Monthly Archives: May 2013

by

Twisted

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Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , ,

No help provided, the sick things uninvited,

the way to save my mother or call upon my brother.

Panic attack at 4 AM, and I can no longer feel who I am.

Clouds rush in like demons to laugh, and exhaustion is the aftermath.

Here is your past, take it at will, and be condemned for taking a pill- that stops the thoughts from racing so long, as you stand there and smoke in your bra & thong.

Can’t leave the house, someone might hurt you- after all your own dad did desert you.

Be afraid of the will of the doubt- strangle it all and muffle your shout.

You’re not worth saving- and not many care- so go to sleep and cuddle the air.

Dead is dead and this life is a race- for the fastest car or the prettiest face.

A joke to be told and Jesus weeps- that he actually hung on the cross for us creeps.

What good is art without an eye, what good are these lines when you sit there and die…

~Heather Lenz

 

by

Breath

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Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , , , , ,

I think I can finally urge myself not to think too much-
I’ll listen to Mozart and watch birds eat from my terrace.
I’ll hug my son & thank God

that he is healthy & safe. A boy of compassion
with a humanitarian flare & this hunger to save
all those desolate. (I was once that way, before

I became so needy, so broken apart) But lose

me in the clouds now & rise him toward the

atmosphere of promised stars & well-spent days.

Please, God. Give him a chance.

 

~Heather Lenz

May 31, 2013

by

Goodbye Soldiers

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At the wire

Plastic army men, gray, blue, green
Lined up in the living room for years.

When his father wondered
At the lack of my complaint over the mess,
I said: “Because one day I know I’ll miss it.”

That day has come & gone.
I imagine the little boy next door,

who my son gave up his collection to,
Lining them up along windowsills & on top
of old shoe-boxes.

One time, years ago, I designed an army fort for my son
out of an old shoe-box. Drew carefully the camouflage
to protect his childhood, to construct smiles.

I made windows
& gun racks & even a helipad on top,
meant for plastic emergencies.

His eyes lit up like sunshine
Reflecting off dark waves & he said:
“Thank you, mama. That’s really cool!”

I must say, it was one of my finer

accomplishments in life-

& now as the years turn & frown with their
Sad mistakes & losses, at least I can recall

Through some certain, tender, beautiful years,
I gave those soldiers a home. Or tried.

~Heather Lenz
May 31, 2013

by

Weary

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What's it all about......351/365

Always guessing at the wings of birds.
Mediocre existence- Piled-up, dropped down,
Splayed as if feelings can be neutered.

Give me the passage to God- no more
bowing to men, to end up in the gutter.

All those young whores in spandex,
Needle-hurt by life, all the praises toward
False gods of commerce.

Let us swirl in the paint & drown,
Cry for lovers lost, wounds open, seeping

like light at the corners of our eyes
That fade with dissipated dreams

Gone bereft-
Tired of everything.

~Heather Lenz

by

Dismissing Spring

Categories: Poems, Tags: , , , ,

274/365 - Storm's Brewing

These days, not much to be heard
But sighing. Paint dries in tubes, the blank

canvas quickens with dust. Does not even echo
a name, or ask for light to dance.

Here is a handful of weariness-
I can’t even find a moment
to plan its demise.

Too much reality, too
out of focus to even cry.

And who gives a damn
how many sunsets burn my
retinas,

Or stone-death frail trembling
arms. Neruda is dead and smoke is
curling

around my head,

Broken halo.

~Heather Lenz

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