Friday, July 6, 2007

"Schoolyard Blues"

Empty swings down by the playground
My voice used to be heard in that place
The many voices have now been silenced
Only the memories are there to embrace
Grade school companions have moved on
Somewhere over the settling horizons dawn
My pass through town I come here to stand
Searching frantically for a loose strand
A similar voice heard in the shuffle
Familiar visions but not quite the same
A rememberance of that sweet odor
The mixture of which I cannot reclaim
The old janitor still remains
He recognizes the bulk but refrains
From the recall of old plays
Yet he steadily stays
Faithful to his post at the end of the hall
Down by the boiler room
The great protector of childhood thoughts
Like a miser who guards the virgin womb
There will be no deep penetration today
For the most part the mind will remain numb
Thanks to the janitor who still remains
Beating his loud gloomy drum
Reminding all who return
That there is nothing left to learn
A well that has run dry long ago
In likeness to frazzled tumbleweeds
Over prairies that no longer glow
Under the sun that is concealed behind clouds
That do not return after the rain
An exersize in futility
For the human mind to bear its strain

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Country Owls"

Hoot owls that live out in the country
Are always nice to hear
Late at night when all is quiet
The shining eyes of the deer
Out in the fields when headlights shine
They see the mechanical monster move
Headlights are the eyes to them
They surely dissaprove
Yet the hoot owls remain on their branch
Peeping with their yellow eyes
Making their gentle hooting noises
Appearing to look so wise
Not a summer has gone by without them
They are kind of like friends who are aloof
In later times they have been seen
Resting on my barn roof
They are welcome to what I have
As long as they keep coming around
Hoot owls that live near my farm
I look forward to hearing their sound

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Humble Beginnings"

The eyes of the first men
Who peered from this place
Who waited for sunlight
Huddled in fear
Together they felt
The coldness of night
Their visions remained unclear
The observance of animals
In copulation
Aware of the need for population
Without fires that roared
Empathy was still yet to be borne
Until the sympathetic lightning
Brought forth its warmth
Lessening the presence of the frightening
When peering outward from their place
Unaware of the future of their race
The mingling of the people
Who huddled together
Eons later buried in the nether
Evidence of their presence in the soil
Gathering at first in their primary toil
They fashioned tools and stood erect
Worshiping the sun with utter respect
In the wake of their own wonder
Their mark in history in likeness to thunder
A presence to be reckoned with
As they spun tales of lore and myth
Placing images on the wall
In answer to the distant call

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Littlle Sister"

Last night we talked past midnight
This morning I awoke-she took flight
Must had been before the dawn
She took my smokes and left me none
What am I to do with a sister like that
She is more aloof than my cat
Ahhh...she's nuts
What's the use the way she checks
Out people's butts
She's definetly a bit of a freak
Not like me at all-I'm a computer geek
Always shopping and on the run
More than one boyfriend at all times
She's never done
Resting up and taking a break is beyond her
When she finally moved to the city
Our parents rejected her ways
Refusing to take on any more pity
So when she showed up at my door
How could I say no
Or ask her not to stay and tell her to go
Nothing wrong with her that time won't cure
Until then I think I can endure
Her sometimes childish ways
Just around the corner are better days
She will have reached full bloom
In the meantime she has her own room
My place is open to her at all times
Until she realizes it's time to go
She better have some cigarettes
For me when she comes back
Then I will be the one to steal her pack

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


"A Thousand Kisses Deep"

The ponies run, the girls are young,
The odds are there to beat.
You win a while, and then it's done -
Your little winning streak.
And summoned now to deal
With your invincible defeat,
You live your life as if it's real,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed,
I'm back on Boogie Street.
You lose your grip, and then you slip
Into the Masterpiece.
And maybe I had miles to drive,
And promises to keep:
You ditch it all to stay alive,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

Confined to sex, we pressed against
The limits of the sea:
I saw there were no oceans left
For scavengers like me.
I made it to the forward deck.
I blessed our remnant fleet -
And then consented to be wrecked,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

I'm turning tricks, I'm getting fixed,
I'm back on Boogie Street.
I guess they won't exchange the gifts
That you were meant to keep.
And quiet is the thought of you,
The file on you complete,
Except what we forgot to do,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

And sometimes when the night is slow,
The wretched and the meek,
We gather up our hearts and go,
A Thousand Kisses Deep.

