Loved family but not like them
Some can't be alone bad mouthing others
Always stuck on the wrong person
Why be with someone if they are not a match
If you don't like them why pretend to love
Some able to handle their own company
While others look for it in other beings
Hoping they'll be complete one another
Cheating with an ex claiming to move on
Some are dark and twisted playing victim
Getting caught up actions have consequences
It came back around full circle

A scar that doesn't inspire
Will be nothing but a wild fire.
Feel your scars
Some of them are shining stars.

Eyes
In your mirror
Perfect

Every pigment irised
Each fleck of yellow and
Black lining

Deep
Reflection
Irridescent pools

Your eyes
In your mirror
Take me home

So another morning creeps,
Light leans around mountains.
Peeks surrounded by pastel clouds,
Sky becomes the canvas
To frame and then enchant us
Forever from our reach.
Allowed but a moment's peace
Far cry from warring reefs,
Seas of ire, oceans of grief.
The shore seems so sure
Till it breaks beneath our feet.

I’m sporting this new lipstick
it won’t fade, smudge or smear
I’ll be lucky if it wears off this year.

I’ve got this new eyeliner that’s like
a luxurious, glittering, penciled tattoo
Leong asked, “How do you get it off you?”

I unpacked these chemical wonders
to see if they’ve lost their luster
by being neglected since last summer.
    
When you study too much, you feel pent-up,
so my compadres and I chose to get dolled-up,
rolling-up to dinner, like beauty queens on parade,
and not just sophomore scrubs trying to make the grade.

views of the giraffe
kept by the elephant
freed by the wolf

The choice of an angry 'Smokey' or a Honey Locust tree would create a vexed farmer at the crossroads indeed .....

Whispers that morph into screeches
Disturb the strands that tenuously hold
The ragged edges of reality aloft
In storms of self recrimination and regret.

Slender stalks of rationality bend down
Beneath the weight of foolishness
Grown fat and heavy in indulgence
That is justified by cobwebs of desire.

The music in the background plays
On bagpipes and a penny-whistle band
While the conductor tries to turn them in
To violins and harpsichords, and fails.

A river jumps it’s muddy banks
And floods the playing field with muck
As strands and stalks give up their load
And it all falls to nothingness.
ljm