The Garden is Greener

My mind is a rich garden,

one my mother grew

she watered the soil

systemizing roots.   

The first seed was planted 

when I was a child 

and climbed unmaintained 

until weeds grew too wild.

The thorns on my branches

were thoughts unpopular 

and Mother grew worried 

her garden abandoned her.

She trimmed the edges,

the spikes and the thorns 

“This garden is mine,

you’ll get hurt” I forewarned.

And she said to me

without saying a thing:

“The garden beheld

is my life’s greatest work

I’ll protect it and love it

even if I’m hurt.”

~Chris Lightner, August 2017


Untitled-1-Recovered in

daze out

The mind rocks recklessly,

An ocean of psychedelic Oz

Down the wishing well

and wishing well

it could wake up

and turn off the visions

The TV is broken and fuzz fills the screen

White noise; blank sound

Erotic figments; electric sheep.

Stripes that move through vortex space

but when they circle back

to reach me,

they break.

-August  2017

Joe Smooth

coffee3Hot to the core,
the brown liquid slides
down the slippery slope,
the bitterest of chocolates
but sweetest of treats,
comes in the form of
a breakfast delight
that transforms
and transitions
to afternoon iced,
ever so carefully
spiced to ensure
I endure the longest of
days so I don’t sleep away
the sun while its high,
or the moon while it teases;
tickling the sky like the
feeling that pleases
me from the inside,
and I radiate and beam,
I smile
and I gleam,
and I just have to share with
you one little thing; on
the day when I found you
I was only sixteen
but you’ve changed me for good,
for the better
for always,
I owe it to you for carrying
me forward so now
I believe 
the morning is worth living
with you in my hand,
the gift that keeps giving
three hundred and
sixty four days and
a half,
your sugar a drug that will bring
me right back like
a shaft of tobacco
or swig of dry whiskey,
O’ java
O’ Joe
what would I do if
you left me?
– October 2017