a bumble bee
does not deny
taking great care of
the flowers
that provide her with
sweet,
sweet nectar

flowers
do not hide their
beautiful faces
from the
curious sun

a stream
will always run
swiftly away
from a mountain and
down
into the loving arms
of a valley

the tide
works tirelessly
to touch
mother moon

stars
throw themselves
to the ground
just to be close to
earth

i sacrifice
myself
to keep
missing you.

Nick was a lost boy
With a whispering heart
He held proper Victorian sadness
Until his public strength bowed
As it does with the artistic type
His soul beating modal
And his mask of gilded paper mache
With glue dripping and drying to fragile dreams
He needed to get back to the pastures of Tanworth
Yet London had other ideas
And his stiff upper lip cracked
He was a poet, you see
Who danced with trees...
And everyone knows
Butterflies don't ride bikes
Though that would be beautiful
To see one on a banana seat
Sailing down a country lane...
Alas, butterflies can simply fly away if a bike objects
And feel no pain
But Nick was hurt as he fell to the ground
His sickly hunched posture told of a great weight
Shoulders struggled to shepherd the world
With only Flower his power
And Pen his staff
Sadness met the River Man
And the River Man broke down
Poor, the fame of falling poets
Rich, the earth’s garden of toiled words
Caked under soiled writers nails
A headstone,
"Now we rise
And we are everywhere"
His tailwind to us
Go and look at what our fellow poets eyes do see
And bid hello to another artist’s soul on parade
For, as with you, they too are simply lost
And desperate for a garden to share and grow


© 2019 MJL

Hiding from a rainstorm
is supposed to be tranquil :
                the patter of rain...
                the rumble of harmless thunder...
                watching the storm, but never feeling it...
Just raindrops on windows, with you safe inside.

But what if that thunder is the breaking of a friend's heart?
The lightning, the slashing of her dreams?
Her storm is raging within a snow globe…
From the outside, beautiful and perfect...
Unless you know the truth.

Thank God for that glassy protection, right?
Except...
             For all your good intentions...
             And best efforts...
             And wishful thinking...
All you can do is stay by her side
until her world settles.

What if that storm was a torrent of bullets,
Tearing her to pieces?
You can only watch,
Untouchable behind bulletproof glass...

I mean, at least you're safe, right?
… But doesn't it hurt you to witness it
Without being able to intervene?

What if that rain is made of salty tears?
Heartaches and losses and sorrow...
You can try...
                 and be there for her...
                 and phone and listen...
                 and offer every ounce of your comfort...
But no matter what you do...
God still controls the weather.

I mean, at least it isn't your own suffering.
… But that's just it, isn't it?
There's no doorway through a wall of glass.

See,
The very best part of chrysalism
Is that you're hiding on the inside
Within your own peaceful world.

The worst?
You can't swap places.

Searching space and time.
Sparks igniting dry tinder.
To forge new future.

No blood needs to flow
we may as well separate
and combat only in stories
who we are, brothers and sisters

with the common needs
for a place of their own and virtues
that are sometimes vices
knowing better, living better

thinking to be better
willing to sacrifice lives
for lack of an angel
who stops us

only reading the discord
in the stories and concealing
that we are brothers and sisters
as if we are not

Lost amidst the empty seas.
Spanning the far corners of the human mind.

The drifting pieces of memories passing by. Drifting to the end while the memories float less frequent. Before being swallowed by the waves of time.

The occasion for the embers of passion and pride surround them.
Warming the battered beings before time swallows them too.

The time that holds them afloat washes them ashore.

The emptyness spreads to every corner without an end in sight.

They stare into their depths and ask the being in the sky... Is this enough to grant me peace?