lbstowe

Paper Flowers

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.

Faith’s Odds

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.

Comrade

I care not for Marriage but I have time for Love.

One’s a corseting of duty; the other easy as a glove.

Marriage is a contract & Love’s a natural force.

One can be so draining & one a power source.

Marriage can be beauty, if partners wed that day.

But I prefer the falling & the being swept away.

Contracts can be sensible & sense in droves I’ve got.

I’ll not reduce ineffable Love to signing on the dot.

Yet grant me a Comrade in Love, permit a fit for me.

If equal we commit our Lives, I’ll say “I do” to thee.

Garden Gray

Behind these latticed walls I hide.

Behind the tangled green.

In fragrant wafts my time I bide…

And hope I am not seen.

I poke, I prod, I shuffle about.

Engrossed in thought & growing things.

Weeds real & imagined I deftly rout.

All the while suppressed my wish for wings.

For what do I know of black & white?

They’re only parts of gray.

I only know the black of night…

And the blinding light of day.

Beyond the green is stone & steel.

But I must grow…create.

While the world outside forgets what’s real…

I tend green twixt Love & Hate.

Rain Falls Up

It beats the ground, lays every thing down…but rain falls up to me.

It rushes, it floods; it flows sideways & slanted…yet rain falls up to me.

It soaks, it coats, it clings, it drags…though rain falls up for me.

It washes away, wipes clean, soaks deep…still…rain falls up for me.

As you watch it come down I feel it go up…the shoots & veins of flower & tree.

Though every drop must hit the ground…the rain always falls up to me.

Turn of Love

I see the turn of love. I clock the mechanism.

I have known that bond…the closing of a schism.

I recall my heart racing & wild magnet hips.

The taste of cigarettes & beer on their lips.

It’s almost alien now considering the click.

The complications achieving their tick.

The amorous machinery turning its tumbles.

As a lock’s key lands home-despite all the fumbles.

But keys are lost & gears grind to their halts.

Neither object of Love needs bear all the faults.

No skeleton dances in mismatched lock.

Might as well blame the tick for the tock.

Love marches in Time interfering with hearts.

Everyone subjected to playing their parts.

Some wonder how & some wonder why.

Some wondering “who?”; while Love passes by.

An intricate dance of luck & technique.

Not without misery, darkness & mystique.

I don’t wait for Love or follow in Time’s wake.

I merely study their workings for my sanity’s sake.

Never Less

Nevertheless, there is still Love.

Nevertheless, the Sky still hangs above.

Nevertheless, the World is still spinning.

Nevertheless, Death is calcareously grinning.

Nevertheless, Life goes on for those still living.

Nevertheless, Pain is a gift that keeps on giving.

Nevertheless, I walk the path I chose in Life.

Nevertheless, there’s still plenty of Strife.

Nevertheless, I accept my lot.

Nevertheless, I slide into my slot.

Nevertheless, this is how it goes.

Nevertheless, when it will stop nobody knows.

Never the less I rise to the challenge.

I’m Never the Less out here on the fringe.

Dint

I am forced to look in not out.

I am forced to live with no one about.

I am forced to write my truth at times.

I am forced to live in in-climate climes.

I am forced to question what I hear.

I’m forced to save truths in my ear.

I’m forced to use my blood as ink.

I’m forced to watch as the world I know sinks.

I’m forced to hold several weights in my heart.

I’m forced to hold pains there all pieces & parts.

I’m forced to carry the sins of youth.

I’m forced to play though it’s all uncouth.

I’m forced to care & count & flee.

I’m forced to deal because the dealer is me.

Refrain

It’s broken, it’s broken, it’s broken wide open. The shape of my heart is gone

It’s beaten, it’s beaten, it’s beaten beyond recognition…hurt, broken & trod on.

Though it is bent, rent & bashed it tries to beat anyway. Still attending the body it belongs to.

The body stumbles over & picks up the pieces & puts them in place though beaten black & blue.

At home again inside my chest the painful healing starts.

The healing of hearts is a matter effort & time…less a science & more an art.

The heart hurts with each beat like lightning ricocheting in the bottle of the body.

Eventually the pain fades but never fully goes away…the heart works but the work is shoddy.

My blood remains thick & inky pumping slowly & painfully through each vein.

So I open one in front of you & read you a broken heart’s refrain.

Fight

Bouncing dust and rumbling water…something lumbers this way.

Know way of knowing in the dark gloaming what monster comes this day.

Will there be scratching claws and serrated talons; will flesh be rent?

Or will it be a creature of the mind behind the eyes the spark of flint?

Just tell me what monster will be here today; will I be paralyzed by fears?

I can’t defend what I do not know yet you’d leave me drowning in tears.

I fight what comes, come what may, since it’s variable from dusk to dawn.

I try to be better & cope. At least I can say, day to day, life is never a yawn.

I speak to you now, today’s monster, I do not care to fight.

For two score years I’ve beaten each one of you & plan ahead for whichever each night.

You will not make me live or die paralyzed by my fears.

Forget antagonizing me daily I’ve defeated you daily for years.

You’re in my life & I accept that…but you’re beaten & hung on my shelf.

Knowing your monsters is half of the fight; the rest is defiance itself.