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These moments are cherished
He is able to be a boy
Through his eyes I am able
To live it within my own self
My childhood which was spent in thinking
Is suspended for now
Some day he will leave the guiding hand
Dissapearing over a horizon
To live a life of his own
Completion will be his trophy
And he will be spared the drama
Hopefully I say this
That he will choose the right path
Not the one I chose at first
Once the train begins to move
Momentum pushes it forward
The only method of escape
In the aftermath luckily there are
Only minor bruises and contusions
Wounds never seemed to heal completely
In myself I say
The scars on occasion flare up in rememberance
It takes a boy on a bike to quell them
Or in the event
Someone else's boy on a bike
Because I know and have learned well
Nothing is to be taken for granted
I am not the one to question things
Taken from me momentarily
In the rocking in which I abide and dwell
Enveloping me in its entirety from
Sun to moon to stars
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My hope and dreams or so it seems
As were carried in upon the sunlight
Such as in the kind that comes in through
The venetian blind
Penetrating a place on its own whim
Answering not to forces
In likeness to sounds of hooves
By the relentless horses
Caught up in a subtle tempo
The rate of movement
As it gained and lost time
In its own effectiveness
A rhythmic pattern of work
The child that was felt growing in my belly
Even the clanging of the radiator
Could not blot out its presence
I mulled over in my process to reason
A consequence that bears itself out
In this child of creation not yet born
Yet in patient waiting
It will come as no surprise
The event which hath already occurred
In this slight distraction
Within my own attraction
He slumbers in my bed
Falling upon my neck and ears
Outshining any sunlight that enters
In this room which has no fears
These moments of time
Kept secretly within my own heart
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Is my dream boy lurking behind a tree
Too shy to approach me out of fear
Maybe he thinks I am not accessible
He dreams of kissing me upon my forehead
As I wait in suspense for him
To make himself known to me
I would accept his kiss and listen
His plans to build my house for me
Already formed in his mind
Bales of straw and a candle would do
The other ingredients would be added
As time went along sweetly
I would sing to him although I cannot carry a tune
Maybe he would play the soft drum beat
Using sticks upon the straw
And we would be in awe
Driving the banshees away
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My death actually occured long before
Physical death came to me
I did not care to hear
I did not care to see
Words fell upon my ears
Events occured around me
I chose to block them out
My tongue only graced others ears
In necessary communication
Life seemed to be a constant variable of
Ruminations
Each day brought more of the same
My burial incomplete in my daily toil
I died peacefully enough as it was
Never awakening to life around me
When the time came to arise in the morn
There was no response from me
Although I still rise each day and go on
With the trudgery
Not much difference I suppose
Nobody notices me at all and it's alright
I don't notice them either
Something must be missing in me
Or is something missing in them
Never quite seemed to figure that part out
As I wait patiently for the bus
Am I supposed to or is it expected of me to move on
What is the sensibility of moving on
More buses to catch I suppose
People living life around me
Hoping it is different for them than it is for me
There has to be more to life than what it was
A small child sat next to me on the bus once
I imagined happiness
Then I wanted to steal the love away
Until I remembered to shut my eyes
Keeping silent
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Many abandon their prisons
There are those who cannot
Chains wrap about the mind
Choking the heart
Up until the last breath
Under a sentence of death
For crimes they have not commited
There is no pity for the condemned
The cry for blood is loosed
Unto who ever has a spare head
It matters not who they were
Disposable humans who lay in ruin
Nobody pays attention to what is said
They walk heavily over the corpses
To reach their own goals
Bread is cast out on the water
Inevitably it comes back void
Scattered seeds are wasted
Germination will never occur
In sterile souls who have no concience
With exception to their own need
This is the lesson of self greed
Read in between the lines
Look closely around
From the cellhouse in your prison
Which stands on unclaimed ground
Consider yourselves fortunate
Being on the outside is like being in prison too
We all get out sooner or later
Even if we have to wait for death
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Against the walls of fate
He is the writer of words
To the absurdity of events
Mute to all before him
In recording the notations
