Diatribes focus their galvic courses that run pure elixirs through the festival of blithe soon to become ribbons of unfurling sulfur that putrefaction molts sun-like claws of flames that ensconce the sarcophaguses it is in truth a graveyard and a shift to be had in it, the myriad of barbaric strides just caught in the upwelling, so prance beneath the stellar blue moon that visits so infrequently as sure as the night's first bloom.
Here I write another ballad to the man beneath
Each encounter, interaction, and view,
You drag us down
Deeper,
And deeper,
Steeper the climb, out of here
Nearing absolutely nowhere, why is what I ask.
Basking in my misery and gloom,
You further pull me down, in silence
Deeper,
And deeper
I cry out for help, for the light only goes small,
All in my mind, do I wonder,
Colder his touch is, limp my body goes
Deeper,
And deeper,
My eyes open, have they been closed?
Most of my mind has left, it is only I here
I, only I? He is nowhere.
Bare this hole is, left alone am I.
Deep,
And deep.
There sits a man in the room below me
Strumming gently on his guitar.
He plays notes out of key sometimes,
And he doesn’t sing,
Simply hitting subtle rhythms,
Softly playing his chords.
This man though not knowing,
Has created a serene beauty
That only he and I
Will ever know.
I await his playing nightly
To help me sleep,
Imagining that he is playing for me,
His audience of one.
First published in Big Question Literary Arts Magazine, 2026, all rights reserved
moon sips from the lake
trees trade shadows with the stars
something wakes below
aquatic palace
world of fins and scales
and shiny fish hooks
Sometimes the path is painful,
But it lead to something beautiful.
If I didn't suffer, I wouldn't meet my wife.
If I didn't cry, I wouldn't appreciate my strife.
If you're unhappy just look at the stars intently.
They are like little eyes disappearing your troubles away.
Trust the process and believe; trust God.
Your miracle might be closer, think you had.
Up in the sky,
I see a light from down below.
Racing across the sky,
Until there was no place to go.
A drop of water flickers down my face,
I was thinking of you before this time and place.
Closing my eyes, I pray.
Hoping that I can move on with my day.
Impoverished raise like farming
Owning a pig, lots of chickens, rooster, hen;
Not in the sixteen-hundreds;
Made one’s own foods from scratch,
This foyer placement in time itch;
Below the Mason-Dixon Line, 1969;
Charleston, Missouri woe to--
Tom Sawyer’s
---Black friend Jim
3/24/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
Below The Surface
Drowning in self doubt
Edge of darkness
I’m out of breath
Submerged and drenched
I’ve lost my way
My purpose is fading
Porcelain translucent
Find me in the dark
I’m fragile as a feather
I just wanted a second chance
Did I say something wrong?
I’m anchored to the bottom
With unfiltered thoughts
My heart is hollow
Reach out for me
I’m just trying to say I’m sorry
It’s cold and alone in complete isolation
All wait for you down here
Forgive me from all the pain I caused
There's only one way and that is up
Forgiveness can go along way
Like two souls flying freely
I wish I could breathe underwater,
But not to explore the sea.
I just enjoy the comfort,
It feels like where I should be.
Below the surface is quiet,
No voices can be heard.
The water always settles,
Even after it stirred.
When I rise above the water,
My exposed skin shivers from the cold,
But as I sink back down again,
warmth breaks me through it’s threshold.
I can swim freely,
I can do what I please
Though I prefer the depths;
The ones where no one sees.
But I am not built for that
I know I can’t stay,
I will surely drown,
But life underwater seems better that way.
Stopping on the clifftop
staring out to sea
waiting for the clipper ship
will bring him home to me
looking on in longing
as the sun burns my eyes
listening to the breakers below
and above the seagull cries
waiting is the hardest part
my heart is empty when he's gone
and all the while knowing
it's here where we belong
I'm here he's there
but it doesn't have to be
sometimes something comes between
is often how it goes but out of sight out of mind
for me is really seldom seen
standing on the headland
gazing out to sea
searching for the sailing ship
will bring him back to me
and here or there
in the darkest night
the lighthouse shining bright
shows the safest way
but who's to know which way to go
in the blinding light of day
The wind chill is a devilish 15 below today.
You have no feathers nor fat on your bony feet.
They must be cold, holding tight to the railing.
For some reason, you decided to stay behind.
Didn't follow the flock to warmer skies.
Maybe your instincts are not refined enough.
Maybe you're an autistic avian, didn't socially cut it.
Maybe you've been shunned by the blush.
Didn't have the right touch to find a mate.
Didn't put enough wigglers on the plate.
Maybe there's a new crimp or crick in your DNA.
The reason you sit in a bowl of ice today.
Maybe you think I'm a freak with polyester feathers and rubber feet.
snow flakes shroud the ground
rose stalks and leaves shrivelled brown~
life sneaks below snow.
high above… shines love
celestial skies… peaceful dove…
down below... war’s glow
EARTH BELOW ME
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the blue marble shrinks,
a child's toy lost
in the vast darkness of the universe.
below me, continents blur,
coastlines soften,
memories dissolving at the edges.
am I falling or is this
a slow, deliberate ascent
into the quiet hum of nothing?
Weightless, I am all things,
and nothing at all,
my earthly albatross released.
Going Home.
Not a place, but a feeling,
a shedding of skin,
a merging with the boundless.
Mother Earth recedes into the starlight,
a whispered promise of return,
someday, perhaps.
But not yet. Not now.
Now, only the drift.
only the falling,
upward.
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