Bombarded Poems | Examples

I’m a dumb rooster’s beak

I’m a dumb rooster’s beak
 pecking broken chunks of cheese
                             from every event
every moment is astonishment
                    and if I climb a roof
                 only left in the ruins
             you’ll see my people
          behind the sunlit bar
      but my next neigbhour
   who’s coming in
  is a thief and the new label
on the beer we serve
I’m engaging him before
this place is bombarded 
with that machine dogs

To God Be the Glory

This candle burns slowly —and with the severity of courage
We pick our way with utter caution down the bombarded stairway
One thing is certain: we must flee from this scoffing pillage.
Aided by fluttering tallow, our vision is haunted by the airway.

Zen mode

bombarded with sensory inputs
each nuance felt but not analysed
as pure awareness witnessing this 
the boons of grace for us customised
we remain at peace suffused with bliss

Starlight Eyes

.
viewing life 
     through    the    fingers 
          of a facepalm  

an unhealthy 
     obsession 
to broaden the mind
     with the
          help from social media
jumbled up in jargon
     no more useful than a Word of the Day:
     excire:  (n) meaning exhilaration and desire
—or—
whenever …   

bombarded with unrelated 
          f.a.c.t.s
as pertinent as
     school level algebra 
          the mind’s  ‘nothing box’ 
teaming with possibilities
	inexpressible
        visions dancing to an inaudible jukebox
a child’s 
          toy 
                kaleidoscope

               charting the stars 
given way to ‘Stars Foretell’  
   how we should feel 
   and think

          nowadays 

     by naming the planets
          the stardust
the very essence of existence 
     we escape categorisation

life views back at me
	through the cosmic lens
              of perceptions:

starlight eyes
of
hope
     shines …

The Echo Returns Not

The stars dance across the sky
A nightly recital of spinning and whirling
They’re in the spotlight here
But I know they’re invisible to him
Playing hide-and-go-seek offstage
I scream his name to the cosmos
In some sort of harrowed cry
Or desolate plea for redress
It comes out raspy, choked
The faraway stars have no reply
The echo returns not
I’m left standing in the dark
Mourning his mindlessnesses
Bombarded by the silence

There's Something to this 'Santa Thing'

      Asked him for the good health I’d missed all year
         This week my aches and pains disappear

      Stress bombarded me every month, becoming quite severe
         But now in December, it’s vamoosed right out of here

      Feared to utter the words ‘Ice and Snow’ aloud
         Yet this December in Chicago, not one street plowed 

      Now, dare I ask for peace on earth, good will toward men?
         Not exactly Santa’s domain ~
            Please G-d he comes through again

CONSECREATED CONFUSED COVERED SOCIAL GATHERINGS-

Crisis spills totally spoils
Comely bombarded ill toils
Consecrated gatherings
Covered social lathering


12/16/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

The Haunted House

Why, in a haunted house, do we scream?
We know that the monsters are mechanized.
We know that the bumps are all oversized.
We know things are not what they seem.

Why, in that haunted house, do we chuckle?
We’re bombarded with bright lights, loud screams,
thumps and bumps; we imagine extremes
but know it’s all fake as we grip the belt buckle.

Why, in our own home, when we hear creaking,
don’t we cry or guffaw, but instead
we tiptoe, gasp and believe the undead
and the zombified trespasser come softly sneaking.

Why, when the horror and terror aren’t real,
Do we shriek with delight, while thrilled to the bone?
Why, when we know that we’re really alone,
Are panic and dread the emotions we feel?

WE'RE ALL OUT

Allegory illusion
Misconstrued contusions
Clouded mind mental block 
heartbeat stops
10 inch asbestos floor tile
~
1940's steps gone wild
Making perfect sense, making it very clear
Daunting doubting rainbows, Blended in the new atmosphere
Atomic bombarded Warfare debonair
World War 111 we're all out

The Islands

The islands seem afloat in the sea
So have they been through the ages
Yet they have not gone on a journey
Even as they are bombarded with waves
When a tempestuous storm rage
They are anchored at the deepest level
At the bed of the ocean floor
Where mainland and island are stayed
And connected as one massive body
That is the generous, loving Mother Earth

Individual human beings are islands
In the vast sea of Infinite Expression
Discrete as we perceive them in vision
Yet firmly held as one great mass
At the deepest level of our origin
In the indescribable Cosmic Assemblage
Where there exist no iota of disparity
As it does happen with shallow humanity
Arise all ye chelas of the Truth
And embrace the verdure of your nature

Musings on space

We as the subject, look at any object,
noticing space that separates us is still,
the void of no-thingness mind cannot bisect,
omnipresent yet exercising no will,
so what space really is, we introspect,
reflecting in silence, from soul’s window sill.
In staid stillness we sense our presence expand,
then truth of space we begin to understand.

