Author: lbstowe

Respond or not…both are answers.
Tell the truth to avoid cancers.

I sense true facts from eyes & sound.
What you think’s hid; I see around.

Dance round facts; won’t  shift my gazes.
I’m lost & found for dodged phrases.

I do not always know for sure.
To cruise without change is no cure.

So take a beat before you lie.
Tell yourself, “He will see. So, why?”

Last but not least: do not spread blame.
Spreading your fault on others?…lame. 

Putin, Trump & Bibi sitting in a tree.
These “leaders” are K-I-L-L-I-N-G.

It’s not the citizens behind these faces.
It’s these “heads” & their cronies taking places.

They think they’re a much bigger deal than they are.
So, they’ve stretched their ambitions both near & far.

Mired by laws, courts, dissent & evolution…
Unable to sire evil’s revolution.

Things likely get worse; before they get better.
Protest if you can; if not, write a letter.

They’re tuning in to the potency of age.
Realizing their life’s epic battle wage.

They’re born to the youngest & herded along.
They’re learning, from elders, paths right & paths wrong.

They’re timid & frightened of every new step…
Not at all eager to learn study & prep.

Still, both care & patience are given for free.
Inexhaustible patient support seems key.

By the time it’s not needed, they will be grown.
Then they’ll spawn some little terrors of their own.

For:EV&B

I’d guess, in my eyes, you see a sad hurt child…
Locked up with own devices & beaten wild.

Though, that is not all there is to see in there.
That’s just the surface of an ocean of care.

A vast sea populated with monsters kind.
Misfit evolutions in a star child’s mind.

Compared with similarly unlucky shoes;
I’d defy odds, for, my soul I did not lose.

I hope you find your way inside here some day.
I’m a hell of a time; so, don’t turn away.

How to do a thing I said I’d not do?
How can I accept any more from you?

You’ve ever done enough for everyone.
By now, I’d figured, my needs would be none.

Yet, against many odds, I am still here.
I should’ve been dead…so needing feels queer.

I always thought we’d be seeing the world.
So much unplanned story has since unfurled.

Now stark & clear; I must visit your well.
I only hope help isn’t love’s death knell. 

I have got so many things to pack.
Frozen in place planning my attack.

These shells that we shed & leave behind.
In a new place, a new you to find.

Yet, still, we carry plot points along.
One or two refrains from lifelong song.

So, from the rubble of what is shed…
We pluck out memories that aren’t dead.

Room’s been made for what’s mine to find me.
Choice old things to welcome each newbie.

Only so much bandwidth in a day.
Sunrise starts get things out of the way.

Brand new data sets in afternoon…
Left undone; but next morning’s soon.

Just enough gas to punch thru routine.
Just enough gusto; so ends are seen.

Right here, right now; in front of my face…
That’s where solutions fall into place.

The job ahead is the next one up.
Each teapot tempest drunk by the cup.

Facing truths I may not want to hear.
So many worries & so much fear.

What to do; if the cost is my mind.
How to follow new roads & their wind.

Maybe the trial ahead isn’t long.
Maybe it will drag out on & on.

Perhaps it’s not as bad as all that.
Perhaps what I need’s a chemist’s hack.

In any case, I will persevere.
Fading like starlight with each light year. 

Do you recall “soul groups” when we walked by the shore?
It was when I was mending…but growing much more.

Why had there been something there since the beginning?
How could we have known what would come with each inning?

We toggled between randomness & destiny.
We described which horizons we could clearly see.

Most of our roads have fell & risen up to meet us.
No extreme ever came close enough to beat us.

We have loosened & tightened our reigns on the sun;
Reflexed for the serious moments…& the fun.

Regardless of whether or not we’ve been here before…
I think of the “soul groups” we discussed by the shore.

For: E

I’ve gone & put muscles on malfunctioning bones.
I’m body checking doorways; my strength’s not my own.

Can’t let wild limbs be anywhere near china.
The bruises alone are giving me angina.

Just worried my worries will be more than spoken.
Glad my hip’s not old enough, yet, to be broken.

Strong as a horse with less balance than a colt…
& I have earned that combo some extra strength volts.

My brain just forgets to factor in one whole side.
So, I guess on my left, I’ll just keep the berth wide.