With both arms
I embrace the sky 
to gather up clouds 
for water
to replace tears
to be shed.
I’ll divide & parse them  
so we don’t run dry
in our time of need
when the whirlwind
you just know is coming
We’ll do without rain, then
aridity will be preferred
for comfort:
armaments, rations
will do just fine, too.
Mainly, we’ll need tears
when hope no longer sustains 
and our capacity for grief
is found wanting.

(Source: lebuc)

don’t shoot -
put it down before you execute your intention
to ventilate and create a dishonorable mention
respectfully, i implore you to decline to define
the lifeline of one who’s inclined to be kind
enough to hand you an impromptu verbal lesson;

on the cusp of an act that will leave you confessin
the sins you committed, at your end of your mission
as a free man in a back-handed rigged legal system
that grinds up and spits out your kind like cold grits
figuring who in the hell is really gonna miss em;

the identity kit they see fit to fashion you wit
is as lame-brained, half-lit, reject & misfit
with no real semblance of a future life ahead
they’d be doing you a favor to execute ya instead
and your caviar schemes, short cuts and pipe dreams;

with your misled dread-headed buds dissing suds
for pocket scuds, makin fiends kiss the pavement in thuds
blood hissing from their vessels engraved with the slugs
shot by pissed off thugs peeped in packs like pup pugs;

whose misshapen mugs elicit no tugs - at coattails, heartstrings
or any damn things - as the shots continue to careen off of beans
we all glean what’s obscene from ersatz lying kings
in tragic acts, fatal stats & chronic’d rat-a-tat-tats
with gats that chatter and splatter c-notes and b flats;

despite all’a that -

still gotta reach one to teach, son - still gotta show love
even if it casts me in the role of a sacrificial dove
but an eye for an eye just gonna leave us both blind
or worse, red ink blots on block hot spots, outlined;

so i need to step back and spit this ish kind of logical
for you son to stop now, we can return as the prodigal
with prodigious intent to prod you, ghetto clint, to relent
from lightin a brother up like dry weeds under flint;

end all this onerous bunk, i’m spent and don’t need dis junk
commencing to convince you from your felonious funk
every dog’s got his day, and i’m aiming for another

(if i’m barking up the wrong tree, i should cold duck under cover;
leave this mothering brother a buffer, why should i have to suffer
cause when he needed succor, they just punched on him tougher
i’m trynta shut it down, trynta get him to chill it
save my bean for tomorrow, so i hope he don’t spill it;)

save my bean for tomorrow, i hope you don’t spill it.

wait, wait, don’t shoot -
wait, bruh, wait.
( end?? )

(Source: lebuc / le buc)

I Could

I could sit
on the cold, remote
shores of logic
atop gossamer-glinted surfaces unmoved
implacable in position and stance
undaunted by woeful whinings
of the wayward weary.

I could.

I could dwell
among dancing, distended 
delusions of delight
in sateen sheeting, shimmering
subconscious shards
of perfection unfurled;

I could.

I could attend to
what you speak of
in touching, tender tones
of terrors and trials,
tears and travails
tall tales and tough times;

I could -
if your light
were indeed light.

I could linger
alone -
unbridled, unbent 
unlonely, I’ve learned
in a lexical, left-brain languor 
and look, listen, laugh, love -

I could. 

(Source: lebuc)

our song

Nibbling on scones,
relishing each bite; 
furtively glancing at each other
across the room

as if we wanted to etch
each moment’s view 
in our minds, fully

before we looked up again
to confirm 
the last fading one.
Smiling to ourselves
as we hummed along to
the song playing
when our eyes locked that Friday

in the coffee shop
on 8th Street.
Brushing aside
the unwelcomed obstruction
of our line of vision
by that loud, unruly man
who smelled of cigarettes and spaniel  

as I spied his attentive companion
lamppost-tethered outside,
just beyond the window.
Wishing our stash
of secreted glimpses
and anticipation
to be stoked
by an efficient barista,

despite the jarring, impatient attention
paid by the brusque patron 
to his canine companion.
We laugh, still
at our attempts to recall 
and retell the story

alternatively remembering and forgetting
sundry details of that day
like the weather outside,
dog man’s backstory

exactly what I said 
when I mustered the courage
to arise and confirm 
our unspoken repartee 
with a word.
We pause and sigh

every year we hear
PBS showcase the Oldies
during their pledge drive, playing
the song by the still-living group
who don’t sway
as much now, crooning

that we revealed
to each other that night,
after hours of talking in your loft
under starlight and wine
then undercover

as our song.

(Source: lebuc, via lebuc)

jainie’s chili

…wearing your wounds
like the heart on your sleeve,
eyes a beacon of blue shining only down, 
still you trip over your feet 
stumbling in the cold.

Regret won’t help you fight this Hawk, 
not one bit
like a cup of coffee, or chicken soup or ooooh!

Jainie’s Chili.

That’s just what you need
a bowl of Jainie’s chili, served
on a tablecloth, not that paper shit
and her menu - just looking at it could fill you for a day.

Now drop the 
‘poor little old me’ shtick
take what’s left and get on that bus, pronto
if you ever want to see another glorious sunrise
away from this forsaken place.

Remember the number i gave you
they’re good friends, who’ll give you time & space
to help you sort things out for a while.

You know how to get in touch with me -

I’ll always check in on you
take care of yourself…

(Source: lebuc)


purge, reassess
on occasion.

focused and unfettered
shake your crusts
unfurl your wings &
take off.

show them you possess
the very essence
are made of.

forget regret / the light of day

fed lies for lunch as children
had even those snatched away as we grew;
left with mirrors for meaning 
& punctuation we could disperse as we pleased

upon ungrateful parchment that knew
neither the weight nor the wafer-thin justification
for the free form funky reality 
imposed and signified as symbolic tome;

becoming the bane of those unrestrained and unrepentant 
deemed violators of precepts a priori
hallowed and honed upon roiling flesh of backs
seared with lashes to ashes, encrusted with disgust; 

as recently as the last moment you could recall
being fed burnt bread and bad butter
for digestion and nourishment 
hearing it’s to your credit and good health 
to be granted admission to dine with demons
in their den…
…we dined and somehow survived,
thrived even -
grew enough to now, in the light of day,
have hearts to forgive if not forget
the regret of having experienced
such darkness of night…


(Source: lebuc)

now playing

Indigo Night
  & the Starmagi
in a continuing engagement, nightly
    at the Galaxy Theatre

kick back with a few, enjoy -
     showtime’s about
an hour past dusk,
    encores after every set
crickets, cicadas, owls,
             free of charge.

     open seating 
on lawned barcaloungers
         unlimited sightlines
  no reservation for skyboxes
b.y.o.b. (bring your own babe)
               or not.

    gracious hosts and hostesses
  i-phones and tablets off, please
    awed whispers however - permitted
heck - encouraged… 

no Ticketmaster here,
  ticketing’s already been…
by the Master.

Opening act:
Moon Wisdom
      & the Afterglows
( they’re really good….caught ‘em in Cheyenne )


(Source: lebuc)

word romance

wondering if these poems
are real for any others
impatiently awaiting 
that longing glance
deeply treasured secrets
determined to uncover
awaiting a smile
a like perchance;
hoping to realize
that we’re not alone
a connection made 
someone’s waited on
a penned hearted world
to share with another
letting fantasies unfurl
for kindreds to discover;
guess we’re all fated
cause everybody’s waited
to share, crystallize
for eyes to recognize
the deep emotion tokens
from a literary trance
our open invitation
for a spirit-centered dance;
hoping to ignite 
a continuing devotion
of sipping on the potion
of our word romance.

(Source: lebuc)


this sunlight gleams
from your eyes
directly into mine.

a refracted glory;

your open smile
head slightly tilted, in
a casual toss of your hair
over one ear;

and i know -
i know.

evoke rapture
in the most common of us,
despite daily immersions;

pristine perfection, pedestalled
of this particular one,

on this particular day…

(Source: lebuc)


There -
written on your face
divergent visions of your left and right eye
one fixed on the here and now
the other exploring spaces
beyond the stars.
The universe and i humbly request
you use both, focused,
and really see
who i am.

(Source: lebuc)


if i could
i’d slurve over to yowl
and we’d fleen
thru glaves of masstin
in endors of askire

the preen and gleeple
would enorve the dentining flup

olips and jukles
would tipe and harple around us

enting and glanding hout
on wimpolotulated querps
ninting furithily douth, douth, douth
to spratelis

it’d be blattipul - yoorp!

i’d do that, my dearest -
joist for yoop.


(Source: lebuc, via lebuc)

potter’s tale

birds perched and poised
high atop the branches

me prostrated in the lurch
recounting all my chances

to end foolish trials and tricks
thickening in the mists

futilly fighting fog and bricks
when did i enlist for this?

in times so rich with chance and hope
i endure thru muddled days

with dialogs to help me cope
exploring myriad ways

of marking meanings in the mud
to find a path to tread

expanding with sunshine and bud
obscuring any dread

i come to analyze the truth
of life - it’s so ever vast

and realize - yet in my youth
the mold is mine to cast.


she shakes the stars from her eyes
the rivers from her legs
steps forward to walk the earth
he shakes the clouds from his head
roots from his feet
steps forward to walk the earth 
they walk the earth, together
lay together
they shake and rake the earth
plunge its depths
pull forth cranes and cars
sidewalks and skyscrapers
form theories and myths
books, laws
councils. tribunals
cities & countries
we walk the earth
and lay 
under the weight of our makings
in our eyes, heads
legs & feet 
forgetting to shrug, to remember 
we were once children
of the stars, clouds, rivers and roots.

(Source: lebuc)


i wouldn’t be so arrogant
to deign to drone on and on
in the hope that my peppy way
with a word or two
would merit me indulging upon you
day after day
line after line, verse upon verse
oblivious to the cursive curse
of a meglomanic - i wouldn’t be;

as a righter of corporate wrongs
with desire and a digital dexterity
would not be so arrogant to persist
trying to tip the scales of justice
ever so slightly as ballast, toward level,
away from tilt -
to desist their attempt to move
darkness aside, favoring light
as with a soiled blanket to the wash,
nah - they wouldn’t be so arrogant;

as one who spies, it’s said
on established strongholds
in the public realm, to reveal
what is kept hidden - unjustly so
from the public discourse, in the belief
that an informed public is a public more free
to what end, it matters not
for freedom is always
its’ own reward;
that one - should she not so arrogant be?

so line after line, you shall receive
(for those so inclined, you’re free to leave)
verse upon verse shall be your curse
the length of which, though unrehearsed -
i will write til i’ve quenched my thirst
‘til my sullied soul no longer bursts,
about anything that occurs to me
on this day - or any other - in my own way;

should only i be so arrogant.

(Source: lebuc)