uphill climb,
rigorously relentless
with ambling ambitions
and schematic stratagem,
blueprinted blatantly
on the blank
parchment of marooned mind,
sketched skillfully
with chameleon color shift,
transiently transfixed.
gripping gravity
of transcendental time
of the loaded past
pulls back incessantly
the strings of present,
fastening in retrospect
the incoherent network
of faltering footsteps
at the refurbished root
of existential essence.
intent inertia
of living force
creates proactive
causal momentum
of tumultuous time configured,
permeates the perception
of the fourth dimension.
construed continuum
of elusive eternity
strives to unveil ineffectually
the shrouded acuity
at the summit of actuality,
emotionally evasive,
abortive climb connotes
futile foray
to somewhere intangible.
Once, I found a youngster in the last row.
Our eyes met together out of the blue.
A hidden glow of scholarly brilliance
I perceived from his timid berry eyes.
As his guide, turned to be a catalyst.
My cogitation didn't go abortive.
When glide through the pages of nostalgia,
I hear the echoes, "Diamond in the rough".
They came together, love entwined,
When stars in heaven were aligned.
But their love hit a hurdle,
When their vinaigrette failed to curdle,
Their blitz emulsification ill-fated,
leaving oil and vinegar separated.
They crossed their fingers together,
Looked up at the sky, to see whether
The stars had crossed to unsupportive.
Sure enough, the stars were abortive.
So they went their separate ways.
Pledging to try again on better days,
When double-crossing stars crossways
Had unclasped to an uncrossed phase,
And they could dump their mayonnaise.
Chances she had to be disruptive,
Like others try out The Abortive
And like them unleash The Eruptive,
But she chose to be The Supportive:
For the legs that hop a bit a prop,
To pens asking for more ink "Don't stop".
Soup I thank for proving me active
On matters hyping not The Native.
Tower she does with clean objective,
Her actions shaming The Subjective!
What a lovely meeting in Soup Hall
For slacking verses an overhaul;
Great ideas rolling like football,
Before Doubting Thomas I stand tall!
No deeply rooted history,
nor implied ordered liberty,
abortion, gutted like a trout,
dismembered, lies there, bleeding out.
Hyperbole is through the roof,
a million times more fun than truth,
and so all things report as true;
they’re coming for gay marriage, too.
The court is not deciding fates;
that can is kicked back to the states.
Now each will rank on published lists:
abortive destination trips.
Chasm widens on the issue:
right to life or useless tissue.
More than ever, we decide
to separate and to divide.
Pro-life Christians must up their game,
not being pro-life just in name.
This is a war, if one will dare,
‘gainst darker forces in the air.
Though victory, hard-fought, was won,
this, a mere skirmish, not that one.
Though joined to us in life and pain,
till His return, work still remains.
With hope, we see a foretaste grand
of life preserved throughout the land.
He is our motivating force,
so we press on, we stay the course.
My home is filled with degrading losses.
Instruments that I didn't learn to play.
Seeds that abortive to spring up
Backyard hot tub is now stage.
Books bought but never read,
Plants that perished
Dreadful seats
And me.
Trite
Written: May 31, 2022
A second is defiant
a minute is aggressive towards my dreams
flourishes a formidable mental anarchy
I creep confidently by the tail of a second
To the dejection of sympathizers
The patience of my sympathizers tires me
Waiting for the minute of abortive strife
Anticipated steps abrogated
Triumphant move trails the second
When fear surrogates confidence
Hope carries away the receiving end
Pain being exacerbated by giving
To bond the two sides
For passionate diffusion
Carrying hope together
Sending waves beyond normal.
The prologue was so pulsating
With punitive ideas meant to probate
pummeling the frail wasn't prolific
the effort of maternal Ponto punch,
but made it abreast with the potent
pseudo abrogate of stitch made it puck
the accord was to prelude penal
disloyalty chastens from pudenda
we swore the cause by purity
now we stand exhibiting
enjoying our terrifying purl
Tick, tick I hear the clock whispering,
whispering to my heart and soul,
the words of wisdom, it whispers.
Put in more effort, it says.
But the more effort I put in,
reaching my goals look like an illusion.
Working under the scorching sun has been unto thee food,
The sweet from my body, my water
And pressure my spouse
Hard work has ceased to be the way to success
Since my skin color has replaced it.
The less privileged hope seems to be darker than Halloween,
and their future plans close to abortive.
Depravity unto us like siblings,
See nothing wrong, those benefitting from it.
hopes seem to fade,
depression, and hardship unto thee as a best friend.
.
I thought dirty hands were a sign of clean money?
should I follow their wide path?
should I still stick to my narrow path?
this narrow path that looks endless?
will I ever wake up from this nightmare?
These questions keep dancing at my foot.
Staying up at night has been my hobby
my life seems empty and void,
life has chosen foul to me,
I keep repeating these words to myself.
I should get rid of all these negativity
I know one day the sun shall shine on me.
Yet i rise
ThanX poetry
soup or is it crap
as
algorithms
are abortive
courteous living life I had
as if in dreamy land
where autumnal breeze
brought your whispering and soft kiss,
where flying flower the butterfly
brought your sophisticated hug,
where the sinuous river
played a rhythm of our heart unity
but now fall in abortive seclusion without you
hopeless conciliation life donates
intimacy with shouting hellish insects,
I'm confined my worshiping idol
only for you o my love
in my life
I adore you
-Tuesday, July 23, 2019 Chattogram
on others putting
the blame is a habit of
abortive peoples
a show of fake blame
the lazy men and women
Love talk more than work
Apocalypse---
Abortive gorgons cling.
Political messiahs creep.
Other dystopias eschew.
Called messiahs lament.
American messiahs laze.
Lyrical raptures luxuriate.
Youthful doomsayers linger.
Private revelations lurk.
Startling revelations cower.
Environmental catastrophes cavort.
3/8/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
Late October
On the harem of love
November rain is ready to blow
Candle light is missing
Wind is hissing like hidden snake
O' Beloved! The dark of eve ravishes me
Necropolis greets me to the foggy midnight
Neither grave yard nor the ghostly knell
Fall on me the far around.
Wind of revenge, wind of hate, wind of blood
Sings the songs of winter's pregnancy
The moon live on abortive faculty
All of me stand still before the shining sun as scarecrow
-October 25, 2018 Chattogram
Coffee Addiction
Calibrating coffee homeostasis flows easily back and forth
On the ‘high’-way of instant craze and crave of gratification
'Feodor' true to his name slurps the divine gift all day to rise
From moody withdrawal of night slumber slumping aground
Energetic vigour and buoyant exuberance alights from
Exhaustion brought on by life and pulsating caffeine’s fix
Abortive attempts to reduce hooked intake accrued no success
Doomed at one time and in lack of hot water 'Feodor' even
Dissolved coffee in Cola to feed effervescent dependence
Imbalanced the mixture blew up but nourished his need
Caressed by foam on his face he confronted his addiction
To vow not to drink less tropical grind but have water
In sufficient vital supplies at all times to keep well afloat
On balance his highs derived from his beverage of choice
Navigate his depression much better than Cocaine or booze
30th November
Incoming to live
I died unborn, and
I don't know if I did
Something wrong.
Don't play on being bemused
Mom,
As I'm gone
Now.
Why the killing of the unknown me
I also did not know you
Nor the world's beauty,
You know I'm true.
I was assured to life by two
Participants, you and dad
I took all the believe I had,
For you mom are to give birth.
I thought I was under warthog
Shadow, therefore not vulnerable,
Not knowing you wanted me gone,
Now I'm not available,
Honestly you're not responsible.
You terminated my life,
Did abortion,
And I'm now abortive,
Failed to cruise to living.
I died unborn.
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