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Chester the jester,
My favorite guard!
Stuck in his twenties, but
Twice over the hill,
Recalls peace-time war stories,
While taking his pills.
Tells me all his tall tales  
Up ‘till wife number one
And the other loves that failed.

This is how abuse looks:
Elderly, jovial
Shirt tucked and boots shined,
Rare catches of
Old scratches on new glasses,
Liver spots and laughing lines.

Glassy eyes blinking away  
Dust from antique memories;
Sepia-toned ponderings,
Less like days of summer
More depression-era dust bowl;
The ever-hope for May.

Chester the Jester,
Old of bone
Young of heart,
Keeps the laughter going
To smooth your broken parts.
Ebony birds with damaged wings
Fling themselves
Towards the darkened clouds
And find no draft to lift them.
Screeching in despairing cries
They slowly circle back to earth.

Second verse of same sad song
Echoes and reminders catch the light.
Unexpected findings ring the bell
That calls to life the waterfall.
Help is proffered by empty hands
To heartstrings that no longer tug.

And the clock goes round and round
And the Sun goes up and down
And the Moon grows somehow dim
On a path that only circles back
Into a room that has no door.
I’m home again, it seems.
ljm
Just me being me, I guess.  Don't know who I am sometimes.
That scream of thought holds damaged wits
Responsible for absences
Long overlooked or spiked in fits
Of badly scattered witnesses,
Yourself the more exemplary--
If such sweet modesty allows--
For having landed here with me,
While others mouth consuming vows.
A useful god would not condemn
Such pecking at the heels of thought,
Unbowing to the seraphim,
Or even him the shepherds sought.
Tonight that child has much to grieve,
Whose mind has nothing left to leave.
Time
A crooked line
Connecting then and now
Never quite achieving the connection
That would build a bridge
To somewhere over there
And make a path
To what could be a better sometime.
           ljm
Time moves quickly or sometimes slow. No matter how it comes, it always goes.
What matters now that time has long Resigned itself to peering in
Through black cat glasses that belong
On overwrought librarians
Flipped out on sheets like ridicules
Of mockingbirds as shy kids find
Their *** on shelves at grammar school,
At least the represented kind.
Can someone take these shelves away?
They've given books much too much space,
Quixotically arranged the day
In covers where the lost embrace
Lost lovers from a borrowed song
And lives are lived, however long.
 Jul 2022 Wk kortas
Lawrence Hall
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]  
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                             An Armada of Black Escalades

              …detailed lists of disloyal government officials

             -Inside Trump '25: A radical plan for Trump’s
                              second term (axios.com)

A shadow government just like
The new government just like
The previous government -
And just whose names are inscribed on Schedule F?

Those black Escalades

Armored Mariahs carrying functionaries
And their lists to secret meetings in the night
The Party faithful planning a new Lubyanka
And cultural suicide through electronic noise

Those black Escalades

The escort has a warrant for your obedience
You can see Siberia from the passenger seat
“where summer’s bronzes dull and sink”

the trees are like
wet coat hangers,
holding up the leaves,

my cat is frosty like
an october morn,
sleeping on the sill,

everything is dripping
like a wet pair of
jeans taken out of the wash,

the sky wears its greys
of cloud, dim and dramatic
it opens summer eyes.
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