Shadows rise when thunders rumble,
decimating me till I crumble,
carry me, I ask,
to safety, which I lack,
so that I may not tumble.
Alas the lightning strikes,
brightening life I do not like,
at times, it’s bad,
and even, so sad,
but I remain upright.
Eyes sagged in droop
when rain tapped the roof,
the sun is high up in the sky
and covered by clouds loop.
My happy mood had parted
when from the clouds rain darted,
Sun’s arms though breached as they reached
and now gray skies departed.
Dare I say walk away,
or dare to fight with fists upright,
whate’er I do one will not like,
and come to me with verbal strike,
you I do please not,
tis my sense on the spot,
but a snare you do fix,
in hopes you’ll get your kicks,
But I have sense,
I’m not that tense,
My peace is of mind,
So to you I may be kind,
and move to walk away,
but instead fight today,
A mood that is so rare,
Fight? Do I dare?
Sweet word candy speaks,
from which my heart now gains warmth,
laying on sand at sea.
I now embrace night,
a knife sings from a sweet sheath,
stabbing with a bite.
I went about my day,
then evening came to sit,
wait I did for night so say,
I’ll send your soul adrift.
Tomorrow, we’re promised naught,
just knowledge it could be,
so in limbo I am caught,
afloat with you and me.
At last the morn breaks through,
the sun reflects the dew,
all seems right,
with sun so bright,
then life quick ran askew.
Pants, hung low,
Gray, dusty, old hair, in a frizz,
Faded drooping, sunken blue eyes,
A frown so downward cast,
Where is my home?
I do not know,
I do not care,
I am so alone.
But do I care?
I do not know,
Here in my cardboard box
I sit in drunken moan.
My tears, stain my face,
People look at me in disgrace.
Sadness, consumes me,
Surrounds me, covers me.
Slowly, I look up,
I see the riches of allies,
The food of homeless kings,
The rot of days gone by,
Dwelling close,
The stench so wry.
What do I do?
I do not know,
I do not care,
I am so alone.
But do I care?
I do not know,
Here in my card board box
My mind, it runs to go.
Winds of time—
ever flowing, ever blowing,
pushing, prodding, guiding me.
Acts of time—
ever doing, never thinking,
hurting, poking, pushing you.
Older with time—
ever learning, always regretting,
praying, meditating, apologizing to you.
Ghostly mists arise and hover,
above the valley floor it covers,
mountain walls surround and hide,
the evil secrets that reside.
When happiness pushes through and in,
a bloody horror stabs and wins,
What is this mess that is so wrong?
A sickening stench so sick and strong.
But love so great, the only answer,
Can overwhelm this evil cancer,
Shining down from God most High,
Is peace and love, then horror dies.
by L. M. Montes
The ride it lulls,
the pavement hums,
outside is beauteous and sweet,
but then life shows its hidden pockets
of sin and scarring so sheik.
It needs to go,
hands move to save,
it clears and vanishes to dust,
only to return and settle anew
to sit and sink in rot.
Hidden once more in beauty,
through flowers scented veils,
the stench of growing darkness,
perfumes sweet stenches now.
by L. M. Montes
Day is but a light with life to live,
rejoice and stroll in Earth’s green meadowed parks,
embed in you the yearning of your soul,
a thread to reach and sew life’s gifted oats,
meant to thrust on others life’s warmth and glow.
L. M. Montes
WRITE TIME AND AGAIN 