Author: lbstowe

They tarmacked over my childhood today.
Black top suppressing its heat in the clay.

It smells of rubber & finality.
Steaming at dusk, as it cracks by degree.

Moonlit, I wait for the last crackling hiss.
My terrors buried & sealed without kiss.

My face red from heat, I knock on new ground.
My time capsule hardened as I danced ‘round.

Touching the tar, still warm in its cooling.
No more, my life, will bygones be ruling.

Stone cold by midnight; the past now compressed.
Asphalt bound secrets I’ve sometimes confessed.

Today I’m pulling my words right out of thin air.
Plucking the juicy ripe ones from here & then there.

I’m hoping against hope that a thread will appear.
Though, all it takes is some hope & faith stronger than fear.

Fear’s ever here that inspiration might vanish.
So, I test my mettle, with something outlandish.

Like plucking the words from the ether of my mind.
Thus, proving passion’s practice pays off in a bind.

Be wary of candy floss communism.
Conformity enforced through smiling prism.

Servile faces rewarded for showing teeth.
Happy looking citizens; but grim beneath.

Quantified by rule as better than the rest.
Add informant to your grin & you’re the best.

Wondering where the freest minds are hid?
Sharing shiny lies as news & stoking id.

It serves the dogma to sweep up the dissent.
Confectionary kings serving up content.

So, when it all seems much too sweet to be true.
Spurn syrupy surfaces…sugar’s bad for you.

I’m showing you something new…
Part of me that may thrill you.

I’ll welcome you to my fold. 
“Something new”; to me is old.

Once, it was brand new to me…
Blew my mind & I could see.

Now, with you, I share the truth.
For you are bold, brazen, youth.

Keep it close for future days.
When you’re old, pass on it’s blaze.

Burn bright now what fuel you have.
Steal light from a golden calve. 

Gaze in mirrors. Worship that.
Shrine yourself in silver flat. 

Open eyes & love what’s there.
See behind them? Burning glare?

Waste not time on what is not.
Feel your warmth grow burning hot.

Spare no oil for gods or men.
Keep what fuels you safe within.

For ourselves we must hold space.
Leave room for your shadow’s pace.

Burn so bright til all’s aflame.
Burn away all trace of shame.

Burn it down & salt the earth.
Know your name & know its worth.

Hoping that he would save the best for last.
I scoffed while most of my chances flew past.

“I am fine alone!”; was my sole refrain.
A weak mechanism to hide from pain.

Time rolled by & I accepted my lot.
I knew what love felt like; all else could rot.

What’s the point, when you know how it should feel?
Each onion after, deflates as you peel.

I’ve chances left & I’m no more alone.
“I’ll know him when I see him!”
…hope is sewn.

If we could ever name our essence;
We’d be blinded by incandescence.

If we could ever see clear our souls;
We’d go all wobbly like newborn foals.

If we might ever hear past the words;
We may become skittish startled birds.

If we could examen hearts in hand;
Tear salt would render our flesh to sand.

If we saw clearer than mirrors show;
Would we then be proud…or be brought low?

If we feel what’s felt by another;
Could we then see…there is no “other”?

If we question & say our what ifs;
We’ll yet understand life’s hieroglyphs.

If we interrogate rights & wrongs;
We’ll feel the heart…of every song. 

If only we’d look just past ourselves;
We’d see new worlds, under dust, on shelves.

A firefly came to visit me; in the darkness of my room.
To say that this won’t last forever; the heavy looming gloom.

At first I thought I had gone mad; the blinking twinkling light.
Then my bulb alit from the pattern; the dark between was flight.

I peeled I off the sickbed; in the daze of recognition.
I chased her round my space; no more obsessed with my condition.

Captured safe in gratitude; for the break from melancholy.
I set her free & smiled anew; determined to be jolly.

I heard the news she died today, M.O.E., mother of everyone.
I heard the love she’d earned, in the voice that told me her battle’s done.

I had no clue, nor anyone else, that she was waning to sleep.
I heard the hoarseness in the messenger’s voice; trying not to weep.

She sowed gardens, literal & figurative, in hearts & soil.
Thinking of her tender plots going fallow, brings me near to boil.

But she was still kind in facing the worst circumstances of all.
How can I be distraught she’s gone? She’d never heed to anger’s call.

So, I’ll remember the hours we spoke of our gardening touch.
I know I’m lucky I knew her at all; to  memories I’ll clutch.

Dedicated to Moe

Flashing neon signs tattoo the moon.
Launching from earth for orbit real soon.

One more time, around the sun, our star.
Racing to Luna in our space car.

Partying on tranquility’s shore.
No cheese on site; debunking the lore.

Mirrored eyes reflect terra firma.
Shadows cast across lunar derma.

Moon rise & moon fall in timely nick.
Launching home for the next sci-fi flick.