I looked up “demagogue” in my Websters
And there a previous President was
In a smiling photo with fists in the air
Worried the wind would mess up his hair.
I didn’t bother to study the words -
The picture was worth several thousand.
ljm

You, my dear, are a ****
You flaunt the fact that
You flout the rules
That other people live by.

You smoke and drink and swear blue air
Truck drivers learn new words from you.
The ones who are not boffing you
Are writing your name on men’s room walls.

You, my dear, are a *****
Society’s precepts mean nothing to you.
A wedding ring is but a challenge;
Another notch on your bedstead.

You pose and you preen
And you bat your eyelashes
But on a coming day not too far away
You’ll finally get your comeuppance.
           ljm

Suffering from the commonest of poet’s laments,
I sit staring at an aggravatingly blank page.
I flip my pencil through my fingers, hoping it will break
And I will have to take the time to go and find a new one.

I can hear the subtle ticking of the clock and it annoys me.
I never hear it when ideas crowd my pen.
I turn the radio to Doo *** -
Maybe that will wake creative juices-
But I just end up singing with the Tenor.

I hit the Mac and try to see what others wrote
But that just makes me feel like I am hopeless
And who said I could be a poet anyway.
I know so little of the forms and rhymes.

It’s time to go and get the dinner going
Fame will have to wait another day.
I close the Mac and trundle to the kitchen
To see if I can manufacture poems in a sauce pan.
ljm

What would I do if I lost you?
Nothing much - things wouldn’t change-
I might wonder why the sun didn’t shine any more-
Or where all the crickets went,
But I would go on as usual
And not even notice the absence of gladness
Or all the dust gathering on my dreams.

What would I say if I lost you?
Nothing really - I’d make no comment-
Except on how raspy my song had grown-
And how dried up my pen had become.
Still I’d bump along same as always
And pay little mind to the paucity of laughter
Or the wetness corroding my cheeks.

How would I feel if I lost you?
No different - I’d be the same-
Oh I might pretend a bit more than usual
And invent a few things for myself,
But I’d get long quite serenely,
And never give note the casket
Standing ready to be my new home.
Ls

When evilness is dripping from the trees
And blades of grass are real and cutting you
When the wind comes from a raging furnace
And singes the hair on your trembling arms
When wickedness becomes the music in the air
And treachery the key that starts the engines
When a handshake is somehow pernicious
And wretchedness the flavor of the week

You are in the land of jealous lovers
Loathing what has long been gone
Winners who despise the losers
Living in a boiling rage
That seethes for over 40 years
And taints the mercies of the present
Making it impossible
To ever quench the fires of hate.
           ljm

What a wonderful moment this is
No pain to be felt anywhere
And everything working smoothly.
I walk with ease on metal hips
And swing the arm with its plastic rod.
I have no need to *** or ****
And the sunrise is outstanding.
The dogs I meet adore their treats
And every face is smiling.

Perfection is a scary thing.
It never lasts forever
But the memory of it does.
ljm

He has offered to share all his life with me.
He isn’t afraid that I’ll tidy up his dreams
And put them away so he’ll never again find them.

He’s willing to look at me each morning of forever.
It doesn’t worry him that time has already sketched in
The places where lines will be shorty etched.

He’s asked me to give him all my tomorrows
And hasn’t a fear they may not be worth
All the golden hope he’ll invest in them.

He has assured me that I’m a necessity to him
And won’t ever be classified as habit instead,
When, with the years, he grows used to me.

He needs me in spite of my tottering strength.
He wants me with all of my imperfect beauty.
He loves me in answer to my lifelong prayers
Perfectly.
                        Ls

I’ve not been kissed in 30 years
I’ve almost forgotten how it feels
I have a man who shows he loves me
But kissing’s not part of the deal

I used to practice on my hand
And think back to my younger days
When dates consisted of a film
And hours of kissing in a car

He won’t say why our lips don’t meet
Breath doesn’t seem to be the reason
Nor the fullness of my lips
I’ve asked but there is no reply

There is a little airport peck
When I’ve been far away someplace
But it’s mostly for the show
To others locked in warm embrace

Is it because he’s Capricorn
Well I’m the same sign too
And I would love to hug and kiss
And do romantic things with him

But I expect that this is how
We’re going to spend our final days
Me longing for a tender kiss
And him still pushing me away.
           ljm

Built on land stolen from the natives
On the back of blacks who were
stolen from their own land.

Indigenous slaughtered like the buffalo they herded
Rounded up and marched into unwanted corners
There to starve until oil was discovered
And it became time to march them again.

Blacks who were declared to be less than human
Denied the right to do anything but work.
Families that were like grapes in a cluster
Ripe for the picking off of the best ones
And no thought given to those left behind.
Premiums paid for those enceinte,
Harbingers of the two-for-one sale.

Righteous blindness is a national disease
That overlooks the broken teacups
In the mad pursuit of tea.
That cannot see the trampled flowers
In the race to make perfume
That reeks self satisfaction
At the carnage left behind
And waves the flag of liberty
At those the cause enslaved.
                              ljm

Brands

With their duck tail hair cuts all slicked back
And their Stradivarious long sleeved shirts;
With their half-soled, horse-shoe-cleated Brogues
With the arduously turned up toes,
The heart throb elite of high school’s boys
Walked the 1950’s hallways to their class.
Small town West Coast America on view.

With their reversible, pleated Pendleton skirts
And Jantzen turtleneck long-sleeved sweaters,
The girls eschewed the circle skirts
With crinolines beneath,
Held tight by elasticized waist-cinchers.
They walked in snow-white baby-doll shoes
With never any stockings.

Those who had the wherewithal
To own the latest fashions
And dress themselves in well known brands
Were somehow deemed superior
In all the gracious arts of living
And looked upon with envy-eyes
By those who dressed in J C Penney.

It wasn’t wrong - it wasn’t right
It fed some egos, damaged others
But it was just the way it was
And somehow we survived it.
Today you couldn’t pay enough
To make me wear a brand name
And I still love J C Penney.
ljm

One two three
Look at silly me
Try with all my might
Never get it right.
         ljm

A lump she is
A useless chunk
Of human protoplasm
A mind that can’t untie the knots,
Now neatly wrapped in silver duct tape
On a shelf just out of reach of devastated fingers.
Claw marks mar the surface of the tape
Evidence of effort spent in vain
To free the intellect
Now unplugged
And useless
As a rock.
ljm

She walks out in the morning sunrise
And never notices the sky.
She sees the cracks across the blacktop
And the cigarette butts hiding there.

She see the runnel in the gutter
From overwatering the lawns
But never looks above her shoulder
to see the cloud-forms in the sky.

Her gaze is always pointed downward
As if there’s money on the ground
And she will be the one to find it,
Not caring that the sky is gold.

She maybe sees a flower blooming
In another neighbor’s yard
But doesn’t spot the humming bird
That darts among the blossoms.

A fog of gloom hangs over her
Obscuring every scene
She has no wish to brighten up
She is depression’s Queen.
                               ljm

The day that I met you I thought that
God had pressed the golden button.
I danced in all the shiny bits of tin foil
That rained down as an answer to my prayer
And spread happiness across my lonely floor .

I never would have thought I had the talent
To impress the cosmos or the likes of Cupid
To feel it was my turn to win the contest
And love from such a treasure that is you.
ljm

I want to be somebody’s Bijou
Sought after and desirable,
Exquisitely wrought and elegant.
I want to be a delicate jewel
In the eyes of someone Special.

I want to be draped in Onyx and Jade
As signs of my social status
I want to know the way will be cleared
So I don’t get my shoes wet
And everyone will be glad for me.

I want to be the special one
The one more shiny than the rest.
The one that everybody wants.
The one that clearly is the best.
                    ljm

Just had major back surgery.  Sending her my get well wishes along with those from everyone who puts a heart heart on this post.
Get well Scarlett - we miss you.

See me
Find me in the crowd
And SEE me.

See who I am
See what I know
See what I do

See me

See what I stand for
See what I work towards
See what I’ve left behind me

See me

see why I care
See why I laugh
See why I cry

See me
          ljm

As I begin another desultory day
In what will be the rest of my life
I search for a metaphoric nail
On which to hang my tattered hat of hope.

Some pile of needs disguised as leaves
That need for me to rake them up
And leave the yard a little better
Than it would have been before.

I look around and hope to see
Something more than yesterday
Reflected in the nimbus clouds
That hoard our badly needed rain.

No one has urgent need of me
Though I live to know I’m needed.
I couldn’t devise a shining goal
That would point me at tomorrow.

With eighteen years now looming large
I have to come up with a purpose
That’s gonna make it worth the trip
To reach my final destination.
                 ljm

On a wall at the end of my street
Are cryptic letters that do not make a word
Painted in brilliant, angry colors,
They create a code I cannot read.

Appearing after a peaceful weekend,
Do they portend a maelstrom due
Or do they simply say “Hello’
To those who speak that other language.
           ljm

Lost and all alone in the shallows of the sea that is my soul
I find the water deepens with each step that I take forward.
Trying to remember if I ever learned to swim, I pause
And turn to look behind me at the raging flames, and hope
I have not somehow turned into Lot’s second wife.

Where there should be swirling sand beneath my feet
I find small pebbles that all roll and clatter with the tide
And make it difficult to stand and move ahead.
On the horizon, where the ocean meets the sky
The Sun is sliding down the waves and soon it will be dark.

There is no wind, and seagulls do not split the sky
With raucous cries and aerobatics.  It is silent
And the stillness becomes ominous and bleak.
I know that I should turn around, for danger lies ahead
But is it worse than the disaster that I just have left behind.

Standing in the rocky surf that is the landscape of my mind
I am uncertain for the first time in my long and pensive life.
I realize there is no going on or back the way I came.
Which leaves me only up and down and if I’m lucky, sideways.
I lift my foot to take a step, and hosts of watching angels weep.
ljm

They will all be saved

They will all come here

They will all be welcomed

They will adapt to our ways

There will be no bad guys in the crowd

There will finally be peace

God is always on our side.
             ljm

I was so aghast to learn
How many more words
Merriam Webster knows
Than I do.

I thought I had
A word for every need
But then my needs
Expanded and

Roget’s became my friend.
           ljm

Pretty girls get listened to
No matter what they say
The beacon of their beauty
Draws all eyes and ears their way.

It makes no difference what they say
It doesn’t have to make much sense
It only needs to be said to you
And it tears down your male defense.

Pretty girls can change your mind
No matter what your morals.
They make you do some things you hate
Without too many angry quarrels.

Plain girls, on the other hand,
Have a tougher row to ***
Attention passes over them.
They disappear like snow

They may put forth some  brilliant thoughts
Or words that sing with beauty
They may be models of success
As they go about their duty.

But no one really hears their voice
Or sees what lies within them.
They live their life in second place
As it’s the prettiest girls who win
                  ljm

The lights did not go out
The walls did not shake and tumble
There were no clarion horns or cymbals
Streets were not awash with blood
But nevertheless blood did run cold.
Promises wrapped in glints of hope
Made screeching sounds as they were broken
And shattered bits of progress
Littered streets and pathways everywhere.
The rumble of the coming doom
Arrived on Humvees made in China
For the use of United Nations troops.
Everybody saw it coming
In vast Tsunamis of dread and fear
But there were simply not enough
Little Dutch Boys in blue hats
To poke their fingers in the dikes
That shuddered as they slid away
And buried ordinary people in the deluge
There was no way to win that war
The Russians tried, so did the French.
You can’t turn oranges into apples
But the women, oh the women
And their pretty little girls
Having had a taste of freedom
In forms that were once denied
They will now be forced by brutes
To give back everything they gained
And become in sad defeat
Merely property of men
swallowed up in flowing burkas
Black as the intentions of their rulers
             ljm

In a weary last-week world
Crammed with too-much not-enough
and everyone forgot their password

In vast emptiness-es crowded
With everything nobody wants
And someone else is boldly hoarding

In a time that passes in a blur
Of somehow never being able
To find a key to wind the clock

There is a little flower growing
In a most unlikely place
Hoping for an eye to spot it.

There is a tiny four leaf clover
Waiting for someone to find it
And remake a dreary day

There is an end to that beginning
And the band will play again
And then at last we all can dance
                         ljm

In a time of abject public folly
Where madness rules the western world
I listen to the nimrods prattle on
about conspiracies and subterfuge;
Of microchips injected into flailing
Arms held tightly down by Biden’s thugs.

Alice has managed to escape
The underground tea party
But Fox News is in the hen house
With a mandate for extinction
Of the bird who lays the golden egg
And ****-a-doodle-do’s the sunrise.

Resignation forms a blip in those
Too tired to carry on the jape
That sentences small kids to die
So left and right can pas de deux
But never dance together
And the final curtain starts to fall.
                                          LJM

I never managed to become
The one I always longed to be
I didn’t study hard enough
As anyone can see

I used the only tools I had
None of them came from home
I never had a backup plan
I had to go it all alone

I learned to work a pretty face
But though it gave me one step up
I found I gained no real rewards
I held a mostly empty cup.

Peggy Owner was the one
I wanted to become
I worked beside her long ago
And hoped to borrow some

Small portion of the grace and charm
That made her loved by all
Who met her in the student store
And fell beneath her thrall.

Short and plump, no beauty queen
But she had a warm heart.
The love she had for everyone
Is what set her apart.

I wanted so to be like her
And not like hapless me;
But I was chained to who I was
And never could break free.

So many years have come and gone
Since we worked side by side
Sometimes I stop and think of her
Those are the times I cried.

I think about a college girl
With dreams of hope and glory
And realize that I’m just me
And that’s my whole sad story.
ljm

WEATHER HAIKU

The days are scorching
And it’s just as hot at night
When will it cool down
         ljm

Where have all the clowns gone
And the jugglers too.
I only walked down to the river
To sail a little paper boat
And when I returned
The picnic had been changed.

There were different people there
And no one knew my name
Or who told all the clowns to leave.
I found my brother and a friend
But they were both too sad to talk
Or tell me why the flowers died
And who ate all the chicken.

Too early for the fireworks show
There would be no sack races.
We waited for a three leg’d race
And learned the term was incorrect
And marked us as not truly woke.

The carousel began to move
And we lined up to take a ride
But it began to spin so fast
That no one could get on it.
The horses were all painted black
And lacking any sparkles.

Without the clowns and jugglers
The picnic was a total bust
And I felt it was time to go
But when I headed for the gate
It wasn’t where it used to be
And no one knew its whereabouts
So I’ve been wandering ever since
With no way to go home.
             ljm

Dark caverns loom in the distance
Shrouded in mist and underbrush
Birds with black feathers circle above them
Only dimly visible from here

Footprints on a fading path
Seem to wander with uncertainty
From one side to the other
And are very hard to follow.

The wind which should be cooling and refreshing
Blows sporadically with unexpected heat
And black clouds overhead portend of rain
Though no drops ever seem to fall.

Somehow there is music in the air;
Reedy notes that never form a melody
But echo nonstop in an indecisive mind
That finds itself without a goal or purpose.
            ljm

I’M THE MOTHER OF A ***** -TONK GIRL.  ANNA MARIE is out DRINKING TEQUILA and doin’ THE HILLBILLY WALTZ every night.  She’s turning into a total ***** and I’m HURTIN’ INSIDE.  I constantly tell her I LOVE YOU but it’s just as if MY LIPS ARE SEALED - She doesn’t hear me.  If HEARTACHE IS THE FASHION, I’m right in style.  It doesn’t do me a bit of good to ask WHAT WERE YOU DOING LAST NIGHT?  She won’t tell me because she was with MEXICAN JOE and I’d tell her HE’LL  HAVE TO GO. I’d like to ground her between her own FOUR WALLS and keep her HOME, but I’d just be BEATIN’ ON THE DING ****. I don’t understand why she can’t date that nice BILLY BAYOU.
She laughed when I asked her AM I  LOSING YOU, and said, Mom, you’re WAITIN’ FOR A TRAIN that’s never gonna come. So I’m left with just one question:  WHERE DOES A BROKEN HEART GO. I guess it’ll be a case of MOTHER WENT A-WALKING and maybe THEN I’LL STOP LOVING YOU and just climb aboard a slow boat to TAHITI because thats where I’D LIKE TO BE  until I can begin to feeL as though I’M BEGINNING TO FORGET YOU.

