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A battle rages
This war of attrition
The mind shall not wither
And these old bones
Well they’ll just keep on going

It’s been 50 years
No winner no loser
Just the constant,  relentless
Indecision
Aimed with precision

It shall not end
Dug deep into foundations
No explanations
My burden my curse
My introduction

Madness depression
Just a spiritual recession
The good times don’t linger
The bad times leave their stench
Emotions cold like the butchers bench

And so it goes
Nobody knows
Just smile and wave
Live with your afflictions
Maybe your addictions
Only so few will truly care
An expansive existence
Wrapped tight in resistance
Then into the ether
The ambitious air of solitude
Are the Supremes gonna sing his song?
The one it took him four long years to write.
The one he and his choir auditioned in half
The states in what’s left of a Country.

Is the Nonet going to sing his melody
Or will they split into several quartets
Or perhaps a trio and two duets
With someone else taking the solo.

Are the Supremes gonna dance to his tune?
The rest of his orchestra turned him away
And the score calls for complicated steps
But he paid for their lessons in dishonest cash.

He provided new choir robes, with no lace collars
Does one size fit all, or are some too tight.
They insisted on black and refused MAGA red
In an effort to counterfeit decorum.

And still the question hangs in the air
Will the Supremes nonet sing his song.
Is the end of the world an impossible thought
Not if the Supremes agree to sing his song.
                          ljm
So the Orange man finally managed to get his case  all the way up to the Supreme Court, which he feels will, by some arcane system of math, reorder the election results to give him the presidency.  Stop laughing and wonder what would happen then. What WOULD happen then?  Maybe they won't like the tune and he'll be forced to take his final bow and leave the stage. Pray for it.
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
It was my favorite kind, and the last one in the package.  Small pleasures.
-

One day,

I found the letter "W" laid
face to the ground-
i knew this because it's center
was pushed downward,

like a nose in the dirt.

with every attempt i made
to stir it, it would only moan
and remain still, its thin arms
bent around backwards.

this is not the first time
iv'e seen a "W" laid out,
having witnessed many
letters and numerals bite
the dust of misplacement-

it is just the sad truth
of our language.

i found a cardboard box
and picked it up carefully,
making sure i didnt injure
the poor fellow further.

it looked up at me and
made a weak smile,
knowing we all make
mistakes—

upon it's passing away,
it was this expression
i remembered most
when i buried it
next to an
"M"...



-© 2020
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qf8MQgrxo58
i did not look for the last of the sun
i was glad
eventually

...
that i would sleep
and not see it rise again
and..
it would..

but without my eyes upon it

and i was glad
once i had made my peace
glad
that i would lay down
and be forgotten

our sacrifice
my sacrifice
would be our souls
my soul

in exchange for every living creature...
for them to thrive
in our infedelic absence
and i could, and would
gladly pay that price...

our lives
my life
for the innocence of all living creatures
all flora
all fauna
all land masses teeming with life
every ocean
even into the deep
every forest
with it's abundance
would flourish
in our absence

my peace is..
although i believe
i do not practice
although i believe
i do not preach
although i believe
i have no faith
my heart knows only the truth
so i bite my tongue
until it bleeds the lies of my love

i will hold my eyes open and willingly
sleepwalk into deaths decay
because my marrow does not believe
nor can i convince it

and so all things will perish
for this is the price of love

to perish
fully aware
able bodied
cognisant in my open eyed slumber
yet unwilling to discard the fruits of my womb
to dismember a mothers only begotten son
for she loved her child so much
that she could find peace
in never being brought to mind

forgotten for all time
even by god
even for god

and i will perish
knowing i have loved
and have been loved

i will be glad of my sacrifice
feeling eternal peace


so i did not look for the last of the sun
as i knew it had already set
plucks            all                 her

He                                         privacy

She                              moans
merrily
a tempestuous storm
blows through
the hollows
of her eyes

whining on the wind
as if a wolf,
howling it's sorrow
in cries of loss.
bereft,
it calls
into
the blackened sky

between the gaps
in her fingers  
the dust consumes
her skin
to bone

where brittle
wedding bands
slip
from her fingers
into the sodden grass
full of
mourning dew

dropping like cymbals
clattering
upon uneven ground.

thundering gales
tear through her ribs
borne of heartbeats
that roar misery

her bones
excavated marrow
bleaches white
in the sun,
dries to dust
and gladly falls
to nothing

her sorrow leaks
into her veins.
while
unrequited love
bristles
impatiently
at her torment


that ebb and flow
wither and die
gives her
solace
in her isolation


an eternal grounding

as loves tempest
mindlessly
wreaks utter
sorrow.

she hears the
wolves cry
  and she is too empty
to reply
Why does this keep happening.  .
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