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Once on a trip to the planet Earth
My taste for sushi was acquired
Inhabitants of that place were fairly ugly
Their ways were not much to be desired
While out collecting specimens of herbs
I study them for the collective
The study of plants is my field of expertise
In reaching my main objective
In the fibers of such growths
Many miracles abide
My life's work holds me steady
Keeping me alive inside
All relative to a days work
As I go from planet to planet
Gallactic procedures and its rules
Are steadfast and written in granite
I never deviate from the plan
Ever mindful of the universe
With care to leave things in pristine condition
In utmost priority of the obverse
The only gem upon that surface
When I am at ease in my home
My taste for shushi which I find delicous
That causes me not to roam
It is a delicacy I do not wish to share
Or to let its existence be discovered
So I consume it secretly keeping it for myself
All of the sushi I've recovered
On my journeys to the planet Earth
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Surrounded by walls of many colors
Myths are born each time
Contemplation within these walls
In the presence of dying vines
Stubbles replace ivy leaves
A crumbling wall that grieves
Of what is on the outer wall
Tears from there
That cannot bare
Attempting to enter this space
In my chair the days pass by
Under the guise of the purplish sky
Cries of people are muffled low
Vying for position within the masses
I hear their screams
Within my dreams
Amidst the dreams of yellow
That defy the vines withered
Whispers reach my ears
My tears have long deserted me
With closed eyes I listen
The voices are like my own
Reminding me from where I came
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I was never morose or cynical
Anger was kept well inside
Others gleaned from my bones
While I silently died
Kindness mistaken for weakness
Misread signals from shallow minds
Neither looking to either side
Fixed eyes onto a point straight ahead
Shadows try to defy
Within my peripheral vision
They attempt to invade
Mocking the possibilities
Enslaving anyone in their path
This is why I have this inner wrath
My exterior is incidental to those who see
Ingredients of lust within their eyes
Superficial smiles looking for a quick fix
They take to me on flight of wings
Screeching to a halt as they swoop
Upon prey intensified upon
In the search of their desires
Beyond or below-friend or foe
Disgregard for the rising of the sun
Indifference to the surroundings
Brings no mind for concern
Each day is lived on the edge
Tainted survival is all that is known
And from it such weeds have grown
Becoming parasitic to every growth
A humans heart is not mourned
Rather it only signifies an ending
To be discarded and scorned
Moving on-trudging forward
There are still many more to overcome
Grinding bones into the dust
It is the way that they must
In the force that drives them
Marching forward
Into the abyss that has been created
By those with superficial smiles
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Broken bonds into freedom
Flying into the abyss
Not knowing what is ahead
In the wake of a last kiss
As a child I come unto thee
With arms outstretched
Accepting all that is before me
Leaving the rest behind
Might I fall into those arms
Arms that catch me from the fall
Labouring under the assumption
Into safety that awaits
Dependability that cannot exist
In any other dimension
That which I leave behind
Shall not hinder what is ahead
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Down in the swamps of Louisiana
Blackwater Hattie hides in the bog
Dabbling in magic with gators about
Concealed in the fog
Ice water runs through her veins
As I approach her she already knows
I bring her an offering of fresh tobacco
To mix with the herbs she grows
She gives me a look as she smokes her pipe
Out on the porch in her chair
She signals me to come forth
I look at her pure white hair
Quickly she looks me up and down
Her eyes look deeply into mine
Searching for the meaning of my visit
Looking for a tell tale sign
Nobody goes to Blackwater Hattie
Unless they have dire need
Some come to her for remedies
Others over personal greed
I jingle my coins and make my request
Explaining to her slowly and trying my best
I tell her of the love for my lady
I want a potion to bless our love
Blackwater Hattie lets out a laugh
It flushes out the flight of a dove
Of course she agrees and snatches my coins
Dissapearing into her shack
She quickly returns and hands me something
In what appears to be a small sack
Giving me instructions to wait til the moon
Is full in the sky at night
To open the sack and burn its contents
Giving me also words to recite
I thank her politely and begin to leave
But she asks me to stay for awhile
Wanting to know of the happenings in town
She cracks a gentle smile
Hattie reloads her pipe to the brim
With my offering of tobacco I had brought
Lighting it with a kitchen match
Then pausing as if in deep thought
She tells me a tale of a lovely maiden
Who once lived in the bog
She used to dance under the moonlight
Followed by her faithful dog
The town folk used to laugh at her
Many thought her to be insane
One day she dissapeared
Only tales of her would remain
Some say that the maiden was Hattie
She neither confirmed or denied
There was that twinkle in her eye as she talked
Something from down inside
She bid me goodbye until the next time
Slowly I began to depart
Never would I tell a soul in town
That Hattie had seen my true heart
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Under the canopy formed
Along the path I walk each day
Entangled together in unison
Under skies of grey
Brief openings where I see the sky
The flight of birds under clouds
Covering me from the glaring sun