Which may not seem to make sense
The equation is at his mercy
Only a wordsmith can solve
Delving into the mysteries
Emotions concealed deep
Taking on a life of their own
Formation of the utter grief
Frustrations as a growth takes place
Pressure under the lid
It is then that the words become intense
And only then does the pressure cease
Until he visits the walls of fate
Where once again it begins
Flowers in his mind and upon the walls
Shall come out and congregate
Vying for position in his words of creation
Escaping their fate of lonliness
As they live in his humble words
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My pelican roams this pier
He is a fearsome ruler
Of waves and winds
Planks beneath his feet
Mere stepping stones
He rests upon them
Taking another flight
Before the storm pelts him
Old and wise like the fisherman
Biding his time in wait
He will read the clouds
Bowing gracefully to stronger forces
Passing him by in streams
Air that he cannot hope to prevail
He looks up to me from the planking
Hoping the get his mackarel
It is neatly tucked away in my pocket
I want to see his anticipation
Steadily rocking in his knees
His head bowed with eyes looking up
He knows he will get his fish
Closer he moves speaking to me
With his feet and his feathers
The time has come-he has had enough
He watches as I go into my pocket
Oblivious to the procession of clouds
Waves slapping up against the bracings
Faster than lightning he accepts my gift
Now he will dissapear and leave me
Once again I am alone standing on the pier
Watching the waves return to shore
He will not come back today
The storm approaches and the wise pelican knows
It is time to seek shelter to keep from broken wings
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
You haunt my soul even my dreams
More than could ever be known
Deprivation from the natural sun
Your clouded presence continues
Lurking over this morning sky
To others it seems coincidence
Mere folly to mention it
Of these brief incidents
Your appearance only confirms
That I still rest in the palm of your hand
When you appear to me
It is a slight reminder that I am not alone
Still once in a while it chills me to the bone
As you come without warning
At times it finds me ill prepared
Forgiveance is not necessary
Come and go as you please
Overhead you search me clearly
In the whispers of the breeze
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The B-25 not many alive
The plane of World War 2
Many were downed in a hail of fire
She went down with her faithful crew
Some returned with barely a wing
Sometimes with no flaps to land
They bailed out reaching for safety
Hoping for God's saving hand
Like a child who falls from atop his bicycle
Many a bruised knee occured
Yet they still flew the B-25's
Their vision was never blurred
Many crews of close comradery
Closer than brothers at times
Never knowing if they would return
Or end up behind enemy lines
Yet they fought through thick and thin
Giving their lives in defense
So that we might live in freedom
Without fear of recompense
Gently they faded into history
Happy to come home to their wives
Never forgetting their fallen comrades
Or the sacrifices made for other lives
All were heroes in their own way
Their recognition long over due
Hail to the men who fight for America
Under the red,white and blue
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
I'll not be bothering you any longer
Apparently my efforts are in vain
I came to you as a blindfolded lady
Willing to accept your pain
Seemingly you have no real interest
Your responses are far and few
Dissapearing into the woodwork
Gone with the morning dew
One way streets are limited
Although at times you ache
Silence is your answer to me
I give it all and you take
It doesn't make much sense to me
To keep on going this way
Coherently I think apparently
You have nothing more to say
I bid you farewell and wish you the best
In all of your worldly endeavor
I will remember you fondly my friend
Quite possibly until comes never
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Betwixt the world of clans
Molded skulls arise making claim
A skeleton king oversees
Naked are they encompassed
Skeleton devil who rides the horse
Of blackness beyond the grave
The crucifixions only serve
Yet there is a conclave
They will be struck down
Mid way through their feast
Bones will be reduced to powder
Crushed beneath the feet
Mourning cities will again rejoice
The death of culprits risen
Multiplication of all that is good
Signification of the division
The jester dances to the folly
Appeasing in the name of peace
His sterile lute pierces the air
Putrid with vile disease
Err in loftiness of the afflicted
Evicted from their castles
Blood filled moats surround it
Human kings who once abounded
Their royalty stripped bare
Cleansing takes prevalence
Its superiority is effectual
Archaic characteristics
Antiquated notions with merit
Prior to the ending
Of the terrible oppresors
Who mingle with human hearts and minds
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
