Friday, May 4, 2007

"Earthen Adjustment"

At its own pace the world turns
The flickering flame slowly burns
Cogs that determine the way things flow
Yet who would ever know
If not for the motion that is so
In constant variables that equal
A planet that rests on its axis
Atlas never held the world
Upon his mighty shoulders
Neither does Neptune
Rule the mighty seas
Yet there is a man who adjusts
Those cogs accordingly
In the winter breeze
Without him centrifugal force
Would cease to exist
Carefully he torques the cogs
With the gentle turn of his wrists

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Of Hounds And Hares"

Hares chasing hounds
Around the track
None can afford to have any slack
What do rabbits do when they catch a hound
The trick is to scare them a bit
Smart hares always let them get away
That is if they have any wit
Plenty of days with plenty or races
They all seem to pretty much have
The same faces
To make a hound beller
To make him feel scared
Better than seeing a rabbit snared

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Wait for Me"

This field is beaming with pestilence
Pods filled with irritants that rash my skin
Too bad she is not out front
I could really use the assistance
My thrust seems to be enough
My spokes are free of debri
A mad hatter speaks to the Chesire cat
Over there in one of those trees
If I am to win the race this day
I must outrun the bees
While they are busy chasing me
The bear in the woods will rob them of their honey
How is that for a days work
I have upset the enviornment once again
Broken all the rules
Managed to evade all the fools
Who await me for unwanted bargains
Ones that are out of the fields
Into a metropolis of folly
I would rather be on my porch
Eating cauliflower and playing my guitar
The vegetables are good for your body
My guitar is good for my soul
The ride through the field is my work
Before I can arrive at home
Looking forward to the things desired

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Three Oranges"

first time my father overheard me listening to
this bit of music he asked me,
"what is it?"
"it's called Love For Three Oranges,"
I informed him.
"boy," he said, "that's getting it
he meant sex.
listening to it
I always imagined three oranges
sitting there,
you know how orange they can
so mightily orange.
maybe Prokofiev had meant
what my father
if so, I preferred it the
other way
the most horrible thing
I could think of
was part of me being
what ejaculated out of the
end of his
stupid penis.
I will never forgive him
for that,
his trick that I am stuck
I find no nobility in
I say kill the Father
before he makes more
such as

from ON THE BUS - 1992

"Lonely Elephant"

Standing there looking into darkness
She wants to go home
The herd calls out to her
She hears their call
Both are within eachother
In spirit
Connected across the miles
It bridges the loneliness
Geographically disconnected
Acceptance of her fate
She denies her keepers a look
Into her heart
Punishment for what has been
Incarceration placed upon her soul
She tolerates the spectacle
Knowing within herself that she is mighty
Yet humble
Refusal to change the ways
Ancient beliefs still keep her safe
Within its folds
Her heart is broken
Filled with sadness
Yet she will find bits of happiness
Cherishing them until
It is time for her to go
The herd awaits
She is counted among its numbers
Awating departure
The herd calls out again

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Coming Out"

Writing of herself
She knows it is painful
Wounds buried deeply under her skin
Looking upon her you would never know
Healing has been slow
She reclaims her life
The daily task of climbing
Each day she must rise to the occasion
With crippled legs she must drag
Fighting her mind all the way
Upon the growing grass
Blades pierce her clothing
She does not mind
Deep below the surface she goes
Pulling her mind out of the dark forest
The place where I willingly reside
A forest where many have died
Among the flowers however
A chosen few return
I hail to them and am glad in my heart
Observing the eventual turn
My dark forest-its bending path
Sensing the pending rath
Looking into eyes that reveal pain
I pray for them
To feel the cleansing rain
Leaving the dark forest far behind

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Rolling Stone"

Skies are baby blue today
Clouds are cotton white
I'm traveling down Route 66
In constant motions flight
This endless road will never vanish
Its ghosts still much alive
Memories of the old drive in theatre
Which shall never revive
My wheels come to a halt
Long enough to ponder
Where was it I started this journey
When did I start to wander
What was it I was looking for
Wherein were my hopes to find
That elusive spark in my frontal lobe
That floundered in my mind
Was it hiding at the picture show
Or in other places I must go
The pull of its force tugging me along
The sense of its lonely song
Somewhere in that mire was joy
Was this just a senseless ploy
Cruel tricks play games in my head
Mean demons who will not remain dead
Perhaps my spark is in New Orleans
Or it is to be found along the way
Is it is some strange womans breast
Who I will meet some day
It may reside around the corner
Or down the road aways
Under a Big Top tent of the circus
Or in the elephant that plays
Raw canvas and hemp rope
Blood and sweat
Cold unrelenting fears
How far will my search take me
In a lifetime of years filled with tears

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Prune Pie"

