Overcoming #3 (People)


The lonely acorn aims,

hearing the safe leaves bristle and jeer in a cat call.

While its stem shoots and stands tall

those dead leaves see black and spinning rims.


Lebrecht|Hitlebb 2016


Love, the Summer Harbinger

Love is no stranger to the pain she brings.

She means no danger; she leaves us good sins.

Her price is pain, hurt for the joy she brings:

Paid in wails of thunder to curse her sins.

I do speak waste! Of love that hastes death rates:

Digging graves for fools with more heart and no brains,

Their hearts brave forth, taking the test love creates:

They fight back with brave hearts; they sing praise in the rains.

I see love. She comes as a harbinger.

She makes the way to our hearts much sweeter

So leave the icy cold winter: your bitter hate bringer

And leave a place in your heart for a bright summer.


The Tempered Embrace

my fingers wont stray from their iron embrace.
your words were fierce so your neck must break.
My rage is quick. tempered animals on the mend,
with instincts like mine, kill insects that leer.
you’re an insect-you steered too far from my grace.
(now you’re evil red) and may hope to break
my embrace with your mandible’s lower end
But Be Still! my fingers will unloose when your breath is queer.

Lebrecht|Hitlebb 2016

A spectre with love

A Spectre came, 

rousing the person lodging in my nogging.

He beckoned my tenant,

who sighed to berate his tyrant.

But then he marveled,

wanting nothing more than to reach out

and leave his room of logic,

to seek madness from his shell, for magic.

His latent desire,

an escapade with a spirit not right,

stumbled in with sensations to rekindle  

the romance his pragmatics lack.

So he skips out, my savvy.

Hand in hand with his new-found cherie

to tumble bareback  and far from all distraction

never to return, lost in the wind of passion.

Then he returns,

crawling back to me every night.

seeking refuge where it’s right

his winded shrieks give me fright

Battered by the cold

searching for a whole.

 Begging for the shell he damned

yet hoping his feeling comes around.

I wait in the night

wait for the spectre to come for his right

for the tenant to run from his true light

for love to come calling for the night.

Lebrecht|Hitlebb 2016

Growing older is Natural

Growing older is natural,

like composing is phenomenal.

The younger me was subliminal,

and my feelings were optional.

Now I’m waiting for the natural.

For logic to make nonsense 

of a younger conscience with a lining that’s unnatural.

That’s only natural.

LIFE is unnatural.

It’s stiff and unusual.

We’re born labored and grow abnormal

into anomalies being theatrical

quoting and aging

underneath the supernatural

but that’s all natural.

Like growing older is natural.