You took a selfie yesterday
And this is what you saw
A woman with the saddest eyes
Trying hard to make a smile.

Your face was etched with weary lines
Though your complexion was still fine
You looked as if you’d seen the world
In all its ugly guises.

Pain and utter hopelessness
Had left tracks on your spirit -
And dimmed the sparkle in your gaze
To just a faint remembrance.

You looked like you had fought a war
And were forced to sign a treaty
That left you with no place to go
And no more foes to conquer.

Your eyes, the mirror of your soul,
Projected only sorrow -
Yet somehow they produced a glow
That said you have hope for tomorrow.
                  ljm

Maggots are crawling in the
Dying body of America.
Fed by lies and subterfuge
Left untreated by those
Who’s only interest is their paycheck.
And those who sold their souls for electors.
      ljm

Looking for a carpenter
Who takes tools lying close at hand
To build a love that’s lasting
And shelters us forever.

Longing for an equal love
In tune with my vibrations,
Looking through a matching lens
To see where we are going.

Aching for a kindred soul
Who shares all of my yearnings
Who doesn’t fear my shadowed nights
And lights a candle for me

A one who’s goals outpace my own,
Riding on an intellect
That causes mine to shiver
With excitement and new vistas.

If you are kind and love the earth
And all the creatures on it;
Are not afraid to cry or laugh,
And want to leave things better
Than you found them in your life,
Consider you are now employed,
And Payday is tomorrow.
                        ljm

Do you all know how old I am?
If I tell you, will you run away?
Will you say that I am way too young
Or far too old and gray?

I see myself as middle aged
Some would tell me that’s a lie.
They’d tell me that the truth of age
Is really in the viewer’s eye.

I think it is a state of mind.
I’ve been around a while.
I’m not so young but I’m not old-
I say that with a smile.

I know a lot of useful things.
I know a lot of places.
I know how to make things work
And fill the empty spaces.

I can labor like a mule,
Or act like I’m the Queen.
I can charm the upper-crust
Or those who’s hands aren’t clean.

None of this depends on age,
It all depends on skill;
So don’t ask me how old I am-
I’m not over the hill.
                 ljm

All my paths are serpentines
That lead around in circles.
My destination is so far
I cannot see it in the haze
That eddies in my vision.

I planted hollyhocks and marigolds
In the garden of my dreams.
I had no way to water them;
They withered in the Summer sun.

I haven’t any more to lose.
I’ve given everything I have.
There’s nothing left but hopelessness
And waiting for the final end.
ljm

I have no famous family name
I come from a very nowhere place
What I own is nothing much
So I have no help to give you.  

I’ve not accomplished anything
That went into the record books.
I  have no trophies or awards.
I don’t know how to help you.

The only help that I can give
Is in these words I’ve written.
I called them Rules to Live By
And long ago they trended.

Play fair
Wait your turn
Con’t cheat
Help the other guy
Don’t be cruel
Be friendly
Don’t be selfish
Be kind
Smile more than you frown
Care about the Earth and all it’s people
Take what you need
And leave some on the plate for the other guy.
ljm

The Christmas lights have all been taken down and put away.
The chilly night is poorer for their loss.
The rain that couldn’t bother to be snow on Christmas Eve
Now lurks behind the clouds that hide the stars we never see
And wouldn’t know the names of, if we did.

The gifts have been exchanged for sizes that will fit
Except the one with blood on it that must be thrown away.
The thank you notes have all gone out to people far away
Who love us more than those next door who say the words
But hide the truth in cloaks of duty and necessity.

The paper hats and party horns were taken by the trashman yesterday
While we write elevens in our checkbook for the year
And contemplate the quicksand that encompasses the wall
We have no ladder tall enough to climb, or transport
That can whisk us to a top that’s not in sight.

Walking tall on stilts of hope, our balance is precarious.
We were not in the Rose parade or even on the sidewalk.
We still can’t see beyond the wall of hate that locks us in
and wobble ever more and more as we pace the perimeter
Looking for a door or gate and finding only bricks and mortar.

ljm

Word challenge using the words Rattletrap
                     fleabag, tatterdemalion, jalopy, squalid,
                     dilapidated, down at the heel. Vintage words
        
It was kind of dilapidated
But it still ran fine
It wasn’t a total rattletrap
No matter what people said.

I would like to have a new car
But I’m down at the heels right now
having lost my job last month.
I live in an aged fleabag flat
In a squalid neighborhood
Until I get back on my feet.

Everyone calls me a tatterdemalion
But I pay my own way.
And when my old jalopy died
A piece of me died too.

I  loved that little ‘0-two Jetta;
I’d get in and it would  go
The best art of it all was this-
It always brought me home again.

I couldn’t face the breaker’s yard
And see her all torn down for parts.
I donated her to charity
To help pay for someone’s brand new heart.
ljm

I have a hideous secret
That I can never tell
It’s heavier than bundled lead
And I can’t put it down

It hides the sunrise in heavy clouds
Makes rainbows disappear
Makes me walk in muddy shoes
Across the spotless floors

It eats at me like hungry fleas
It’s hard to hide the welts
The music has gone out of tune
And poetry won’t scan

It stands before me like a bull
And I am dressed in red
It rumbles like a logging train
And I’m tied to the tracks

It rides me like a cowboy
Like I’m some broken horse
It digs its spurs into my side
And pulls the bit up hard

No Galahad will rescue me
I’m strictly on my own
I have to hoist it up each day
And stagger on alone

I’m crippled by the effort of
Protecting such a lie
That I can’t tell a single soul
Until the day I die.
                        ljm

Sometimes I like to take a word and see how many short
phrases I can come up with that use it.  I chose HAND
this time.  I won’t list words that have hand as part of it -
like  ‘handsome’, but I will use the plural and past tenses.
I tried to avoid nouns. How  many more can you think of?

     Hand of God      Hand me down
     Hand over fist              Hand delivered
     Hand made      *******
     Hand in glove              Hand in hand
     Hand to mouth      Hand it to you
     Hands off              Hand to hand
     Hand stand      Hands of time
     Hand in   *    Hand over    *   Hand off
     Hands down  *   Hands up    *    Hands off

     At hand      Unhand me
     Glad Hand      Even Handed
     Back handed      Under handed
     One handed      Cack handed*
     Lend a hand      Second hand
     Steady hand      Force your hand
     Hold hands      Lay hands on
     On every hand              On the other hand
     Out of hand      Show your hand
     Take in hand      Try your hand
     Throw up your hands         Wash your hands of
     With a heavy hand        High Handed
     On hand  *  Off hand  *  In hand  *  Out of hand
                                                            ­        LJM
Additionl words from BLT:     Hand over my heart
Hand to God       Sleight of Hand   Grabby Hands
Slick Hands,    

T S Poetry added  :  Gotta hand it to you    Overhand
One in the hand is worth two in the bush (birds)  

Melancholy of Innocence added:  Holding hands

Amanda Kay Burke added:   Shorthand    First hand   Handout

I am darkness.
I wear the mask of sunny mornings
But dark shadows seep around the edges.

I am storm clouds.
I masquerade as blue sky days
But the cows out in the fields lay down.

I am a somber dirge
Though my speakers play a happy song
It’s always in a minor key.

I am tomorrow.
While I can’t untangle from today
I waft the scent of yesterday.
                     ljm

Thoughts,
like fingers trailing in the water of a quiet lake,
making ripples that fan out and eventually fade
into the stillness that makes reverie a balm
to mend the broken pieces of my wounded spirit.

Small boat
big enough for only two but I’m alone and very still,
paddles stowed and sunhat on, I drift
on currents imperceptible and slow
in directions that the birds won’t tell me.

Pine Trees
on the distant shore, unmoving in the tiny breeze,
create the vision of a cool and private place of safety
not for me, but for all those I cannot see but know
are sheltered in their shadowed depths.

Tiny Fishes
going happily about their business, clearly seen
beneath my little boat in water that’s so clear
they seem just inches from my trailing fingers,
Unafraid that they might be in danger.

Dragonfly
neon needle in the sky darting close to visit me
then swooping left to disappear against the sun
and leave me musing in my tiny boat as I discover
I am whole and healed of spirit, and can go on.
ljm