The enemy knows the power of a hook.
One verse repeated got your whole world shook.
Because your ears are the gateway to an unseen realm.
Lead in a pencil becoming the ink from a well.
Escape room within the confines of a mind bass ackwards.
Sea horse in a bubble, Jessica Rabbit past her prime.
Thoughts cruising down dead end streets and round abouts for no apparent reason or rhyme.
Letting it flow in the changing of seasons.
I've sat within darkness, led by light back to freedom.
Brain set ablaze, while stumbling within a self made maze.
Thankful to the Lord my God, after how far I strayed.
Restored a mind which had become lost in the hallways of insanity. The mind itself had made.
Writing to find the keys of the rooms I've still no access.
Lead leading the process of imagination on paper.
There you sit
In the chair of ease
Taking for free
The fruit others grew
Questions arising
Judgments flying
You fail to be
...worthy
Maybe it's fear
Having a conversation
With the self
Who never got a hug
That perceives
Disdain in wandering eyes
Always measuring
...lay abouts
The problem is the system
The structure itself
Lined out in steel beams
With individuals entering
Walking the line
With no flooring to support
The accent to
...fall
Those who dare
To exit the door
At the top floor
Chasing the thief
Will see light fracture
As continual loss
Brings sight to grieve
...horizontal....lives
Written by Trudy Schrader on 05-16-2026
(a weedy problem)
They know, they just know where to grow, how to dupe you, and how to camouflage themselves among the perfectly respectable plants.
~ Dianne Benson
Sprouts without doubts
Pretending to know the abouts,
Ready to grow into louts
Of the most nefarious sort~
Useless as fuzz on the spouts,
Tedious noise-maker flouts,
Sending flowers into the pouts.
The things I mostly bothered about
Death, worry. those that shout
Death is always crawling about
a relative, a friend, someone with clout
Worry about the weather, children
the things we doubt
And we hear the voices that often shout
the screaming, the yelling
the complaints of a spouse
But the thing i worry most about
is the thing I can do nothing about
Please do not ask your children to contribute to your family or the world.
Raise them to think they are entitled kings, queens, and princesses,
do their work for them.
Keep them lazy and spoiled, let them develop an attitude of entitlement.
It would be silly for you to expect them to do their share.
Let them lollygag around,
doing nothing while you sweep and vacuum around them.
Fix the meals, clean off the table, wash the dishes, while they watch TV.
Let them know that manual work is beneath them; it is better suited to you.
When they go to a job interview, do not be surprised if they are not hired.
People who have been taught to pitch in and help, readily spot the lay-abouts.
And they do not leap across the desk to hire them.
Since my partner passed away,
Life has not been good,
Maybe it's my state of mind,
To be misunderstood.
But many situations would be simply understood,
It's when you know it's where abouts,
What's the likelihood.
So many of my items have moved from where they were,
A lack of concentration,
Or a sneaky saboteur.
I don't find it funny as it happens all the more,
It really gets my blood to boil,
And causes big uproar.
Some I find weeks later,
But some don't reappear,
I also find that very strange,
If not a little *****.
Is my loving partner playing a little game,
And have a little giggle when someone else ide blame.
THIS MORNING I HEARD GOD SPEAK THROUGH THE WORD
I just can believe yet I believe as I so received
My Father
My Dad
My God
Spoke to me
THIS MORNING I HEARD GOD SPEAK THROUGH THE WORD
I had a yesterday session
This something
I read my word
His word
The Bible
And the answer was forth lit up was right straight in
Front of me
All my doubts
My wondering abouts
The letters those words lit up my soul
As all mine answers were flush out
THIS MORNING I HEARD GOD SPEAK THROUGH THE WORD
I gave a verbal joust
My witness was brought forth
Mine blessing unfold
This day I read The Word
I heard God speak
I listened
I heard
As the bible lead me to Jesus
THIS MORNING I HEARD GOD SPEAK THROUGH THE WORD
Reading the bible, the word of God which leads us
To Jesus
Speak Lord Speak, Hallelujah
11/3/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
I would live a thousand years,
To wipe away your saddened tears,
To hold you close and keep you safe,
To feel the warmth of your embrace,
I'll wait a millenia if that's what you need,
Till your mind in turmoil is finally freed,
So the man I love is mine alone,
And joins me on my happy throne,
Your life is mine forever my love,
My life is yours to keep,
No one can take that away from us,
My heart for you does weep,
I know your in there hiding out,
Your wall one day will fall,
And I'll be waiting here abouts,
I'll stand by you through all.
I love you ??
No pomp we have enough pomps
No ceremony
i seem to be quite bletherie
Which means i like to chat
or at least con the verse
T
r
i------------------------------P i love my wordsto pick wer-wantago ing D
----------------------------------- ----------------------------------- ---------------O
----------------------------------- ----------------------------------- ---------------W
----------------------------------- ----------------------------------- ---------------N
p.............................ped U
????v?? ni ?nil ???l ??? ??o?w I
I wrote the last line in
Reversed creation as i bleed a pendulum swing
different shades of profanity
once actually said f**kf**ketyf**kf**k to a settee
just to annoy the vicinity
wHATS THISall about
trust me even i have
doubts
any body seen a sanity
here abouts
They say that in the Holy Land so very far away
there really are SAMARITANS, who to the present day
at Eastertide or then abouts ..but wait! Who comes our way?
Some long-haired Wanderer, I've guessed,
but let US listen for a JESt to what HE has to say!
"My names are one and many,to some I was JIM CROW.
'GOOD AFRICAN" is what you'll write if you should choose to know."
"My name was Sean O'Hara, your NEIGHBOR from the FALLs.
GOOD MAN, put down that rifle before the thing reCOILS."
"My name is Isaac Mandelbaum, your face I mark it true.
It is most clear that you should write quite simply ''THE GOOD JEW'."
You are an actor, I perceive, but me you'll not take in.
To change the words of Holy Writ would be a grievous sin.
I'm sure it says SAMARITAN in the bible on my shelf,
but if you do not believe me Sir, go read the text yourself.
Dying
amidst cancer,
abouts household, smiling,
"T-a-i-wan", sweetheart conveys sweetness~~
softly.
**Traditional Cinquain
line 1 - 2 syllables - 1 word
line 2 - 4 syllables - 2 words
line 3 - 6 syllables - 3 words
line 4 - 8 syllables - 4 words
line 5 - 2 syllables - 1 word recalls the title
Date: 05/25/2019
Crossing the mud flats
of San Francisco Bay,
doing sixty-five,
or there abouts,
on a bright and sunny
summer's day,
when from out of the radio
a bluesy voice came,
and caught me as her prey.
Her voice was young and
with such power,
she really sang the blues!
Her voice ripped me
out of the driver's seat,
and bounce me all around the van,
then threw me out the door
of my own dam truck,
and ran me over once or twice.
All that was left of me
was a bloody mess and
my old white soul which
she kicked up highway 37
until it was black and blue'
Twas darkness upon the quietly residing heath...
And deathly was the sullen red sandstone tower...
Standing gloomily inside the masons dry-stone walls
Amidst toppling granite slabs and the faded, wilting flower.
Solemn was the chime of the hollow, mournful bell
When tolling out on midnights grimly sombre hour;
And thinly the swirling, unearthly mist
Did so wend abouts her silent, melancholic bower.
Where from a fronded yew of venerable years,
Besides ancient trunks of ivy-entwined gnarly oak,
A chilling screech from a sudden ghostly apparition...
Summoning upon waking resident souls - did thus invoke!
For pale his form in soft white downy flight...
But none paler than that of me...
As across from the stream, held by an unblinking stare -
My shaky fears are transfixed so unnervingly!
Oh wise old feathered sage of long owl-lived age,
Unctuous incumbent of learned perch within black night,
Allow this the moment to calm my pounding heart...
And catch upon my fleeing thoughts - after such a wicked fright!!
Crafting illustrations of endless doubts,
Tirelessly exploring for those so-called peaceful where-abouts,
Slowly illuminating those dark corners of paranoia,
Trembling as the shadows conspire into black-hearted Casanovas,
Conforming to the consistent routine,
Abandoning yet another opportunity into the unchanging ravine,
Idly watching the inevitable downfall to my sanity,
Questioning myself, "Or is this how I view Humanity?"
Listen my children and ye shall hear,
A tale to make ye quake with fear.
'Tis a scarey tale I tell ye no lie,
Of a man who was told he had to die,
For a crime he committed in the dead of night,
And on each Hallow's Eve he returns to the site,
Where his body was hung on an old oak tree.
Steer clear of the place or he'll come after thee.
He searches for them who hung him there,
'Thout proof save the voice of the golden hair.
'Twas she who belied his where-abouts,
So he searches for her within and without;
So if ye be fair with hair of gold,
He'll carry ye off where it's dark and cold.
Keep ye by the hearth on All Hallow's Eve,
Now I've said my piece and be taken' my leave.
Judy Ball
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