Friends who entangle me within them
Like gentle shrouds
Every one has different form
Each has its own name
Many times they have inspired
Words which I proclaim
Debts owed unto them
In my many times of strife
When I have sat beneath them
In perspective of my life
There are no words spoken
Amongst these giants who defy time
Still I feel they speak to me
Their grandeur so sublime
Each leaf that falls upon the ground
Reminders to me
They are the children of the trees
Who make their silent plea
Another generation comes and goes
Seeds that have been sown
Another season comes and goes
Grateful in my heart to them
And all that they condone
I am the living voice of the trees;
That float along the breeze
Into the ears of all men
Who walk upon this earth
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Mingled trees upon the earth
Ebbing within is life
They speak in many ways
If you have the time to listen
Upon their ancient trunks rest
Visons from their time
Quitely they lull and observe
Taking in the vibrations
Each moment that goes by
Within is the creation of the seed
That brings forth new life
In their most giving deed
It is the small sprout in likeness
The newborn child that comes from its roots
Trees cast down lovingly
Not only upon their own kind
To all that is in life and nature as well
Fallen trees are unsung heroes
Cast upon the ground
Their children mourn aloud
Yet no once hears in the frenzy of the crowd
Softly speaking are the voices
A great thing has happened upon this day
Wisdom has been passed on
Their children shall grow and continue on
Recalling into memory the fallen ones
Dedicating their existence to them
In wonder as to why man does not do the same
Where words are spoken
Actions are not taken
The meaning of the words falls in weakness
Strong branches of trees cannot hold them up
Boughs thrive for their own sake
Fleeing leaves in flower escape upon the winds
To places where no harm can come to them
Safe from words that are spoken that have no worth
They are upon those winds to secret places
To dwell within the earth
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I wait for my son to return from the front
At the gates of the railroad station
He is carried on the rails of my hope
The center of my own salvation
Why men clash on open earth
Behind it are the powers that may be
From the same waters that I've earned my keep
Unquestioning is the sea
Sleeping under the stars is no sacrifice
Too see the eyes of my son
Might I ease the pain of his wounds
Until the mending is done
The house he was born in waits for him
The bed in his room shall
Once again cradle my boy
The eyes of his mother filled with tears
But they shall be tears of joy
Sweet wine shall be upon our lips
Laughter shall fill the air
Soon this will be a forgotten thing
In answer to my inner most prayer
Hope for peace is never lost
Or in the things I adore
Soon my son will be with me
Then my heart will soar
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Looking back retrospectively
Sitting on these rails
Retired in serious outdated attire
Many things have been heard
From voices upon my seats
~
One man sits by himself in the corner
His shoes tell the story of his life
A weathered face of deep lines
Caused by the presence of strife
The beggars who cross my floors
Many times in one day
Some do it to support their habit
Others have no other way
Blank stares into open spaces
In the hustle and bustle of the city
Impatient feet await
In a place where there is no pity
Grinding of my wheels
Shrill high pitches
Each curve emits sparks
Along the way
Strangers refusing to acknowledge eachother
Minds that have gone astray
Grinding of the mind
Shrill high pitches
Each curve brings with it sparks
Passing by cemeteries
Children playing in parks
Sirens abound to break the silence of sound
Howling dogs pierce the air
In rebellion they object to the invasion
Of the space within their lair
Vacillation within the vicissitude
The vortex created is paralytic
Woes go up quickly dissipating
Effectuality in the erosion acidic
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Cactus stand together in silence
Windswept landscape of desert terrain
The plight of the tumbleweed across the plains
Roadrunners in the early dawn
Covering ground where Buffalo once grazed
Under the guise of smoke signals sent from mountaintops
That wafted amidst the earthen clay
Western skies abound
To the silence within the sound
Amongst the souls that stir
Upon those mesas
Where once lived the Red Man
Of many tribes they were
In those places entrusted
Signs carved upon wanton rock
Under the blazing unforgiving sun
Peace within the presence of ancient stone
Reptilian inhabitants who live in harmony
This starved place of beauty
Where antelope once thrived
The cactus fondly remember
Fragrant floral odors adrift
As they observe the tumbleweed
In its journey to places over the horizon
Knowing that all things must return
From whence they came
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
When I close my eyes
The grey Leporidae
Floats in the clouds
Under the moon
Wherever I go it follows me
To the hill where my white horse roams
Cool water taken from silent wells
My horse quenches his thirst
He too notices the Leporidae
Floating in the sky above
It has followed him at times
Over the mounds trailed by hounds
Who attempt to persue
That evasive hare who remains at large
Out of the reach of the relentless ones
For he only shadows those he wishes
Entering into their dreams
When he wants to be found
By the side of the brook
His heartbeat can be heard
In the bullrushes and willows
Moonbeams gleam off the water in the brook
His reflection along with the moon
He floats gently back into the clouds
Following,always following
Like my shadow he follows
He is blanketed under the stars
Choosing when he wants to appear
As he fades into the sky
My white horse returns to his place
Where cool waters are taken from wells
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
When I was a boy of only eight
Not knowing the meaning
Of the word 'segregate'
My father decided to take me with him
On a plane where he promised
A 3-D movie and a fishing voyage on a boat
Little did I think of lessons to be learned
In the unfolding of this anecdote
I tag this memory to the newspaper headlines
The day that Clark Gable died
My father explained this man was
Until I was satisfied
There was a lay over in the city of Atlanta
I watched the planes go by in the air
Listening to announcements
Watching people go by quickly
As a boy I became slowly aware
When asking my father if I could go to the bathroom
He instructed me to return
Little did I know what would be ahead
Or of what I was about to learn
As I approached the door I was stopped
By an old grey haired black man coming out
He discouraged my entrance through that door
Then I began to question why with a pout
My father seeing the situation
Quickly came to my side
Questioning the man about the problem
With tears in his eyes he replied
He doesn't know the difference
Pointing to the sign on the door
It read "Colored Men" with letters wide
My father directed me to the other place
Where I was supposed to be
After returning to his side
I could clearly see
My father was trying to console the man
Assuring him that someday he would be free
~
This man wore a white shirt with suspenders
I wish I had learned his name
I remember looking up at him in his pain
Tears in his eyes in his withered tired frame
My father parted with sadness
The man continued to cry
My father explained about dignity
As I watched the planes in the sky
Reminding me to remember the color of his skin
Made no difference-he was just a man
That he still had a heart within
We continued our trip to Miami
But I thought of the man and his tears
I still think of him to this very day
After almost fifty years
~
We went on the boat
I got seasick
We went to the 3-D movie
I caught a cold
From the newfangled air conditioning
That had just been invented
The 3-D glasses gave me a headache
We left the movie before it had finished
I left Miami totally dissapointed
Then after many years I realized
The purpose of the trip to Miami
Was that image burned into my mind
Of the man in Atlanta who was crying
Thereby I was able to find
The true course of my heart
I will never forget the lesson taught
Human dignity belongs to everyone
It is something that needs not to be bought
From the lowest creature
To the tallest human
In those famous words
Let freedom ring
It is the melody I learned as a boy
Of eight years old
The song I continue to sing
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My body is my shell
This is the child
Who lives within the shell
Devoid of any emotions
Surviving in my own hell
Dependent on others
Like a store bought doll
My eyes only open on command
My heart stolen in the tender years
Buried deep in the sand
Muffled sounds of the ocean
Seashells move over my grave
Perhaps I will be discovered some day
In the breaking of the ocean wave
Longing to hear the voice of the gulls
The crashing of waves
Salt water foam upon the shores
The shining sun that saves
Sweet warmth will shower me
It will heal my tender heart
Though there be scars that will always remain
My soul will never depart
I will once again be free to grow
To catch my dreams upon the flow
My life will be back in my own hands
Where I will endeavor to see distant lands
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
This is the voice that will never be heard
In flights way are those fleeting feet
I shall never hear them upon the floor
It is a face that I will never adore
It is held in a palm of the hand
Of what it is and never was
The quenching of a spark
In the flicker before the flame
A sight seen but never meant to be
I have many tears for you
On this day and many days after
When I look up at the sun
It will be dull to me
The moon will never shine
Of all the many stars that sparkle
None will ever gain my notice
Muddy colored clouds are upon me forever
It is a loss that will never be gained
I throw myself upon the ground
Sending woes up to the deafness of the sky
Deprivation of your presence
Causes me to choke on my own salivas
The deep wound upon my own heart vexes me so
I long to hear the hearbeat that was meant to be
Raising my hands up high in my cries
I mourn the loss placed upon me
In your life that shall never be
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
With factory precision
The kiln glowed
Smoke billowed from the stacks
Down below fires raged
Being fed by human slaves
Engaging in the act
Involuntary servitude demanded
Lest they become victims
To the unforgiving ovens
There they watched a race destroyed
Despising their captors
In the space of a dark void
Hearing the feet on their way to the chambers
The chambers of death
Where their cries went unheard
Upon many deaf ears
Soon they would become silent
In the ending of their fears
In the chambers of death
The last final gasping breath
Before their bones were baked
In the ovens
Their ashes spread
Mingled together forever
In a place where only evil remains
Eventually returning to the earth
In death defying blessed rains
Scattered they may be
Remembered so that they remain free
In their sacrifice and pain
Blessed be the death defying rain
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
When my sister was born
I used to watch her
Sleeping alone in her crib
The mobile danced about in the sunlight
Packed away in the attic
I still have her baby bib
It has a yellow chicken embroidered
That runs towards a house and the sun
I've often wondered why I have kept it
Since her life had begun
My mother let me feel her kicking
Deep in her belly she stirred
It was an emotional shock to me
I imagined her as the Thunderbird
To know that a life was thriving inside
Many nights I laid awake in thought
A work had been done to bring this forth
A miracle that had been wrought
In the later times I looked at her feet
Remembering the way she had kicked
To the effect it had worked something in me
My heart had been slightly pricked
Thereafter was this odd connection
The memory of something that came
From the belly of my long gone mother
The connection to which I must claim
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
We exchange our thoughts
Strange noises enter
We feel safe though
In this warmth we slumber in
Movement seems suspended
We are floating by ourselves
Yet we seem to be together
There is another connection
Of some sort
Although we know not the source
There are colors
Muffled sounds from beyond
Sometimes strange melodies
Different emotional tones
Something passing over us at times
We use our limbs against it
In resistance
Somehow it just seems to be
The only thing we can do
There is another I feel who is myself
That is why I refer to myself as 'We'
Much of our thoughts seem to be the same
Yet there are visions that we share
Some of which are not my own
This place I am in
Seems natural but I wonder
There never seems to be any change
Nothing is much different
I remember seeing a small bright thing
Is that where I came from
Or is it where I am going
I'm going back into my darkness
Maybe there will be more to come
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Dog in the rain
Are you in pain
Come in out of the cold
Rest yourself upon my floor
With all your stories untold
I will dry you off
Here is water and food
Lay by the fireplace and keep warm
Then you will change your mood
Maybe you'll stay if you like it here
I won't chase you away
I've got an old cat who sleeps all day
The two of my might get along well
But for now rest and sleep for awhile
It's still too early to tell
Old black dog who is no longer in the rain
You are not in pain
You're out of the cold now, well fed and warm
Outside it is cold in the winter storm
~
Rest now old black dog
You are safe within these walls
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The drawing voice of the small water pond
Causes me to come near
If I listen closely it whispers to me
Relinquishing all my fear
Daffodils that grow by the edge
Seem to know my concern
Gently they lean towards me
Immedeately to my own discern
My reflection appears in the water
Yet there is another much deeper
Is this an appearance of my spirit guide
Who is the silent gatekeeper
Hopefully I wait to see what is revealed
That ghostly image which remains concealed
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In my dream was the Grasshopper Queen
She seemed to read my thoughts
I learned their ways looking through those eyes
And spoke their language well
How it felt to leap through grass
They too had their own beliefs
Introducing me to other species
That hid below the leaves
It was within the recurrence of my dreams
When the strange teachings took place
My mother and father looked on in disbelief
When I told them of these things
Exclaiming I had an active imagination
With concerned looks upon their faces
Thereafter I refrained
My recurrences still continued
From whence I was further trained
It came to be in the humming of the tree
In the flickering light of the sky
Between leaves that touched me gently
Hearing their lowly cry
Realization of all creation
Of the many things that exist
Almost as if a great libation
A belief I could not resist
When my toys stopped talking to me
Those dreams seemed to go as well
Slowly the memories seemed to fade
Until I had forgotten them as far as I could tell
The images became faint
~
In my third year of college once again came
The vision of the grasshopper queen
She had not changed after all that time
She was there to tell me what had not been told
The remainder of what needed to be said
This was to be her last appearance
For she told me she would soon be dead
Yet she had waited all those years
Until the time had come
What was imparted before she departed
Was the rest of the total sum
Emerging from that slumber my thoughts
Life will never be the same
It would be impossible to look at things
Knowing full well the acclaim
That all life is precious regardless
Though we always assume
Considering the things that nature brings
From the universal womb
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In the darkness I consider the universe
Upon this trestleboard
What finger reached out to ignite
That spark of life's beginning
~
Cultures of trees that grow
Tulips that lean towards the sun
How many cries from those born
From when this first begun
Who determined the heterodox
By which we chose our fate
Imbibed with souls like newborn foals
Both small as well as great
Within the many paradoxes
From creation in it's youth
Contained knowledge in frontal lobes
Surpassing all other truth
In the expiration of everything
Still the energy remains
Nothing created escapes existence
For we are in likeness to sand grains
~
Upon beaches;
In the flow of the universe
Creation is forever
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Armageddon they said was upon us
Each day swiftly crept by
Nobody took heed to the warnings given
Not even a reluctant sigh
Thundering of the feet continued in the street
As pollution overcame
Stale air in the skies
Bacteria ladened waters
Syringes still in the sand
Dropping from the hand
That caused them to remain perpendicular
The need to feed being more immense
Than the ability to survive
Poppy fields still thrive
On this ledge I see the conglomeration
In the traffic thickly below
Thinking they will escape
Into what?
They do not see the terror in the sky
It will send them into obliteration
Falling short of any notion or goal
All will burn slowly like embers of coal
Including I as we all must die
For the sake of a few who hide
Deep in the mountains
Gluttons who thrive on careful rations
Endless movies at the taxpayers expense
Yet they will see no sun through tinted windows
For the blanket of smoke is dense
My unrealized youth is before me
Although I shall never see manhood
The role models of the day seemed even lesser than I
Alone upon this ledge there is peace of mind
Reluctance to depart shall soon come to pass
The terror in the sky draws me closer to the end
Unto a place which I must ascend
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
This is how we spend our days
With falling leaves of rusted colours
Under the muddy white clouds
Near the sounds of falling water
Surely there is no need to expire
With plenty of clover to fill our need
Quiet days upon the grass
Yet there is an ache in my bones
I do not get up as quickly as before
My appetite is not as great
The inclination to rest is always with me
So I take long naps by the waterfall
Sleeping to the sound of rushing water
Off in the distance are the mountains
As evening comes upon us
We sit there by the waters edges
For some reason the motion
Seems to bring me peace
Soon we will slumber for the night
Only to awaken to yet another day
Under the muddy white clouds
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
As this child within me thrives
All that is left of what survived
The wound was mortal
The damage was grave
In cleansing waters
That will not cleanse
My heart was ripped but not my soul
Somehow the sun seems to shine
Yet it's brilliance seems dull
When I look up into the clouds
Or at the stars when night falls
I seem to forget what it is that pains me
Pink has always been my favorite color
Finding a pink bunny for my comfort
I know-is out of the question
Still my imagination seems to keep me occupied
It is only during the quiet times
When traveling to my secret place
In the place where safety resides
Then again those quiet times
When the wind is silent and the sky is strange
Those hauntings come out of the past
The ones-you know,that seem to strangle you
The relentless pounding of those words
I did not think of the manipulations
My only hope was to somehow survive
I am not a victim-I am a survivor
The hauntings shall remain under my feet
The secret place comforts me
My ripped heart has scars,but it shall mend
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The real music comes after hours
The ones that hide in my heart
I play the notes for the people who listen
Yet there is music that will not impart
It stays safely hidden in my bosom
The kind that are made with hard tears
As I laid upon my pillow on nights
With no comfort for all of my fears
Songs without words filled my head
Expressions that go beyond all my cries
It comes from that part of my soul
Deep inside where no other will abide
The music that makes a man whole
Perhaps one day when it seems okay
The crowds will hear the beat
The music will flow and float out gently
Onto the quiet street
Candlelight flames from oil lamps will flicker
In the distance are the fire flies
Onward the melodies press on in time
To a place where I realize
That I have been searching for all my life
The spark in the flickering flame
To feel the beat that flows in the street
Where anybody may claim
Joy that is given freely unto the heart
For this is all I will have to impart
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
On my trodden path
She sometimes comes at dawn
Amidst the sounds within the forest
Of which I'm strangely drawn
In the clearing is in the silence
As though she had been waiting
In abdication of this dimension
Her presence so fascinating
To question why she chose this
Revealing herself to me
She floats there so gracefully
Like waves upon the sea
I named her 'Shadow'
On summer nights at dusk
She sometimes comes upon the path
With the fragrance of her musk
Mixed with the smell of wintergreen
That cascades from the trees
I can almost her whispering to me
In the lulling breeze
Perhaps she lived here long ago
Before her days were done
And came to walk this path I know
Which hides from yonder sun
As crickets chirp in distant calls
The rustling winds in trees do speak
Many times I've sought myself
What does she truly seek
She does not forbade my presence
Therefore I welcome hers as well
~Moses~
©2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
There once was a boy who planted a seed;
That came from a giving tree;
He watched over the seed after he planted it;
Until it became a sapling on its own;
Then he nurtured it and protected it;
Until it was fully grown;
All of those years had passed by so quickly;
The boy and the tree had grown up together;
He spent days under it with his woman;
And days with his children;
Amongst the sweet smelling heather;
All of his thinking was done under the tree;
His trusty dog by his side;
The man confided in his friend the tree;
Until the day that he died:
He asked that his grave be set by the tree;
Amongst the sweet smelling heather;
So he could be close by his friend of the years;
To continue their days together;
~Moses-
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I'm in my '64 Ford on the road;
Headed for a beach I once saw in my dreams;
The radio plays my songs that I love;
I'm not bothered by the rain in the sky;
Or the sun that blindly gleams;
Down on a beach that only exists;
In the recesses of my mind;
Going down the road to the middle of nowhere;
To a place that I must find;
The Camel cigarette taste is stale in my mouth;
As the nicotine stings my tongue;
Are those sand dunes off in the distance;
Or the remnants of society's dung;
There is a pelican who soars in the sky;
Did he give me a wink;
There is a girl who walks on the beach;
I believe I will call her a mink;
The smell of the ocean fills my nostrils;
The song on the radio plays;
I smoke my Camel cigarettes;
Until the ending of days;
When I can shoose to walk on a beach;
And hear the sound of the gulls;
To watch the waves crash into the surf;
To a soft sounding song that lulls;
Lulling me into the beauty that exists:
Only in the center of my mind;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In a room in a place in the corridors of time;
Here I have sat for the decades that have come;
No voice can be heard from its shadows;
For that is the total sum;
With only my teddy to keep by my side;
My spirit within left long ago;
In my melancholy I have become a cutter;
I have cut all the way in deep into my soul;
When I had words nobody would hear;
Only my teddy would shed a tear;
He is my only friend that I have;
My flesh is no longer part of my soul;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
They know not the meaning of anyones origin;
It makes no difference at all;
Like innocent sunflowers that sway in the wind;
Like a child who plays with a ball;
Their mind is clean and pristine;
They are in the orbit at the mercy of man;
Let them shine as a star so they will see far;
Let them hear the good music in their ears;
Ease their fears but let them know of it;
And the sunflowers will make seed;
So that others like themselves will follow;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
No one will touch me-nobody wants me;
I walked about the places where people go;
I have been to the corridors in warped time;
My voice was never acknowledged;
The crowd passed me by and did not see my flag raised;
The causes for which I fought were never won;
A kindly bird was cast down before me;
The oil from the machinery choked it;
Nobody paid any attention to it;
Everyone was interested in the man;
Who got killed over a parking space;
Words are meaningless and futile for me;
This is what I am;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I'm just a cat who's in no hurry;
I'll always do as I please:
First stop along the way is the corner;
For my warm drink of milk in a bowl;
Then I scare the starlings in the trees;
By climbing up the clothing pole;
Over a fence and onto the next;
There I get tuna for food;
It's always there in a bowl for me;
Now I'm in a good mood;
All of this makes me a little tired;
So it's time for my morning nap;
When I wake up it's to scare some more birds;
Then I cause some dogs to yap;
My boyfriend who's a cat they call Rex;
We play for awhile in the sun;
Then it's time for another nap;
Rex is always so much fun;
Well it's time to go home where I stay for the night;
In a warm bed that's made just for me;
I'll do what I want as I've done all my life;
This is how I always will be;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
When I am gazed upon people do not see;
The chains that enveolop me to that which I am;
In a place where my seed was not planted;
I have had to learn to adapt myself;
In the midst of nature in another place;
Seeds drift upon the wind and fall where they may;
Giving sprout to new cultures;
Were every tree to be the same;
And every flower to be of the same species;
What a bouquet of loss that would be;
There is no time to build upon soil that is dry;
For I am a different flower of sorts;
One that blossoms in its own season;
And produces nectar in its own time;
A particular flower of beauty;
That flourishes amongst other flowers;
Who have their own beauty and are unique in their own way;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Scrolling back through the pages of memories;
Whether they be others or my own;
I often wonder what the definition of;
Indefinite Invisibility means;
It is like a nail that clangs on the ground;
like clatter on the cobbelstones;
It is the mechanical click that comes from within;
The click that is like being crucified to ones own self;
It goes deeper than the soul;
It is at the place which is my moment in time;
And it travels to a place that goes;
Beyond all human percievability;
Where even angels may fear to tread;
~
To witness the tears that come from trees;
to gaze upon a building that is free from disease;
people are plastic and plastic is dust;
eyes that look on are difficult to trust;
I am reaching for something;
But I know not what;
It is the river that flows and resides within;
The sweet lullabys of ancient winds;
Walking the dream paths with the djin;
The smokeless fire of the counting of omer;
white fire is like water to the touch;
olives have the oil that carry the knowledge;
A tree is a culture of such;
For there are many but yet so few;
Who can tell of the writings on walls;
Though they be plastered or painted over;
Justice is within the law that falls;
I can hear the sound on the tracks;
As I stand in the haze of the rain;
I can hear the whistle blowing;
Around the bend is the locomotive;
That pulls the silent train;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Down in the fields where the cane grows high;
I have begun to question why;
Big wheel down by the mill is turnin'
Desire in my heart;
For New Orleans is a burnin'
Voodoo spirits don't mess with me;
I want to walk them streets so let me be;
I'll have me some gumbo down on the bayou;
And get me some work for a jingle in my britches;
Find a flat to live in near the Quarter;
With a pretty little brown skin day by day;
Maybe a thing or two I'll learn;
To dig and be dug in due return;
Ah til the sun comes up in the morn;
An' til I see that bayou moon;
I'm headed to the Quarter of New Orleans;
For the song of my own sweet tune;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Riding the rails down the railroad track;
Clickety,clickety,clickety,clack;
I'm never goin' home and I'm never lookin' back;
Down through the country as the towns go by;
And I think of the times in the years;
When my mother would sing to me 'til I slept;
Her songs quenched all of my fears;
She would never know how I came to ride rails;
Now I feel the locomotive as it pulls;
For there are no more tears left to shed;
I have left behind a city of fools;
It is as though a parched dream's path;
There is no pity in the mosaic city;
Grinding and crushing-tearing and pulling;
At people's minds and hearts;
As the soot and grime take their place upon;
The collars of shirts and inhabit their nostrils;
Feet are pounding upon the pavement;
Sick dogs who are an hungered and in belly pain;
Gutters await to castigate;
Awaiting for the murder of the falling rain;
All will be washed amidst the sleeping city;
Like a fine tuned calliope as it plays;
On the merry go round as horses abound;
One more clown bites the dust;
The mighty three ring circus continues onward;
In the metropolis of utter disgust;
And if not for the sun when it's all said and done;
Yet not a tear in even one blind eye;
Nobody even bothers to question why;
As the band plays on until dusk;
~Moses
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I really am a brand new Chevy;
What you see is me inside;
Although I run like nobodys business;
I've allowed myself to die;
Folks kept saying how much they loved me;
But I paid them no mind;
So now I'm just a broke down Chevy;
Under the tree-So let me be;
I don't want to be here any more;
The birds will build their nests upon;
My seats and on my floor;
I refuse to be a brand new Chevy;
So here I sit and rot upon the levee;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The way of the wolf is solitude;
It hears beyond the edges of the horizon;
He sees beyond the souls of all men;
And feels the beating of each person's heart;
It knows contentment and the way of peace;
But also the ways of survival;
The wolf walks his own path;
For if anything be on the same path;
Then it is no longer his own;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Out in the street I can feel the beat;
Of the relentless pounding of the feet;
Many are blind and do not see;
Many are deaf and do not hear;
The look of death is upon their faces;
They have no noticeable emotions;
Least of all they know not fear;
Like mindless rodents that run through the gutter;
Or the cockaroach that clings to the wall;
They are men leaning upon other men;
Eventual collapse will be their fall;
There is no God or Higher Power;
All is dependent upon their might;
Deprivation from hearing the noise;
Blinded so they have no sight;
While the pounding of feet sings on pavements;
Children go cold and unfed;
I can hear the voices-I can see the visions;
All within my head;
Although it may be but a chapter in a book;
The leaves of pages are empty and frail;
It reads like an epitaph in a growing storm;
Filled with boils and hail;
The locusts feed and grow;
Concealed amongst the weeds;
Nobody notices the open wounds;
Upon which the predators feed;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Where is my friend who comes to see me;
As I sit in the stairway and wait;
Doesn't he know I must hear his voice;
To break the stark reality of my void;
I see where our fingers were upon the sill;
As we talked on the last cloudy day;
The sun was not shining but my heart was;
Our words danced across the hallways;
And seemed to linger in the air;
But for a moment in time;
Where time had no power to move;
It were as though time itself was suspended;
I will cling to that moment until;
My friend comes to my side once again;
For I must hear his voice to break this silence;
To take me from the stark reality of my void;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Can you see by my arms of where I have been;
Do you really want to know my mind;
Is it so hard to imagine what roads I've been down;
Do you really want to help me find;
Will you settle for less and use me as others;
Have used me in the past for their own;
I was a flower that had barely blossomed;
And was clipped before I was grown;
Will you take the sunlight that I desperately need;
And use it to warm your own heart;
Why must the feet of desperate people:
Deny a thing of nature its start;
Instead of offering a helping hand;
You offered something I did not need;
I needed a friend who was willing to bend;
Instead you allowed me to bleed;
And answered your own call;
As you watched me fall;
I am a wilting flower whose petals are no more;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Therein Lies the Apple;
The fruit that began in a dream;
As it rots away a tree is revealed;
Where there is no apparent stream;
No bird in sight that takes to flight;
It is a pristine place waiting for an invocation;
It will then be transported to its relocation;
Somewhere on the outskirts of the newborn mind;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Feint images that come out of the past;
Ghosts in dreams-odd as it seems;
Imagined images that lurk in the closet;
Rising like steam-an eye with a gleam;
My dog on the bed,she will protect me;
I draw her near-out of my fear;
She gives a sigh as though asking why;
I nestle her closely and hold her in my arms;
She will protect me from anything that harms;
I wonder of the noises and the trap door to the attic;
Is there something up there that wants to get in;
Is that a spider over in the shadows;
The wind is banging on a piece of tin;
Or is it the man who lives in the woods;
The one with the beady eyes;
Those tree branches hanging just outside the window;
Look like the boogeyman in his disguise;
Wonder if the people who live next door;
Will scare off the man who lives in the trees;
Before he gets in with the lull of the breeze;
When will the sun replace the moon;
And silence the song of the lonely loon;
When the stars dissapear til the next night comes;
And the rattling of the wind once again sounds;
Over the hills and far away are the beady eyed demons;
Who hide in the woods and atop the mounds;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Minds that revolve on our planet;
Are greater than the earth is itself;
All things that exist in the world;
A great ocean of wealth;
Every part of everything;
The molding from one piece of clay;
We are all bound by a greater force;
That is found wanton in the way;
Anything can exist that can be thought of;
Except a solitaire meaning of our ways;
That is to give of our own volition;
A word of encouraging praise;
All other things can be done;
Under the sun;
Except for that one single thing;
To give a praise to another life;
Yes-let its freedom ring;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The place of the meeting of minds;
When all is said and done;
Upon the checkerboard of fates;
In suspension along the dream paths;
Beyond the borders of time;
~
Into horizons of never before;
To a place where all may adore;
A place of creation;
Amongst all the spheres;
Who have recieved their colors;
Like medals of honor;
According to the records of their deeds;
~
They are all gathered in a great hall in rows;
No color has yet been created;
One can peer into and see their clarity;
For the ones that are cloudy;
They are escorted out another way;
~
All are before the great roving eye;
It is suspended atop like a chandelier;
There are no words to be spoken;
Their fates rest with the images of time;
That the smokeless fire reveals;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In the Lake of Reflections where one can see;
Their own actions of another time;
There is no smokeless fire here;
Or words upon a wall-only images to keep;
The truth that will bear all;
~
It is the place where one must cross;
Over the Bridge of Spheres;
One must peer into the lake;
It is a time of solace and fears;
For in the reflections are the images of their past;
Of which they must admit to their presence;
Fragrant flowers or unthinkable stench;
One thing or another will resonate to the surface;
It shall be played to all that cross;
So they may see their record of deeds;
Before entering the Great Hall;
Where the Roving Eye will greet them;
For they shall sit in rows and be assigned;
According to what the smokeless fires present;
Which is their record in the time of another place;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My last recollection was of the dawn;
Now it seems to be past dusk;
That is an odd spiral that acsends;
Is it the morning star in the distance;
I have no recollection of a prior memory;
I am a sphere within a sphere;
There is no other color before me;
Or within myself;
It just seems as if there is a destiny;
That pulls in one certain direction;
It takes me not by force;
I am led to believe that there is no choice;
But where else is it that I would go;
It feels as if there is a roving eye ahead of me;
And a place where I can see myself as I appear;
These are mere images that come to me;
As I travel towards what appears to be;
The morning star;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
That man bird Quigleanamos;
Who sits perched in my view;
He has come out of his crater once again;
To share in my meal and lick the morning dew;
He is in the cornerposts of my columns;
Fresh on my mind;
Stars abound encircling him;
In the horns of plenty he shall find;
Others like he-but none more like me;
Quigleanamos shall never flee;
The meeting of our minds out in the cosmos;
As shooting stars go by;
I am too feeble to search out another friend;
And he is too feeble to fly;
We shall talk about the nebula;
The many moons at cresent that appear;
It is a mutual understanding we have;
That has always been very clear;
What are days to either of us;
Each one is a cluster of how we cope;
Quigleanamos is nearby as I;
We climb together the mountain slope;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Ocosomemuh has come to visit me;
His companion is Yatoquemark;
Yato is like Oco's remorah that cling to a shark;
In the other world from where I was at one time;
Before I made my journey and began to climb;
What news will Oco bring me from places beyond;
Where I have yet traveled to go;
His last visitation brought me many visions;
I did not know of such things or that they could exsist;
Yato wants to play a bit as we greet eachother;
He is a prankster of sorts who cannot resist;
I am glad in my heart that he is with Oco;
He brings a spark of joy to his heart when he becomes burdened;
With the visions that he accumulates;
Oh how he resonates with the light from afar;
It is almost as if he is his own shining star;
What he tells me I will enjoy it with my friend Quigleanamos;
When he emerges from his crater and sits upon my cornerposts;
It is truly a meeting of the minds;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Music is poised in utter grace;
The notes come from a heavenly source;
Ripped up by its roots unto many ears;
It will never run its course;
It travels through the solar system;
Never falling deaf upon loose minds;
In every crevice it penetrates;
It is the fabric that binds;
A universal language of sorts;
That fullfills natures woe;
The vibrations of the notes are healing;
For it has no fear of foe;
It can calm the binding winds;
For it is the lady of peace;
Soaring high to places unknown;
Like a newborn lamb's pure fleece;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I go to the temple of Shadoveh;
Tarrogen and Bal Shem Tov accompany me;
They are my dragons who abide in my heart's mind;
Pure forms of energy that will never flee;
My sentinels are present;
Meshema and Tahana who shelter my heart;
Quigleanamos joins in my journey;
He has been there from the very start;
Great walls that align the corridors;
Floral images are at our feet;
The fragrance permeates the space we are in;
The smell of the odor is so very sweet;
In an endless sky we journey forward;
Out beyond the clouds in the breeze;
Ah-it is the pure essence of inner joy;
With the clarity our vision sees;
Time has no meaning-neither does distance;
We can travel in the twinkle of an eye;
Through the wormholes and the spans of space;
To the temple of Shadoveh;
We shall hover in suspension at our own pace;
With no recollection of night or day;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
In the flower dream spiral;
Beyond the Temple of Shadoveh;
Several light years have gone by;
To bring about this traveled way;
Oco and Yato are trailing behind;
They joined us back in the Andromeda Strain;
There is no weariness in our journeys;
For we are as if-one brain;
The flower dream spiral is part of the path;
That ascends to a place much farther beyond;
Where planets are born-and stars that adorn;
Many horizons away beyond the Lake of Reflections;
In close proximity to the Checkerboard of Fates;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
An Infinity has passed since the Flower Dream Spiral;
It has only been but a moment in time;
The Tree of Life when it had no color given unto it;
And not yet any movement from within the tree;
A ghostly reminder or what occurs;
Without the source of things beyond;
Intervention of something that is past;
Our vision of understanding;
~
It is like a fractal image without substance;
Everything that exsists is without;
Unless there is something within;
That recieves the spark of life;
Thus reality of the Tetragrammatron;
The Omnipresence within the universe;
Is the essence of creation in all things;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The Garden of Eden is an urban legend;
They hid themselves amongst the trees;
Trees are cultures-their leaves are their children;
Even Lilith sees;
In our day and age it is all the same;
Hoping to mix into the crowd;
To avoid detection of our mind's erection;
That which is concealed by the shroud;
First came images placed on the walls;
Of decaying ancient caves;
But first there was the prism spread;
And sounds which became music to the ear;
The images scratched onto the walls;
To help man cope with his fear;
All things are not from this earth;
But were sent here from far beyond;
We look to the sky and wonder why;
In utter ignorance to the bond;
The fruit upon the tree was edible;
From the branch that held it fast;
The bite taken from the fruit was;
A thing we do to this day from the past;
It is the taste of flesh into our mouths;
Before it was borne and planted unto seed;
We know the difference between good and evil;
That is not a man's creed;
Choices to look in another direction;
Ignoring the voices from within;
Craving the taste of exasperation;
Recorded by the prostrated djin;
~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
