Author: lbstowe

Thinking on love in my twenties; knowing none deserved me.
You’re not worth the works I’ve beaten down on pages to see.

You’re not up to snuff when it comes to handling a heart.
Certainly you are subpar-nowhere near the bullseye dart.

You never could cut the mustard when faced with tenderness.
Nor with holding space or listening; with any expertness.

How many times did I show up to sword-fights with flowers.
Head hung, slunk away wishing for love potions & powders.

Now, I look back & plainly see your interest uncouth.
You’ve not earned a thing from me; but you did deserve the truth.

Cankered conditioning of conmmonman clout.
The dubious dictates that only drum doubt.

Straw men & red-herrings seen most everywhere.
Columbia’s fired stake…witch-finders will dare.

If we forget Auschwitz they’ll build it again.
There are no good nations, currently, our friend.

Where do we go when Promise slips under pall?
No one will wave us safely behind their wall.

Once a beacon of hope from Liberty’s torch.
Now a shotgun at dark patrolling her porch.

Held together by the vacant solidarity of dreams.
All the nonsense of a drunken mind; excited, bursting seams.

Rather die trying outside, than killing each other in here.
Our silo’s locked; reams of data & video, all unclear.

Like one Scrooge McDuck & his swimmable oubliette of coin.
My backstroke’s the same in the treasures from trash that I purloin.

Grip of fever, pen in hand; I take note of cold sweat visions.
Fever broke & left my page suspended in indecision.

Well, do I share my nonsense works…ones I barely understand?
Yes…outliers & B-sides lend substance to my one man band.

So much for showing any shred of grace.
I worry, I pace with wet salty face.

The mugs that I wear have recently cracked.
There’s too many lies & too little fact.

Crackle glazed & fire-burned porcelain masks.
Known modes of hiding aren’t up to these tasks.

So, grind to powder fired & shattered earth.
Then, add humis, water & seeds to birth.

Dinner plate dahlias in early bird blue.
Big blooming delft dishes as compost’s glue.

For: J

Rapid circumstance has left me agile.
Spinning plates are both agile & fragile.

We are pivoting life in ruin’s wake.
We sort the pieces when our faces break.

Grout & glued together with time & tears.
Fueled by our refusal to live in fear.

Quick, I steer thru what circumstances be.
Minding all the while my delicacy.

Yes, I could shatter at every hurdle.
Yet, fragile flowers are still quite fertile.

In the center of our home stands an elephant.
We have tried to ignore what, now, seems relevant.

We ignored it out of misguided etiquette.
But, the pachyderm grew big as Connecticut.

The key reveal: individual temperament.
Delicate, loud, abrasive or exuberant.

We can only ever, with plain clues, estimate.
Yet, best guess we must, to resources delegate.

We need to make our desire to heal evident.
In any case, this Mastodon is imminent.

Put down your phone & look around.
You’ve missed some things that have gone down.

You’ve missed me trying eye contact.
It seems your eyes auto-redact.

They edit out what you’d not hear.
They omit all your constant fear.

People await behind your screen.
We only want to have been seen.

Those who would love you scrubbed away.
So much nothing with so much sway.

We live in gardens that we tend.
Sometimes we reap & also rend.

We feed the soil blood, sweat & tears.
Compost the past for future years.

We scatter seed, bulb & tuber.
Spring brings hope & blossom’s rumor.

Rains & hoses flesh out green cells.
Drooping & dripping heavy bells.

The mornings warm before too late.
Held breath for fruit & flower’s fate.

Forged in a furnace of fairness.
Coax the courageous & careless.

Made up in medals for majors.
Done in the deepest of dangers.

Brag about brigands & bandits.
Strapped hard & solid they stand it.

Hacking at hopefuls seeking home.
Refuse refugees forced to roam.

Willful havoc wrecks all in wake.
Traitors & turncoats time will take.

Man tries to change the world; thinking to outwit chaos.
Order can be ordered…but chance does not take pay offs.

They attempt to bend earth, air & water to their will.
The ravaging of these accrues quite a fiery bill.

They want to own others; we children, women & men.
When they don’t get what they want…we witness tantrums then.

They charge china & break it; idiotically glad.
They want to be cheered & revered for vanquishing “bad”.

Their retelling of downfalls requires so much high-gloss.
Men try to change the world, they’ll never outwit chaos.