Melding with the void, concepts are discarded,
wherein present as formless awareness pure,
the form we ensoul, is by bliss bombarded,
whence earth life tests then, we easily endure
and with no attachments left to be guarded,
softened soul presence in time becomes demure,
whereupon flickers in space are by us seen,
piercing through its pores, deep wisdom we so glean.

God’s light that lights all lights, enlivens space too,
signalling that though it holds us in its womb,
it also depends on God’s pulse to renew,
that as all life forms in it, with aplomb zoom,
it is silence alone that offers a clue
to truth of space, as ignorance we deplume.
Ceasing to weigh and size, though we vaporise,
who in truth God is, we’re yet to realise.

A Fairy Tale Retold

She entered the ballroom, her nerves on fire, 
Her synthetic dress fit her like a dream, 
Rustic, she knew nothing about desire, 
In silence, she stood, a classy extreme;

He entered the ballroom, dressed like a prince, 
Wondering how these dances to avoid, 
When he saw her, his eyes he couldn't convince, 
She, a timeless beauty, he, overjoyed;

He reached her amid the swirling dancers, 
She looked at him with blue eyes astounded, 
They danced till midnight, searching for answers, 
Could love blossom this quick? Left confounded;

The clock struck twelve, it ended too soon, 
Love's illusion came to a sudden end, 
Silver rays emanate from the wan moon, 
She ran away from him, his feelings rend;

Who was she? Where could he find her again? 
Questions bombarded his lovestruck mind, 
Her glass slipper came to his help and then, 
His lovely Cinderella he did find.

Bustling Brainwaves

Bustling brainwaves bring it to life  
better when both eyes are blanketed;
Hyperactive insomnia’s strife;

Gears inside feel like a hamster’s wheel,
it keeps going and going won’t stop;
Blinking and scanning I have to deal;

Bedrest blatantly bombed before dawn,
I need sleep but I need to stay up;
Marred by my mind the moonlight is gone;

Listless I sway through the night and day 
I’m always a step above the clouds;
Words burst so fast much to my dismay;

Stars out, on queue my pen misbehaves;
I succumb to me and don’t backtrack,
branded and bombarded by brainwaves.

Raindrops

Plip, plop,
Pin, tin, pin,
tip, tip, tip,
Spigga, spigga, spigga,
Ssshhhhhuff.

Window closed now
I can think.
No rain on the brain.
No more drink.

Creeaak
Goes the door,
An old friend comes in
Berated and bombarded
By drops as big as grapes that

Slam onto my tin
Trash cans: 
Skiddity-skip,
Skippity-skid skid skip,
Skiddity-skiddity skip skip,
Skip-skip-skip-skip-skips-skip-sk-

"Close the door, please."
Creeaak-shuft.

My friends soaked rain coat 
Slops to the ground,
Puddle leaking out from under it.

"How long have you been dry?"
"7 days."

Fffp, Fffp, Fffp.
Cold, wet drops find
The very top of my head.
I looked straight up at the ceiling.
Mpa. Mpa. 
Right on the tip of my nose.

I open my mouth.
Onk, onk, onk they go
Against the back of my throat.
Onk, onk, onk.

"I can get you a glass of water,"
Says my know-it-all friend.

I have no time for his kind.
These drops are divine.

Can of Worms

Tom tom drums call men unto war

The Euphrates dries in preparation

Of a Third world war as Gog and Magog

Start a Cataclysmic war that unchecked

Will lead to an outright world war

Russia is on the offensive in arms against

A colleague of the Russian federation

By name Ukraine is daily bombarded 

Carpet bombing NATO names it

As they western powers Arm Ukraine

And dogs of war, by name Mercenaries 

Are shipped in droves to support the underdog

The Big USA uncle Sam as they call Her 

Peddles her weaponry to the downtrodden Ukraine

As rumors of war abound.. They call it war propaganda

There will be wars and rumors of war but the end is not yet

The end comes when the Beelzebub Prince makes peace

With the Holy Land.. Ooh JERUSALEMA.. why am I reminded of ACRE

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