Author: lbstowe

Is your repast satisfying or does it just make you full?
Does nourishment lighten your load or ramp up gravity’s pull?

Does what you choose to eat help you traverse a long day’s distance?
Or, does it leave you dozing; filled with nought but thick resistance?

What you miss digests as need; you may be full but seem to fast.
Life’s demands increase by squaring & none ever just go past.

When you feel sated, listen then…not just to know you’ve finished.
Linger your attention, are you made more or just diminished?

We’ve three seconds more today.
Reborn sun begins to play.

Sticks in earth showed long ago…
Longer light chasing shadow.

Warmth not yet crept back to land.
Heat just past horizon’s band.

Just this nudge on Earth’s axis…
Rattles nature’s phototaxis. 

Winter, once again will end.
It’s ravages, spring will fend.

One thing leads unto the other.
Mother, father, sister, brother. 

The place I stop; I start again.
This fate befalls all living men.

I claimed a time as my own land. 
Where I will fall; I also I stand.

I wore the horns of gods too long.
When I let go, it all went wrong.

I lunged for life & took a bite.
My jaws snapped on with all their might.

Where I chomped down, was my own tail.
Now, I’m a cautionary tale.

Matching pajamas & nutcrackers here.
Gnomes & candles will pull from me a tear.

These twinkling lights & scent of the fir.
They show what was not; how holidays were.

Flashy boxes & bags; tokens of love.
Some bought, some made; packed beneath star above.

Meaningful memories strung thru the bows.
Convivial excitement; no one rows.

The big Eve & Morning creep closer still.
The pile grows fast like an ornament spill.

The earnestness hangover, always earned.
Literal & figurative Yule logs burned.

Lo, here lies the conquering victors.
Their damage beyond strong elixirs.

They have died in the act of winning.
As long as the world has been spinning.

An honorable way to meet death;
With a battle cry on your last breath.

Martyr or Hero irrelevant;
both will be hailed for their final stunt.

One’s rarely remembered for journey.
But, how they fared in their last tourney.

History bows to its glorious.
Immortal memoir impervious.

Those terrified under appraising eyes for the hope of mere approval...
May yet be shocked they’ve unwittingly blocked any chance of their removal.

For, society might bluster at the sight of blood that’s common & new.
But, if you’re there under their glare, they fluster at the end they see in you.

See, you would not stand before their judgment grand, if you had not earned your spot.
A flowered wreath with fruit beneath is, reluctantly, certain it will rot.

Tend your strength & grow full length; so you stand out when you are finally bade.
Stand firm behind betters, all you young go-getters, savor this fleeting shade.

Because, when they go, you must withstand the glow of your shining mountaintop.
Soak in the sight & be leathered by light til the next wave harvests your crop.

Slick & sly are not bad…intentions in the air.
Guile & cunning neither; they’re only savoir faire.

Permission writ in verse: to bend, not break, the rules.
How else would one navigate lives & loves & schools?

To be fair & clear, tools are rarely unkind things.
It is how they are employed; what the user brings.

Castes can be mounted without stepping on others.
Your light’s not depending on whose else it smothers.

We’re all using our wits as we climb up each tier.
Like that cat said to young Alice, “We’re all mad here.”

So, Joe McCarthy died of hepatitis.
The ringing irony gives me tinnitus.

The hypocrisies done by men, self-righteous;
Prescribing that all but themselves be pious.

Born of privilege, or just stolen from others…
Tout values as aegis for their own druthers.

Impoverished of moral compasses, these.
Bound & beheld by a crucifixion’s geas.

No more let the powerful litigate right.
Time’s fullness has proved what they did in the night.

Follow faithful your sense of good & of bad.
We’re born with knowledge; most forget for some fad.

Locked in unchangeable fate; short of burning the world. 
Circumstance’s cruel dictate, around my life has curled.

No way back & no way out, only one space toward.
Destiny succumbs to doubt…on to peril, forward.

Does someone here have a match, for one last resort left?
Time to batten down the hatch; fire, commit your theft.

Fresh modesty works the loom; the naked truth aloof.
Simple things…no gild,no plume; just warmth & sturdy roof.

We raise them all among illusions.
Yet, we’re surprised at their delusions.

We tell them all dreams can become real.
Then, we validate all that they feel.

Some do get wise & are rendered sleuths.
They spend their lifetimes in search of truths.

Some stand their ground in narcissism.
Whilst, digging for perfectionism.

Some are enlightened along their way.
They carry that torch & save the day.