Sounds

For the first time, I heard everything all at once,

and felt the world around me taking my breath away.

Stumbling after such a shock, the sensory input

at that moment almost also stole my day.

At the lowest I thought I could get,

the sounds of beeps and voice and ice

became just a bit too much

for the anticipated price.

For the first time, 

I thought I'd escape the scene.

But I had a job to do,

that no one could intervene.

The shorter breaths,

choked tears,

silent screams,

anxious fears,

sound,

sound,

all the sound,

sound

sound---

Snap.

Back to work.

-LJ

21 July 2017

Do Not Wonder/Do Not Worry

Do not wonder,
for he will swallow his screams so deep in his subconscious
that he will look at the face of every significant other,
and he will not see what he saw in the one who mattered most.
He will spend the remainder of his existence,
wondering what these feelings are, why they are there,
and wondering if he will ever come to know her again.

Do not worry,
for she will blindly follow him into the depths below,
and she will look into the eyes of what was once, and she will wonder
if these eyes, these hands, these words, belong to the one
who so much mattered above all else.
She will spend the remainder of her time,
never knowing what was truth, what was lies,
and wondering if she will ever come to know him again.

-LJ
6 July 2017

Snowfall

In the silence of evening,

my gaze appeared captured by 

the whirlwind of snow,

a breezing blizzard,

dancing in spotlight,

in muted moonlight.

I trembled in its chill,

my eyes wandering slowly

to the ground below,

a blanket of intricate patterns,

all together,

but not forever.

It mesmerized my senses,

my sleepy stare remembering

the sweetly falling snow,

a dream outside my window,

if only I could stay awake-

if only, I would stay awake...

and I would dream this snowfall,

to cool the heated weathers,

now and forever.

-LJ

6 July 2017

Recreational Haikus Noting Recent Events

I have a job now.
An employer has employed
me. I have a job.

Raging light'ning bolts,

fright'ning as they are pretty-

at one in the morn'.

My anxiety-
the epitome of my
fear to spend money.

Pizza? Or tacos?

Or cheeseburgers and fries? I

can't make up my mind.

The rain pours heav'ly,

creating beautiful puddles;

I see reflections.

So many blog views!

Whoever you are, reader-

thank you very much.

-LJ

5 July 2017

 

This Poem Is For You

This poem is for you,
the sweet sunflower that brings sunshine
to my cloud-filled, sunless, gloomy days
in your own gentle-natured ways.

This poem is for you,
and your deep brown eyes and black-wire hair,
and your body towering almost six feet tall,
and your dance and voice to add to it all.

This poem is for you,
a wonder and supernova, a great and an original;
a beauty I continue to behold in my eyes
while you continue dancing carelessly in the skies.

This poem is for you,
how our similar hearts and similar kind natures
continue to meet the world and take it by storm,
regardless of how we are in shape and form.

This poem is for you,
the wise, the one
of which makes me feel so whole,
though this be the eighth year of your transition into soul.

This poem is for you.

-LJ
25 June 2017

instrusive thoughts/energy

machines function with energy from the sun,
and without the sun, they can not run,
they can not fulfill their purpose, their dream,
and wonder why each passing day seems
like parts of weathered, feeble bones
cracking, crumbling, pounding stone
like sledgehammers to their broken hearts
because they've not the energy to run their parts.

and like machines, humans function with energy from
taking in, consuming what's been said and done,
like plants and wrapped up things from slaughterhouses
and some from places where it's hard to know pronounces.
to save up what is left after we starve
we find it hard to live to lift our broken arms and hearts
and spend our days in quite a long fatigue
because without our energy we can not breathe.

-lj
2 June 2017

intrusive thoughts/summer 2011

Scratches burn

and voices lie.

Scars never leave

and urges never die.

Hidden away

in depression below,

is a feeling so numbing

it's become friend and foe.

It hisses and looks just

a bit like a snake,

but the voice it possesses

is more than I can take.

Hidden high in the clouds

of my heavy head be

a shadow, an urge

of hurting me.

Scratches burn,

and voices always lie;

scars fade,

but the urges never die.

-LJ

27 June 2017