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Matthew F. Lynam

of

Harrison Hot Springs, BC, CA

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mloderst@sng.uni-frankfurt.de (Matthew F. Lynam )


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The Bird

by

Matthew F. Lynam

when i was young i used to ride the bus
i honestly never had too much crust
but kids today i'm sorry to say
just won't have it the same way
they sit at the back of the bus andd give you the bird
no wonder so many adults think kids are weird

when i rode the bus we used to wave
now kids dance around like they're at a rave
is my vision so misconstrued
could i be so old and confused?
i don't remember acts of aggression
at least not before church and that dreaded confession

i must admit i was taken aback
poised his hand in that familiure pose
pointimg directly at my nose
lowered his index finger then his ring
then pinky and thumb thing
turned up the middle finger in salute
before that day i'd never seen the little puke

his cherubic,no angelic face is etternally ingrained
i shall never forget his little hans at my face trained
his hair cut as well as it could be
i don't know how he was able to keep those horns covered
the long pointy tail could be easily in big coveralls
but the horn thing has me completly baffled.


No Reason

by

Matthew F. Lynam

It's almost 12:00 am
And my eyes are getting heavy
The hours in the day
Seem to blend forever
As the time goes by
You focus on right and wrong
Just to decide where to go
If you get there in the light f day
Good for you
You have a better chance
In the evenings dreams
We all have them
Some remembered, seared into your brain
Painfully
Some we don't remember
The dreams of peace and light
Is this because of the days never ending flight
Is the thought of peace
Whether it is inner
Or worldly so scary
I don't know
We as a race want to believe in rainbows
And lollipops
But only ever envision
The cold hard news transmitted on TV
At what age did we lose our effervescence
Was it the loss of our virginity
And the realization of
No the horror of
The possibility of seperation
>From a precieved LOVE
Why does love not affect everyone the same ?
A question like that deserves no explanation
And has no eleoquant answer
We can draw inner peace from our God
Whomever he or she may be
But we have to believe in something
No matter what
Even if it is the avacado pit growing
On our window sill
Or the passion you put into cooking


Cold

by

Matthew F. Lynam

It starts around my toes
And climbs up to my shins
It feels like the hair on my legs
Are like iceicles on a limb
I hate the cold so very much
It makes me lose my focus

There is nothing laike a space heater
Sitting at your feet
It warms your toes
It warms your feet
And everything by luck

Mow my hands are feeling numb
I don't like this at all
I think i should go look at
The thermostat on the wall
No wonder it's so cold in here
The temp is down to ten
I might as well go out into the chicken coop
And sit there like a hen

I look outside and see the snow
Oh what a lovely sight
In Vancouver they all just
Look around in fright

They know the snow means one thing
The roads they will be a slidin
And all those little cars out there
They will be collidin
Just slow down don't drive so fast
Con't be in such a hurry
stay at home and sit inside
Just wait out the flurries.