Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
MJL 6d
Build your House of Snoot
Gnawed ant rafters, rotting rain sills
Bent bludgeoned nails, chipped chalky paint
Your moldy hoarder junk piles hidden
Drunk on keeping old tropes cocked for bare
Ride your bleached white horse around our shabby town
Looking down your crooked bloodshot and warted nose
Dumping on lawns and barking at all the mangy dogs you see
Yes, we're imperfect
Yes, we smell
You judge
To justify your flaws
You warm your buttocks on your pillows of raven feathers
Old, but not wise enough to embrace your shared place with the herd
You lack the maturity to be one with The Crowd
Flawed like the rest of the insects
Proud of being human
Proud of being ****
And oh so beautiful
Everyone is beautiful
MJL May 15
Watching, I sat beside her
She again lay trapped under her killer
It was Saturday
And it was feeding time
The animal had hold of her neck, once more
It's jaws in a lazy grasp
A soft furry paw resting on her chest
No strength required to hold her in place
Claws deep in her failing will
Making it difficult for her to talk
To breathe
Nevertheless, she tried
With the occasional wheeze
She managed to share another story of a good life
A love "ever lasting"
Rich like angel food cake topped with fresh strawberries
She was thankful
But her pain was distracting
We ignored it, together
We played make-believe
For another day
Some visits were better than others
The beast lounging in a tree at the back of her enclosure
Watching us
Other days, smothering her
Reminding us, he is allotting the time we spend
He is in charge
My advice, to give 'em ****
Ridiculous to say from the comfort of her high back chair
Looking away to her hand knitted doily under her chai cup
Protected behind my viewing window
I know
She’s tired
And the taker of life is more than strong
He's inevitable
The sun will rise tomorrow
And it will set
Sunday will bring relief
Sunday will bring sadness
And a step nearer to peace
As our warm tea grows colder
Cancer, and the pain it causes...
  May 13 MJL
Sandra Ostrander
I make no big plans,
I go where the day takes me.
It always leads home.
MJL May 11
Lovers peck wee initials deep in Tulare County bark
Letters grow more historic with each passing tick tick tick
Flitter-flutter tickles the breeze whispering beloved's anthem higher
Chestnut feathered flights of fancy pierce the sweetheart's crest
Juniper berries laced with honeysuckle and rosy sweetness
Will them to taste and savor each jittery moment
Heart beats syncopate with their May swoon and sway
Counter clockwise then clockwise, away then toward Yagura
Taking turns leading then following
They nock their dream
Every nestled embrace they etch deeper
Every page their timber tune ripples rings wider
Every ardent kiss with open eyes pounds louder
Their heart radiates a single fleeting verse
Two wee birds
One lovely voice
One timeless plunge
Begging their tango to last
Wishing their story to always be
Loves mark upon the ages

© 2019 MJL
Etching the largest tree in Tulare County represents creating our lives together. Sequoia is Cherokee for sparrow. The giant redwood is named for a Cherokee Indian of the early 19th century who created the Cherokee language. Like small sparrows, we carve our lives together. The heart with arrows represent who we are, two parts as one. Yagura is a Japanese high wooden tower used in a May folk dance celebration of springs rebirth.
MJL Apr 2
Tibetan Brimstone butterflies wave wings madly at their paradise valley
In the beginning, before the beginning, and in the beginning
Their shaken snow globe makes them flutter in wild exuberance
As they reveal a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Peace, followed by chaos, and then by peace
Mother Luna's kaleidoscope of enlightenment
Protected by the hooded one
Holds all worlds and shakes the four seasons
Nothingness, creation, abiding, destruction
The wheel of time
Moves the wind as it’s blown by vast circles of water
Aqua marine is washed again by golden earth
And in the center, the great opal mountain song of La
Nature's peace
Beyond white leopard snows, icy winds, and empty husks of death
Butterflies are born again
Shambhala’s mindful beat opens passage for light through darkness
Poets squint and ride on wings toward the hidden sunset kingdom
Watching another world's Avalon alive beneath a blue moon
Insulated chrysalis of love for all seasons
A fisherman, a carpenter, a shepherd, a merchant, a caterpillar
Discover a lush, isolated, peach grove
Nosing thickly scented nectar and purple primrose honey
In the jade valley of the kings, queens, and beggars
They meditate under the Bodhi Tree
Deep brown ****** lines are carved into their soft olive skin
Smooth hands are made rough, and then smooth again
Young, then old, and then young once more
Wisdom setting beside Queen Spirit Mother of the West
Sharing a bowl of her rice milk in harmony
Being in the realm between man and nature as Kalachakra turns
For six years the caterpillar eats of fig
And then the wheel breaks for flight one last time
Radiating light as she sheds her glorious wings
Here, the snow globe explodes flying petals of wild exuberance
Revealing a mountain, then no mountain, then Kunlun again
Transcending all, turning tears into the suns joyful rays
As they rise, then set, and then rise again
Beyond our Lost Horizon

© 2019 MJL
I loved the 1939 movie, Lost Horizon, and it's story of Shangri-La. It drove some interest in reading about Buddhism... Could we be butterflies reborn? How wonderful that would be... Young then old, then young again. All at once nature and man, one with our universe. Those who seek wisdom find salvation... The caterpillar here is a beggar who finds ascension. Cycles represent the wings flapping. There are also references to universal religious themes.
MJL Apr 1
Each generation’s majority makes choices that usher change
Lost pined for simple peace
Depression lived for human survival
Silence spoke for equality in a civil voice
Hippies fought war with flowers
Boomers drove for mad knowledge of self
Grunge nodded honesty from suburban garages
Y baptized Science as god
Mobs then anointed Orange Man as king
Down at the crossroads as means to their ends
For taxes, for borders, for babies, for guns, for Right
Trading truth, communal values and united dreams for their causes
How will we be remembered
As we watch this Heyday bloom
What will be this generation’s rallying cry
Will there be one
A culmination of past generation's trusted change
Lost, depressed, silent, free, self-aware, honest, doubting
Here now
Watching the flames
Will we quietly turn away
As our world burns
Or will we tap a new strength
To face the fire
And bask in the wonder of our Heyday

© 2019 MJL
Generational strength. Come together. Unity. Love.
MJL Apr 1
It is confirmed
You have a highly aggressive form of ***

© 2019 MJL
Next page