/>
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
In my final season amongst the skyscrapers
They are the fingers that reach toward the clouds
In the distance faint barking within the crowds
In the final season within my inner mind
Soon to be back in the rolling hills that know me
Croaking frogs at the ponds edge
Things that whisper to me in the quiet
Of the nights that never seem to end
As I dwell in the city of zero tolerance
In these ending times I observe
Behind those eyes in the crowd
Their true meaning cleverly concealed
Contrary to my father's discouragements
Confirming my childhood suspicions
It is best to observe and avoid the mix
Yet there are some who beckon in sincerety
As light fades in places where it is already dim
A different insight begins to reveal
Realization that hope resides within despair
Perhaps you will find a part of me
Along the boardwalk in Coney Island
Or glimpsing someone with their finger raised
Into the air giving the familiar call
In my departure I will go as mysteriously as I arrived
None the less every experience
Rememberance shall always be with me
Beyond my final season amongst the skyscrapers
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Most of my life I have broken the rules
Walking a lonely path
In deep dark shadows of withering trees
Invoking society's rath
Hard winds have always blown upon me
Yet there is sweetness in the air
Upon such waters that are always restless
All I can do is blankly stare
Into the void that stands before me
On shores of tangled kelp
Weather beaten sands upon my face
Extended hands rejected which offered help
Skies have brought little comfort
A brief distraction in the song of a bird
When I first took refuge in such dark shadows
My voice was never heard
In the distance the sun was seen
It's warmth only briefly in imagination
Slowly it disappears over the horizon
In countless days of duration
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Blades of grass that seem to cut
Not gentle like one would expect
Before droplets of blood fall
Sweat runs from my brow
Earnestly I lick my salty lips
Anticipation awaits curiously
As daffodils surround me
Bowing down and staring in reluctance
While I lay about in the morning dew
Pondering the silence
It is the calm before the storm
As blood flows from my wound
Upon the ground it falls generously
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
As though it were a fallen star
Upon such shores it rests
What places it has traveled to
Beyond the waves and crests
The beckoning of the tides
In an ocean vast as the sky
Reflections in likeness to rainbows
Oblivious to gulls that cry
A world where there is no song
Yet the vibrations of the whale drone
Lulling of waves crashing on shores
The sandbar seems to moan
Only the lighthouse seems to listen
In the shadows it silently stands
Looking down upon the fallen stars
That have come from distant lands
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
He sits upon a cold throne
Birth came from discarded placentas
Placed upon the heap
His bloody evil mind lives
Behind eyes of terror
Torn flesh of his victims
Digesting within his belly
In the cold place where he dwells
The hearts of many who wandered
Innocence is no excuse
At the end of their journey
They remain within the clutches
Nimble fingers grasping for me
In the chilled air
Towards warm flesh that is fresh
Seeking to devour me in his hunger
Confirming that all my thoughts
Within my youth were correct
Vexation is upon the world
In many forms it thrives
Concealing itself behind the veil
Lurking always lurking
Patiently waiting for me to stumble
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Beyond the haunted mesas
In the valleys below
New York City was vaporized
Its radiation persists
As would a plague upon the earth
Those who remained with raised hands
Making inquiry to the heavens
Worms with gourds placed over them
In finality until expiration
Their corpses remain unburied
Rotting in decay upon the earth
No effect can be too great upon me
I am the lady of masks who rides upon
The wings of my invention
Neatly placing mementos into my nest
In the distance a whirlpool continues
A sinkhole that sucks away at the decay
Placing it into the bowels of the earth
The mantis and the butterfly remain
Pollination will replenish in the blooming
In the new days ahead which have begun
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
Creeping rotting vegetation
Wraps itself around the throat
Of local places which once thrived
Strangulation everywhere
Furiously I whip my rabbit
Into submission he sinks
Falling beneath my rage
When the Czar's army came to Kovno
They peered onwards looking
When you placed pipes into their mouths
Forcing water downwards
Until it made them explode
Women and children fled into the river
Drowning themselves out of sacrifice
They said nothing in the shadow of Stalin
You could easily slumber next to me
Not knowing that I have piercing arrows
Under my quilt to thrust into your heart
If not for my grandfather
It would be so but instead:
You are left to the hunger of ravenous wolves
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
There are no windows in my room
Seclusion from the daylight
In the countryside
My blue house stands
Without gutters to funnel the rain
The tree on the hill painted
In stealth of night
Blue leaves shimmering
Under the stars
Will they adore eachother
In the light of day
I have no way of knowing
With no windows to look out from my room
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
The objects of her lust vary
She uses her squeeze box
Holding her prey close
Upon release they wander aimlessly
Seeking out refuge and celibacy
All desire has been taken from them
Until there is no more to take
Introverts are mentally drained
Extroverts are zapped for their energy
In all that might remain
Strangulation and reticulation
Like wild loose vegetation
It wraps itself around the ankles
Squeezing unto bulging eyes
Sexual death is within her merciless thighs
There is no conversation
In the meat factory where sides of beef
Hanging on hooks awaiting butchery
So that they might be consumed
Ichabod Crane sees the headless horseman
Welcoming him with open arms
Rather than to face the relentless pursuit
Of the squeeze box woman
In a world where
There are not enough doors
That lead to quiet rooms
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
My innocence has been stained
With Crimson tears
Within myself I conceal
Those inner most fears
When blood hath flowed
From other places
Enduring screams
Utter disgrace
Within myself I must conceal
Pretending not to feel
Numb to all such pain
My tears fall like acidic rain
Such wounds that run deep
Looking into my eyes
You cannot see
Beyond my disguise
This sanguine flow
Which stains my thighs
A thousand deaths I have died
No one came to save me
Each time I cried
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
