now adults can choose their gender
And switch it any day they choose.
Families are multicolored
And a Peacock is a service bird.
Rainy days do not get saved for,
College loans are never paid.
The Holier-Than-Us are ruling
In their God promoting way
Wearing masks of indignation
To cover their own iniquity.
Even though the sun still shines
The rain pours down, the snow piles up-
It’s one endless epic storm
As Six-pack Joe heads off to work
To earn almost not quite enough.

Will we crumble - will we thrive
Only if the voters rock the boat
And throw the pirates overboard.
ljm

Hindered by the need for practicality,
The song that longs to heal the world
Remains unsung.
The steps that would have mended broken spirits
Remain undanced.

Blinded by the need to see reality
The cotton candy dawning clouds
Turn stormy gray.
The breeze that eases all the doubt and fear
Grows into a howling gale

Deafened by the clarion call of duty
The cries of broken little birds
Cannot be heard.
The words that float on images of grace and beauty
Remain unwritten.

Stunted by the evil of aphasia
The verses that could have lived forever
Lie entangled on the tablet.
The Laurel wreath that had my name on it
Lies now withered on the floor.
                  ljm

I’ve stayed
I didn’t want to but I didn’t leave
I trudge on as the years unfold

Why, you ask
Because you came
You left it all at painful cost and came

Even though
You brought me copper, never gold
Still, it was genuine, too pure to cast aside
In hopes of finding richer ore

So I’m still here
In places I don’t want to be
Doing things not what I want to do
For reasons I’m not privy to

I try
But find my arms too short
To reach the blossoms I should plck
To decorate the gift I cannot give

I dress in guilt
And hope nobody notices
That the empress is naked
And everyone can see but you

I’ve cried
Because the both of us are robbed
Of what might have been a symphony
Except there are no violins,
No cellos or violas

And the drums play only heavy metal
The concertmaster called in sick
And the woodwinds are all drunk
There’s only karaoke now

Yet here we are
In places we don’t like, doing things we do not like
Looking for some meaning hidden in the wind and sun
To be the reason that we stay.

ljm

I enjoy all kinds of music
Though Country suits me best
I like to dance the Two-step
To the rhythms of the West

I  do enjoy Top 40
I play Long Hair in the car.
But when my heart is breakin’
I want to hear a steel guitar.

Jazz is not my thing at all
Least favorite by far
There is no sound in music
Better than a steel guitar

I went and learned to Disco
Though the two-step’s more my style
And I can handle RB sounds
If it’s only for a while

When I’m happy, I like boogie
When it’s played loud in a bar
But if my heart is achin’
Nothing beats a steel guitar

When everything’s considered
I like all the songs there are
But when my soul gets weary
I need to hear a steel guitar.
                            ls/ljm

Our President jets off for a luxury holiday in Florida
While America stands in the food lines.
Those you’ve pardoned will eat well tonight
But the rest will eat donated sausage.

You need to cover all the mirrors
In the halls of Mara Lago
The evil they’ll reflect of you
Will burn away the silver.

Enjoy your golf and ***** and friends
Lots of goodies wrapped for Baron
More diamonds for Melania
Who likely figures one more year

Til she can be rich and truly free.
We don’t have to wait a year -
Only thirty-one more days.
We’ll still be poor, but we’ll be free.
                   ljm

Discontent and boredom battle mightily
To see which owns my addled wit.
Rain streaks down the kitchen windows
Making worm-like shadows on the floor.

The need to move nips at my torpor
And reads my dictionary of excuses
As I stare at crumbs on the tablecloth
And wish I had another biscuit.

What’s gone wrong, I can’t make right.
I’m stuck here with no options
And I don’t care which way it goes;
I’m too busy being grumpy.

There’s a cricket hidden in the hallway
Nine days now and it just won’t die.
The muted chirping stops and starts,
Loud enough to be annoying

But not enough to be a mask and hide
The thunder of my disappointment
When clouds and rain refuse to leave
And I am left with only empty musings.

My hands aren’t pretty any more.
They used to pose so gracefully
But time has bruised and twisted them
And they no longer reach out to be seen.

That’s just another loss to ponder:
Take a number - stand in line.
Everything depresses me, and then...
There’s that mother-******* cricket!
              ljm

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

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

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

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

I wonder what she’s doing today
In her life that I have no part of.
Does she ever wonder what I do all day
Or how often I may think of her.

Does she go about her day
An orphan by her careful choice,
Getting what she needs from friends
And free from my side’s family tree.

Does she meet the mothers of her friends
Comparing them to me
In the distorted image I hold in her mind
That paints me as some toxic monster.

She says I chose this husband over her -
I thought that I could have them both.
It seemed that way at the beginning
A little anger and then peace.

But then a shrink came on the scene
And everything unraveled.
Her every ill became big issues
And I was made the villain.

She said she’s getting married
I’ve never  met the  man
I know I’m not invited
And she has not told me when.

Her day of celebration
Will be my day of tears.
Another piece of heartbreak
To last me through the years.
ljm

With a one TRACK
mind, vast determination and a CRESCENT
smile, she set out to DRIVE
a ROUTE
that she hoped would BYPASS
the pitfalls of the low ROAD,
and carry her to a HIGHWAY
that would lead to AVENUES
of success in her search for Primrose LANE,
the BOULEVARD
of dreams and easy STREET.

She paused to MEWS
on her plans and decided that she’d WALK
the CIRCLE
forest PATH
around the public GARDENS
at the bottom of the CUL DE SAC,
but the TRAIL
through the GROVE
was muddy and the gate was about to CLOSE,
so she thought it best to hit the ROAD
and be on her WAY
before she ended up in COURT
asking the judge to OVERLOOK
her trespass in the PARK
          ljm

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

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

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

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

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

What is “stuff” you ask?  What on earth does it mean?
It’s easy to know, but hard to explain.
It’s one of those words with a dozen “faces”
That can be used in so many different places.

When you pull out that one kitchen drawer
And it’s full of everything from a key ring to a flashlight,
To a package of gum, a pencil and a screwdriver,
That drawer is full of miscellaneous “stuff.”  

When you go to the store and then to the bank
Next to the florist and then to the barber and
Anywhere else you might have on your list,
You are out and about, and just doing “stuff”.

When your shoes are by the VCR and your shirt’s
Across the chair, while your jacket’s on the
Sofa, and your clothes are everywhere
Your mother or your room mate may have a word to say
Like “Would you gather up those things and put your “stuff” away.

“Stuff and nonsense” is an old time saying often
Interjected when a speaker runs amok
With nonsense on a foolish theme or topic.
Stuff in this case scolds the speaker
For deluging you with verbal *******.

When someone is showing off and doing it quite well
The skills he shows are called that word
That’s why they say he “struts his stuff.”
Someone with  lot of learning about a special thing
Is told by his admirers that he “really knows his stuff.”

This is the stuff of arguments, I think you might agree.
I hope you learned a little, because it all came for free.
ljm

She said she didn’t feel good.
They said what else is new.
She said this time it’s different.
They said we’ve heard that too.

She said I think I’m dying
They said give us a break.
She said I’m even crying
They said those tears are fake.

She said I think you’ll miss me.
They said you haven’t gone.
She said it’s getting darker.
They said don’t carry on.

She closed her eyes in silence.
They said come on let’s go.
Her form grew cold and rigid
At last they had to know.

She wasn’t just pretending.
The thing she fought was real.
Her story had no ending.
And her life book they could seal.

They said we’ve been so stupid.
Uncaring and unkind.
She tried and tried to show us
But we were just too blind.

And now she’s gone forever.
Who’s going to run this place.
They don’t know which they’ll miss more-
Her efforts or her face.
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

When the rising winter sun
Whispers a blush of peachy pink
On the evening’s steel blue clouds,
I know that I am home and safe,
In my small but ever busy world.
ljm

Looking like white cotton ***** pulled and stretched
Til they are thin as gauze and wispySpread across the morning sky
With other clouds that ripple like enormous corduroy.
I see them as I step out on my daily sunrise walk.
Up sloping streets, down slanted lanes,
I revel in this twilight of the night time.

Knowing there will be a show to take my breath away,
I climb the rubbled hill that separates our steeets
From those across the access road. It’s very steep
And I place my feet with caution on the narrow path.
It would’t do to slip and tumble down the rocky *****.
I walk the ridge-line - half a mile - avoiding
All the off-road tracks that scar the tumbled surface,
Making daring runs across and up and down the steepness

First the bottom of the clouds turn Cotton Candy pink,
Just at the horizon line of jagged, distant mountains.
Then as I watch, the color seeps across the other clouds
Until the morning sky resembles bubble gum.
As quickly as it comes, it fades and takes a golden hue
That gradually turns pink to gold, as the clouds
All change their dresses.
The indigo of the pre-dawn sky plugs in to nature’s power
And the sky begins to glow a neon azure blue.

A flash on the horizon line announces the
First shimmer-glimmer of the sun
As it wakes up and stretches arms across the sky,
And all the pink and gold goes home until tomorrow.
At which point I do the same.
         ljm

Am I to die with you still hating me
For something I never knew I did?
Has nothing I have done for you
In these last thirty-five heartbroken years
Earned me a tiny bit of your forgiveness?

I am old and sick and growing weak,
And life’s a struggle every day.
Your anger is a load almost too
Heavy for me to carry now,
But I can’t put it down because

My love for you has never wavered
And I nurture a small flame of hope
That some day you will realize
That I did the very best I could
With what I knew of parenting.

That I tried with all my heart to be
The television mom you longed for
And to master all the rules attached
That were impossible because
I couldn’t get past being who I am.

I so regret my imperfections
And the moments when I failed.
I’d give the last years of my life
To have a chance to try again
And maybe get it right this time.
          ljm

SURVEY

They took a survey of the world
To see how it was doing
The end result was horrible-
It’s gone to wrack and ruin.

Nobody stops if you fall down
Unless you’re dressed up nice.
There is no help for homeless folk-
Respect comes at a price.

Rudeness is the latest trend.
Coarse language is the norm.
All signs of courtesy are gone
As life has changed its form.

We seek a way to monetize
Each ordinary thing.
If I lend hand to you
Cash registers must ring.

The bullets fly so fast and far
We don’t try to keep track,
Whether it’s a hundred kids
Or one shot in the back.

The old wild west has come again.
The cowboys now are cops.
They’ve beaten up so many guys
You wonder if it ever stops.

The kids are smoking Bubble Gum
If they’re not smoking crack.
The age for drinking starts at ten
And we can’t give their childhoods back.

What can we do if we can’t hide,
And have to face the fact
That we have truly ****** the world
And there can be no going back.

We’ll have to live with what we’ve done
And who we have become
If we could make a tiny change
It might not be so glum.

But that will never come to be
And I just sit and seethe
While waiting for that coming day
When there’s no air to breathe.
           ljm

The cygnet scorns the swan
And swims in ever wider circles.
Downstream roars the waterfall
And overhead a falcon swoops.
             ljm

Shackled each one hand and foot
They’re loaded roughly onto
Transport planes like cattle
On their way to slaughter.

No luggage goes aboard with them -
Not a toothbrush in a pocket
Or a candy bar to hold them.
Were they even notified- of course not.

What country are they they going to
And what is it they’ll do there?
Who is going to meet their plane?
Who will remove their shackles?

Are there concentration camps
For lack of else to send them?
Will they be caged like chicken farms
Or stacked like hay in barn lofts?

Music for this grim tableau:
“The Plane wreck at Los Gatos”
Sung mournfully by Joan Baez
Who’s seen this debacle before.

Who ordered up this travesty -
This evil on TV Paraded?
Why was there no better way
To send unwelcome people home?
                   ljm

The writing on the wall is not graffiti.
It was not put there by rebel hands.
It’s written in an obscure language
Few will take the time to learn
And even fewer heed its warning.

The writing lists the reasons
For the coming of the Horsemen.
The steeds that carry avenging riders
Wearing mantles made of
Fire and flood, earthquake and war.

The writing on the wall is flaming
With incendiary anger at the people
Who will not read what’s written there,
Having armed themselves in black chain mail
Forged from avarice and greed.

They shed no thought for fellow man
Or for the world that holds them all.
They lust for power that money brings
And dollars are the only God they worship.
They’ll never read what’s written on the wall.