The ponies run, the girls are young,
The odds are there to beat . . .

"Sunrise Sunset"

Baaaa....to you old silly sheep
This day is almost over
Time to take you home to bed
You've had your fill of clover
Think your probing eyes bother me
Well they do just a bit
I've known you all since you were ewes
But lagging now I cannot permit
Soon it will be dark
I am tired and need to rest
Baaaa....to you my woolies
I always try my best
Enough for one day though
This morn I saw mother kneading dough
Come let's go it's time for bed
And I want to sample some of mother's bread
Tommorow is another day for us
The sun will come up just fine in the morn
I will come to call on you
By the sound of the horn
Then you will be up and ready
To kiss the morning dew

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

" Carl"

This is Terry
But I nicknamed him Carl
That's another story in itself
Always happy about life
Makes one take a look at their self
Got him a job at the mill making pallets
He did just fine
I used to take him out with me
Before he got on at the mill
His job was to watch the hoses
To make sure there was no spill
He finally got to steer the truck
While I sat behind the wheel
Carl laughed so hard about it
He actually began to squeal
Found out the guys at the mill were teasing him
They pinched him on his side
The entire length of his torso was bruised
When I saw it I immedeately cried
Carl had this look on his face
Wondering at my tears
I decided then and there
That I would end his fears
The assembly of hooligans like never was seen
We waited by the old saw mill
Those jerks who bruised Carl sighted us
Out through the back they went
Dispersing over the hill
Although they escaped certain harm
We sent out the small town alarm
They got the message loud and clear
No longer would Carl have to fear
The owner of the mill got informed
Shadowens was his name
He was also visibly shaken
And thought it was pretty lame
One by one those jerks got fired
Until there were none left
Carl was his own happy self again
No longer in pain or bereft
He is my lifetime buddy
I got him a dog last fall
He likes his dog-the dog likes him
There is the story of Terry wherewithal

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Ode To The Black Flower"

It's light shines bright
The welcome in its omnipresence
Hail to all who enter the gate
It is the place where the exsistence of hate
Was given birth to the foolish mirth
Of a handful of men who rose above all
It was known to all as
The Black Flower of Brzezinka
Atop its tower as it hailed the trains
All who enter where nothing remains
Piles of eyeglasses
Piles of shoes
All who enter must pay their dues
Poles and Jews,Gypsy and Czech
Zyklon B awaits your arrival
Shaven heads-pulled gold teeth
No need for a bed or concern for survival
Arbeit Macht Frei
What a joke
Soon your corpses will go up in smoke
Once your eyes have seen the Black Flower
From up on top of its place on the tower
It will be the first and only time
You will see its thorny edges pierce your eyes
I die clutching someone's child
I die an honorable death
I die in your shower room tomb
I will haunt you until your last breath
Destruction of the body does not destroy
What I am and what I represent
Destroy the evidence as much as you can
Your vain attempts to circumvent
The yellow star is ingrained into my flesh
Your Black Flower with its spiny thorns
I shall hold it to my heart dearly
As I depart and evade your pain

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"In Rememberance Of The Latter Days"

Small town population
Eighty nine plus one
I'm the plus one who comes
And goes and is never done
The old Shell sign years ago
No longer stands
The station is gone as well
Weeds cover the concrete slab
Without prior knowledge
You could never tell
Of the place that stood there
Long ago
When gas cost pennies and all was swell
The town remembers to this day
I am the hooligan who to their dismay
Unplugged the letter on the old sign
Pete and I laughed in our truck
As we sat there and drank cheap wine
Out in the strip cuts we listened to music
On the old car radio as it played
We had renamed the town hell
In honor of the cavalcade
That roamed the street made of dirt
The folks in town were a bit stirred
Next night we plugged it back in
And thought it was a bit absurd
Still being funny our little joke
They still recall the time
There goes those two hooligans again
They commited the crime
Three decades have come and gone
We still bear the brunt and the blame
This old town never forgets
They still condemn us to shame

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Please Hear What I'm Not Saying"

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear.
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
masks that I am afraid to take off,
and none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled.
For God's sake don't be fooled.
I give the impression that I am secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me.
My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion and fear and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.

I panic at the thought of my weakness and fear being exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation.
My only hope and I know it.
That is, if it's followed by acceptance,
if it's followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself,
from my own self-built prison walls,
from the barriers I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.

But, I don't tell you this. I don't dare. I am afraid to.
I am afraid your glance will not be followed by acceptance,
will not be followed by love.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh,
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good,
and that you will see this and reject me.

So I play my game, my desperate pretending game,
with a facade of assurance without
and a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of masks,
and my life becomes a front.
I idly chatter to you in the suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I am going through my routine,
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.

I don't like to hide.
I don't like to play superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me,
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes that
blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind and gentle and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings,
very small wings,
very feeble wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.

I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator - a honest-to-God creator -
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from my shadow world of panic
and uncertainty, from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to. Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.

A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach to me,
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books say about man,
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls,
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands
but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.

Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.

~Charles C. Finn~

"Fractal Thoughts"

Lucid dreams are my only escape
In likeness to the fetal cocoon
The place where melancholy is forbidden
In this state I am immune
Sounds of the world are muffled
Only the motion survives
In between eye blinks
When in dim light it barely survives
Free to fly to distant places
Where the essence of time is no more
Floating into fractal spaces
To voices which seem to implore
Variance is turned into harmony
Friendly hands wave on in direction
Free to fly-free to go
It is safe in the voice of Inflection
Through the inner walls of my mothers womb
While floating in man made waters
The spirits within recall the djin
In the presence of unborn daughters
There is no recollection of the inner connection
Countless years that go by
Until on a night when exposed in the light
In a smattering of an innocent sigh
A veil is lifted for but a brief moment
As though it were some sort of a tease
Then it is gone as quickly as it came
Like the brief lullaby of a nightime breeze

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Kindred Skyscrapers"

Out with the old-In with the new
Either one bids the other adieu
Each tolerates the other
Content on causing their rival
To smother
In contrast it is like mother and child
In unison side by side
Not meant to be in variance
Each in true form and pride
At first glimpse it is striking
Then it becomes part of the scene
Not many heads look up to it thereafter
Or take notice of what is forseen

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


Suspended in a tide
Of constant motion
In the immense population
It's expanse greater than any ocean
Things go by without notice
My shoes on the telephone wire
Observing it all in due form
Up where the smoke is but out of the fire
Daily scenes of life below
Day by day goes by
My shoes record all that happens
Under the canopy of the sky
Sometimes there are tears to record
On occasion a smile or two
The procession pays no attention
Most have not a clue
Bright flowers filled with sunshine
Seek refuge in windows with shade
Out of the smog but not the bark of a dog
This is the place where lives are lived
Yet also broken and made

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Dandelions can be flowers too"

Nothing is sweeter than a child with flowers
It is a gift from their heart
If a child brings you some one day
Do not allow them to depart
Until you have shown them what it means
To give a gift of such
If they bring you dandelions
They can mean as much
Don't tell them it's a weed
It will make their heart bleed
To know they gave you something other
Than just a tumbling weed
Deprives them of the sunshine
And that which they all need
Love may come in many forms
It is as it appears to be
To accept love is to give it
That is the secret key

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Ode to a Grumpy Toad"

Pepe the toad lived under our bug light
Out in the middle of the field
He used to sleep in the ivy
Until we made him a flowerpot home
After that he would barely roam
There was a pan filled with water
So he could get himself a drink
Pepe was wild but he was spoiled
A bug eating toad who never smiled
Winter came and winter went
We looked for him in the spring
He didnt come until late in summer
To do his favorite thing
Maybe he was not really Pepe
But just some other toad
We put out the pot and the water pan
To keep him from crossing the road

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


The silent fingers reaching
Gulls look on in wonder
People like gulls rest on the fringes
Awaiting their daily plunder
Nobody takes much notice
I feed them bits of bread
Shreiking and groaning
Sounding like they mourn for the dead
It doesn't matter-it's never enough
Dare you call the seagull's bluff
Acting as though their hearts were pierced
Their shrill cries in the air
Every scrap belongs to them
Not intending to share
A hundred seeds are on the ground
Yet they fight over one
Going from one seed to another
Until they seem to be done
Next time I go through town on the train
I will stop by once again
To feed them bread and give them seeds
To listen to them strain against their peers
As I see their false tears
Drop like utter pain
In teardrops like the rain

© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved