In spite of these catastrophes,
holocausts and disasters;
the adverse calamities
and endless ever afters;
despite (or because) of these,
we shelter in one Temple,
spreading over seven seas,
we're God's own chosen people.
C uisine on a spoon or plate for afters
H eaven coats my tongue the dish of masters
E asy peasy recipe so sweet
E xtra portion swallowed what a treat
S auce swirls, noisettes, a blob or two of cream
E arthly pleasure, luxury or dream
C hoose a honey pot ye sweet tooth diners
A sk a chef making tummy liners
K eep gorging comfort food for goodness sake
E at yourself hearty this stuff takes the cake
Light arrives from its flight
wheeling behind its suitcase of shadows,
exposures, echoes and consequences.
It spills its hoard across the floor,
and gathers remnant dark
remains from dim corners.
It daubs and stitches
black silhouette capes and patches
behind all it passes.
These shadowy figures are light's wind vanes
tracing where its being seen.
Light reveals the cracks, dents, dust and flaws
hidden by unrealized expectations.
It dusts the scene for fingerprints
and other forensic traces
bringing all the hidden
unseemly before and afters
into stark relief.
Nothing escapes light's black valise
carry-on bag.
In the ashes of silence spent,
cinders glow, tattooing the scene.
Even when I look away
the after-glow is still there,
with scars of burns that won't heal.
The after-glow sears into the days ahead
with a red-hot branding iron
scorching the future
with cries of regret,
and the aftermath
of lies unforgotten,
errors unforgiven.
I close the door,
close my eyes
but the smoke knows the cracks,
knows the way to stain
my eyelids with
embers glowing
bright orange-red.
After-embers that haunt
my sleep, memories and dreams
with flickers, sparkles and taunts.
The afters glowed in the rafters
above my bed.
After the door slammed shut.
After your departing shouts.
After your last goodbyes.
After the raging fire,
you started and stoked,
to roaring fierce flames,
and black billowing smoke,
rendered all what we had,
to gray and white ashes.
With our futures branded
with the afters
in which the embers glowed.
Pray for me, brother;
There are words stuck behind my tongue
That I have carried in my heart,
For life can tire the tongue—
Because our moments for words are few.
The world does not welcome words, brother.
I am weary of the heaviness in my eyes,
Though no fault has ever been yours,
Because I am the creator of my own path.
My tired spirit has wept an ocean—
An ocean in a desolate land with ripples,
Perhaps to guide me through Jordan's stream,
Or to lead me in a world of sin and care.
Dear brother, pray!
I am tired of many 'afters'—
I gaze at the stars with a bitter sigh.
I wish I could articulate my fear
Even with my trembling tongue,
Because when I hear, "God is love,"
It feels like a lie.
Can't keep my head held up high
Soil is by my feet
Ashes scattered
Consumed
Becomes whole
It leaves me
Standing here
This was always coming
Predicted
Destined to happen
Ending in this separation
No closure
No time
Can't undo
No such thing as those repeats on television
No such thing as happy ever afters
I apologise
I took my eye off the ball
Got selfish
Please accept me
Hold me
And tell me
That I am enough
Fourteen pounds; that’s a bucket of lard
And losing that shouldn’t be so hard
It’s turkey, pud and let’s not quibble
A pretty frequent midnight nibble
It’s one whole stone of belly fat
Inflating what was firm and flat
Slimline tonic won’t do that
So did I eat an alley cat?
Six-point-three-five Kilograms
Twice what sometimes fills our prams
Were I pregnant, for my sins
Could be that I’m toting twins
But I’ve had lots of Christmases
And I’m sure when I tell you this
Six weeks watching what I eat
Will make my tummy nice and neat
The trifle’s gone, as is the meat
All the savoury, all the sweet
It’s time to watch my waist deflate
With smaller servings on my plate
And so I put away the gin
And tonic with no sugar in
For gin gives me an appetite
That makes me nibble late at night
So, fourteen pounds; that is my goal
A resolution in my soul
But, by the gin, before my eyes
A box - unopened - of mince pies!
