Built on land stolen from the natives
On the back of blacks who were
stolen from their own land.

Indigenous slaughtered like the buffalo they herded
Rounded up and marched into unwanted corners
There to starve until oil was discovered
And it became time to march them again.

Blacks who were declared to be less than human
Denied the right to do anything but work.
Families that were like grapes in a cluster
Ripe for the picking off of the best ones
And no thought given to those left behind.
Premiums paid for those enceinte,
Harbingers of the two-for-one sale.

Righteous blindness is a national disease
That overlooks the broken teacups
In the mad pursuit of tea.
That cannot see the trampled flowers
In the race to make perfume
That reeks self satisfaction
At the carnage left behind
And waves the flag of liberty
At those the cause enslaved.
                              ljm

TP’s back on the market shelves
Easy to find Purell
Lots of bleach for you to drink
And lots of gloves to sell
Clap Hands

Numbers go up instead of down
Nobody’s staying home
They all go out without a mask
When they decide to roam
Clap hands

Everyone’s invincible
“It couldn’t strike me down”
I’m an invisible carrier
Busy all over town
Clap hands, clap hands

I feel a tickle in my throat
And a little raspy cough
It’s getting sort of hard to breathe
I need to take time off
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

NO more clapping of the hands
Now is the time to pray
That you’ll survive this killer big
And live another day
Go wash those hands, don’t clap them.
ljm

TP’s back on the market shelves
Easy to find Purell
Lots of bleach for you to drink
And lots of gloves to sell
Clap Hands

Numbers go up instead of down
Nobody’s staying home
They all go out without a mask
When they decide to roam
Clap hands

Everyone’s invincible
“It couldn’t strike me down”
I’m an invisible carrier
Busy all over town
Clap hands, clap hands

I feel a tickle in my throat
And a little raspy cough
It’s getting sort of hard to breathe
I need to take time off
Clap hands, clap hands, clap hands

NO more clapping of the hands
Now is the time to pray
That you’ll survive this killer big
And live another day
Go wash those hands, don’t clap them.
ljm

Cobras of the desert
Copperheads and Rattle Snakes
Never seen in coiled up form.
Multi-jointed, multi-colored,
Listen to their clickety
Clack clack rattle
As they slither quickly
Across the scorching desert
In segments one mile long.

Their tracks are almost hidden
Beneath the scrubby sagebrush
Baking in the sun beside Route 66
And arcing off across the sand
In every which direction.

They scar the empty wasteland
In a spider web design
That goes on until forever,
And meets itself at
Precise angles
In the burning emptiness.

Serpents of the God of Commerce,
Following the tracks of others.
Kaleidoscope of moving patterns,
Always changing, still the same.

Cobras of the desert
Never rearing up to strike,
Fleeing as if somehow startled ,
Never turning back, they fly
Off to unknown times and places
Leaving flaming desert sands behind.
ljm

When an era ends a bell should ring
Even if it’s only tiny.
When the Curtain falls for the final time
The cast should get a flower.
When it’s all used up and there is no more
Someone should close the cupboard.
When the time is up and the whistle blows
We should all put down our hammers.

Sometimes the end is loud and brash
Sometimes as silent as sunrise
But which-ever way it comes to be
It always seems to be too soon.
It seems there should be one more try
Or even just an epilogue, instead
A note was posted on the door
And the era of folk music quietly ended.
             ljm

I knocked on the mansion door of life                                
And was told the servants entrance
Was downstairs, around the back.
And please vacate this entrance.
ljm

The
        sudden chill
    that marked
the
     end
  of last
         month
      surprised me
   because
   the weather
     forecast
  said
      it would stay
warm
  perhaps
warmer than
  was
   comfortable
     for
   this time
    of my year
I was surprised
but not
dismayed
       because my
   summer
   clothes
      were packed
     away a long
   long time ago
   and
I was not
          sure
If I’d find
something
safe for me
             to wear.
     ljm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hatred isn’t black - it’s not that pretty-
It’s that dun color greeny-muddy-brown -
The color of dirt around a rusted pipe.
It’s the color you get when you mix
Red and yellow and Blue together.
A hideous shade without a useful purpose,
And stirring in some white won’t help it.
The only thing to do is scrape your palate clean,
Wash out all your brushes and begin again.
ljm

It’s never gonna be my turn
I stand in line and pay my fare
But the bus is full when I get there
And someone else is in my seat.
ljm

All alone in an unhappy place
Where all the walls are mirrors
And ugliness is looking back
No matter which way I may turn.

