On early mornings, from where I sit in my living room, I cannot see the rising sun in the east.
But on late aftternoons or early evenings,
From that same room, I can gaze upon a
Beautiful sunset in the west.
From where I now reside, it rains a lot,
And I see the color green like I had not
For more than 40 years. There is silence
In the dark nights, and there is the soothing
Sounds of the whispering winds.
Where I once lived, on any given day, whether in late November or the month of May, there was the sound of a siiren, a plane flying over, or a beeping horn.
On a comfortable back yard bench, I grew
Accustom to observing my two tall palms,
My lemon and plum trees, my peach and neçtarine trees, and my newly planted Rose of Sharon.
If we would but dare to notice, your life and mine are filled with measurable time and space. Like white water rapids,
There's a constant flow of God's grace.
At any given time, in any given space, God
Has programed beauty for the human race.
Buy me candle,
Cake could handle
Its Lightening soul;
Birthday makes whole.
Today's just right,
Marked the height
Segun's journey thrill...
Through grace will.
Talk is cheap;
Gift will beep
Through its cost,
When talk lost
Essence at heart,
Unlike this art:
A gift forever,
Shining wishes whatsoever.
Noise is free;
Partying has degree
Desires crave for,
When noise floor
As night falls...
To beds' calls-
Noise date headache,
Dreaming party awake.
Happy birthday friend!
Enjoy, don't contend...
What past fought;
Future best sought.
Live your life,
Marry good wife.
Count the value,
When needs argue...
You are handsome.
Love to accustom;
Life's beautiful mess
Cum living stress.
Age of hell,
Jingle heaven's bell
For lost sheep...
Sinful World sleep.
They do well to accustom you to life
~ the process of going under the knife
Thousands of light among many homes
There's one light that reserves for you
Waiting for you that you can come in
And who cares for you that calls it home
As you resides day by day love is accustom
Courage is burning and keep light shining
Being together always is like cooking nice food
The belly is well-fed for relationship to bloom
Sometimes, rain and storm might affect light to flicker
Both shelthering hands always there to rescue necessarily
To shade light and keep the light working
In case of strong calamity the light may take off
There is a reserve charging light in case of emergency
Marriage and relationship is like light that need care and propriety.
She visited me wearing new skin.
Finally revealing
that she was afraid to fall.
Throughout life we're all confronted
With moments like this at some point.
At first, I didn't recognize her.
Shades of her old skin peeking through.
She coiled into my arms.
Finding the warmth of my chest.
The memories that I tried to block out
Welcomed her.
No longer neurotic, but initiatic.
The skin I remember.
In search of something
I didn't readily show.
Feeling that it was too easy.
Her eyes heavy, in need of sleep.
Accustom to mistakes, she wandered.
When I realized it was her.
I hesitated.
Ready to meet her with a million
questions.
Her new skin softer, a bit warmer.
Anxious but no longer afraid.
She fell into my arms
Revealing that she's
searched for me everywhere.
Turning my dreams upside down.
"If this is the only time I am happy again." She said.
"I want to spend it sleeping in your arms."
Accustom, do good,
By genes, by faith, by all means,
Like wind is our banes.
I know what it feels to be alone... do you?
It will take a toll out of you to be an exclusion
For when only those who have peak... knew
That a toll is nothing more but a revelation
I’m always alright will always be my answer
Knowing they who ask will never know
And silently we await for whose lives be better
However loud upon we exclaim to show...
I wanted to ask but leave you be
Is it not a fantasy we reckon?
There always will be an otherwise we see
Beyond living a life to be accustom
Do you still feel like running away?
Or have you accepted who you are?
Never to be good yet learning to say okay
With life only misguiding the near and far
I know what it feels to have somebody... do you?
It will take a toll out of you to be an inclusion
For when only those who have peak... knew
That a toll is nothing more but a revelation
........................
Much I marveled the stereo rap
Fallow falling into civil traps
My mind always strays to ghetto
Remembering many sound, fatherless folk
They are perfumed from unseen yoke
What could there be more purely woke?
Where’s my money yo!
I felt obliged to not admire the folk
Yet I stick them, I stick em…
I crave the civil injustice, so accustom to classical music
I remember I was thumbing
Playin the bass line bum, bum, bum- bum,bum
My mind stays strays to ghetto
Man you such a lucky fellow
To sit out here on yo porch listen in to yo rap
1/18/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©
At the shrinkage of the page
Expressions plead for length
Inhibition imposed on lines by columns
Words already accustom to scarcity
Pieces find focus in incompletion.
Thoughts flutter toward temples
Ready to leave prints on a canvass
Diving into ink, drying before depart
Leaving smudges with hints of beauty
Never a portrait to hold high.
Love found constancy through infatuation
Appearing in every attempt at honing
Shadowed by past excellence's remembrance
Exposing an unguarded diminishment
Appeased by external validation.
Truth distilled through repetitition
Emotional trials shared in nude
No longer enigmatic, too foreign to own
Complacent with the ease of flow
Mentally stalled by comfort's opposition to growth.
Time contriving towards finality
Longevity could not be imagined
A burnout, seen as a destination
Pieces threaded, undoing progress
Passion puckered away by a task, too daunting.
Today the clouds thicken like gravy-
ink blots stain the sky.
Silence after silence unloads
its ill will at my feet.
I am accustom to it
and it has settled.
The sky continues to ashen
as it swallows the pine trees
like a relentless Sandpoint, Idaho snowstorm
consuming all in its way.
The day spills its impressions
like a half-full glass
which leaves me as empty
as an astounding wail
from a 90-year-old woman's
crippled up body.
in the dark...
below the huskie wee wee..the doggy wee wee,
use me above the known see the humble
buckle up to the word of the wise best to reflect on life
sugar cane and spice..
host a canary to a new box swing
chase across the patio nor porch box swing
realize the amount of f requenzy
tresure beneath the trees
bending the miracle need
love is for winners falling short to a losser
medoicre branded fixture all as in element fixture
money back to recieve
faces of laughter hardest to bleed
love the pusher refelect upon God
in the dark we can see through the light hardened peak of ghetto hype
swing pillows to accustom a tease eager seat as a donut in need of a cop
radiate lest forth you contemplate gee how you radiates
jealosy with a host of Charmin as you please
in the dark one can chase what is right
check the radio hear the needle sratch
over and over
built in the cover melted pot with a inch of butter
in the dark the chance to an ordeal
waiting for my very next meal,
police chase a coward in the face with mace
love is so tender and polite pay no atteintion to its blight
I heard the footstep down the hall
I knew what was they and panicked
my mind wondered from end to end
my thoughts were like words instead of
the mental vision, I was more accustom to.
they started and then stopped
for over, or more than five minutes the complete
silence made me want to move about, but I didn't
I knew this monster was out there, but did he knew I was in here
I didn't want him to hear me, I sat there for an hour in the quiet
and then I heard the footsteps
everyone coming closer and closer
in the closet I sat
until the hinge of the door squeaked open
taken from the night of episode ten, by the playrights of Meanus, " the ghost of Ginu Ganmonns, The story of a drunkard and the Exploits of his lover..... Written in 1885, Authored by Beltripe Fromoss, New York,New York.
Father you were my first love
a collection of feelings fused into a human being meant to love me.
Father you taught me how to love
nights filled with endless practicing how to please you.
Father you showed me love is pain
the beating my mother took filled the air with her cries for help.
Father you told me I was your good girl
words I became accustom to being whispered "Who's daddy's good girl?"
Father you told me I came second
becoming an older sister was a relief and a painful responsibility.
Father you told me I should know better
the first time you laid your hands on me without saying "you're a good girl."
Father you broke me
the time you called her "your good girl."
Father you killed me
the night I heard you go into her room.
Sexual assault is an issue needing to be address more because it happens too frequently not to bring it up. A lot of the time it is someone the victim knows. Help me bring awareness.
You wanted someone strong; you wanted someone who wouldn’t crack. You thought you were making me tough by breaking me down. You told yourself it was the only way, because I wasn’t the boy you wanted.
No
I was a girl, your first born. I was delicate, young, and very impressionable. I grew numb to the pain I became accustom to.
You succeeded. You made me into someone the world couldn’t shatter, because you can’t break something that’s already in pieces.
Yet Walk Thee, Into Dawn's Sweet Renewing Rays
Once lost, what hell else better have you got?
Two broken feet, treading on molded rot
Nay! Cry thee not for some whimsical muse
More the worst for darker world to abuse!
Set thee, hardest task of destroying thrones
Slicing thy bread, rest not thy weary bones
Take rare days, to thy colder heart amuse
Let not Fate's handmaidens force thee to choose!
Once lost, what hell else better have you got?
Than skin and teeth, sad memories to trot
Best thee, look for better weapons to use
When life seeks only early death to use!
Yet walk thee, into dawn's sweet renewing rays
Faith in saving face of Hope, always pays!
Robert J. Lindley, 2-13-2017
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 112
Note: Struggled today to not write, but my muse cut for blood, until the pain demanded an answer.
Tis not as bad as it may sound, as healing forces me to walk away from the new darkness that my weaker soul seeks to accustom itself...
Thus the birth of this dark and somber sonnet....
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