Lullaby of The Mockingbird

Way up in a treetop, a mockingbird's nest lies.
 Cherished by a mother with nurturing eyes.
"My beloved baby," the mother softly coos.
"I promise to always and forever love you."
There she's perched, humble in adoration.
Her love for him was quite a sensation.
 "Are you sleepy?" she asks as he begins to cry.
She whispers softly to her angel, "Close your weeping eyes."

As he breathes, sound asleep, he begins to see,
 that he, too, has a purpose that he turns into his dream.
 A dream of song and dance and love that he knows he can give;
who knew that such a life this little baby was to live.
"Now, baby mockingbird," the mother silently parts.
 She left him alone just knowing of his pure and gentle heart.

"I know that you will prosper, I know that you will be;
 I know that you will find a sense of trust and love in me.

 Please don't be afraid, my dear, to try all of these things new;
these things so bright and beautiful that God prepared for you.
 I know that in your loving eyes, you will come to believe,
 that there is hate beyond this world of big, protective leaves."
 The mother, as the baby grows, begins to see her son,
in all the glory and the love that he had then become.
The mother watched closely, as her son became anew.
 He says, "I love and overcome, Mother, because of you."

But as an old story goes, all good things come to end,
 and so this baby mockingbird's life was unfortunately short-lived.
The loving mother mockingbird has wondered all this time,
and in her grief and sadness, she heaves a heavy sigh.
One night as she perch sleeping, a golden light, it seemed,
but her humble, gentle son, had come into her dream.
Speechless was this mother bird, of her seventh child,
 a seventh child so meek, a seventh child so mild.

"It seems like we have been separated for many days,
 it seems like you have thought that I have went away.
But bear this in mind, Mother, dear," her son softly coos.
"I promise to always and forever love you."
The mother mocking bird listens closely to her son,
and understands her and son's spirit had become one.
She saw that feat of death that her son had overcome,
she knew that spiritual and loving was her humble son.

"Mother, I must go, now, but I will be back soon.
Please give my family all my love and sing my childhood tune."
 She tried to remember that song she had sung by and by.
She instantly remembered his favorite lullaby.
She remembered every time he cried, he'd slowly drift away,
for this was when she sang away the gloomy skies of gray.
 "My darling Mother, dear, thank you," he hugs and softly coos.
"For always loving me, so that I always love you."

He brings her back to the nest that she'd always been near,
the nest that bear the children throughout her many years.
Now guarding his own baby mockingbirds, his mother comes to know,
that her son is always with her. It always seemed to show.
"Your father and his brothers, his sisters, and you three
are precious, beautiful, wonderful ones always near to me.
 I made this promise to my son, now I make it unto you:
I promise I will always and forever love you... And your father loves you too."

©LJ
 2 January, 2013 & 1 February, 2013

Something To Say...

How is everyone?  I see I have some readers worldwide, and I thank you and hope you enjoy these poems.

I do a lot of my writing on the Michael Jackson Tribute Portrait, a beautiful tribute to Michael Jackson I am very proud to be a part of.  This site is where I started writing poetry and publishing it as my personal tribute to my biggest inspiration.  On 1 December 2013, the site will be downsizing, so social network anything is being removed.  This means that my blog will become the home of my poetry for now.  Expect several updates during this month with poems I will be bringing from my Messages To Michael on the MJTP to here (because I don't want to lose them). :)

That's all, folks!

-LJ

A World Without Color

I live in a cell

of black and white,

no difference of day,

no difference of night.

My life is breathless,

a grasp held tight,

but I know something

of this is not right.

I have no sense

of red, yellow, blue;

I have no expression

because of you.

I have no joy

in rainbows and sun,

who's life should be

for everyone;

not just for the ones who've done well,

but also for the curious, the love they will sell,

only to see their beautiful world,

with color; just when will that unfurl?

I live in a cell,

of plain repetition,

of the same old verses

from the same superstition.

I have a right

to wonder and quote

without your beliefs 

shoved down my throat.

I'm only so young, 

so please understand

that I'm only trying to withstand

the many things you tell me so,

but now it's time I let them go.

My life is a dream

you've crushed with your feet;

a weight on my shoulders

you've given me.

I only ask

that you understand 

my world without color,

is a beach without sand;

it's empty and water based soul can't compare

to the thought of you showing how much you don't care.

