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
Nirvana
Beyond our Lost Horizon


© 2019 MJL

Milling masses
Elbows grinding
Sidewalk shuffling
Wake walking
Crack jumping
Necks craning
Shark, bait, and coral reefing
Hunting, hiding, gauking
Go, go, go
Foamy human froth
Eddies to and back again
Twill, tweed, leather, denim, skin
Petrol, perfume, sweat, tar, bread
Everything honking
Glass, brick, stone, and steel
Awesome color
Vertical sway Samba style
Boom-boom tide
Rush hour
Rolling in
Magnificent
The city lives


© 2019 MJL

Fescue fields in view
Electric neon butter *****
Scattered glowing beacons
Dot the greens and browns
Magnets for little hands
Tiny feet racing to keep up
Their laser focus
To pick and pick and pick
More and more and more
Fistfuls of joy
To tickle the nose
To share laughter
To put in a pocket
Then nap and forget


© 2019 MJL

Everyones chillin’
Groovy tunes rollin’
Lowriders cruisin’
Then your loud *** comes along
Takin’ up space
Yours and mine
Wreckin’ smooth
Pushin’ your own groove
"Donk in charge"
No votes necessary
Everythin’ sighs
Bubble on the mic
Doin’ your business
All over the room
Box store cut-*** mule
Nothin’ but unwoke noise
Blow Bull Horn


© 2019 MJL

Dawn
The routine
Awake to a standing pause
Before the wheel turns again
Beans break the seal
The fresh start of a new day
Slowly grinding into movement
This disturbance is accepted
Its purpose is measured
Against the quiet peace
Deep berry-breathing oils the wheel
Pale orange rays soothe the stiffness
Inhale everything
Milled dewdrops drip comfort
Share the moment with an old friend
You
No words needed
Just a nod between turns


© 2019 MJL

Diseased turnip
Rooting in the dirt
Rotting fodder
Unpicked
Untapped
Gnarled and bitter
Lying under your bridge
When you are gone
No-one will miss your rancid rag


© 2019 MJL

Fist in pocket
Rot from within
Rage immortal
Unknown for a cause
Alone in fear
Alone in satisfaction
Perish for peace
Sacrifice


© 2019 MJL

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

Sitting in a bowl of fruit
I hold a flower
Paint me with vivid colors
Make me look pretty
Or possibly as a reverent clown
With big floppy feet
In a contemporary return to classics
For the world to look and ask
"What did the artist mean with that banana, and why is that clown sitting on peaches holding a tulip?"


© 2019 MJL

Joy ride spotted
Keep cool
Don’t run
Concentrate
Here we go...
Riding
Beaming
Ear to ear
Five and flying
Total joy
Up or down
Every time
Every f-ing time
Thank you Charles Seeberger


© 2019 MJL

Snow flakes settle on your lashes
Melt to cool tears
Rolling gently over your cherry cheeks
To kiss the corners of your warm smile
Bedazzling winter bling
Icy joy brought from heaven
Simply beautiful


© 2019 MJL

Some flowers don’t get picked
They stand alone
At the edge of the field
Shaded politely for too long
Waiting for the rain


© MJL 2021

You're too much
I can't take it
Wait that's me
Never mind


© MJL 2021

Build your House of Snoot
Gnawed ant rafters, rotting rain sills
Bent blue blood nails, chipped chalky paint
Your moldy hoarder junk piles hidden
Drunk on keeping old tropes
Riding your sun bleached white horse around our shabby town
Looking down your crooked 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 and not yet wise enough to embrace your place with the herd
Flawed like the rest of the insects
Who are proud of being human
Proud of being ugly
And oh so beautiful
Left justified


© 2019 MJL

A stiff in the corner
A stiff in a pew
Watch the parade
Formality on cue

A choreographed dance
From station to station
First to the church
Then dirt's destination

Like hospital corners
Clean little lines
Sanitized process
Dressed to the nines

Death can rub off
As every ghost knows
A sickness to catch
It seeps in your clothes

Orderly duty
Sterilizing the end
Except for our thoughts
Would never offend

The cliquing and pooling
People masking their eyes
The family alone
Will look to the cries

A lifetime of sharing
With nothing to say
Thoughts sprint to the bar
To silently pray

Bagpipes have started
It’s time to decide
Pay some respects
Or silently hide

Weak at the wall
Will flies to the door
Avoids every handshake
Just looks at the floor          

Dotting the “i”
Think neat tidy passing
A check box is ticked
Life’s not very lasting

A stiff well-dressed drink
A stiff well-dressed friend
Worth more than a nod
On cowards choice wend


© 2019 MJL

It's not your fault
You were created
Made for the rain
Given the hammer
That brings the gold
Use it for the dream
Days will turn to fire
You are burning now
Will you feel the heat
Before it it's too late?


© MJL 2021

It is confirmed
You have a highly aggressive form of ***


© 2019 MJL

Nettles settle on moss
She rubs and rules
He’s a succubus
Authorities neither nor
Animals playing
Then naught
Diction annunciating “void”
Vamped value glows red, then dims
Dried skin turns ash
Marshmallow madness drips coals
The last amber switches black
That tune in your head hits one last coda
Pop goes the weasel
There’s the clown
Maestro’s Fever bows
We sweat for a minute
Note's linger then fade
You’re on parade
A riot
Nod and throw candy


© 2019 MJL

Our cupped whispers
Our blanket fort
Our candy bracelets
Our secret shh
Our tiny giggles
Our childish valentine
Our love grows
Time agnostic


© 2019 MJL

We try things
Some work
Some don't
Gift yourself
Move



© MJL 2021

It didn’t turn out like she wanted
Like she expected
She gave her life to him
To make him happy
To make him better
He cheated on her
He gave her little back
But sadness
She had hope until it was too late
She woke up old
Common
In pain
Wanting to die to gain relief
From lost youth
From lost dreams
From time’s lament
Another life
Missed beyond measure


© 2019 MJL

They ring
Do you hear them?
They are for you


© MJL 2021

This branch is called home
Bumped by Lung Ta
The bow excuses itself forward for a clearer view
The misty windhorse holds the lucky pair up high
They shake their worn flags over the golden field
Painted butter, coral, pine, and snow chrysanthemum petals
Twirling like children, they sparkle exuberantly
It is a special day for the giddy lovers
They whisper their secret mantra in Mother Luna's ear
Shared pain, mindful freedom, renouncement of a broken path
And now they're poised for rebirth
Evergreen Hill holds hands with Blue Horizon
Swarmed by yesterday's, the burnt umber couple sees softer times
Dried edges curl inward offering brittle comfort against old fears
Grackles screech carving the crowd silent
All hear the heavy still as it rests upon them
Then the hooved white noise rises to announce a life-gust arrival
Pushed from behind, they jump together
Dancing briefly apart, they are nudged back for one more hug
Angels race in to twine the lovely soul stems with forever wishes
Freed from their anchored life, now together again... Imagine that
Spectators roar at the rare gift, neither left behind
Tomorrow they will be raked up together
Pressed hard against one another, one last time
Watch as poets fill parchment with their love
The **** beauty of proximity
Leaves will come again


© 2021 MJL