Thursday, July 12, 2007

"Ode To A Small Sparrow"

The sun shone in through the window that day;
A dandelion was then a flower;
My mother stood by the windowsill;
As I observed her like a magnificent tower;
There she was singing and the sun was shining;
Through the window and onto her hair;
She stood there in her plain printed dress;
She was the lady so fair;
I sat on my chair at the kitchen table;
Birds could be heard singing outside;
The world was funny-like a big cartoon;
As I grinned there with eyes opened wide;
Then mother motioned-I could go on the lawn;
Out the door I ran lickety split;
I was happy go lucky out on the sidewalk;
I was not necessarily endowed with much wit;
Where could I go-what could I do;
Boredom began to set in;
My venture took me to the backyard;
I was full of mischief and sin;
Curiosity took me to some rocks;
Where I observed some ants in their plight;
Occasionally I would look up to the sky;
And see all kinds of birds in their flight;
Nobody out and about in their yards;
I began to look for a prize;
To take to my mother as a humble gift;
Just to see that look in her eyes;
But wait! There's a sound coming from the fence;
Dare I venture to see;
Yes-its one of those baby sparrows;
Who has been put there just for me;
I paid no attention to another bird;
Who seemed to be making a racket nearby;
The little sparrow seemed so excited;
But I never questioned why;
In my haste I placed the sparrow;
In the palm of my warm small palm;
I held it close and could feel its heart;
It beat so rapidly-afar from calm;
Up to the door of the house I ran;
Here was a gift fit for a queen;
No thought came from my own actions;
Of the sparrow separated from its ween;
I opened my palm to give mother my gift;
The sparrow not moving at all;
When I questioned why to my mother;
It was as though she put up a wall;
Why the bird is sleeping as she took it from me;
As she placed it on the kitchen table;
She wrapped it up in a paper towel;
And told me what she was able;
Later on she would let him go;
After he awoke from his sleep;
The sound from the other bird was close by the window;
A sorrowful song it did weep;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"The Vortex"

From womb to tomb;
A convergence of two over a horizon;
One is entering into death;
Being taken and exasperated;
In its final breath;
Although an entrance makes its way;
In places where the exsistence of night and day;
A moot point to the creation of oneness:
Birth is at the expese of atoms in motion;
That envelop like an immense ocean;
Harmony unto variance in the cohesion;
Is the mix in the final adhesion;
There is a woe yet there is a mighty shout;
The center of the eyes that come into their own;
The positive against the negative forces;
Mighty winds that pull and moan;
The essence of time is against the lesser;
Witness unto the others doom;
Oneness has come at the others expense;
From the tomb unto womb;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"The Hall of Greatness"

The Flower Dream Spiral is almost a forgotten thing;
I have gone beyond the colorless Tree of Life;
And passed through the Lake of Reflections;
The Temple of Shadoveh and even Tarrogen;
Have fled having seen the Smokeless Fire;
Although the notes of music in bliss are with me;
I am found wanton and fear is in the way;
Ocosomemuh and Yatoquemark have passed this purging;
And cannot pass through it again with me;
This is the merging point where I will be made;
Quigleanamos hovered near me but now he must flee;
He awaits me at the cornerposts of my columns;
Although I do adore this great hall;
I am now in the presence of the Roving Eye;
In the great hall of the Checkerboard of Fates;
And before me all awaits;
The place of creation amongst all the spheres;
I am trembling within but I have no tears;
The Roving Eye is yet turned away;
The process of assignments has been put into motion;
From suns to moons to stars to skies;
I am in likeness to an insignifigant plankton in the ocean;
The Smokeless Fire awaits the call;
They are the recording djin's with each record of fate;
I continue to tremble within this hall of the Mighty and of the Great;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Approach to Judgement"

The Great Entrance to the Throne Room;
It is the Poly Tetragrammatron of the One and All;
There is much resistance before entering into this gate;
Without invitation it is an impenetrable wall;
All objects from wherever they may be;
This is the gateway in the heavens;
The diamond in the sky-like falling manna;
Rising above as it leavens;
It gives as well as it takes in perfect harmony;
The vagina of the universe;
From within and from without;
In foreward and out reverse;
It is the pause that is in between;
The likeness of an inhaled breath;
Holding-pressing for that brief moment;
The representation of both life and death;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