I'm sorry I won't be what you desire,

and I'm sorry I can't fulfill your desire

of what a person of your standards be,

but the way you are, this person won't be me.

Your expressionless ways of the word of the Lord,

your life is as stale as an unpainted board.

You say you love He who has given you life,

but how does He forgive you for my unending strife?

You put me through Hell, and I tell you this:

I will my life to expressional bliss;

let me become the radiant colors

of the world, instead of these colors, duller.

Let me become the drawings on walls

so maybe you'll see it after all;

your expressionless world traps me inside,

and I've nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

LJ

20 October, 2013

...for my best friend, Rebecca, who's story inspired this poem.

Quiet

It's quiet.

In the way I like it.

There's no screaming,

no crying, no words for lying.

But there's pain.  

A lot of it.

And that, I can not bear.

For every paper faces 

a rip and a tear.

It's loud.

In the way I hate it.

There's screaming,

crying, words for lying.

But there's pain.

A lot of it,

And that, I can not bear.

For my heart faces,

an empty care.

The quietness is deceitful.

The loudness reminds me of the voices in my head...

they hurt.

They hurt a lot.

©LJ

29 July, 2013

Untitled1

Why does it seem that the dead bring more comfort than the living?

If sitting at my beloved dog's grave calms me down, so be it.

Why do the living expect high of each other?

If we could love each other, like we dream it, wouldn't this be a better place to live in?

Why do we treat our animals as if they've not a life?

If you realized this, you'd try to do something about it.

Why does the sky look sunny on a bad day?

If you met my demon, you would see.

Why can't one appreciate what someone else does, even with mistakes?

If you saw the disgust in my soul, you'd probably take it back.

Oh, did I break something of yours?

Good.  Now you know how my heart feels.

©LJ

4 June 2013

Red Rose

Crying came before my laughter.

Laughter in vain of agonizing cries,

of acrylic painted false sunny skies.

Sadness came before happiness.

Happy songs when the world was sad,

and sad songs in a weird, euphoric world.

As the sunflowers I weaved into your hair are as vibrant as ever,

in my hair, you weave beautiful roses of white and black,

But one of the white roses has red.

I only want to cherish it,

as I have cherished you,

but I have cut myself upon it.

©LJ

1 June 2013

"Help"

It's these kind of remarks that silence me,
It's these arguments that make me curl up and hide away.
For one my age, I'm still afraid,
because it seems you've never seen the light of day.
I can't express a pain,
with a cry or a yelp,
but I think, deep inside,
those voices I heard wanted me to help.
They wanted me to help the broken souls
trapped within this house atop a hill.
They wanted me to help the animals inside you,
held to each other against the other's will.
I never got to say that a word preceded the one I heard before.
Not knowing why I never told that they said this as well.
The single word... Need. Before Help.
Sometimes it's as if this house is a physical Hell.
The life is drained out of me here, I don't feel much alive.
But the love I  have for you kept me standing here.
I'm not ignoring you, I'm just realizing
that this is the reason that she has to fear.
If only you could really  see, that this is the reason why,
we never get to see you, we never passed you by.
And all I realized was the life that I have lost,
by being on this rooftop...
but the love still strives on top.

©LJ
2 June 2013

Dear Stranger,

I watched you from a distance,
seeing all the smiles
that all your pupils showed me,
it stuck here for a while.

Although I never knew you,
you gave me a reason why,
that kindness was a quality
you'd always follow by.

I thank you for this kindness,
although you don't know me,
but if you heard me say it,
I know that you would see.

I'm the one you supported
for about five days of fun.
I never got to say "thank you",
but you compare to none.

So if you hear this rhyme,
I'd know that for a while.
I  wish I could have known you,
and known your gentle smile.

-LJ
31 May 2013
_______________________________________

So... This poem is dedicated to someone, yes.
It's dedicated to my school's former theater/drama teacher, who gave me the opportunity to go to Disney World in Orlando, Florida with my school's choir.  I never got to know her, but I guess this poem will be my "thank you" to her.
She passed away today.
God bless you, Mrs. Bettler. <3

Will There Really Be A "Morning"?

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
if I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like like water lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
of which I have never heard?

Oh some scholar! Oh some sailor!
Oh some wise men from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
where the place called Morning lies.

..Morning, morning,
where does morning lie?

-Emily Dickinson

New Soul

"Don't take this moment for granted,

This eternal moment of intimacy.

Something the heart can understand,

But the eyes and brain fumble with.

Breathe simple, but pure and spiritual life,

And unconditional love, like a rolling wind,

Breathe into me, and make me alive.

Blissful, as we become

Everything in our nature,

The infinite galaxies,

And the infinite unbounded,

In the infinitude of time.

Do they understand

How much you mean to me?

To love, and love life,

And love me, love you.

I utter my first sound

As a newborn soul

For the world to know

I am alive and loved,

Because I know

You love me,

And there's a world out there

That loves me too.

They humbly stand before me."

©LJ

...sometime in April of 2012. lol.

The Church

The church is silent.
The pews are empty.
The windows, quietly telling His story.
All around,
the reminder of His life.

The tiny sculptures in order
of His sacrifice.
Do they frighten me?
Do they stand to show me
that He died for me?


Guidance...
I could ask Him for His guidance,
and to ask for His guidance,
to show me the way.

Forgiveness...
I could ask Him for His forgiveness,
and to ask for His forgiveness,
would never be sincere.


Seven pews down, a friend knelt,
praying.
To know, to know, what he was
saying.

When I thought my soul was
decaying,
he told me, he told me, to keep on
praying.


The church is serene.
The sunlight through the stain glass window,
gave way to sunset.
All around,
the colors faded out.

The church is dark now.
We stand together, thanking Him for each other,
and we end the night,
under the moonlight,
slowly dancing for Him,
our Heavenly ballroom.

She was his lamb,
and in front of him, she fell asleep.
"Little lamb, God bless thee." he said silently.
He laid her back on that seventh pew,
where they would pray.


He could ask Him for His guidance.
He could ask Him for His forgiveness.
He could ask Him for His mercy.

They would both be forgiven.

Love, He would give them.

©LJ
27 April 2013

Inside

For this world, I am not ready.

I have yet this world that surrounds me so.

I have yet to feel my eyes blink and my nose flare.

I have yet to feel my hands and feet.

I have yet to open my mouth and breathe.

But I am still growing, and one day,

I will be free of my protective world,

and the lullaby of swooshing water 

will be the sound of human voice.

©LJ

29 May 2013

Bluebird, Quiet Bluebird

Bluebird, dear bluebird,

stubborn but protective be,

Bluebird, quiet bluebird,

how I wish to be like thee.

Bluebird, loving bluebird,

we've had our bouts of strife, I know.

Bluebird, patient bluebird,

it's almost time for you to go.

Bluebird, humble bluebird,

finally gained himself a friend.

Bluebird, flying bluebird,

your childhood's come to an end.

Bluebird, sweet bluebird,

do remember why

Bluebird, brave bluebird,

God gave you wings to fly.

Bluebird, gracious bluebird,

the whole world you get to see.

Bluebird, quiet bluebird...

your sister I happily be.

©LJ

29 April 2013

House Of Many Mirrors

I walked the house of many mirrors, many eyes, many tears.
Many sullen faces of those who grieve, and those who believe.
See these ones who love you? my soul calls to me, this burden be
a hardship I always fought, and gave in; bought.
Look at yourself.  the voices cry, but I deny.
Tears burn my eyes, stake at the core, nothing more,
but to see my life in anothers eyes, anothers twisted, maybe simple ties.
Then a story, flashed before me, a feel of glory.
You are beautiful. she says. Beautiful.
Am I beautiful?  Beautiful?  ...Beautiful?
But this is a mirror, filled with many sullen tears,
My heart breaks, and causes my soul to shake.
A voice speaks from within and told me, let gladness win.
She longs for my embrace, and in this moment we chose not to waste.
Look within my eyes, I speak to her soul, and her tears become whole.
If I am to be, I will be the sun in your world of rain, so that you never grieve again.
Someone tell me, who I am, and if I'm damned.
But I am not condemned, or a figment, or pretend.
I am human, just asking for someone to care, someone to be there.
A life of pain, abuse, and personal gain.
 From my shadows, in this world of rain, I can never hide again.
Myself, I can not hide, although I cry, I look inside,
Maybe I am beautiful after all. my soul calls out, sore, forevermore.
And yet again, I walked the house of many mirrors, many eyes, many tears.
And some of those tears are my own, always shown, no matter where I go.

©LJ
13 April, 2013

Lesson Of The Day...

"Eat fruit.

Not fries."

Street Performers

Unaware,

they start to gather a crowd.
So to say,
they're lost instead of found.
 Skipping,
to the rhythm of their hearts.
So to say,
the most unique form of art.
Dancing,
to the drums of their long quest.
So to say,
they'd never find their rest.
Singing,
to the song of their Creator.
So to say,
a love so new and greater.
Bowing,
humble to the cheering crowd.
So to say,
they became rather proud.
Sneaking,
out of shy and comforted shells.
So to say,
a story never to tell.
Running,
to find a peace in mind.
So to say,
to leave the crowd behind.
Guided,
to a place to call their home.
So to say,
a place for minds to roam.
Upon,
a bed of softly covered sheets.
So to say,
it's time to go to sleep.
Humming,
a very precious lullaby.
So to say,
they close their drowsy eyes.
Resting,
to gain their strength from above.
So to say,
in their mission of love.

 

©LJ

  19 February, 2013

The Heavy Room

There was emptiness in the empty room.
If ever, breathing was at a minimal,
and the air became stone; ice cold.
The dizziness hypnotized her, taking her under its wings of back and silver.
When the heart within her beat so heavily,
it pounded her conscious more into the ground.
She took a breath, and spots of dimly-lighted colors flashed before her eyes.
The voices in her head lulled her;
about ten different timbres of his voice brought to her unparalleled sedation.
The tears filled her eyes;
no gladness could replace what she was without him.;
a train wreck.  Crash.
A forceful thud hits the ground.  Crunch.
The heavy room remained empty.
And breathing ceases;
prey to that unparalleled rest she was in.
And much happier was her soul.
Reunion.
Took the ultimate sacrifice, and surrendered,
just to spend eternity and on
with the man who gave his heart to her.
Forever.

©LJ

8 February, 2013

A Poem Without A Title

A group of children without a game,
a group of soldiers without a name;
a heart of gold, without a love,
a magician of trickery, without a dove...

A comedian without a joke,
a vase of glass without it broke;
a billion stars without a sky,
a warm hello without a goodbye...

A sheet of paper without the lines,
a life so carefree without the fines;
a doll so precious without a friend,
a world of beauty without an end...

A chest of magic without a spell,
a gift to show, without it's tell;

A spirit's heart, without a mind...
A bouquet of flowers, without a bind...

A lonely artist, without his art,
a pair of friends, without depart;

A lonely Me, without a You,
A soft 'I Love', without 'You Too...'" 

©LJ

3 February, 2013

Rainbow-Eyed Butterfly

Rainbow-eyed butterfly,

keeper of innocence and truth;

the rarest butterfly in all the land.

Appears in the dreams of the simple-minded.

Rainbow-eyed butterfly,

keeper of beauty and purity;

the loveliest butterfly in all the land.

Appears with the innocent child.

Rainbow-eyed butterfly,

keeper of love and peace;

the kindest butterfly in all the land.

Appears to the humble and quiet.

Rainbow-eyed butterfly,

will we ever find you?

©LJ

19 January 2013

Tranquility

Tonight I just want peaceful slumber.

No other thoughts to disturb,

no twisting, turning, kicking...

My angel heeds my cry, I pray,

and I begin to remember.

The angel who laid my head on his chest

in sweet protection,

and cradled me in his arms.

The angel who let me cry onto his shoulder,

and even wept, himself.

The angel, who gave me his still-beating heart,

and vowed we would never part.

His heart beats within me,

and our feelings mirror.

He lays my head down,

and I can hear the beat of his heart...
echo mine.

©LJ
28 December, 2012

The Song Became

And the song became my soul.

Every harmony and melody,

every pitch and dynamic,

every note became,

a bit of my DNA.

And the song became a dream.

A dream of all genres,

a dream of musicals,

a dream of something from

Beyond, slowly to become.

And the some became my mind.

Let gladness win,

and I did.

Let it win your soul,

and claim it.

©LJ

13 January, 2013

Silent Footsteps

Silent footsteps.
In the pouring rain.
Nothing left to lose,
yet nothing left to gain.
In a busy city,
the footsteps of the soul
are still so very silent,
and still so very cold.
The footsteps of a stranger
are so familiar now.
And that one single stranger
became a friend somehow.
Together we walk slowly,
footsteps silent in the rain.
To bring hope to a confused world,
ready to learn again.

©LJ

6 January, 2013