There is a whinny on the rising breeze
That carries smoke from nearby fires,
And subtle poundings on the ground
Foretell the coming of the herd with
Flaming brands that match the wall
ljm

I’ve learned to live without you
More and more each day.
I try to put a poem up
But get a Bad Gateway.

When at last I get on site
My write goes straight to ‘draft’.
Trying to get it on my page
Takes every ounce of craft.

Is it even worth my time
When everything’s a struggle.
When I can’t post the words I pen
I feel just like a Muggle.

Other places on the net
Will post the things I write
So I just may go over there
And tell Hello, Goodnight.
       ljm

I want to be the lady who
                had a dainty stone teahouse
                                     built on the tiny island in
  the middle of Emerald Bay
                      in South Lake Tahoe,
accessible only by
          the little yellow boat with
                            the scalloped awning over it,
   which she kept by the dock
                              below Vikingsholm,
her glorious stone-built castle
                                       in the nearby pine trees.
Who is she?  
          Who was she?  
                   Why couldn’t I have been her?
                                                           ljm

Why couldn’t you have been hateful-
Make it easier for me to go.
Why couldn’t you have been cheating
And I’d been the last one to know.

Why couldn’t you be indifferent
Not caring if I go away.
Why must I see your heart breaking
And want to, but know I can’t stay.  
                  *  ljm

I find myself in a terrible state
Too old to be young and too young to be old

I am indeed in a terrible state
Too rich to be poor and too poor to be rich

No escaping this terrible state
Too weak to be strong and too strong to be weak

How do I deal with this terrible state
Too smart to be dumb and too dumb to be smart

I’ll just learn to live with this terrible state
Too sad to be glad and too glad to be sad
ljm

Forty years in this old house
It’s filled with treasures lacking worth
To anyone expecting gold,
But priceless in the life recalled.

The warnings came a week ago-
A cataclysmic storm they said
Stock up water and food to eat
That won’t require electricity.

I laid in water and granola bars
And put some things in plastic bags
I wrote my ID on my forearm
Feeling silly as I did.

I moved things to the second floor
Assuring them of some protection
I wish I could have carried more
But the rain was knocking on the door.

It came seeping underneath
And as I watched, it soaked the rug.
Not satisfied with ruined carpet
It crept up the sofa’s skirt.

What am I still doing here
They said do not evacuate
So I am forced to watch the death
Of all I worked so hard to own.

I’s almost knee deep in the kitchen
Where’s my hammer and crow bar
Dang! they’re both out in the shed
I should have thought to bring them in.

It’s lucky I don’t have a pet
No dog or cat or bird or fish
Another life to fret about
When I can barely save my own.

The water’s nearly hip deep now
And rising at a hellish rate
The walls are shaking from the pressure
It’s time for me to move upstairs.

The rain’s a wall I can’t see through
I don’t know how my neighbors fare.
The power’s out - the house is silent
Except for the drumming of the rain.

My lantern is the only light -
How long will the batteries last.
Oh Lord, I’m starting to get frightened
Water’s coming up the stairs, silent as a burglar.

They said don’t go into the attic
Get up on the roof instead.
They didn’t tell us how to do that
How to break ceiling and shingles.

I’m old - I’ve lost the strength of youth
I don’t think I can get up there.
If the water keeps on rising
I must prepare to meet my maker

All I love live far away
Are they as frantic now as me
Will a neighbor come and find me
My cel phone battery just died

Still the ugly, ***** water
Inches further up the stairs.
The old house shudders in the windy gusts
And I can’t keep my fingers steady

I just wrote something on the wall-
A farewell to my family
They should know I thought of them
As water seeps across this floor.

I’ve broken out a window
Over the submerged porch
There’s no point in going out it
I’d only just be swept away.

The water’s almost knee deep here too
I know it’s never going to stop
It’s foolish to stand up on a chair
I’ll say my prayers and go to bed

I’m sure that only God can save me
Neighbors have their problems too.
I’ve lived for eighty happy years
It’s time to shake the hand of fate.

I wonder what it’s like, this drowning
They say you see your life again.
That almost makes it worth the going
Except the sadness left behind.

The bed clothes now are wet and sopping
I never knew I could feel so cold
There’s a rumble in the distance
Like a giant waterfall.

Growing closer like a jet plane
What do you suppose it is
Now the house is really shaking
And I can

ljm