Thursday, April 2, 2009


Jeering voices which go unheard
Japed for our actions without favor
Our lungs aching with disbelief
The collective refusing to waiver
Incredulous in our convictions
Unable to change for anyone's sake
Words planted in our ears and minds
Did not cause us to quake
Many are the proud
Few are the humble
We beat our fists upon the walls
Closed doors and utter silence
No man is an island
Unto which he falls
No mercy shall be given
For this was something we never gave
Putrid odor emits from our place now
In the ensuing quave
Now we are looked upon with disdain
When the movement begins
No sun shall bring warmth to our bones
Wandering in the way as Beduins
We are found wanton
In the groaning of our inner pain
Realizing all has been said
Our voices and pleas now in vain

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Upon the Water in my Sailboat"

Another day spent upon the sea
In conversation with the spirit of death
Not far off will be my test
Where I will speak out shibboleth!
With hands of callous
My weather beaten face
Outer appearance is of no concern
My companion for the day asks no questions
Or takes notice of the waters which churn
His presence does not irk me
In this life of complicated arbor
Its latticework intrigues me
As we ponder in the quiet harbor
Thankfully only I can see
The spirit which sits by my side
It offers no assistance in my task
My sails fill in good stride
Each day is a thankful day
To live and sail upon the sea
Whatever is ahead will come
Regardless of my plea

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Midnight Imagination"

My conception of familiar surroundings
The kind that are found in fragments of time
A simple toy can become much more
Hidden in a paradigm
While others may not agree with me
It has become my theory
Life without this realization
Would make things for me most dreary
Shapes are easily manipulated
Travel within the mind
Visitation to several places at once
Is possible if so inclined
Distance is irrelevant
A concept of time does not apply
How long does it take to go from thoughts
To accept and personify
In the wake of the waves in motion
Or a moon that waxes and wanes
Touching things that are untouchable
Succumbing to all it attains

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

"I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings"

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.


"Innocent Slumber"

As the rabbit slumbers
Under the moon
Visitation occurs from the reeds
Most nights he is absent
Except at times when he feeds
His nourishment consists
Of his victims dreams
He thrives on the energy
Odd as it seems
No animal is safe from his grasp
For under the moon he creeps
Latching onto all the dreams
While his victim sleeps
Relentless in his pursuit
He makes his way through the night
Other than that he's quite harmless
In his ever evolving plight
The dream thief cringes
In disbelief
When he finds someone
Who has no dreams
Disatisfied is his appetite
He retires to the shadows
Of the moonbeams
Until he once again rises
Lurking in the night
Seeking out more dreams to steal
To suit his appetite

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

"Accordion Man"

The notes flow into the street
Coming from my heart
Some throw me a nickel or two
Others listen with interest
Thirty seven years of playing
Putting myself forward on the streets
Down in New Orleans
The people,the city and all the voices
I love them all just the same
On the sun baked steets from which I grew
Tap dancing still happens
But not enough for my tastes
Familiar faces of those I have watched
Grow from children
Now they scoff at me
I am a reminder of what is in their future
Old age is a natural occurence
But some fear it
Little do they know
In my heart I am as I was in youth
Soon my way will be to the longhome
Some call it the dirt nap
My preference is to keep to the street
Until these legs of mine will no longer go
Up to that time my companion is with me
Kicking out the jams on the street
My old cat waits for me at home
Tonight as every night
We shall slumber together
And greet the morning together
With smiles upon our faces

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved


My apparition should come as no suprise
In sweet revenge of pumpkins
Which have come and gone
Such vines from roots
Firmly planted in soil
Slowly make their way to the surface
To witness fallen leaves from heaven
Compile into one great lunge
Forward they go into the autumn wind
Cleaving to me strenuously
Aghast their existence is dependent
Upon my survival
Not knowing bitter winds of winter
Spell out my demise
Looking over this field
In rememberance of seasons past
The laughter of children
Who are now the reapers
Of sown seeds that cause my brethren
To rise up from the ground
Baring their ripened melons upon the vine
Those who attribute growth to nature
Entrusted with proper treatment
The declaration has been made
Take great care in your labor
We are watching

© 2009 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved