Author: lbstowe

Why don’t we vilify greed?
…That insatiable darkening need.
Take more than is owed; a void moral code.
It’s corrosive in mind & in deed.

Why does it matter your race?
…When a mind works behind every face.
We can detect when a fear is suspect.
Seek harmony & choose to embrace.

Why hate what someone believes?
…When the opiate of masses relieves.
Just let them eat cake for all of our sake.
Faith helps the same ones it deceives.

Why war over lines on a map?
…Wedging wider a cultural gap.
We continue to plot within one melting pot…
 Snubbing peace for a resource to tap.

Why take a look at ourselves?
Change waits dry & dusty on shelves.
The world is on fire yet we can’t inspire…
Any among us to save themselves?

The unyielding passage of time,
As told through verse & rhyme.
I process events. I weld what is rent.
With gold ink I meld scraps to their prime.

The unalterable burden of truth,
The pen is a sword, forsooth!
I sift thru the past & mine wisdom amassed.
I’ve forsaken my haphazard youth.

The merciless reveals of age.
The bill has come due for sin’s wage.
No limit persuaded & all peace invaded.
I am gilding the walls of my cage.

The adamantine walls of my heart,
A map of its scars impart.
I divine what to say when forging my way.
The past forms the future we chart.

The leveling destiny of all.
The rise’s eventual fall.
Moneyed or skint, all paths end up spent.
Every journey wraps up in the pall.

Empathy’s the only temperance of what men would take too far.
Man breaks the weak, never sows ever reaps, caring not about leaving a scar.

The good try to tamp down the terror wrought fecklessly by evil hearts.
Who would rape the land & war with the world parsing earth to the profit of parts.

The race of man is often cruel in their pursuit of power & wealth.
The tender among us process the pillaged & tend to emotions & health.

Well-being isn’t of value to the well; unless illness is a threat to their own.
Power masks the poor so they’re able to serve as history’s evidence is shown.

Why isn’t good will universal? Where’s the critical mass who believe?
No one is better & no one is greater. Isn’t it better to give than receive?  

…The diaphanous words composing the lyric.
…The solid atomized in the atmospheric. 

…The many strokes a brush gathers distinct.
…A blurry image on the whole made succinct.

…The tune conceived by its very first note. 
…The pearl’s grist a hum vexing the throat.
 
…A vigorous expression sourced from life.
…A creative frisson left by vital strife.

…A rapture over pieces compiling a whole.
…An enthusiasm shaking the cage of control.

…Spirit bulging out thru bumps on skin.
…Vision to foresee & Energy to begin.

…It is body born with no stable substance. 
…A welcome sensation in seldom abundance.

Skirting the edge has defined my trail.
Compassionate kindness my sturdy guardrail.
 
Grateful am I for those who have guided me.
Durably forged by being loved chidingly.

I’ve needed both bumpers upon life’s lane.
Indifference & apathy ever my bane.

So easy to give in when no one is watching.
Finally yielding to steady debauching.

My saving not owed to plenty paired eyes.
A lean team observing prevents my capsize.

I need not adoration from mercurial mobs.
A few satellites can govern love’s jobs.

I no longer wish for more than I have.
The dream of needs met an unlimited salve.

I grow to my limits & often surpass them…
Fate sated plate & a cup poured past brim.

Unnecessarily clever;
A go to response for whatever.
Defensive disease that never says please…
Using dry wit as a lever.

Unnecessarily heady;
Confounding retort at the ready.
Won’t draw blanks & cannot say thanks…
Never deferent & stoically steady.

Unnecessarily cruel;
With aloof & unflappable cool.
A slap in the face with no innate grace…
Self-appointed exception to rule.

Unnecessarily chiding;
A soul like a bottle of lightning.
Clearly you care if your brain’d just dare…
To stop giving your heart such a hiding.

Unnecessarily weighed;
Pointlessly frozen-afraid.
Destiny’s fast when purpose beats past.
Life isn’t just lived…it’s made.

    Eyes boring holes in our lucent panes.              
Watching as death waxes & never wanes.

We worry if here’s where it happens next.
Dazed by fear while nooses drape our necks.

Pitilessly praying carnage passes you by.
Telling yourselves every available lie.

With a gun on your hip & a hand on a Bible.
The Other your trigger, inflexibly tribal.

It’s not an issue of you versus them.
It’s the defensive use of weapons on whim.

Not occurring to seek help & employ words.
Just opening fire on the innocent herds.

Politics felating their funnels of money.
The wealthy alone drink of milk & of honey.

The right & the wrong rent from the nation.
No respite found in just litigation.

The cycle begins again & again.
On self-righteous wings we swiftly descend.

Run in your races or take to the street.
 Find jilted justice under bulleted sleet.

Fire for our souls & tender for ignorance;
Paper blossoms wit & man’s ill fragrance.
Mind opening vistas & walls of indifference;
Paper bowers bloom in hues of resistance.
Life for the Spring & the footlights of Death;
Paper pollen at dawn & seeds in last breath.
Closed, they collect a dusting of apathy.
Open, they power the paths of empathy.
A life can be lived on the petals of page;
Paper foliage variegated with joy & with rage.
From hearts they will flourish in fast evolution;
Watered with the blood of love & revolution.
Sunward on thoughts-like a trellis of hope;
Imagination fermented in each groping trope.
They know of the soul’s perennial litigation;
Inspiring our ideals with each germination.
We grow paper flowers in our spirit’s rich soil,
Then we press it ‘tween pages never to spoil.

So much of faith turns to warring;

Pedantically fevered & boring.

Faith should be a personal art.

A moral compass, doing your part.

It’s not at home in our town squares.

Churches peddle dogma’s wares.

Society’s faith is a whipping post.

Who has virtue & believes the most?

But the poorest faithful bear the cost.

While wealth ensures that all are lost.

Simple faith is nuanced hope.

A humble light for which we grope.

Trust ye not the loudest player.

For faith should be a private prayer.

Faith has never needed its gods.

Because it is hope-against all odds.