value her more

value her more

than anyone at times

been through

so many ups and downs

watching her grandson

almost forty paint the same

deck her husband did

every few years

who could’ve imagined

value every smile

how could I refuse an omelet

hard work thoughts driving home

not wanting to leave her sight

but she’s her own boss still

takes care while everyone keeps an eye out

value every story

and all the memories she keeps

in that top drawer

relaxing in the same chair

so much love in the little lady

call her my g-ma… 

mountain climber

no longer know

what this is

supposed to be

thought freedom of thought

would be encouraged

even welcomed

thought it might be interesting

to keep up with the thought logs

capturing glimpses

of what this thinker thinks

whatever comes up comes out

inspired by some I may never meet

hear their words

and the beat keeps

the head bobbing

they do it differently

and at times hanging on every word

how do they remember it all

still don’t know

what this is

supposed to be my art

or some shit

but what if

no one gets it

what if no one cares

about thoughts inspiring

these scribblings actually

still done with a pen

and a blank page first

wondering what forty-nine

degrees in late May means

rainy day lonely thoughts

don’t get in the way

rearranging older ones

only hope

people still want to read

and if they don’t

guess that’s not my problem

to solve only

my mountain to climb

whatever that means…

on top of my own

hours pass so quickly

barely able to catch up

with my own thoughts

everyone all around is busy

doing something everyone’s

going somewhere

planning for something

constantly reading and studying

trying to understand history

on top of my own thoughts

hours pass sifting

through older words

noticing how some have aged well

and some have been outgrown

and permanently left behind

hours pass moving

only forward

even if stationary…

first Review of my new eBook THIRTY-3

Review by: mendingwall on May 17, 2014 :

The poet, Ryan Lessard, has an extremely visual style both in the mechanical construction of his lines which wrap around each other leading to the next "random thought" and the vertical message often hidden in the first word of each line. The poems themselves are interconnected as the neural pathways of the brain...not as random as a single read would lead one to believe.... and a single read does them no justice. If you want cute rhymes, buy a Hallmark card for $2.99. If you enjoy intellectual challenges, spend two bucks more and download Thirty-3 for an evening or two of thought-provoking and personal glimpses into the mind of a thinker who will challenge you to view the world in a different way. For an idea of this poet's evolution, see his earlier works still available on Amazon. To keep up with his current thoughts, visit his blog at nicefropress.blogspot.com

submitted by Mendingwall




thank you and of course I will include the link to my smashwords page where you can get the book

if you encounter any problems in the process do not hesitate to contact me and I will help you through it

thanks again for supporting my thoughts!!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/435605

 

in a different way

in a different way

but with real eyes

hope some day we all

realize we aren’t here

for too long

we should probably

try to enjoy our time

or not waste it

or have fun or help others

maybe not

in a different way I am probably

wrong in thoughts but I have real eyes

to see that society too is changing

in a different way they say it is all

for our protection

but I hope we realize

it’s really all about

power and control

and no questions

move along…

nephews brought it back

back on a skateboard

nephews brought back

the youth for my brother and I

turning around in the truck I asked

“in 20 years are you two

still going to be hanging out

like your father & I?”

both boys answered yes

with big smiles

and smiles all around

as my brother & I try

not to hurt ourselves

on new skateboards

and old tricks

looking at my bro I say

“we used to do this everyday

all day…”

smiling and riding off

to try another trick

we skated for years

on our childhood dead end street

shaking loose the memories of

those days before life

got all serious and work

related and fun was minimalized

still somehow dodging that one

or used it to our advantage

bringing back the youth

even if for only a couple

hours at the skate park…

see the light flip the switch

trying to see the light

flip the switch

in the mind

blown daily

by the things that bother

the average person

certain that this constant

pen movement has some purpose

can’t have none

but if it does it does

still going to be here grinding out

thoughts never faded

once put down in these pages

some might type instead

can’t put down the pen

at the end of the day

clouds and rain might

arrive and it won’t stop

the drive behind a will

to do better than survive…

Be Great

yesterday same time

reminded me that I am 

probably more important

than I believe I am

no one without these words

non stop thought

for the record

yesterday continued

a bond goes back

thirty years to be exact

unbroken new chapter

don't just think you are great

know you are great everyday

for the record

slow down notice

know the feeling

walls down before

seems like they will crush

from all angles

but they haven’t moved at all

finally escaping the net

slow down notice it wasn’t even there

all in the mind

limitations are mind related

what type of life changing

thoughts are others having

right now

how do they make it through

their days and dark nights

knowing the feeling of looking

forward and overlooking thoughts

right here right now

sure tomorrow is another day

but today is right here

don’t waste it make it matter

add it to the historical account

of the life you are living

get living get moving…

scent is rain

an hour early

but it is just how I roll

at times need time to prepare

for whatever is to come

is this writing automatic

who knows what is going

to get in my way today

a sound of startled birds

then their song

in through an open window

a passing cars or an accident that

hasn’t happened yet

a cool breeze up under the shirt

but the scent in the air is rain

how many times do I restart

the project of continuous writing

thinking I am the goalie of thought

none of them will get by

and how in the world

do we all get by

we just keep on

no matter what the struggle

grocery store employment

over 20 years hardly the plan

but plenty of time to think

and write and share

everyone should share their story

there is something great

everywhere no doubt surprises

in the corners of every mind…

always working

re-positioning the mind

a more relaxed state

hear what they call news

don’t know how it impacts

this life here without

the world wide connection

we would really still be

in the dark

extremely dependent still

on everything always working

what if everything stopped

working all at once

what happens then

re-positioning the mind

to at least think

about the possibility…

just ramblin'

just move then

pen and sun through the window

wood grain beneath both arms

love this time of year

this time of day

perfect for reflection

what is said and unsaid

just pen thoughts

without destination

fighting the thoughts

hidden in silence

trying to understand the world

filled with violence

always want to be about peace

violence starts as force

ruling over free people

knowledge is power

to take back individual freedom

if nothing else

love this time of reflection

questioning everything

we are a part of without consent

but by necessity to operate

in our daily lives

reflection not like that in the mirror

like that in the individual

waking up to the reality

all around no one wants to read

and yet still putting words here

in books even if I am the last one…

twist and burn

time to stop and think

always is and hardly

what your mom wants to hear

bend what you know as real

feel the rush not similar

to the burn of Niacin

out through all the pores

twenty minutes a little like boiling

if I had to guess

how would I really know

spending the day reading

putting thoughts in books

on screens big and small

piece of the world where I sit

need to get words in front of more eyes

time to twist and burn one down

thoughts on my brother scent in the breeze

trees of May send the mind down a slide

never know what I might come across

then down like a cross word puzzle

like I have been to some

many more have disappeared

from these eyes overlooking

the pond at the bottom of the hill

look for the cloud and my head in a book

putting words here what if I didn’t

think about how crowded a mind

heavy thought instead would rather

light it up and relax…

drops under clouds

hours pass

seconds seems

quicker than the mind

can process slow it down

washing clothes

everything I own worn

hours pass faster

temperature rises quick

drops under clouds creeping

from behind the trees

up overhead after sunrise shine

across the pond wonder what

it looked like before everyone

moved onto the land

hours pass and it’s the next day

from when thought began

time to sleep…

when it's important

probably comes down to

not wanting to question

reality and things we are taught

to believe as true and real

probably comes down to

how comfortable we have become

uncomfortable depending on the chair

or success but put it in the air anyway

time to move onward and inland

back to the shoe city always

questioned my reality there

might clear some things up

probably not but

it probably comes down to

waking up and changing

things as necessary

when it is important…

twelve hours same day

it’s as if no one reads

or would be interested

in some thinking for the day

here sitting behind a screen

putting words before eyes

imagine everyone did

supporting eyes

and strangers

stranger daze

yesterday high reached

eighty never hit fifty today

t-shirt sweatshirt inside outside

still trying to keep it moving

keep it multiplying… 

not what you are thinking about

this is not what everyone else is thinking about

and the television always reminds me of this fact

no war has ever been justified as it is presented

other factors always contribute but this

is hidden along with other important facts that avoid

the eyes of the average American but the

root of the problem is the strangled liberty

from behind the invisible bars that we live

which job is the one to pay us to be free

tyranny behind a desk or microphone

springs in the air finally still New England chill

when May arrives mornings are warmer

he rises well before the suns

first light and in a couple hours it

appears over buildings while standing in a parking lot

he seems to rise higher when he sees this light daily

is warming him where he stands

a thought before continuing the day

protector of the ‘never stagnant mind’… 

why not

someone asked me why I write

only thing I could think of saying

was I can’t imagine not writing

never gave myself that option I guess

to not write so much more than anyone

sees or knows drowning in a sea of no’s

I am therefore I think therefore I write

that’s about the best answer I could give

so from this point forward

the answer to this question may differ

but will always begin with

—why not…

Thirty-3 my new eBook is available NOW!!!

please let me know what you all think and thank you for reading, click the link and get it now!!!

-cover Painting is by my brother Mat Lessard-

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/435605

hear these words

if asked to pick one thing to protect

liberty would be that thing—liberty

means the freedom to do what we want

anything that doesn’t harm another

at some point this liberty may be challenged

all of us must be vigilant in protection of liberty

it is most important for future generations

means looking a little closer at those making

the laws and enforcing them

right to assemble and protest met by police

to silence dissent when this dissent is necessary

tell everyone around it’s for the future

people really need to open up to these thoughts

what are we going to do if we cannot disagree

they will control every aspect of our lives

do everything to hold liberty tight and

not let go no matter how much they

want to control our every move

to be free means to cherish liberty

hear these words…

just ten years back

none can imagine life like just ten years back there
are definitely more technological advances but are we
more independent in our lives made easier with technology or
hopelessly dependent on the ease of our lives
enslaved by trends and new gadgets it might be easier said
than done to leave it all alone one day and there are
those who think they can do without for one day
who would you call if your smart phone suddenly went dumb
falsely believing someone will fix it or get a new one
believe what gets you through the day but
they want us consumers dependent
are we all willing to trust them to keep us
free from a web we cannot escape…

depending on who is asked

still too cold with the wind
eyes start to get blurry
almost May
not what you would think
but since when has that mattered
how do the eyes convince
the others to read
just words regular people thoughts
depending on who is asked
and how much time there is
for a reply still don’t know
anyone else who does this
constant mostly with little reward
but then someone gets it
and it inspires and keeps it rolling
like backwoods honey flavor
comfort in the cold
contribution to the wind
curling pages as the thoughts
get caught by the pen
they pass too quickly most times
reflecting mostly like that window
looking back really too cold to enjoy
the night outside retreat
back to the table
low light early night...

walk with pen

stood in the rain
for ten minutes
and could have
all night but I walk
with the pen instead
inside under low light
next to an open window
solitude blowing in the breeze
cool after the rain
eyes almost closed
lots of smoke and words
building Thirty-3…

