Biters Poems

Nighters

they bite
and tear the biters do
these unseen nighters
circling
for should you sleep
give unto thee
then wake
to find their wound
   on you
then wake
to find their wound

Black Chrysalis

Humanity, the leaning yawl of infinite holes
God the tranquil sea for a millennium or so
Swells are growing bold as sky swirls gray
humanity, taking on barrels of water and salt
ivory gulls are shrieking at the crimson spray.

Biters and crawlers are awaiting the flesh
the universe is a distant shell of pure cold
a craft lies emptied on an isle of sea glass
a blackened chrysalis of forgotten souls.

Shekinah Crown Evolutions

Within the wicked wash
a shekinah crown of thorns
is tossed to you
offered to you
Hold on to it- titanium tight
faith demands 
a blood palm sacrifice

Keep sextant eyes 
on the pale horse horizon
seek that golden island
One key stroke at a  time
through the mirage of  time
stay ahead of famished tides
the selfish biters
plutonium misers

You've finally arrived
It was there all the        time
the evolution of a pastel mind 
the evolution of tranquility
the evolution of eternity
the evolutions of you.

Holy Punchers

I think hell to be like a midnight grocery store
shelves filled with burning crucifix and pestilence.
Bloody-black water up to the necks of Half-souls.
Groping mindlessly in the dark...
searching for God in brackish hopelessness. 
Flint and wooden carts colliding-
black water biters abound.

The checkout line is a turnstile 
manned by faceless- dripping things
wielding holy punchers
eternally pocking your debit card soul.
while howling      Next!

The Mercy of Amber

When death said "Hello", a chest was opened wide.
A serpent sashayed in, toward a heart and its gloaming. 
Spitting black pinballs between the brain and soul.
A flock of night biters moved into sanities narrows...
I pulled a little amber cross from mahogany shadows.
Praying with the might of storms, to a God just out of sight,
to free the mind from the pit viper pissing out lye.

Two seasons have past, all but a half pinball have left.
The mercy of amber has filled the crack in the chest.
The movement of moments is the only constant...
Death is so unabashedly, timeless - arrogant.

WHAT HAPPENS TO DIRTY HUMANS ASC THE ALIENIST-

WHAT HAPPENS TO DIRTY HUMANS ASC THE ALIENIST-

"What happens to the dirty humans, asj the alienist! 
Blurring waters frum their cymmetry chest parts! 
Shawlowed accumulation of gasS in the ear canal, 
Enflated pretentious flatulence spouts out the ears!" 

Much like helium sprewing out tween the toes hand: 
Running along june faced
How can it be so pourish, 

Down reign rains from the mockery tree.
Back stabber, back biters
Bleeding guns, khances kome forth
Enflated pretentious flatulence spouts out the ears
Shawlowed accumulation  of gas in the ear canal
Blurring waters frum their cymmetry chest parts! 

 "What happens to the dirty humans, asc the alienist”! 


2/29/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

I Was Not With Him When He Died

I was not with him when he died
Though he was not alone
His friends were riding right beside,
Their flesh torn from the bone.

Fuel oil and some fertilizer
Plus a dollar blasting cap
One enormous atomizer
One gigantic thunderclap

Low tech weapon in a ditch.
Can't distinguish which from which.
Indiscriminately murders
Fighters, biters, camel herders.

No one saw them when they died
I should have been there by his side
My heart was all he had of me,
My tears his love will never see.

The fuel oil warms my house today
The fertilizer, stashed away
To feed the plants when I'm away.
The blasting cap awaits in kind
In the ditches of my mind.

Daylight Disappears

As shifting shadows merge within the night,
darkness devours disheveled silhouettes.
And daylight disappears, fading from sight;
as a splendiferous sun slowly sets. 
 
Twilight's crimson-colored clouds coalesce;
tinting the skies a cotton candy pink.
And yet, darkness descends nevertheless,
tattooing treetops with ebony ink. 

Sequined stars sparkle in the midnight sky;
glittering gems in the fabric of space.
And today toasts tomorrow with a sigh;
as a motley moon mirrors Sol's far face.

Moonbeams mold monsters mostly out of black;
sculpting scary shapes with chisels of light.
And female mosquitoes mount their attack;
as buzzing, bloodthirsty biters alight.

Silence shushes sounds, stirring in the day;
as night's nocturnal creatures start to wake.
And stridulating crickets chirp away;
trilling till dawn dawns and dreamers awake.

Dog Food Volcano

Over 50 bags of dog food to choose from at tha Tractor Supply and the one I pick up and throw in the buggy has a hole the size of Mt. Everest. I emptied that entire bag into the buggy and buried my shoes up to my ankles in chicken flavored Alpo. Was it the small 10 pound bag of food for MissFortune and other ankle biters? Noooooo. It was the freakin monstrosity 52 pound bag (now with 10% more free) made just for cousin Eddie on Christmas Vacation and could feed Cugo for three months. I panicked and quickly grabbed another nearby buggy then continued my shopping experience. I left a trail of dog food kibbles falling from my pants cuff throughout the store leading up to the checkout register. As I was leaving I could hear, cleanup on isle 5!

Myku

eve's pond of white star charms
biters are broiling beneath
heaven daubs the blackness

Eating the Eaters

From the great ships they brought vermin and disease
defiled the freshwater pools and palm tree nests
devoured forest songs -clipped the color from trees
lay shadows beneath the sun children of the reef.

Just before the chain of rapes, she fled with a flower 
that her mother frantically placed in her hair 
she hid in caves with the graves of ancestors
prayed to the starry gods of the night sky
ate the eaters from the tide pools of despair
tried to grasp the miracles flashing by.

Re-emerging into the light
her skin turning white like the death ship spires
she watched as they finally lifted anchor
then dropped them, heavy in her heart...
She searched under every shell and cloud,
everything she loved was swept beneath the sandy hell... 
She rubbed the faded petals into her sunken cheeks
to protect her from the biters lying just beneath
but the lavender magic had faded long ago.
She smashed into the surf on a raft made of claro and bones
drifted into the teeth of breakers and found her way back home.

This Is My Story

One Dollar currency I am, but sad
we are very many in the North
but very few in the South!

I hear there are many people in the South
huge numbers that have never seen me
there I want to go for action of charity
but I am confined in prisons of the North
prison- pockets of those who have
North where is your compassion?

Those who sleep hungry, thirsty
and eat only after a petition prayer
those who are sick without drugs
the orphans that walk naked, bare feet
little beings that have no fees
are my friends that need compassion
North, where is your compassion?

The old man, old woman in the South
that sleeps with hens, goats in one room
and have never seen proper hygiene
that are colonies of myriads of microbes
North, where is your compassion?


These need my services-not hamburger -biters
many of us are ready, let us go, let it be now
Less than me a day is a little life a day
A little life each day is huge death each day
North, where is your compassion?

Maudlin Mary

Modeled by the     skilled and clumsy hands
of artists and artisans into an ideal state of she-ness,
a penniless waif appears      on a stool

last week a stranger called her Mona Lisa. 

Statuesque upon the betrayer
warmed by the lemon-lolly light from
bays of north facing windows, blinded;
she can but blink.

Surrounded by a 
cog-notched cyclical wheel of nubile artists—
blooming buds of wildness, vertical sprigs
flail softly on the breezy bounty of 
illumination.

Brush and trowel, thick and thin,
the artists stoke her—semblance
canvased by millennium brush biters
maudlin Mary is returned to the pre-historic stew 
by the likes of Claude     
polished to a pearly perfection
by type A, Hieronymus’.

They were all strangers to her     posers, 
every bit as much as she.
Royal pretenders in a world 
where only the artless 

are paid. 

Moneylenders rise on their     discarded carapaces
beauty sucked dry by the doers and shakers
who spread like choking bittersweet    through
the lollypop-light from the bay windows facing north
consuming Mona.  

Julie ford Oliver - Famous Models 
Ekphrasis

First Appeared in Illumen Magazine Fall of 2014

Decade of My Birth

Decade of my birth





All Show and No Go,
Ankle biters were Almost Home,
Baby, Ball and Beach bunny,
Brewed bread as Boxes Burnt one,
Even the Bad pipes Bagged some food for the brain,

Chilled the Cat as Chrome dome Caught some rays,
A Chick's choice,
Clanked, the Cool head Crashed, 
Daddy's car was a Deb's delight,
Funkier freaks invited Fuzz,

Hunks jazzed,
Spiffy Nifty tufted together,
Generation gap, but Rents would go with the flow,
Wiz kids never lost their Wig,
Paper shakers went out of sight,

Real people with Righteous Raps and tuning vibes,
Mod shades, Rockin' out,
Off the wall and Ultimate,
Zap! You ain't too cool,
What say !Those were the times!






Written June 25th, 2015
For Debbie's contest "Talk the talk and walk the walk"

Decade chosen- 1960s

Meltdown

Too much stress
Endless dead-end jobs
Screaming ankle -biters
That want more then I can give
A tormented husband who needs to relax
How much more Lord?
I think I'm having a
M
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