Images
The images in
my mind of
verbs mating with pronouns are
sometimes broadcast on
TV. On TV: me sucking out and
not praising aerosol cans to
make a less money for
the unnamed company. The pressurised cans are
bronze, the
substance released in
a fine spray are:
advantageous states or
positions and
points earned following
deuce furthering causes. My too lewd comments of
their intercourse are
sometimes broadcast on
KG751 FM to
high ratings.
Oh, blue, blue sky that used to be,
Before those grey lines bled,
Has evil now taken over the World,
Are all the good men dead?
Owed to a Grecian Formula,
Though secretive and unbetrayed,
Scarce noticed, by gradations wane:
Auld sylvan strands, fine argent grey.
Rich chestnut hues, slow, unannounced,
Emerge discreet midst ashen roots,
As grizzled mantle transforms brown,
Like autumn leaves or wooded shoots.
And though ’tis pittance sacrificed
To dab small bits at break of day,
Alas, amended means, I yearn:
An aerosol, fine misting spray.
’Tis sweet to subtle reclaim youth,
To push back time, to mount attack.
A caution raised to those who dare:
Embrace thy choosing, glimpse not back.
Kiss me flower what time buoyant so scent
Caress me evergreen tree that needle spent
Oh swallow me valley of distant streams
Cover me aerosol now breeze surround me
And all that's left is mine tasteless breath
For God is Grand creator kissed my lungs
His breath in me He breathes a life in my lungs
He blew his winds his wind inside of me
Now so I am now this living creature
A product of His awe perfect nature
1/14/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Blatant ignorance is blissfully putrid
Like a decaying rodent inside a wall with maggots spewing out of a crack perfectly placed directly next to the cash register at Godfathers Pizza lol
Excessively happy spraying an aerosol can of bug spray into a tiny place where you’ve wanted to live for far too long
While shoving change back into smiling customers hands
Showing up thirty minutes early to your shift to roll a blunt, but only to call in 25 minutes later and explain why you’re going to be a little bit late
My life has been toxic since the day I smelled my death at the age of 15
I'm sure that's where I came to terms with my mortality
More like the stage of awkward boners and f*cking teen spirit
Rain splash lashing,
droplet aerosol crisp whiff.
Washed spray is distilled.
Nothing
Like, lollygagging by a waterfall
Watching the clouds deliver
A daytime, honey drizzler
Falling in wet, misty, aerosol
Rain
Invigorates
Me
Yea
Enamored
As the heavens open wider
The afternoon sky takes a gander
Showcasing, a freshwater
Sun shower, water whisper
There are so many people pleading cases.
I am sure these facts speak for themselves
When I say there are very few places
Where man hasn't built bridges with strong
Braces
For man is one of the greediest races.
There are pilots who are known as aces.
They know where there are secret spaces
Where you will see only animal faces.
Huge cats that can walk with out leaving
Any traces.
Colorful birds in all stages
Who try to escape man's cages.
There are also lists of insects and spiders
That man wants to put in to book pages.
I believe through artists who have special
Brush stroke graces
They can show us the beauty of our rain
Forest on canvas or vases.
Our children would have the benefit of
Seeing the beauty of the lands
That would of been destroyed by the hands
Of only man....
Who felt everything from rain to what ever
Should be put in an aerosol can.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOYCE
Born before the hair dryer
And even before hearing aids
Frozen foods and television
Pop-up toasters and aerosol sprays
Jet engines, folding wheel chairs
Scotch tape to stick things down
No parking meters, electric blankets
These items were not around
But God in His infinite wisdom
Knew what the world would need
A great poet named Joyce Johnson
To write poems for folks to read
She acknowledges God in her poetry
Her poems have become her voice
Happy Birthday to you my dear
We truly love you Joyce
12 April 2018
Now here's something I've never thought of before
How'd they get the air in those aerosol cans I implore
A major phenomenon
Need help from dear mom
Mom knows everything, she's smart to the core
The flash of fear I feel
at passing darkened windows
or dim-lit mirrors comes
when I observe, reflected,
a stranger in my clothes
(or skin) and think:
is this the me
that other people see?
This ghostly image
that I know cannot be me?
Though its actions correspond
to those I take
in shaving, bathing,
wielding cans of aerosol,
surely I would recognize
this jaded, aging,
desensitized distraction
that the world
mistakes
for me.
I miss the sky of days gone by
before the roar of aerosol sprays,
electronic noise from power arrays,
when trust was met in a stranger's eye.
If the stars disappeared, would I notice?
Our arrogant glare dispels the divine
shredding our trail with stinking decline
in our dark corner of the cosmos.
It's clear we're been pinned to the corkboard
to mercifully sequester our vice
from enlightened star travelers seeking
the light within every random core.
Someday I will mine my loving shine,
spirit and energy shall combine
when I ask why the breath of your sigh
hastens the pace of verve's alibi.
Porcupine Romance
Ouch ¡
Carefully does it
Practice French kissing a cactus first
Ouch !
The last tango in Paris was never like this
Get it
French
Paris
kissing a cactus ( Porcupine humour )
Ouch !
What a fool I was to buy her roses
As if I didn’t have enough to contend with
Ouch !
Do they sell aerosol cans of instant easy foam
In porcupine sex shops
Yeeouch !
Did she just do that on purpose
No wonder there aren’t that many of us
Why wasn’t I born a hedgehog
Its no wonder I am attracted to squirrels
When will they invent the missionary position
Gnnnnmmmmpp
No its ok honey it didn’t hurt
Yes I know my love that quill is really long
Crying no….me no… I just have something in my eye
What do you mean you’re attracted to gerbils
Try using a prophylactic
A flaming suit of armour would be more like it
Awww honey come on I didn’t mean it
Gives us a kiss
Ouch !
Cold snow melts down
my hot throat
We’re smelling fresh pine
not from some aerosol can
but of roots from the earth
as he slices away years of
maturity, landing on top of our car–
Oh Christmas tree
I can taste the wood floating
in the air; crunchy splinters
on my tongue
Holly, berries with red bows
adorn the front door
December outfit, winter decor
The lights
a bright trail in our indoor forest
leading little hands to the gifts below
Objects fly in circles
I juggle them fast
a holiday jester–
turkey
stuffing
tape
scissors
ornaments
paper.
Batteries for toys
kids screaming for joy
relatives who annoy
this season’s a ploy
that’s sent me into poverty...