Vibrating light
Creating sound
Resisting LOVE
When TRUTH is found
Resilient music
Bouncing the rafters
Building sandcastle dreams
In Happily Ever Afters
Mourning the loss
Of passing Earth
Clinging tight
To the afterbirth
Process is unyielding
As breathe comes to life
The cord of uncertainty
Breaks the firing ice
No line in unity
Every work complete
As TRUTH is unveiled
Washing Salvation’s feet
Written by Trudy Schrader on 10-26-2023
Even though you may not be looking, always believe that love is cooking.Quote - Poet’s own
Bake love each day the whole of your life
Mixed with fervour and all kinds of spice
Everything you've ever hungered for
Hopes, dreams, wishes and all you adore.
Stir in measureless ardent passion
Sprinkle on top some sweet compassion
Simmer slowly on the lowest heat
‘Til your heartbeats are on the increase.
Then turn the temperature way up
Whilst drinking wine from the loving cup
Prepare the aura ready to eat
Soft music, dim lights during the feast.
Tempt palates with a special delight
Of afters that please the appetite
Just as we need food so we may live
We’re all in need of love to exist.
I hope you will test my recipe
It truly has done wonders for me.
Some movies, we want to experience, again and again,
from the prologue, until it crashes, into the credits.
With waves of laughter and tears, oft happily afters.
Some movies, we value the sum, wishing to whiplash
through the reel, for its too real, with smoking guns.
We love the family hugs at the start, but it breaks our hearts
all through the middle parts, as if we’ve been gutted or shot.
Specially, taking the loved ones into a church, securing
the doors and nailing the windows shut. Claustrophobia
of the sinister, of the dark, of the red and blue flames.
The splinters, the bruises, the beatings, the fear, the burn
hold onto the credits, tear through the compassionate soul.
The movie was gut-wrenchingly good, but torturous.
We sigh, as we say our goodbyes, especially when
we know that the actor has overdosed, joined the dead
in his youth. The truth of weaving a tale, summing up life.
6/20/2023
Trying to make it through “The Patriot”
Cora and Captain Hook arrive in Once Upon a Time.
They’re not looking for happily ever afters, but
to rock the boat. One is evil; the other’s out for revenge.
She’s an old bat and he is charming, but
not in a Prince Charming kind of way. He’ll lean in
and provoke a heart beat - is he jesting or real,
you never know. You have to wait to find out, but
meanwhile he steals the heart of the savior,
Emma Swan, but she’s mostly onto him. Charming
is her father and Snow White, her mother, so
she knows what true love is and is
not. Hook’s a dashing pirate, not
the look of Dustin Hoffman. So Hook appeals
to Emma’s adventurous, not virtuous side, and
she gets burned by his kiss - *a dream
is a wish your heart makes.*
1/14/2023
*Disney song, Songwriters:
Mack David / Jerry Livingston / Al Hoffman / Oliver Wallace
a tender note at twilight.
two sugar plums in love.
wind chimes play a leitmotif,
as the candle flame softly sways.
hands touch, lips whisper
of happily-ever-afters,
whilst talking of adventure,
of marriage and children.
a tender note, a plot.
the invite was good,
but the flame died out.
the wedding chimes carry the note
and the bridal bouquet to the grave.
There is a rumbling on the rafters,
a subtle pounding drum beat on the roof,
flashing in the skies, harlequin spoofs
a light show awesome and frightening ever afters,
the summer storms drift in then race
slow and steady in their pace
ready for the earth to be displaced.
Alone I wander in a very dark place
everyone around me fallen from grace.
Nothing but negativity runs through my head.
Sometimes an effort just to get out of bed!
No-one knows the depths of my despair
or the real reason I’ve been cutting my hair.
Long have I buried things deep within me
deeply imbedded like the roots of a tree.
Selfishly waiting for my story to end
until that day comes I’ll just pretend.
Happily ever afters are all a big lie!
When my time comes please; just don’t cry!
Tenement fallacies
abundant enormous canastrophe
Just rehearsals for disasters
Never more Ever afters
Eternity's been canceled
Satan like me everybody's gotten saved
Death is finally finite
Nevermore incarnate
Flames of current anxieties
all humanity downfall
Spiritual bodies burning
Satan's nightmare everyone's gotten saved
The demons have finally won
Where is God now
Alas even Satan sleeps
Ha ha ha -Satan 0ur Lord God rebuke you
And as he awakened he rises he finds out it was only a nightmare his dream
12/6/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©
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