think for yourself

hands reaching to the sky as it

comes crashing down

time’s up who is ready

whatever is next is unknown

faith is still a creation of man

as strong as it can be

man can tell a story long enough

it becomes accepted truth

not everyone hears the sound

one hand clapping louder

as the afternoon darkens

under clouds gray with doubt

logic remains the ruler of the mind

unknown whether I ever possessed

the required strength in faith

to be considered religious

maybe spiritual nothing more than

a thinker for myself

not ruling anything out

self-knowing hands-on in the mind

still swirling with confusion at times

some of the vast expanses may go unvisited

if limitations placed in the way of freedom

over all obvious contradictions the steps

that lead to a higher power imagine

view from pearly gates

or the fiery pit that is feared

and fearful people are easier to control

instead stand on logic’s stairs

and look both ways

as you take your steps

and think for yourself…

can only write so fast

the idea is never going away

most likely with me until I can no longer hold the pen

dangerous thoughts mostly hidden before written

man can only write so fast

to a steady eye it might still be a blur

any detail could be missed so pay attention

government will take advantage of complacency

is freedom what is lived or what is being waited for

the rest of my time I will be free

man can only write so fast

who do I really think I am

is freedom who I am or what I am waiting for

able to be anywhere anytime

to be limited in movement is to

think that I can’t move but I can

things are easy when I know I am free

out of the control of others as much as possible

for more than merely a moment by

himself a man can only write so fast

almost the end of another day they stack up

inevitably alone for now not forever

he can see all positive on the road ahead what

comes next welcomed even if unknown

to the mind pushing pens until they are out of ink

the freedom to continuously think any

conclusion will not come today

that will be further down this road somehow

the freedom needs to be taken back from

government thieves putting hands in pockets

he can only move so fast simultaneous

lives living for that freedom

under watchful eyes freedom is under fire

is freedom who you are as well—don’t be

dishonest with yourself—it’s probably

insane to not want freedom

and know it is

intolerable to never let yourself be freedom…

give me some truth

I hope people can really see the destruction

know that humanity is being destroyed

not the terrorists, the innocent protecting their houses

what rights do they have their neighborhood is destroyed

course of action is always war with no words

others fight the wars for some to profit from it

may only be monetary or contractual but

take away the profit would war end tomorrow

but would they ever let war go to waste without profit

as Gaza lies in rubble and innocent lives lost

for the chosen race of god to reclaim land is it

me I don’t remember learning about a god that would

give land to one group and allow that group to murder ask

me what I would do for my family standing under the statue of

liberty frowning upon those who remain silent

or believe the propaganda shoveled our way

give me some truth is it only

me who thinks this is getting crazy as

death reigns down on Gaza…

new idea

a beautiful day even if no one notices

mind allowed to rest and explore

expanded by everything contacted through the day

by the end opinion hasn’t changed

a beautiful day even if no one notices

new ideas separate individuals from the collective an

idea adds to those of other individuals all

will enjoy true freedom

never give up on enjoying that beautiful day

go outside for a moment now

back on the ground looking up

to the sky as the clouds hurry on by

it’s another beautiful night

original thought stolen from the

dimension in which I dwell…

July eBook is here...WHEN YOU GET THERE WRITE

my newest eBook is now available

CLICK HERE!!

cover art is a painting by my brother

Mat

burning the hollows of the mind

a year now tearing at these pages

probably not enough

trying to notice more

keeping the head up

looking around for a change

not merely a staying positive

at a glance doing it

in the style of Bukowski

rapid fire thought

burning the hollows of the mind

capturing every picture taken

stored piled on top of thoughts

becoming the inspiration

for future direction

or just simply to be memories

life can get exhausting

notice it more when forcing

the rest to happen more often

not what anyone might expect

found the time clear the mind

and recognize the first thought

in that moment of freedom

understand daily the importance

of independent thought…

silver skies thin air

closed eyes surround sound

the air is thin outside

in the heat rising to the silver

sky now basically the normal

above the head scene

no one else notices

willful ignorance

too busy to notice

and forget the call

the one you’ve been waiting for

more pressing issues

at hand closed eyes

the secluded mind

listening to the news

that no one wants to hear

probably why

no one turns the page anymore

can’t write words for shut eyes

and most likely will not read them to you

nothing wrong with that

eyes open unless it involves a little thought

might have to unravel the mind

or just let it go

long enough to wonder why

or why not take a few moments

you know you have a few

and I guess I might be selfish

because I want a few of them too…

obstacles to crash

some days reaching down deep

never deep enough

the hole dug is too deep

escape through the floor

lie on the floor

melt into and through the floor

roll over outside inside

keep changing the spot always

hearing whispers but realize

finally those are the thoughts

when the pen rests

on the table or in a pocket

where I go when I rest

in a pocket of peace

can create nearly anywhere

somewhere want to be somewhere

so many places this mind

needs to see chained to a job

how strong stuck mentally

in mud pushing forward

never quite out of the mud

the mind makes obstacles to crash

through everyday all day

made it through another day

positive thoughts sharing them profusely

somewhere out there

someone will get it…

perfect for skipping rocks

a mission to turn

someone else onto

the thinking that

there is a better way

back when I was young

thoughts were simple

ideas stacked up

knock them down

learned a lot and unlearned more

since back then when everything

was simple like the day

and beautiful like the night

and who is writing it down

for people like me

want to think

and that’s exactly what I do

but what am I doing

poetry or random thoughts

no longer filled with anger or sadness

left it in the pages behind

forward progression

the positive struggle

to leave the world a little better

than when I found it

find it still every day and night

knowing most people aren’t thinking

for themselves or about hurting each other

but what do I know where do I go

grew up reading too much

listening to the original street music

as it was born big boom boxes

and even bigger headphones

heavy bass and even played drums for a bit

never dropped the pen though

unless to the page like the needle to a record

simple ideas to end the day

couple of cardinals in the tree

and a family of rabbits in the brush

hardly alone in this place near the still pond

no wind perfect for skipping rocks…

looking across the pond

reflecting

the sky above the pond

slight ripple right

across the surface

can’t really label this anymore

it has no real definition

simply put whatever comes out

thoughts pushing pen across

the page slight ripple right

in the hand collecting

arming the self for resting days

sandwiched between non-stop

busy days in the workplace

sometimes an under the skin

annoyance to have to waste half the day

how else does one survive

the other half putting words down

on pages for others to contemplate

or maybe just to settle my own mind

in this chaotic world…

new eBook for June FIRST BORN

new eBook available today!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/446962

night before sunrise

wonder if I will rise in time

to see first light

everything is covered

with pollen dusty yellow

roads and cars and trees

wonder if he will have breakfast

alone again standing at the railing

melting the brain through the pen

moving slightly to the sounds

in the ears responsible

for at least half the inspiration

other half is completely visual

and it is the reason he believes

words on the page still have a purpose

no need to be plugged in

to open up a book

“I am not much of a reader…”

it’s what he constantly hears

give it a try again

for the first time maybe

what will be lost

a little time and a few thoughts

might not use them anyway

as long as the sun rises

these words can be seen

wonder if I will rise in time

to see first light…

first born

they tell me the seed was planted north of the border
on a camping trip to New Brunswick
how many others have this kind of information
always wondered if this little known fact
makes me Canadian by conception
the idea that started the strong family unit
first born I am part of it
son of a nurse and a teacher
don’t think I could have picked a better combination
and it wasn’t long before I had a brother and a sister
the five of us are tight like a fist
raised high like some praise
respect love encouraging individuality
none of us are the same
the outstretched five fingers
connected to the same hand
one love never showing my appreciation enough
want to dedicate all my thoughts
any success or fortune found
because of the strong foundation
on which I stand
through all the misfortune and mistakes
and nearly forty years never so much
as scratched the foundation
on which I stand
determination as first born
to produce something for the future
and since I have no child I will
leave no thought behind
putting words down as daily as possible
father gave me his pensive wisdom
mother nurtured me caringly
brother taught me introspective adventurous compassion
sister is happiness’ faithful determination
and I am first born
the least I can do is write it all down…

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…