Author: lbstowe

I’m big on trying; but have I succeeded?
Well, I’ve neither redacted; or deleted.

Yes, I have couched it all in flowery words.
Fully deposed in meditations on birds.

If you have read me, you know me thru & thru.
I am all that I say & my word speaks true.

When in righteous anger, I first kick my tires.
Earnest colors even my cynic satire.

What is said & what’s not…either gives answer.
Maybe I’m a listening necromancer?

At the end, when I’m permanently seated…
Life tried & completed; Success will cede it.

I only know how to try.
That’s the truth & that’s the lie.

Can do’s good for where to start.
Finish doesn’t mean depart.

Often an end means again.
Reincarnate wunderkind.

Not rehearsed; just one practiced.
Every go, do your damnedest.

People say they’ve seen me fly.
I only know how to try.

Change arrives without invitation.
New days dawn without declaration.

Seasons have come & gone with greetings.
Start before starting, in some meetings.

Ends lend to stories punctuation.
Love sidles up on assignation.

New unfurls atop a flagpole’s length.
Old circles back on second wind’s strength.

Rot & spoil, both, born of stagnation.
Time’s last tick burns in conflagration.

One starts out with nowt but good intentions.
Most know communicative conventions.

On occasion, they speak their own language.
Which is as useful as a soup sandwich.

They don’t know the words of emoting.
No sense of silent nuances floating.

What’s the point of trying to be louder?
Why trade barbs with emotional chowder?

Facing eye-to-eye is the way to go.
How else can one achieve a back-forth flow?

I’ve written it clear & I’ve placed it here.
Watermarked & published…to spite fear, dear.

When life is cheapest, I feel lux.
Years, since I’ve bothered chasing bucks.

I’ve built world’s behind shuttered doors.
Now, someone says I can have more?

I’ve just made peace with having not.
Any more than need, feels a lot.

Capitalism’s spurious.
So, extra feels precarious.

Used to limits…still, I test them.
Agency is my phantom limb.

“I wanna win.” Scrapping with “I wanna die.”
Race neck & neck for hold over my mind’s eye.

On the cusp of rising & likely to fall;
Swept in moments unmitigated by gall.

My annoyance & Love aren’t the same tallies.
Frustration can’t make my hope dilly-dally.

Hope is ahead; though, emotionally stuck.
Just one more day off, please; excused for the muck.

Step one’s a bitch, wherein, I drag myself out.
Step two: scrape the bulk off & get the fuck out.

Step three: stiff drink & hot bath, in that order.
“I wanna win” is in lead by a quarter.

Works finished & unfinished.
With each pass, less diminished.

Not all born the day they crown.
Creative love must bear down.

First forms heart to feed the brain.
Core engine of human strain.

Self-awareness turbos growth.
Filled by love that’s purged when loathed.

Rarely aborted…most live.
All I have is what I give.

Give me wealth or give to me death.
Sentiments worth a single breath.

Give me comfort or burn it down.
Make me gentry or melt that crown.

Give to me chaos & control.
Lock my brain…loose my heart & soul.

Give me silver & give me gold.
Neither can banish mirrors cold.

Give me a home & my own spot.
I am my own kintsugi pot.

Give me youth or give me my health.
Please don’t let me forget myself.

Fighting to the surface with heavy limbs.
I need fresh air now…this is not a whim.

Why am I this deep with all my clothes on?
If I’d known I would dive, I’d not have gone.

Success is entwined with preparation.
Coast the water’s chop in resignation.

One doesn’t drown by fight or surrender.
It’s knowing to use both in whirl’s blender.

So much treading water; then comes fair wind…
& a gentle current carries you in.

I’ve got so much news I just haven’t mentioned.
It’s like I need a reverse intervention.

Trick the group into meeting at the same place.
Unaware why they’re sat there facing my face.

Then, ask them for silence & get out my list.
Unburden myself…they’ll at least get the gist.

Embrace each pushback & hold on to your cool.
Take a deep cleansing breath…then, take them to school.

It’s response to feeling none see the same page.
We’ll need consensus for the coming war’s wage.