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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