My sentinels are steadfast by my side;
They jealously protect me in the fiercest way;
Pure forms of inner energy;
Ready at my bidding to work if I will it;
To climb upon the highest peak;
Or to descend into the lowest pits;
To harken unto my call in the night;
My sweet Meshema will enter into the dream paths;
And walk with me;
Tahana will remain on the outer perimeter;
Seeing to it that none pass but such as are invited;
The walls are raised up and nothing shall break its bond;
I am in harmony with the spirits;
And I tread upon the paths that have been walked;
Since the beginning of time over an eternity ago;
Listening for the voices that walk in this forest;
The dream path is in the presence of a fog;
There are many layers to it as the path unfolds;
The way shall be made clear to those who wait;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


A collective power of the crystalline spheres;
On their way to the gathering place;
It somewhat ends as it all began;
Each one in their own individual race;
They are pulled like magnets to a source;
Something draws them like insects to the light;
The paths are clearly marked for all;
Every sphere of its kind must pass this way;
The glacial striations of the crystal lattice;
Pathways filled with their bodies all day;
They are like plankton in the seas;
Of varying degrees;
Their collective power-amasses the great dower;
Soon the power of each one will grace a presence;
Already previously conceived to what is owed by all;
A melting pot awaits where there is no other;
Where they shall all meet in the great and mighty hall;
In its corridors-within its borders;
Are the age old answers to what has always been asked;
No answer has been revealed but to those who have yield;
Until now the concealed knowledge has remained masked;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Soul Mates"

My love for him has always been there;
It was there from the time before I was born;
This carved face of stone is the place;
Where we both pledged our hearts to eachother;
That it would never flee from us;
Even in the galaxies that exsist;
Wherever one of us is so is the other;
Even death cannot stand in its way;
Look to any star and our love can be found;
Since all things are connected;
There is no way for it to escape into oblivion;
No obstacle can be placed in its path;
As all things are to one another;
An obstacle serves as a stepping stone;
To each of our hearts;
If it takes until the rebirth;
We will find our way back to eachother;
As it was in the beginning-so it will be in the end;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


Steps that lead to the blinding light;
I am in spirit and in flight;
To acsend the stairway that seems to lead;
Onward to something that I desperately need;
Rather than being at the very end;
It feels as if over a horizon that I must tend;
Into the Quasar without question;
As would an innocent lamb to its own ending;
Not a protest of any sort in knowing;
No sound is made to its lending;
Any sort of sacrifice that would be made;
For it has all been given and done before;
The steps become easier to climb;
To the unknown light that I adore;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Brief Acquaintence"

A gentle creature is in my hand;
He does not tremble upon my finger;
After he is gone I will remember;
The vision of him will continue to linger;
The recollection in autumn days;
Long after the expiration of his exsistence;
I will envision him sitting upon my hand;
Without the slightest resistance;
I am in wonder as he is of me;
The world around it will abound;
For all who care to see;
That there is love in the slightest thing;
Its not to be ignored;
A call into darkness is made for life;
For that which man implored;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Spherical Eye"

The horizon I had thought it to be;
The birth of the spheres that spans itself;
As far as the inner eye can see;
Forming into a cone pattern;
In preparation across an expanse;
It is awe in creation;
A mingling of the spherical romance;
Beyond the cone pattern are crystallines;
Quartz like fetuses suspended in time;
Spirals set forth towards the stars of the North;
Gradual in a steep climb;
Plumes of energy explode in grace;
Pieces transfixed upon stars and moons;
Outwardly in many directions;
Cosmic dust forming into dunes;
The Quasar light becomes minuscule;
Soon it becomes a slight point;
I shed my final ethereal cloak;
Allowing the motion within to anoint;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Slumbering harbour"

