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Beyond the haunted mesas
In the valleys below
New York City was vaporized
Its radiation persists
As would a plague upon the earth
Those who remained with raised hands
Making inquiry to the heavens
Worms with gourds placed over them
In finality until expiration
Their corpses remain unburied
Rotting in decay upon the earth
No effect can be too great upon me
I am the lady of masks who rides upon
The wings of my invention
Neatly placing mementos into my nest
In the distance a whirlpool continues
A sinkhole that sucks away at the decay
Placing it into the bowels of the earth
The mantis and the butterfly remain
Pollination will replenish in the blooming
In the new days ahead which have begun
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Creeping rotting vegetation
Wraps itself around the throat
Of local places which once thrived
Strangulation everywhere
Furiously I whip my rabbit
Into submission he sinks
Falling beneath my rage
When the Czar's army came to Kovno
They peered onwards looking
When you placed pipes into their mouths
Forcing water downwards
Until it made them explode
Women and children fled into the river
Drowning themselves out of sacrifice
They said nothing in the shadow of Stalin
You could easily slumber next to me
Not knowing that I have piercing arrows
Under my quilt to thrust into your heart
If not for my grandfather
It would be so but instead:
You are left to the hunger of ravenous wolves
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
There are no windows in my room
Seclusion from the daylight
In the countryside
My blue house stands
Without gutters to funnel the rain
The tree on the hill painted
In stealth of night
Blue leaves shimmering
Under the stars
Will they adore eachother
In the light of day
I have no way of knowing
With no windows to look out from my room
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The objects of her lust vary
She uses her squeeze box
Holding her prey close
Upon release they wander aimlessly
Seeking out refuge and celibacy
All desire has been taken from them
Until there is no more to take
Introverts are mentally drained
Extroverts are zapped for their energy
In all that might remain
Strangulation and reticulation
Like wild loose vegetation
It wraps itself around the ankles
Squeezing unto bulging eyes
Sexual death is within her merciless thighs
There is no conversation
In the meat factory where sides of beef
Hanging on hooks awaiting butchery
So that they might be consumed
Ichabod Crane sees the headless horseman
Welcoming him with open arms
Rather than to face the relentless pursuit
Of the squeeze box woman
In a world where
There are not enough doors
That lead to quiet rooms
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
