"You seem a little lost
"where are you headed to miss"
I looked back at the bald monk
his face beaming supple and warm
"I don't know! that is why am here
you have all the wisdom-
so tell me where do I belong.
Monk held my hand,
hand soft like petals of rose
"your path is already mapped
just believe in self and go forth".
"But how do I know if am moving right
what if I fall and never find the light".
Isn't it life to shuffle between white and greys
if I tell you everything
there is no sense in living your days
so fall or fight
slouch or stand upright
it's your life after all
own your defeats and wins however small
you are here, merely to witness the whole.

Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                              A Pasty Boy in Knee-Pantsies
               Lectures on the Supremacy of Gun Ownership
                             Over Access to Baby Formula

You say our baby’s starving?
Don’t bother me with that
As long as I got me my gun
To rat-a-tat-tat!

Cumbersome, I am
Under some profound stress, and
I'm clueless at best

I was in my dreamland.
The safe place I had made,
In childhood, to keep myself.
Disturbed I barely woke.

Impaired I thought,
If I go back I'll wake,
It will be over and I won't remember.
I don't remember much.

It continued,
I felt more come off.
More words were spoken.
People, "She can take it, I asked."

No such question was answered,
From me at least.
My limp body positioned upward.
My place gone, coherence erupted.

I was screaming at me,
NO! Move do something.
A soft "no" was whispered, and I fell.
Fully exposed now, I walked.

"Are you ok?" "I'm going to take a shower."
The water softened my skin.
The door opened. "Could you not?"
"It doesn't matter. Does it."

these songs i wrote,
the chorus intertwined with thoughts of you,
you sing along without a clue.

-lilac

My hands ****** deep into my pockets, searching for reconciliation; every rummage a sacred act.
I’m reaching for emotional growth; but just pulling out splinters, plectrums and bits of fluff.
The keys have to be in here somewhere.

there's no advance
to this thing
i'm writing

i've heard tons on
tons of the palisades
and i've never lived
west of the
missouri and
where are the palisades
define it
geographically
a minimal

comprehension or-
some other thing-
of the perception
of how people
talk
here
in
missouri

would go a far long
ways in the palisades
somewhere in
flor'da                              or
califor'nia
god i wish i'd known
the weight-per-
pound a baton
centered on a
human forehead

but you had

i hadn't

Clueless, Restless, but then the Moon Speaks!


can you see clouds at night, askes the moon,
my train, my assemblage of word worshippers,
who ask me by the thousand for clearer answers,
“one if by day, two if by night” is my evere’d reply,
bereft of confidences, steps unsteadied, full of distemper,
shaky uncertain, so answer all, once more, but only with
difficulty am I understood, for the simplicity so so great!

the moon comes to you nightly, never! never are you ignored,
your lost alone words always well heard, we are two together,
we are all two, if by night, my lune bright, ours, your answer!

Together Nightly, Are We Not Poets of the Way?