There doesn’t seem to be a door-
Just only mirrored walls and ceiling.
The cold floor hurts my shoeless feet
As endlessly I pace in circles.

The crowd of people in the glass
Have followed me for many years
Behind the curtains - in the shade-
Never coming face to face.

But here they now encounter me
With looks of reprehension…
And all I have to offer them
Are bitter tears of sad regret
ljm

A thousand tailors stitching in the darkness
Cutting grotesque patterns from the whole cloth
And fitting them to phantom saviors
Who are fat or thin depending on the day

They use colored threads and wishful thinking
That tends to break at awkward moments
Leaving a garment tenuously sturdy
Until the moment when it’s not

As waterproof as cotton candy
As close fitting as an id
As cost effective as a wedding
As colorful as oil on water.

The garments must all be delivered-
A shiny new one every sunset.
Tailors strive to meet their quotas
Such urgent need for what they make.

They must replace the fraying tatters
Spattered with the grime of loathing
captured from the filthy air
And the footprints etched in mud.

They must fill closets ever empty
Though FedEx comes by every night.
It’s Cinderella’s slipper syndrome
When the clock hands stand up straight.

Tailors with their bleeding fingers
Have no idea what they make
And who will wear it for what purpose.
That’s why they labor in the dark.
ljm

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

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

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

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

And everything will have been for nothing.
ljm

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Acrostic

Diana is spinning in her grave
To see Camilla crowned as Queen.
The living proof that if you ****
Yourself in the highest places
There is a chance you’ll wear a crown.

And if you put on Goodie’s 2 Shoes
You still cannot disguise the dirt
You wallowed in to win the prize
That rightfully belonged to Di.
ljm

Oh my. I made a booboo.  I said in my interview that I had played Bardo's word game in the past.  Well it was actually BLT's word game, and I hadn't played it recently so I had a senior moment and credited it to Bardo, another HP friend, who hastened to tell me of my error.
I apologize to BLT and hope he'll forgive me, both for denying him his credit due and also for not keeping on playing the word game.
If you've never joined the fun, google Merriam Webster's word of the day and use it in a write.  If you do, let BLT know, as  he keeps a log.
If you need an example, look at things written by Anais Vionet.  She is a master at it. Again....apologies to my dear friend BLT.

I’m wearing red today
It matches the drops from my broken heart
And the crumpled hopes it held inside.

I’m wearing red today
It matches the seething, volcanic anger
That my love should be so spitefully disdained.

I’m wearing red today
It matches my eyes, bloodshot from weeping
Over things I did not do but have to pay for.

I’m wearing red today
I wonder if the blue veins in my wrist
Would empty grief in crimson red across the floor.
                  ljm

The light at the end of the tunnel was a firefly
Bright and so exciting, and just as quickly gone
                          ljm

Crying will not help.
  It only nourishes the weeds
    That block the entrance to your goals.

Crying never helps.
  It only muddies up the path
    That takes you you to a better place.

Crying is a waste of time.
  It just delays the work it takes
    To get around the obstacles in life.
              ljm

I’ve been a lot of places
And gazed into their heavens
But nothing tops the fluffy white
Clouds that float above Nevada.

Voluptuous whip cream tumbles,
Drifts that could be brand new snow,
Arrayed across a sky so blue
It can’t believe itself is real.

No yellow tinge or smokey blur
Those clouds explode beneath the sun
And often times play hide-and-seek
When it becomes the afternoon

They almost never carry rain
Even when  their base turns dark
They tease the desert sands that way
Then on a whim they wend away.
ljm

The curtain now has fully closed-
So why am I still on this stage
Declaiming words I never wrote.

Why am I in fancy costume, with
Heavy makeup on my face
To hide the wrinkles of my failings
And paint me as a thespian.

Cast in a play they say I’ve written
With a pen that's never touched my hand
And a last act that I’ve never seen.

I haven’t learned the blocking yet,
So I don’t know which way to move
Or which door I should exit through
And what will be my final lines.