recording progression

don’t have an interest

in entertainment presented

instead entertain these pages

with words

how many will be enough

always will wonder

what thoughts mine might

provoke and I don’t have

an explanation for how all this time

is really spent trying to leave something

behind for those to come after

this time called now

how primitive this pen held

will be at then two generations or so

away from obscurity

no doubt and no idea

at the same time

never stops merely pauses

during sleep until we learn to record

the dreams we can’t even remember

when we are awake

the subconscious hides

and might never understand

these pages become useful

in recording progression…

good time to get doing

when is it a good time to get doing

the things that make us happy

people are much easier to be around

fear brings out the anxiety as happiness fades

the day is long enough to get it all done

government wants a cut of everything

you pay your taxes for fear of punishment

have we had this conversation before

tyranny takes over and we don’t mind

when it isn’t knocking down our door

the small yard doesn’t interest them yet

government might already own it

fears arrive when flashing lights pierce the night

the laws aren’t always made to protect

people but certain policies and certain people

you and I aren’t that lucky yet

have we ever contemplated what the future might look like

freedom viewed from our invisible cages… 

99th died

trying to keep some balance

and maybe I fall

but I keep getting up

knowing the one hundredth

money has got to be getting close

even if the ninety-ninth ended it all

understand the thoughts

not the action truth only

gaining ground

not losing…

dreaming fire moon

moon turned red overnight

behind clouds could hear the rain

all night long in the strangest dreams

but this one stuck out

because of its randomness

sand and ocean at my feet

can’t remember taking off the boots

felt the water somehow barefoot

don’t remember walking the bridge

still made it from end to end

part of it being my favorite spot

is the walk across the bridge

thinking it shouldn’t be called

the blood moon it’s reflected sunlight

the color is closer to fire than blood

not to mention it sounds better

this is the dream conversation

within the dream head

woman walks by catching the sights

smoke in the air joins me where I sit

she says the clouds aren’t going to clear

and I think she might be right

invite her to sit and hang in the cloud

a moment realize I knew her as a child

nearly neighbors small world

fire moon still

hear the rain

awake…

separate entity

sit and let the mind go

back forth to a slow flow

the river in the distance

and all these thoughts I don’t know

what tomorrow will bring

maybe some sun

but I don’t even mind the rain

sit and let the mind go

wherever it wants

barely thinking just moving the pen

wondering why I do it

but not really

it’s a habit could be an addiction

not so much sickness

letting the mind go wherever it wants

as if it’s a separate entity…

hold strong

there are a few views I hold strong they tend to be unpopular
is it not okay to disagree with everything they tell us now
nothing could make me support wars of aggression
brave or not killing innocent people somewhere else is not
admirable in any sense of the word
or just even in history’s eyes seen as aggressors
praiseworthy success in the continuation of senseless death
about time we find another way to communicate
murdering civilians does not count as diplomacy
foreigners shouldn’t live in fear and neither should we
because of an illegal war or two
of course I appreciate where I live but
corporate militaristic America is not what I believe in and
propaganda won't convince me to support aggressive wars…

desired effect

cloud cover above

coming back here

always brings it back

full circle as they say

where I started

back porch

where it always seems

windy without sun

at the moment

stationary waiting on word

to move onto the next spot

stand to sleep to work to think

every square on the wall

night falls lie dominoes

set up to create

the desired effect…

not a big deal

not a big deal

being alone is freedom

to roam and do whatever

not having to answer to anyone

but who is there

to share a thought

conversation

not a big deal

sometimes just spaz out

write down a handful of thought

and eyes get crossed up

falling from this still standing spot

so long now quiet keeping

to myself no need to think out loud

or assume to know what others

might be thinking

not a big deal

two years later

still question the self-everyday…

lunch with the girls

strange coincidences

plague everyday or bless them

depending on how you see things

half full or half empty

the sun is always going to win the battle

must be true because sometimes

it feels like a big hug

but that sounds kind of stupid

until you sit outside

and spring has finally arrived

not quite here yet

filling pages in preparation

for the warm days in the sun

strange coincidences

lunch with mother and her mother

the time of this thought

and her strong belief in angels

can’t say I have ever been touched by one

the supernatural kind I mean

of course by plenty at one time seemed

angelic-like or whatever the term is

haven’t felt the supernatural type

seems like superstition-al to me

and there I go inventing words again

as if I am half supernatural in my own way

don’t get me wrong true desire to transcend

what we perceive to be real

and understand the mind a little more

some might not take the time to think

unless others think it too

who in the world thinks like this

as random and all over the place

out of place in every place

and outside the lines with a big black crayon

carving coincidences of my own

all over these cell walls like a prisoner

of the mind knowing I am not alone

plagued or blessed by many thoughts

that just won’t stop

and an anxiety that is just functional

enough to get through another day

but for now I will enjoy

lunch with the girls… 

working out

when forcing the pen

like an exercise

sometimes it becomes exhausting

thinking seeing them all appear

knowing weakness and holding

it close instead of powering through it

others have methods too

and with some success

none of them hold this pen

and this thought and the big secret

that it might not really matter

except for the motions of the circles

keeping it dizzy and maybe it’s me

and my dizzy way to dance through

the day and probably won’t

make a difference except to those

barely reaching with thoughts

words on the page wish it would

tell a story take eyes to a different

place instead stuck in the mind

intrigued by all the stories

accepted as reality of the day

opposing nothing and everything

without a doubt at the same time

confused and probably always have been

wonder though about happiness

and freedom and not being worried about

something relaxation and not feeling like

battling the mind anymore…