Author: lbstowe

Have an apple at my burial, a fig, a plum, a pear.
Let them bounce upon my shroud & surround me in my lair.

There should be bulbs as well there, yes, & not the electric kind.
In between layers of my earth; tubers, corms & rhizomes bind.

Atop cast seeds of eternal blooms: statice, forget-me-nots…
& daisy, iris, marigold; all fed as my body rots.

One last request, hardest yet, you’ll need to plant these two with care.
Old red rose at my tombstone &, my feet, blue hydrangea fair.

My wish is to be a garden blooming always; save winter.
For then, my fruit trees, bare yet strong, will guard my garden’s center.

I’m all stocked up on religion’s atrocities; I’ve just no storage left.
I’m informed & I remain aware of the world; for which, I am bereft.

Has believing in myths done a thing for the people of an ancient time?
It cutely explains, for those unbothered to think, the evil & sublime.

When presented stories from three ancient yarns…of God, of Zeus & of Thor;
Is there any difference there; or single one worth all this blood & war?

Many have died in every myth’s name, but the lesson is still not learned.
When will we see that folktale magic is not real…none of them, blood, have earned.

I won’t disrespect culture, or personal faith; until it calls for lives.
If you have been called to arms by your chosen god…then he should catch your knives.

When I’m faced with a dream come true will I fumble?
In waiting for that second shoe, will I tumble?

Do I apologize when I bleed in public?
Do I warn them all off because my blood is sick?

When my body says no, will I fight to get up?
Will I hide all my screams in a specimen cup?

With all of these questions, how can my dreams come close?
How do I squeeze a date between first & last dose?

Is it any wonder the second shoe haunts me?
“Maybe I’ll get lucky”, my perennial plea.

Mine is an arc of redemption & not the religious kind.
As I’ve grown, I’ve honed my eyes at cruelties; to which I was blind.

Here, I share the wisdom of many failures & achievements.
Hard won joyful journeys & inevitable bereavements.

Life has wins & life has losses; both of which are better fair.
Sometimes they’re not & it’s down to us to strip injustice bare.

Employ your moral compass to weigh the wrongs against the rights.
Inform yourself & trust your judgment; lend empathy to plights.

Is youth really wasted young or is that ungrateful aging?
I cannot speak to other’s lives; but growth’s my secret wellspring.

Feed your compassion, lest ye lose it.
Live love before the next big blues hit.

Open up your fields for those with seed. 
Leave the porch-light on for those in need.

Is helping others rise worth the cost?
What does equality mean you’ve lost?

Leave no room at the table for hate.
Impose an even & fair mandate.

Humanity grows when we dare to…
Yield to learning from things that scare you.

Every life rides on rails built for, & by, us.
We take to the tracks in order to bypass fuss.

The ones laid down in infancy are permanent.
We lay new & spur lines…we grow & we augment.

Yet, though, our origins are inescapable.
We steam ahead to anywhere we’re capable. 

Each new age, & stage, deploys routine trips & back.
No mind how far flung we chug, we’re still on a track.

The trick is mapping every border that you find.
 Be aware; where you’re not & where you’ve yet to wind.

My every childhood dream is simply there for you.
Mine were simple basics & for you they’re givens true.

What you know to be the norm was not just so for me.
I witness your journey & rewrite bad history.

In gratitude, I replay childhood; through your new eyes.
You’ve been a hard reboot for me…also nice surprise.

A welcome shock to see good nature & good nurture.
For either, I’ve fought the dark…just a lonely searcher.

These concepts weren’t new to me, just a foreign land.
I’m honored to have walked upon your soil, hand in hand.

The time for undiscovered countries will, soon, be yours.
May perspective light your way to advantage lined shores.

When I wake give me a breakfast lighthearted.
Just a small chuckle to get the day started.

Please, give me the same as a cap on the night.
I like a little snicker to scare off fright.

My day’s full with so much routine ritual.
A repetitive slog; life habitual.

Why not begin each revolution smiling?
Greet your sleep sanguine when it comes beguiling.

I have done this for years to get through the rough.
Laughs bookend my days whether easy or tough.

Dancing on my back in a bathtub full of glass.
Rend the hump & hardy flesh of my back & ass.

I could wish for pain to take a day, or ten, off.
I could wish for a better fed spot at life’s trough.

But, I’m not wasting any wishes, or curses…
Not over things that still inspire my verses!

When my days are done, you will inherit some things.
Not money or land, nor any precious gold rings.

I’ll leave music; I’ll leave laughter for each of you.
I’ll leave you tears & I’ll leave you words that were true.

In total, I’ll leave the heart & the art of me.
Frankly, I’m jealous of the lives heirlooms may see.

A jellyfish does not have a spine but they can kill you all the same.
So, I’m a little confused when “spines” are mentioned in a conflict’s claim.

“Manly men” are mystified as heroes with spines of iron rebar.
But iron melts, under friction’s heat, & cowards fear it’s lava scar.

So, any blight that comes by night can smelt the bones of every “man”.
Then, who will smite the evil sprite that muddles our mettle where it can?

It is not the fight that makes all right, draping blind justice in fresh blood.
It’s the harvest we yield, after wars, from fields; where marrow soaked the mud.

Though, it’s better still to work the mill; away from pastoral terrors.
Angry lines won’t open minds & free softer hearts from toxic errors.