As lights go down from the Interval
The audience regains their seats
To watch me in the final scene.
  ^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^~^
It’s over so I bow to scant applause
And no one comes to hand me flowers.
I stumble as the lights go slowly out,
And make my way from memory
To my dressing room down a dusty hall
Where I will take this garish makeup off
And walk home as the girl I really am.
                        ljm

Evil has gotten itself a gun
              The end of the world has just begun.
                              ljm

On a dark cloudy day in a forest
The sun peeps through
The branches of my soul
And warms me.

In a gloomy, silent woodland
A bird I cannot see
Begins to sing the beating of my heart
And cheers me.

Hope, like a butterfly’s cocoon just opening
Springs into view
When brambles are pushed aside,
And I discover life again.

And thank the fates
I lasted long enough to do it.
ljm

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

Five O’clock in the morning
And I’ve been crying for two hours
There is no ever after
The locked door has no key
The sun will rise to darkness
And I’m where I belong

I bought the knife that stabs me
Spent every dime I had
It looked so pretty in the case
I thought that I could cut a swath
Through all the strings that bound me
And at last be free to fly

It didn’t work that way
It cut the ties to all I love
And left me just the ragged edges
So now the fabric fades and frays
And will not make a parachute
To save me as I fall.
ljm

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

In my weary soul I hear the drums
That mark the cadence of expiring.
The beat is irresistible
And though my feet are torn and bloodied
I can not but take another steep.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

The road has been a rocky path
With danger just around the bends
And bandits in the roadside trees
Notching arrows to their bows.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom

Another day, another hour.
How many minutes are left to me.
How many more steps must I take
Before the drum turn into violins
And I am free to join the Minuet.

Ba-doom,  Ba-doom,  Ba-doom-doom-doom
ljm

I do not plan to exit meekly.
I aim to be drug into that twilight
Tightly clutching the shirt-tails of my life
Hanging on by teeth and toenails.
ljm

The chill is seeping
Through my sweatsuit
As I walk this
Cold December morning

My cheeks feel icy-
My nose is red.
(Rudolph will not get
The best of me.)

A con-trail rips
Across the sunrise sky -
White slash against
The pink-tinged blue.

An increasing yellow glow
Begins to seep its way
Slowly down the
Jagged mountains.

And the gentle rising
Of the Winter Sun
Gives promises
Of warmth and comfort.

To a world in need of both.
                                ljm

At every forking of the road
I took the one less traveled.
And then I found to my dismay
The reason it was bypassed.
ljm

I thought that I had cried enough
But I was sadly wrong.
Full thirty years was way too short
To cure the injuries I caused.

A tear can only heal so much.
It takes a torrent to begin
To wash away the kind of hurt
That flares up on a random day.

It takes the peaceful weeks between
To make the pain more sharply felt
When it comes back, tied to a word,
A song or photograph.

It takes an education
To learn how to make a smile
Across a face that’s etched in sorrow
And convince the world it’s real.

It takes a will to lift the load
And carry it another day,
When there is nothing but more days
And tears that need to fall ahead.

I thought that I had cried enough
But I was so mistaken.
There is no sign that says you’re done
And you are free to go now.
ljm

I try to see the beauty in a rose
But it smells just like a **** to me.

My pen is filled with lovely words
That I can’t put on paper.

My heart’s aware that it’s been robbed
Of everything that’s velvet

But it beats on in vain attempt
To recognize a bluebird.
ljm

Mirror mirror on the wall
Who told the biggest lies of all


A tisket a tasket
He just flipped a gasket


Red Rover Red Rover
Let warheads come over


One, two skip to my Lou
Three, four, you’ll start a war
Five, six, you’re in a fix
Skip to my Lou, my darling.
Seven, eight, it’s just too late
Nine, ten, you'll never win
Skip to my Lou, my darling.


Here we go Lupti Lou
Here we go Lupti Lie
Here we go Lupti Lou
Why don’t you lay down and die


Ring around the Rosey
A pocket full of posers
Bashes, Crashes
The World falls down


Mary, Scary, quite contrary
How does your evil grow
With fire drill bells and armored shells
And dead bodies all in a row.
ljm

Once upon a time  in a far away land
Of silken air and fragrant flowers
There lived a spirit bird with golden wings.
The song it sang was dragonflies
And dew drops on white lilies.

It flew in swooping arcs of joy
And floated on the crystal waters
Dreaming dreams of fleecy purple clouds
And meadows filled with poppies
Blooming in the morning sun.

In this land the air was still
And crisp as a fresh picked apple.
No wayward breeze disturbed the calm
Or rustled through the lacy trees
To blur the whispers of serenity.

The bird felt subtle longings for
Another time, another place
It knew it did not want to go.
A place of harsh realty
And ugly opportunities

Where nothing worked the way it should
And people failed on every hand
For only trying to exist.
There was no music, only growls
And the air was thick with worry.

Fighting back the urge to go
And try to somehow make things better
The mystic bird with gilded wings
Found it could no longer fly
And so the choice had been made for it

To stay among the music and the flowers,
In the golden summer light of yesterday.
             ljm

THE ANGRY WATERS
that recoiled and threatened a tsunami
lie placid now, bacalmed and still
as shiny as a glass topped dining table

THE HOWLING WINDS
that longed to be a hurricane
have settled into zephyrs and soft breezes
that barely riff the petals of the autumn roses

THE RAGING THUNDER
that tried so hard to break the windows
has rolled on and is nothing but a distant echo
that recedes as fast as memories of childbirth pain

THE VICIOUS RAIN
that threatened to go flooding
has slacked off into a gentle winter mist
that wraps the dawning sun in silken haloes

THE VOLCANIC FLAMES
that lept across the sky as lightning
have danced across the hills to other valleys
leaving only ozone to mark where they have been

AND I AM SPARED AND WHOLE
Unwounded and unscarred
Undamaged by their passing
Unscathed in places that should bleed
And safe in who I plan to be
At last the God of Hope
Has noticed me
And offered me
His hand to take
And walk into
Tomorrow.
          ljm

She walks out in the morning sunrise
And never notices the sky.
She sees the cracks across the blacktop
And the cigarette butts hiding there.

She see the runnel in the gutter
From overwatering the lawns
But never looks above her shoulder
to see the cloud-forms in the sky.

Her gaze is always pointed downward
As if there’s money on the ground
And she will be the one to find it,
Not caring that the sky is gold.

She maybe sees a flower blooming
In another neighbor’s yard
But doesn’t spot the humming bird
That darts among the blossoms.

A fog of gloom hangs over her
Obscuring every scene
She has no wish to brighten up
She is depression’s Queen.
                               ljm

My little plot is
Shared with nothing else
Alive and growing.
I struggle
But I somehow survive
In a sprawling field
With all my many brothers,
Each with their own
Similar sized space,
All reaching for the
Seldom falling drops
That mean we live or die
In this Mojave land
Of blazing sun,
Where nothing moves
But two-hundred car
Container trains
Pulled by four orange engines.
I am the King of
Thirty-six square feet
Of gravel, rock and sand
Nothing that intrudes
Will live for very long
Because I put my roots down first
And any rain that falls
Is mine.
                 ljm

DESERT RAIN

A few stars in a broken sky
The moon plays tag with scudding clouds
Creating Rembrandt vistas in the night,
Setting the scene for thunder’s roll,
Which triggers the evening lightning show
And introduces the deluge.

A seven minute Niagara Falls
That drowns the desert landscape
But never sires a blossom or a shoot
To open in the days to come.

It just arrives and quickly goes
With nothing left behind but mud
And canceled Flash Flood warnings.

And it’s all gone come the morning,
Nothing left behind but damp
And pebbles washed onto the road.

ljm

Calendars say it now is summer
So we gird for a three month war.
The object won’t be victory
We’ve battled this before.

To conquer is impossible
There’s unrelenting heat
That’s burning hot at 3 A.M.
And noon is a repeat.

There never is a cooling breath.
The breeze does not refresh.
It parches what it does not fry
And laughs at shading mesh.

Each day’s a battle to achieve
What little must be done
And hope you needn’t go outside
Beneath that scorching sun.

Mark exes on the calendar -
October is so far away
But that becomes the shining goal
We struggle for each day

We ask ourselves if we are nuts
To wage this war each year
But once the Desert owns your heart
You have to linger near.
      ljm

Fate is a neon-lit pinball machine
And I am a little steel ball
Dodging the "tilt" sign as best I can
                                           ljm

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

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

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