Author: lbstowe

Challenging all of gender’s forms…
Mothers & fathers try new norms.

Mom is out there makin’ bacon.
Homemaking, dad’s undertaken.

Kids are loved with equal measure.
Every milestone marked to treasure.

Each sacrifice & compromise…
Modeling future enterprise.

For they’re not learning gender roles.
They’ve learned teamwork & tackling goals.

Each step I take, beneath me, the ground is crunching.
The winter king begins his great deconstructing.

All branches but the holly & fir have molted.
Outside warmth, from the sun, his season has bolted.

Bound in fabrics & furs, we trudge on thru our days.
Dodging shadows in favor of cloud weakened rays.

We accept it will get colder & darker still.
Cold will sink down to the bone & challenge our will.

Holidays hold us aloft thru humps of gray gloom.
Thus, steeled for the home stretch to the new year’s spring bloom.

One minute I’m here & the next I’m gone.
We play our brief parts; then the curtain’s drawn.

We don’t get a say in the roles life casts.
It’s how you deliver; impression lasts.

Make your own music & sing your own song.
Ad lib your life quick for it won’t last long.

Bury me quick & make it like magic.
No autopsy or eulogy tragic.

Part me out; bury the rest in the earth.
Cleave to my words; they held all of my worth.

Welcome to the age of complete coordination.
Welded to the data & nearest charging station.

Over-entangled with our timing & logistics.
Sadly unconcerned with our consumption statistics.

Some are still worried about the Amazon fires.
Yet, all the refugees know Amazon still hires.

Our kids need bigger pores to sweat out all the plastic.
The health of our planet is only so elastic.

Avert an apocalypse by keeping your shelves full.
At least we are all sure it will happen on schedule.

He died for our sins…& it’s not who you think.
He lived his entire life out there on the brink.

Existing at the edge of society.
Each interaction rife with anxiety.

He lived in his work where he always felt safe.
Yet at his work, elitists, would coldly chafe.

He was ever fighting for some shade of sane.
Still, he worked thru mania, both wax & wane.

He enshrined the normal with unmatched ardor.
Asylums? Hardships? Just made him look harder.

He had ginger hair & pale blue, spritely, eyes.
He left after painting his black & blue skies.

From an inhumane life; humanity forged.
On his art, to this day, has a wide world gorged.

Too little, too late for poor Vincent’s disease.
A century plus hence, mad brilliance still pleas.

Yeah, keep it moving Sisyphus & hang on just a tic Prometheus!
You’ll not run out of rocks or livers & your morals are superfluous.

Right & wrong are already there to know, if you’d slow your roll & listen.
If you weren’t taught to spot the two, then make self-governing your mission.

Open up wide your brain-pan for a couple specialists to root around.
They can plumb the depths of your despair & refill it with health, pound for pound.

We have come so far, us humans, & hope we can stick around for a while.
So, let’s not let the godly burn it down; by tossing us onto the pile.

We’ve split the atom & shot deep space…now every god’s a useless cuss.
We no longer need fantastical explanations to enlighten us.

Gods have hindered human progress for, oh, let’s say far too long?
Holding peoples hostage with the threat of end-times all gone wrong.

Open shop in any land; but faiths should always come correct.
Follow the myths you want; as long as no lives or homes are wrecked.

Within & without borders, as the diaspora will fall…
Respect each people’s boundaries, as is best when melting all.

If peace can be found face to face, it’s plural is also true.
Don’t tread where you’re not welcome & the same respect is paid you.

In the end, it’s up to all to fine-tune our moral compass.
Golden rules & talking tools will discourage future rumpus.

Our tongues are like aces; you’ve got to know when to hold them.
But, if you never let them wag, connection you condemn.

If you’re happy on your own, you’ll find silence is golden.
Yet, as chance to bind arrives, your voice you should embolden.

Rare, are your opportunities; when, cloistered is your life.
Still, even priests found time to land a husband or a wife.

Try to keep a weather eye; but enjoy your company.
Then, you’re fine just where you are; but prepared for what may be.

Celibate by circumstance…though, I could put one over.
Lend to me a good luck charm…got a four leaf clover?

Can you come in & help me label my crazy?
See, it’s not that I can’t or that I am lazy.

Please, I don’t know all the words to write what they are.
Other people write loony with feather & tar.

But me, I’d prefer to not always feel sticky.
Being self-aware is indeed a bit tricky.

Even world travelers don’t know every port.
So, to process it all; I must file, I must sort.

For this work, I will need a second opinion.
Determined to rule over my daft dominion.

Our body is a garden that needs tending.
We host Flora & Fauna without ending.

Do you disagree? Well, go on. I dare you.
This is common knowledge & it’s old, not new.

Our biome’s are aswarm, both inside & out.
We’re just building blocks & micro-life’s our grout.

Check-in with your skin & hair…& your plumbing.
What can you nurture to keep it all humming?

Suffer the creatures tilling soil in your flesh…
Each new generation from crevices’ crèche.