You build me with
turquoise and
the mountains of Taos.
Cerulean blue
serenity in my soul.
My heart chases
after you.
Even your chisel
helped me
grow through
the pain.
You
are the
grand artist,
The Supreme
sculpter.

Hindered by the need for practicality,
The song that longs to heal the world
Remains unsung.
The steps that would have mended broken spirits
Remain undanced.

Blinded by the need to see reality
The cotton candy dawning clouds
Turn stormy gray.
The breeze that eases all the doubt and fear
Grows into a howling gale

Deafened by the clarion call of duty
The cries of broken little birds
Cannot be heard.
The words that float on images of grace and beauty
Remain unwritten.

Stunted by the evil of aphasia
The verses that could have lived forever
Lie entangled on the tablet.
The Laurel wreath that had my name on it
Lies now withered on the floor.
                  ljm

Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]

                                             You are not a Banana

                                  Sticker Not, Lest Ye be Stickered

A banana bears a sticker to say it is a banana
(The banana, that is, not the paper sticker)
Even though a banana is obviously a banana
(It has a yellow skin and some squashy stuff inside)

If we take the banana sticker from the banana
And stick the ticker to a tomato
The tomato is not then a banana
However much someone claims it so

Sticking sticky stickers to humans is also wrong
A man is himself; a woman is herself
If we stick a sticky sticker to a human
As a joke, well, that’s just a bit of fun

But if as a judgement then we are false witnesses

Stickers, nothing but stickers, excuses
Failures of intellect, truth, and caritas
Stickers are two-dimensional; they have no depth
Stickers are useless even on bananas

We are brothers and sisters, not bananas

A million people drinking
Their lemon-flavored tea
A billion bottles floating
Upon a poisoned sea

Within each bottle there's a note
To peeps who find the plastic shell
It's just a slip of paper
From the manufacturer from hell.

The water pipes in old Detroit
Are poisoning kids dead
Because the linings have worn off
And underneath was lead

Pollution will run red as blood
The sun as black as coal
While the fat cats who caused it
Relax on sandy shoals.

How can we prevent this?
Is Recycling the way?
Hasn't helped much that I see

I prefer to PRAY.


SoulSurvivor
November 2021

I have walked along a road
That not many will take on
I have carried heavy loads
I've done right. I've done wrong.
I have held a pilgrim's pack
So long... so long...

Chorus
I am now a living stone
In a house which no one found
And I have felt my spirit groan
With no one else around

Alone
Alone

And I am still a living stone
I gave up, oh, all of Me
I am just a stone that stumbles
And I am a stone thrown free

Chorus

I am just a part of castles
In the sky & on the brink
I'm a stone cast on a pond
Skipping there at last to sink

Alone
Alone

Through many trials, Toils and snares
The slave trader came to know
Like him I know I brought it in
With the rock & with the snow...

But....

I know bruised reeds He will not break
A gut'ring lamp He won't put out
Though I'm rejected by the world
Here am I to scream out loud...

I'm not alone!
I'm not alone!

I'm not alone...


SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
3/18/2021