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My old, out-of-tune piano,
when I play Metamorphosis by Philip Glass
through black-and-white eyes
speaks of me more truly
than a long, dramatic script.
Metamorphosis by Philip Glass One
Anxiety before anxiety,
sorrow before sorrow,
word before word.
I think it will arrive sooner
than I expected…

Had I felt differently?
Had I known better?
That “thing” was imprinted
on the heart of each child
before it was forgotten.

The Z boson? A particle of God?
Inner awareness?
Lightness and compassion
screaming: keep going!
Forgiveness is a gift
for healing.

I prefer to withdraw.
Foreseeing the future
is too painful.

I feel safe in my inertia,
my comfort zone, not acting
but that intrusive voice
keeps shouting: don’t stop!

If it weren’t the fear of fearing,
sorrow before sorrow,
word before word…
They don’t bother me anymore.
For different circumstances,
I’m ready now.
Wind-carved
spine twisted—feral, gnarled.
A body bent,
splintered—never severed.

Salt licked wounds raw. Brine sutured marrow.
Bark flayed to ribbons, limbs ink-blurred—
curling, unwritten. A thing undone, a thing refusing.

Roots plunged—teeth to brittle earth,
ribs against collapse.
Cliff crumbling, gravity unspooling—
but it held.

White-knuckled in ruin.
Fingers clawing the wind.
Wreckage. Crooked. Unnatural.

An old man exhaled— Survival isn’t always beautiful.

But what is beauty, if not this—
a body unmade, carved by violence,
and still, somehow, bloom?

Hell was supposed to be beneath us
Somewhere way down low in the cosmos
As far below as Heaven is above.
That is what I learned in Sunday School.

If this is true why is Hell not staying home
And minding it’s own business.
Why is it suddenly appearing here
In all  its fiery fury.

Poor Maui, California, Australia and Peru,
Spain and even peaceful Canada
Have been blistered by Hell’s wrath
And struggle to rise up from the ashes.

Have we thinned the walls between Hell and us
So flames can now escape their containment
And let us see what might await us some day
If we cannot change our direction.

If we ignore the planet we were given
And we avoid the rules laid down
If we assume there will be no judgement
And we can worship just ourselves

We’ll find that we’ve left the gate standing open
And the welcome mat for Hell is in place.
ljm
I wrote this back in 2023.  Only the dates have changed.
I’m an ordinary girl
Born of ordinary parents
On an extraordinary day.

They came from ordinary people
Who lived out ordinary lives.
They never really had a lot
And seemed content with lesser.

How is it then that I was born
Always wanting something more.
Seeking that beyond the screen
Not satisfied with all at hand.

Why did I not fit the mold
That formed my sis and  brother.
It seemed to work out fine for them
But was a prison cell for me.

I bashed through those restraining walls
To seek my future my own way
Finding cliffs I could not climb
And oceans I could never swim

There was a narrow path to take
But I preferred to dance the edges
Gathering the shiny baubles
That melted in the setting Sun
And left me where I am today
Living an ordinary life

And seeking to plant Hollyhocks
Where only cactus ever grows.
                   ljm
Yep...that's me alright.
You who are slaves to the small glowing screen
Have to scramble to do just the usual things
Like brushing your teeth and taking a shower.
The lure is stronger than Hash or *******
And it is the lover you sleep with.
ljm
I'm the total other end of the scale. I look at my phone maybe once a day.  It has  no aps and nobody much in the index. I only need it for the codes they send so I can access my bank and other internet accounts, and I'm just fine with my land line and its voice mail. The quintessential dinosaur. Love it.
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