Author: lbstowe

Rummaging thru the clean & contagious…
For what society found outrageous.

These misfit treasures they have laid aside.
Toys for the edgy kids; where gray’s implied.

Not fit for the sociopathic top.
No use to the bottom; even as slop.

Yet, as I’ve said, there’s more to find between.
Most of “we the people” do gray-ward lean.

So, here in the middle, I can grant fate.
New uses strung out for unwanted freight. 

We are responsible for our words.
We can’t speak & fly away as birds.

We must stay grounded & watch them fall.
We must own how they’re received by all.

If silence is filled with consequence…
Apply just a bit of commonsense.

Look around when you speak.
Make sure that gossip don’t have a leak.

We quiet children hear everything.
Do not let bad blood be our wellspring.

Communication level up.
We topped off cynicism’s cup.

I knew we’d find rhythm one day…
Locked eyes & intent paving way.

Understand care’s sincerity.
See for ourselves stake’s verity.

Stay hands on helms; when seas are rough.
Lift each other; when times are tough.

Been mostly patient; waiting here.
Now, we can share joy, fret & fear.

I’m needing a place to wait out the clock.
Occupied silences between tick’s tock.

Music, words & art do busy these hands.
A tiny garden; the whole of my lands.

Dedicated areas for each task.
Write & create twixt menial asks.

A bit more room, if life chooses to grow.
How & When?…I am not yet in the know.

Turbulent times make for wanton messes.
I’ve not known a home…only addresses

Alone, aloof & oft misread as rude.
My happy life is busy solitude.

We, the aloof, keep hid much of our sum.
For strengths or weaknesses, we don’t forth come.

Though, aloofness eludes me on the page.
I lay bare ridicule, contempts & rage.

Yet, day to day, I exist far away.
Not one or the other; but…mostly gray.

Empath’s, so often, do keep to themselves.
No shined surface & no access to delve.

Without this distance, we would overheat.
Those who love seers, know our hearts are not neat.

The yoke of my shoulders begins to sag…
Where Angels & Demons compete to nag.

“You should push back on an obvious lie.”
“Not every hill is a good place to die.” 

Arguments made against one another.
I weigh both under silence’s cover.

Not Angel nor Demon can use my voice.
I hold the mike & response is my choice.

Most are fibbing to themselves about truth.
Outing all deceits seems somehow uncouth.

There are ribbons of scent caught on the breeze.
The bracing musk of white ginger lilies.

Shot up, full bloom, in a random cool night.
This too early scent gave me wintry fright.

For, these are trumpets of Fall’s arrival.
So, this Summer month doubts their survival.

Almanac says we’ve a few hot ones left.
They’ve a chance, in shade; if Night’s cool is deft.

Fall is coming around the corner…yes.
Beacon blooms tricked early to show their best.

There is magick in these, my fingers.
They are charged with power that lingers.

It’s true; that witches try to do nowt.
They perch & pan out to see about.

I could cast curses…but never do.
For, ill intent will lead back to you.

Most of the craft, for me, is watching…
For outliers & pattern botching.

I see the holes others think are hid.
Seen aim in eyes, since I was a kid.

My greatest powers are rarely used.
Most is solving & shepherding fused.

If I cast, I do it for others…
Only friends, mothers, sisters, brothers.

Taxes, tariffs & pieces of pie…
Thesaurus used to cover theft’s lie.

Streamline, budget, makers & takers…
Truth’s needle hid in wordy acres.

Bloat, fraud & privacy’s invasion…
Surveillance’s long-form equation.

Them, you people, others & just us…
Words to place folks in back of the bus.

Allies, community, together…
These, the clap-backs of thunderous weather.

Clothes do not make the man; only make him handsome.
“Throwing something on” makes him sloppy & random.

Still, what truly matters can be found underneath.
I speak of character…not what is in his sheath.

Many make inexplicably confident punts.
Ignorant of mirrors; where they’d find they are cunts.

Just a few times have men disarmed my defenses.
In truth, those were about coming to my senses.

Self-respect & esteem are an absolute must.
If you can’t communicate, you will eat my dust.

Bad breath, greasy hair, ripe & overly hairy…
You ain’t walking in thru my out door, Raspberry.