damona and i write a book
everyday is not the same
whether we are under the sun
whether we are in the rain
we choose to help others who are in pain
the smiles that we inspire help us to cope
when we make a day better for someone, it makes our day
the situation of damona and i is never the worst
God is the Ultimate Tour Guide
He says to call him Mr. Calavicci
what Mr. Calavicci shows damona and i so broadens the spectrum of our walk
the things that we complain about are rather quite minuscule each time we hear phrases called 'talk'
we continue our walk with Cherished Charity now as a Central Theme
paying it forward is the hippest trip, a vacation like a dream
damona with her blueblack tongue and i in my hat of the day
walk on to the next place Mr. Calavicci guides us....a Renewed Purpose in vast array
red streaks on maple
sunrise taunts the wriggling worms
a cardinal preys
blueblack of ravens
irridescent folded capes
peeking at sunrise
John G. Lawless
6/23/2020
Let us ride
into a sunset's silhouette
to the far side of the land
which leads to an autumn lake
where white plumed swans pirouette
Lets hold hands in golden fields
Run through pleasant hay scent breeze
which blows gently,suddenly
brushing slightly across our cheeks
On a blanket we would lay
by the graceful willow tree
'Neath its boughs our dreams come true
Trapped emotions be set free
As the tangerine moonglow
casts the softness of its light
from the dusky blueblack sky
I walk to the hidden old chateau
with my alluring beau
He would seal my waiting lips
with the moistness of his kiss
I would let him brush my hair
with his fingers'tender care
And as I wrap within his arms
with still tears upon my face
He would harvest what he sowed
My pure heart in deep embrace
PUBLICATION RAG
Papers hadn't held her words
For twenty years or more
But ‘published’ didn’t scare her
words were sizzle branded in her core--
Past the corner soul that hides
The little suffering blueblack fears
The place within the fears
That hides the insubstantial tears
There ragged brands had healed
From raging blood to shiny scars
Blood-- now cold-- congealed
As graceful life was wrenched apart
Thus, publishing and some such
triggered not an ounce of fright
far worse black filthy dreads that
danced ablaze in burnt-out lights
So publish me, Be done with me--
she mused as on she walked--
Better to be done with it--
May end the verbiage stalk.
And though she knew
Would never end
The words that came in streams
Was truly voice of true heart friend
That called her in her dreams
And deep she knew she had no wish
To end her lifelong song--
But not to share a single word
Seemed selfish--deadly wrong.
how do i escape?
Dead in the night
What happened to the light?
Blueblack shades
Body drapped
Can this be alright?
What is way of right?
Piercing screams
How could this be?
Happen to me
Hollow inside
bloodied scars prove
no where to hide
alone, lost love
attempted flight, broken-winged dove
fall
Fall
Fallen
Angelic hope
None
Demonic presence abuse
What happened to the son?
Exploding beetle juice
Raping pleasures
How do i escape?
The blackberry tree, hanging some of its branches over her,
arbors, shelters and comforts her. The blackberry honeycombs,
like little dark blueblack hives of hexagonal shapes, fall around
the ground near her feet and on her lap, lapsing down like
tears. She sits on a chair underneath the tree.
It is not goodbye, this leave of absence he has taken ... it is only
a reprieve, an intermittent restraint of silence. The other, her
brother, has darkish brown eyes, tender and compassionate,
and is of a symbiotic nature akin to hers: loving, lonely, longing
to be loved; humane, musical, altruistic and intuitive. He seems, in
his talks and communications with her, to be teaching, tutoring and
guiding her, telling her to be patient and wait for her softly-sparkling
blue-eyed love - as he, her brother, gently plys and plays his lute
in chords of harmony.
The touch of gossamer wings
on eyelids busy with the darkest,deepest
thoughts of sleep
under the chinaberry tree
bending,sighing
one with the sea of grass
windy waves
chasing each other across the yard
gone to seed
with dandelionsandforgetmenots
blueblack cats
hiding from lizards
until it is too late
coming back to bring you
a surprise
a gift of love
a wriggly trophy
to wake you laughing
from your dreams
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