D – Dying to sleep to see her face
R – Racing with regret, I toss and turn
E – Eventually moving on in the dreamland
A – Adverts to memory, invaders from all sides
M – My words cross my mind. When did it get this bad?
S – She never appears, I wake to repeat the night. Tonight.
— Lucas M.As one ends, another begins.
We bring out the trash, we empty the closets,
we wash out all the year's evils.
But here in the deepest pit, I remain.
Incinerating the waste, my skin peels.
Demons fly around and tunnel beneath.
I wait till the fall to enact my plans.
As the house is cleaned, our souls must be as well.
— Lucas M.L – Looked in the mail, a letter from a young me.
O – Obviously I opened it, says a lot I had to share.
S – Sometimes life is hard, bro and sis get sad, dad gets mad.
T – Today I made some art, not for Ed, for you.
B – Brother, you understand, right? If no one else does.
O – Originally I thought I was alone, but I have you.
Y – You're probably chilling, pimping if you will.
Signed a little you.
— Lucas M.L – Look, little man, I wish I could be a pimp or mac.
O – Our taste in music evolves. You love the trap, but you don't know yet.
S – Bro and sis get sad, though—they’re pimps of the times, if you will, masters of their fields.
T – Today I wrote a short story. We saved the day. It's for you.
M – Mom's still struggling, homes. She's strong. You know that, though.
A – And we still got a monkey on our back. We're just a little taller and a lot more mature.
N – Nothing can stop you since I'm writing back. Keep it real and seal deals.
Signed, an older you.
— Lucas M.O – Off we go, onward to defend all we love. Our country, our freedom, our love, our parents, even our unborn or newborn children.
T – To not is an act of cowardness. You must stand up when called, it's an act when the whole world is on stage, and you have a lead role.
W – War is nothing but a game for gruff, grown, heartless babies. Giving only regard to defend their country, nobly—to hell with the grunts.
— Lucas M.Once upon a time,
recessed deep in the mind,
a madman's idealistic figment,
a dream to never come.
There is no secular segregation,
not a drop of dominionist dogma,
at least none that one could admit.
Another broken spirit,
lost in fantasy.
This old beast happens to be almost 20 years old,
muzzle gray—
Well past his prime,
it'll be a struggle for this old boy,
a troublesome time.
A time of strife
trying to learn some new tricks.
Since he was a mere pup,
the dream of being properly groomed.
The youthful Dog went from school to school,
being broken into obedience—
Taught to heel,
taught to bite,
taught to hunt,
taught to fetch.
A life of learning,
to amount to an old, tired soul,
only serving.
When a tool breaks,
it is thrown out,
as was he.
But like an old tool,
a careful collector may want to tend to it—
Even if it's to bring a piece of the past,
outdated in all sense,
To the present,
giving the tender care an antique as such needs.
Bringing out the flaws taught and worn in,
while restoring it to pristine
To turn one's useless trash
into a beautiful part
of another's life—
Is to teach an old dog a new trick,
and to see him act as if it's his first.