Vessels that glide are moored in rows;
Under the rainbow sky;
A majestic mountain blanketed;
Under pillowed clouds that fly;
Gusts of wind that rock the moor;
Over the whitecap waves;
Fresh odours of the sea breathing;
In what does a man's soul crave;
To ride upon the tops of sails;
Hunkered down in the crows nest;
The flight of the gulls crossing a path;
A blood red sun peering over the crest;
There is a rich flapping in the canvas;
The water and binding of ropes against wood;
I love to watch the block and tackle;
A reminder that life is good;
There are no words or description;
Replacement is an act in vain;
To need the sea is something natural;
As the moon will wax and wane;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Untouched Beauty"

Red walled cavern reflect your mind;
Reveal your total grace;
Lavender slopes that tug at the edges;
In this sacred and solemn place;
Eons went by without a whisper;
Not one mind did even dare to touch;
Your inner beauty that conceals itself;
Deepest thoughts that rely so much;
On pristine slopes and clear cold waters;
That reach beyond to places deep;
A solitary eagle's effortless flight;
It's secret I must keep;
To pass this way and ask myself;
Odd as it all may seem;
Is this real-what I feel;
Is this a hoped for dream;
A place as such-seems to much;
To ask for in a prayer;
It is surreal-what I feel;
And more than I would dare;
To hope for such a thing of beauty;
It brings me joyous tears;
In the bosom of this peace;
Until my ending years;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Embracing Trees"

Childhood memories spent in the grove;
Under the boughs of trees;
Of days gone by where I would laugh;
And feel the touch of each breeze;
The branches seemed like fingers reaching;
Trying to touch my face;
Like they wanted to know how I felt;
O' gentle leaves of silken lace;
Your softness floats along the wind;
A sweet lulling as your branches;
Dancing to and fro;
Soon autumn will come and change it all;
For then shall come the winter snow;
Then there is the wait again;
Until the coming of a new spring;
Then your branches shall once again;
Hear the birds that sing;
I will once again be with you;
And sleep beneath your fingers;
We will watch the sun together;
Recollecing each day that lingers;
In the sweet memory:

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Serenity Within"

Sweet silent moon upon the water;
As I sit here upon the shore;
Are you here for just my pleasure;
It is you that I adore;
You never make the slightest protest;
And you've always let me be;
Whatever it was that I have wanted;
You never seemed displeased with me;
We never seem to stay in one place;
For much longer than I need;
Sweet silent moon who's always been there;
That's always been our secret creed;
We never knew eachother's sorrow;
For no words were ever spoke;
We just looked on at eachother;
And took the burdens from our yoke;
So down the road we go together;
There you are up in the sky;
You are my friend who's like no other;
In the sweetness of by and by;
Your twinkling crescent is like my mother;
You have that look within your eye;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Surreal Circus"

Demons abound to the smattering of sound;
Hieronymus Bosch is all around;
They crawl in and out like worms in wood;
Habitual pranksters creeping like dogs;
No amount of shock therapy will deter them;
Flesh crawlers who invade thoughts and actions;
Into the frontal lobe until slobbering evil persists;
No matter how much one may resist;
Of every vice that is known to man;
No matter how hard he runs;
His insults to the Origins of Life;
Are minor concerns to the strife;
Actions are of no consequence;
Acceptance is merely a justification;
Responsibility has no ramification;
Stagnated water runs the river dry;
Nobody hears the sounds they cry;
Envy has become the regurgitation of the mind;
Individual forms of life seek out their own kind;
A rodent indeed is a rodent in need;
As life is sucked out of that which has been borne;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

Anne Sexton - "A Curse Against Elegies"

Oh, love, why do we argue like this?
I am tired of all your pious talk.
Also, I am tired of all the dead.
They refuse to listen,
so leave them alone.
Take your foot out of the graveyard,
they are busy being dead.

Everyone was always to blame:
the last empty fifth of booze,
the rusty nails and chicken feathers
that stuck in the mud on the back doorstep,
the worms that lived under the cat's ear
and the thin-lipped preacher
who refused to call
except once on a flea-ridden day
when he came scuffing in through the yard
looking for a scapegoat.
I hid in the kitchen under the ragbag.

I refuse to remember the dead.
And the dead are bored with the whole thing.
But you -- you go ahead,
go on, go on back down
into the graveyard,
lie down where you think their faces are;
talk back to your old bad dreams.


i have known love
love was ashes in my mouth
as i wept flame
love was the spear
pulsing down my side
love was the scream
ripping my throat
i have known love

i have known love
love was the sand in my mouth
as i drowned in the desert
love was the splinters
beneath my fingernails
love was the spiders
crawling on my teeth
i have known love

i have known love
love was unripened fruit
sticking to my tongue
love was cotton and silk
clinging to my legs
love was the unseen face
reaching down a hand into my hell
i have known love

"Until there is nothing left"

People may come and people may go
They make an appearance for many a reason
To fill a need or offer assistance
And when their purpose has been fullfilled
Something is said or is done-
It was good while it lasted
They are no longer a godsend
But have become a burden like a millstone
Others may appear and they may teach
Some may even preach but when
they have done their work its time to go
To take the visions and what was learned
To apply them is the very purpose
And why people may come and go
They have come full circle and clearly
Understand the road is long and true
And there are things they must do
Another person has made request
Its energy has been set into motion
Do not bind them or muzzle them
like an ox that treads out corn
That is not the purpose of their birth
Or the reason why
They freely chose to mingle with the mirth
And know how to say goodbye
Why dont you also know the same-is this a game?
Instead you are laying upon the steps
With your hair in a frenzy
Over something that was not yours to have
A gourd has been placed upon your head
And you are angry for it
Until the worm smites the gourd
And causes it to wither in the wind
All for naught like Jonah concerning Ninevah
You have taken the giant flask
filled with sweet wine and given to you upon the steps
The gift at your request-you dont want it anymore
Now that its been given and its task performed
The flask of sweet wine has been emptied and replaced
You have filled the flask with bitter sorrows
This is the reaction to the requested gift
Now the critics appear to grade the performance
Of an act that is not their own
Thank you's go out to all those who bought a ticket
Please make any changes to the script
Until the fiber from my remaining soul has been stripped

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"The Phantom Woman of the South"

My mask hides my face;
It cloaks my mind well;
Nobody can see my place in hell;
I was there but fled and am gone;
Down that old railroad track;
I'll never let my heart feel defeat;
I'm gone and I'll never look back;
People of flesh are like chapters in a book;
I observed the twisting of their minds;
Down in the delerium of a vortex in motion;
On a road that constantly winds;
The drama unfolds in a never ending story;
Where words begin sounding the same;
Manipulation if you let it in your soul;
In someone else's mind like a game;
What is trust but an image on a wall;
In likeness to an old castle painting;
A frontal lobe that encircles a globe;
Then comes a suggestion of the fear and the fainting;
Words that have fallen upon deaf ears and minds;
Like an animal I am cornered in a trap;
Their image in an eye makes you want to die;
Upon a windowsill comes a faint rap;
At an unrelenting pace-what they throw up in your face;
A slap is sent towards the mask;
That is the end result of their intended task;
Like a clay toy if you let them in;
They fondle your anatomy and try to make you part of their sin;
On the friendly face is the sign of disgrace;
I am are thrown to the side to drown in the tide;
As they move on to their next victim upon the wind;
To tell a story of how they sinned;
It is a story told many times;
Of envisioned crimes;
In the background is the cuckold's laugh;
And you are but a mark upon the graph;
The winds blow in many directions;javascript:void(0)
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But you can be sure to avoid their path;
In the light of their engulfing and sickening rath;

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Theoretically speaking"

Call me for dinner when its ready
Did my son mow the lawn
I know you have a life of your own
But how long will you be gone
I'm busy now can't you see
What am I doing-I'm thinking
About my degree
I don't have to work-I got my degree
What I know is what I know
In theory I have it in my head
Wake me for dinner unless you are dead
If that is the case then you have my permission
To let someone else do it for you
Just make sure my dinner is done
And that the lawn has been mowed too
Can you let the neighbor know where I am
Just in case your not here
I'm all prepared if you happen to expire
Including my artificial tear

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved