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Fiery red,  rage free

Greens have gone into slumber

Hope and peace awaits


Strangely

It is

People

Versus / For

People

Mostly missing

“All”
Trying to be a part of all

We are all but
Images
In the eyes of others
perceived
In one’s own
believed
The truth
The lies
Dire
Premise
Fire and ice
Sugar and spice
Ingredients to life
Diluted
Created
Distilled
Images


Riverfront path, lined with trees
The Temple, fresh flowers and incense
Peculiar the fragrance
Sound of Incantations and ringing bells
From a different time
Distant, yet so closely familiar
The memory of this place
They advertise Jergens Lotion
As a product that
Softens and smooths
But they can’t know
I have an emollient
Much better by far.
Your gentle voice
Softens my roughest edges
And your tender hands
Smooth out the wrinkles
In my soul.
     ljm
Good stuff, Jergens Lotion.  Been around forever.
Dancing in the midst of children
I writhe and dip and try in vain
To sidestep the unease that haunts me
And somehow spin away my pain.

This is the feast I was excused from
Long before I’d had my fill
Now I only watch the diners
Fresh come from my trough of swill.

I seek for caverns of forgiveness
Turning, gliding, bending  low
Reaching out in all directions
Stepping fast while the music’s slow.

Somewhere in the beat, nepenthe
Hidden in the mournful sound
Some small solace that might heal me
Help me back to solid ground.

Floating in the hazy twilight
Reeling from tobacco’s sting
I hide behind a veil of midnight
And listen to the words they sing.

Unknown to all by my design
I fight chameleon’s blending urges
And struggle to remain aloof
While searching for my futile purges.

Stretching muscles that complain
I swivel joints that protest loudly
Pushed by demons I can’t name
I hope that I can go down proudly.
    
As the thudding beat surrounds me
Pummeling my burdened brain
I wish that it could pound to flatness
Both my body and my pain.

Is there in this darkling cosmos
Any shelter for my broken soul
Or am I chasing moths on quicksand
Doomed to hold an empty bowl.
                                ljm
At a Goth dance club, trying to not be seen by my daughter, the DJ.
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