Grandma used to bake pies every Monday
At least a dozen or so
One afternoon they cooled on the porch
Exactly numbered in status quo
All but one accounted for
Under the porch we went
Eating the pie with enthusiasm
Not knowing what it meant
My brothers inquiry about the pie
I thought it to be minced myself
Unaware it was a prune pie
That rested upon the shelf
We ate pretty near three quarters
Fed the rest to the cat
Eruptions began about midnight or so
We took turns standing by the toilet
Regardless of what we did it was all in vain
Nothing seemed to foil it
Three o'clock came,we were both beet red
My brother nearly in tears
We returned to the featherbed mattress
Well worn out beyond our own years
The folks ate those pies a spoonful at a time
Once a day for good measure
Little did we know about its purpose
They did not eat that pie out of pleasure
He wouldn't stop crying that night
Brother complained that it really burned
Readily I headed for the medicine cabinet
Quite soon after I returned
With a bottle of red mercurochrome
Directing him to get on all fours
I touched the glass tube to his place of discomfort
Muffling him to keep from the roars
The bottle of red liquid up in the air
Plopping down on the bed in its spill
There it was a big red splotch
The kind that would make grandma kill
Quickly we turned the mattress over
Then going on to sleep
Threatening my brother with penalties of death
If my secret he did not keep
Up for the day and out to play
Grandmother knew her house well
She sensed something amiss in the house
Her bed was out of sorts she could tell
When she discovered the splotch in the middle
Immedeately I got the blame
Soon thereafter she took out the rug beater
Proceeding to cause it to flame
Across my backside she scored me
I blamed it on the prune pie
Then I got it some more for stealing
She let that instrument fly
To this day I avoid the prune
Remembering my lesson well
The prune pie and the featherbed mattress
And the day the mercurochrome fell

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"The Creation of our Pearl"

We cleave unto eachother
Melting into ourselves
As we have become one
The tops of our heads removed
We can bask in the energy together
Going beyond mere words
Defying gravitational pulls
Centrifugal forces keep us together
We make the rules
Using the tools to create
An enviornment coated shell
This is where our pearl will reside
Abandoned objects may enter if we choose
Additional light is added to the recipie
In the mix of our juggernaut
We sometimes accidentally crush
Inanimate objects
Unfortunately it sometimes requires
Our need for mulch is great
Without fertilizer our seeds cannot grow
Remain at the outer fringes
You will see our universe from the distance
In the interim you will see its creation
Then it is safe to enter when all is done
Your presence will make the blend
If you enter prematurely though
Alienation will occur prior to the planting
Fertilizer will become your destiny
In the mix of the future flow
Where our precious pearl thrives

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


It was a hard snow that came down
During my time at work
Trudging through the snow I already know
Pierre anxiously waits for me
Others pass him by and give him the eye
He has no care of their stare
The path home is covered in snow
He scans the entranceways
Propped up in diligence
Once again inside he will sleep
By the fireplace
Crackling logs will lull him
Upon the couch at my feet
The whistling kettle
Rising steam
It will be a good night
With the cold winter outside
We will stay warm together
Sleeping late into the next day
Listening to the fire
By this time he will have climbed
Onto the pillow above my head
I am sleeping on his couch
But he is not selfish
Pierre allows me to slumber
Until I rise once again

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Residing Essence"

Centerfold the clinging octopi
Attracted to its natural eye
Content in slumber
There will be no meeting of the minds today
Perhaps it will happen at another time
He already knows my desire
Behind that eye is a working mind
Words do not have to exist
Something greater than spoken words
Travel through charged distances
Resonating within myself
His presence is greatly felt
I wait upon him patiently as is required
Not much to ask for something so desired
This moment suspended in peace
Contemplation sinks deeply
As to what will be communicated
The wisdom is apparent
Resting behind the ancient eye
Unclaimed treasure awaits
He will be as much my prisoner
As I will be his
In the end I will carefully lift him
From his place
Returning him to his ocean
Sensing his inner emotion
He will fade into the abyss
I will sorely miss
But his essence will reside
Within my mind as mine will also reside within his
He is the unwilling captive
I will not enslave him as others would do
He already senses this knowing
The call of his ocean is heard
Anxious plankton await his arrival
Remora always keep their distance
The Echeneididae will create no obstacle
Even they know he is the great untouchable
Who creeps below the waves

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Silent Scream"

Ruffled sheets in between
A scream within
Paralyzed vocal chords
Her mouth goes through the motions
There are no magic potions
Nightmares abound year after year
Nothing prevents the fear
Creeping in that innocent sin
Forever holding accountable
Innocent lambs led to the slaughter
Occasional bleating but otherwise silent
Their trusting souls could it be too
Paralyzed in a dream
That soon becomes a nightmare
Fresh mutton is not worth its price
When I think of those eyes
The bleating cries
Beneath the wool into their skin
Of that innocent sin
Like laughter that belies outward grief
Speaking roughly to cover their inner gentility
It is no wonder they are immersed in apathy
Being led to the slaughter
It was what had always been expected
The useless void wherein rests the scream
A space between exhaling and inhaling
It is the pause where exile lives
Emotionless without feeling
Before its demons they are found kneeling
In strict lines each waiting their turn
From this there is nothing left to commit
The still voices in the aftermath
Paralytic in the midst of unsolicited rath
They die in vain without much notice
Burying the crimes commited against them
Secretly they die in their own pain
The ruffled sheets are folded neatly
The voice which could not speak
Is heard from no more

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved