Millennial Mediocrity

Millennial Mediocrity

By J. Lynne Moore

Chasing after the,
fevered lack of humanity,
simple is the mind;
that walks these dreams,
and refuses contemplation.

Hoarding nonsense,
among the want and will;
words are cast off…
they have no weight,
they have no rhyme.

Sensibility is lost,
and not found, daring
to forever break,
tactile consciousness,
rendering humanity mute.

Wisdom is white washed,
surrendering to mediocrity,
who, in its triumph,
births the impudence
of mere tolerance.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Cat Date

Cat Date

By J.Lynne Moore

What do I say, to those in love;
that carry on like, cooing turtledove.

Do I scorn their love so sweet?
When they display, affection on the street.

Does my temper flare and rage,
as another couple walks out on the stage?

Do you see me weep and pine,
because I don’t hear, “You are mine”?

Heavens no! For goodness sake!
Love to me, has too high a stake!

For me… my cat, is the perfect mate!
She makes for a splendid, dinner date.

Never once has she been unkind;
a more amiable companion, you will never find.

She does not ever have a complaint,
I think I would say she is quite a saint!

Oh, her hair…makes quite a mess;
but I shan’t complain, about her dress.

This may sound all very queer;
I assure you it’s not, she’s quite a dear.

So, you can keep, all your lovey stuff;
To me it seems to be nothing but fluff.

As for me…and my sweet cat;
We are a perfect pair, and that is that.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved

Dreaming of Avalon

Dreaming of Avalon

By J. Lynne Moore

Oh, you mists of Avalon,
hiding enchantments fair.
Grant me entry hence,
to see your beauties rare.

Allow me to gaze upon,
your lofty secrets grand;
pixies, fairies, unicorns,
all the riches of your land.

May I lay my head, gentle,
among the flora, sweet?
And drink your lake waters,
where haps the Lady I may meet.

Would that Merlin might grant,
an audience to the likes of me.
I would beseech the ol’ fellow,
to share a quaint cup of tea.

And if by luck or by grace,
Arthur should happen my way.
I think I should count it a blessing
if in his court he lets me stay.

Oh, my dearest Avalon…
Allow me through your misty gates.
Tease me not with your reveries,
for with in your arms my dreams await.

© 2016 -2017 Cashmere Illusions.blog /J.Lynne Moore All Rights Reserved