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She has a song within her heart
Down such trodden paths she goes
Through villages in their silence
Until her voice is heard
In likeness to the softness
Of the gentle warbling bird
Each one returns unto its nest
But only long enough to rest
For it has much work to be done
Its song which must be sung
Lifting up the spirits
Who hear the gentle song
Where two hearts have met
In such happiness
After wandering in their search
The sound once found
Is only the beginning of the journey
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
It all began as a paper moon
Sailing over a cloudless sea
The world paused on its own axis
As the music believed in me
Each note struck lit a star
Until the night was gone
A vessel floats outside my window
Waiting for the dawn
Over horizons never seen
Until the notes shall fade
Once again it vanishes
Amidst the melody played
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Winding streets of layered passion
It followed me down the path
Demonic dragon of latter times
When days were filled with wrath
Burning desire lurked in the mire
That ugly breath of molten fire
Relentlessly in my shadow
Angel of death with trumpet in hand
From edges within the dark forest
Invasion within dreams
To and fro over the land
Desolation upon the rooftops
Unable to any longer hide
Face to face with the dragon
Stripped of human pride
Wandering spirit that drove my soul
Such cries of pain in the dark hole
Emergence under guise of night
No journey planned into the light
The dragon hounds me
Into streets where chaos awaits
The monster licks at my heels
It knows the hiding places
Where it lurks till the fallen man kneels
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Wherein lays the fear in such happiness
Albeit the joy found in thine sorrow
Thriving in streets of broken pavements
Which nobody can ever borrow
Day unto night
Positives unto negatives
Beholding to one another
Each needs its opposite to exist
Grumbling in the streets
Of protesting mutter
Its thickness produces chapters
Events in each life
Memories alive which still survive
Through waves crashing that bring strife
The girl with sclerosis who struggles
To move her hand in a wave
The man in the airport during segregation
Who is now in his lonely grave
Crossing over bridges that link
In remembrance of lessons learned
Yet the journey to the crossroads
In such places that have been yearned
Bridges that connect past with present
Revealing the entire mind set
Onwards it trudges over the bridges
With no expressions of regret
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Of all my hopes and all my dreams
Written my songs for many years
Seldom are they played by others
Who have not felt my tears
Down in the Quarter
The energy is smooth
The slow motion train
Runs smooth in the groove
~
There is no place though
Like the home place
Near by the railroad tracks
Where I can play
To my sweetest friends
To the sound of the clickety clacks
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Welcome to Brooklyn
Don't let the door
Hit you where the sun won't shine
We didn't invite you here in the first place
We don't want to hear you whine
Pay your parking tickets
And any other fines
We feel like putting on you
If that's not enough
We'll think of some others
All we know is you owe
Us our just due
The city runs on everyone's misery
Without it no feather in our cap
Our reputation precedes us greatly
We're the city that dishes out the crap
Millions are spent convincing people
To visit us because it's so fine
Once we got you in our vice grip
What is yours belongs to us so don't whine
Spend your money then get the hell out
There's millions more just like you
Who will innocently visit our waiting jaws
To pay us what we feel is due
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Parliament Hill Fields
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge.
Faceless and pale as china
The round sky goes on minding its business.
Your absence is inconspicuous;
Nobody can tell what I lack.
Gulls have threaded the river's mud bed back
To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue,
Settling and stirring like blown paper
Or the hands of an invalid. The wan
Sun manages to strike such tin glints
From the linked ponds that my eyes wince
And brim; the city melts like sugar.
A crocodile of small girls
Knotting and stopping, ill-assorted, in blue uniforms,
Opens to swallow me. I'm a stone, a stick,
One child drops a barrette of pink plastic;
None of them seem to notice.
Their shrill, gravelly gossip's funneled off.
Now silence after silence offers itself.
The wind stops my breath like a bandage.
Southward, over Kentish Town, an ashen smudge
Swaddles roof and tree.
It could be a snowfield or a cloudbank.
I suppose it's pointless to think of you at all.
Already your doll grip lets go.
The tumulus, even at noon, guards its black shadow:
You know me less constant,
Ghost of a leaf, ghost of a bird.
I circle the writhen trees. I am too happy.
These faithful dark-boughed cypresses
Brood, rooted in their heaped losses.
Your cry fades like the cry of a gnat.
I lose sight of you on your blind journey,
While the heath grass glitters and the spindling rivulets
Unspool and spend themselves. My mind runs with them,
Pooling in heel-prints, fumbling pebble and stem.
The day empties its images
Like a cup or a room. The moon's crook whitens,
Thin as the skin seaming a scar.
Now, on the nursery wall,
The blue night plants, the little pale blue hill
In your sister's birthday picture start to glow.
The orange pompons, the Egyptian papyrus
Light up. Each rabbit-eared
Blue shrub behind the glass
Exhales an indigo nimbus,
A sort of cellophane balloon.
The old dregs, the old difficulties take me to wife.
Gulls stiffen to their chill vigil in the drafty half-light;
I enter the lit house.
~Sylvia Plath~
A magpie sits upon the railing
Watching a smattering of crows
Howling in the midst
In the fog upon the ship
An ocean engulfs it
With loneliness in the dream
Odd as this all may seem
In the journey
Of never ending chapters
In life that approaches
Heavy hearts
Cautious ways
My folding hands await
Accepting what comes forth
It is the journey of a lifetime
Upon the moving ship
Trudging onwards in this ocean
Such thoughts overwhelm
In greater numbers than plankton
Much farther than what is seen
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Many times misunderstanding
Conversation was sought
Looking past searching eyes
Into a gray horizon
With no after thought
Contemplating the dead silence
In the aftermath of passion
Holding out my hands
Not able to catch the pain
With an open heart searching
In a place that can't contain
What is it about thine eyes
That search the abyss so deeply
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
This memento within my hands
Which sustains me in my cage
Self inflicted wounds
Upon my heart in rage
Inner convulsion
Conceived revulsion
A barrier which divides
Within the realm of creation
In which my rage abides
Inner wall of sanctum
Upon such floors
In dingy lit corridors
I yield to the animal that calls
Yet this small token remains
Behind such broken dreams
Of these self constructed walls
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
