"The Magpie"

Precognition is imbibed in the magpie
He patiently in silence awaits
On occassion the killing of a sparrow
In submission to the order of fates
A magpie knows how to heal their wounds
Unto the mending of broken wings
Mocking the calls of the other species
In every melody it sings
It treads on unfamiliar paths
Knowing the ways of survival
It senses the coming of impending storms
Taking shelter before its arrival
Its implementation of time as a tool
The magpie is far from being a fool
Able to see far beyond the horizon
Its home is where it desires
Survival is the name of the game
In all that the magpie acquires
A magpie trusts no one not even its own
Blood of blood-bone of bone
Crows and ravens approach with care
The watchful magpie allows them to pass
In flight he travels to his secret place
Where no other may ever trespass
In his mind he is solid in all ways
Content to be free til the ending of its days
He sits yonder upon his own branch
Out of harms way in the light of the day
He is a sentinel unto his ownself

~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Departure of the Magpie"

There is nothing left of my hands anymore
The bones have been broken to powder
Fingers that are twisted into ugliness
Memories of stale corn chowder
I stare out my window at the ferris wheel
A skeleton of something that was
The institutional styled windows filtering in sunlight
In a way that light in trickery does
While the general crowd marches to the tune
There are but a few who choose a different path
In rebellion standing in the gap
The regular crowds sense our rath
The broken boned hands are looked upon
It is but a badge worn out of reluctant disgust
When all the crows are made to fall into line
The magpie does not trust
It is upon the roof on its own
Mending its broken bone
Planning its departure when it heals
Not caring what the rest of the flock feels
Let them fall in line and love disgrace
They have let those demons enter in through the back door
It will follow them down the road for years
Until the hauntings from days of yore
Particles of dust that float in the air
To the great halls in the dormitory of fears
Soon comes the days of the ending of ways
And no more shall you see the endless tears
Of the innocent lambs taken to the slaughter
Wherefore they are used as meat
To fill the stomachs of a stench filled room
A bloody act in endless repeat
I am going down the road away from it all
My bones have been broken beyond repair
My heart has been smashed-my mind raped
But I am not in despair
That ferris wheel has given me hope
I shall seek it out in the hail and the rain
The death wish is replaced in my escape
As I hop on the railroad train

~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Hobo Dream"

Another day under the sun
I'm on my way again
Grab ahold of the boxcar rungs
I hear the sound of the solitare wren
It sings to me each time I go
I hear it on the train
Rumbling over the rails listening
To the patter on the rooftop of rain
The sun is about four o'clock on high
By noon tommorow I'll be
Somewhere in the state of Wyoming
Sleeping under a tree
The night will come and I will make fire
Perhaps an old dog will pass my way
Together we'll eat some venison jerky
And enjoy the warmth of the coals in decay
Then a few logs more on the dying fire
As I stare into the fire with my gaze
My old friend the stray dog asleep
I think of the latter days
Of riding the rails with familiar friends
To the next place where the carnivals exsist
Another day-another way
Where time is never missed
It rolls on like the railroad train
All the faces are fixed in my mind
And I am inclined to leave behind
The discarded memories that someone will find
Written words on paper made on a whim
Or written upon the boxcar walls
A good tasting cigarette is upon my lips
As I listen to the distant calls

~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Sleeping Dogs"

Spectrums of color intensely present
In the prism of a vortex in the dream
I see the world in black and white
Through the eyes of the Sephardim
Their interloping ways are reality
That live in the first Five Books
The world is Midrash-food for thought
Diversity exsists between
Millionaires and common crooks
Though both come from the same mold
One stands in the corner while the other is bold
~
Faces upon faces are in wireframe
Every town starts to look the same
Markers on roads from the year before
The hungry dog beckons at your side
He is frail compared to the toys on the shelf
There he sits with eyes opened wide
Somehow he knows that you will take him
Down the road that is ahead
For this town will soon be an after thought
Just another place on a map that is dead
It's a one shot deal and I never look back
I don't care about any feedback
I work from my pocket and hustle in the street
To hear the pounding of the many feet
The faces look all the same
Some are wild-some are tame
Some are sad and in despair
Some are looking for a way to deter
Islands of happiness mixed into the mist
Refusal to accept that they do exsist
Step right up and see what you get
I've just traveled two thousand miles
From down in New Orleans I came up
I'm a gypsy man who reconciles
I am one with the road that goes
Nothing can stop me-not even woes
Of the many who want to feel the juice
The electricty that emanates in the light
Standing in the street and feeling the beat
Knowing that everything will be alright
Just like the dog who sleeps at my feet
His belly is full in his slumber
He already knows his place in the action
All are assigned a number
It might be old Route 66
Or highway 41
No question about star crossed roads
Until we are completely done
At the many cross roads where I see the faces
Eyes that probe me so deep
I have so many miles yet to go
And so many promises that I must keep

~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"The Last Mile"

Just one more mile for me to go
I'm so tired I just want to rest
Sure wish someone would come by
To help me get abreast
There is a camp just over the hill
Where they have what I need
I'll just rest here for awhile
I sure hope I succeed
To have a fate like many others
Who lost their mothers
My village is gone-all are sleeping
In the ground that is keeping
No more smiles from my brothers
No more laughter from my sisters
No more singing from my mother
My father died long ago
Nobody else that I know
To help me in my journey
I must do this on my own
I have not eaten in many days
I will just rest here and sleep awhile
And dream of railways
That will carry me to lands
Where plentiful things abound
I want to laugh and play again
And escape this cursed ground
It is lonely-I am scared
But I will sleep awhile
When the sun goes down a bit
I'll finish this my crooked mile
~
Sleep keeps me from feeling the hunger pangs;

~Moses~
© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved