Time
a prisoner
in a Bedouin’s dream
Shadows
moving
on the sand
Distance
like bars
that trap you within
The farther you
travel
— the less you command
(Dreamsleep: October, 2026)
What had happened?
What is wrong?
They all will ask
But will they risk understanding?
No, many can’t handle the idea
The idea that the being before them was broken
Rejoined and broken again
Over and over with nothing to give
Nothing but a fake smile and laugh to ease others
Will they know it’s fake?
Will they even care?
What would happen if we could all give a bit more?
To those around us broken beyond repair?
Would the world spin a bit brighter?
Or would we all become a bit darker?
Oh I’d ask what is wrong?
What had happened?
What is needed?
If only I could speak
But alas
I am broken.
I …
saw a
person today …
mocking the murder of a good man -
making fun of a horrific death
that had played out before the eyes of children
on a sparkling bright, joyous day -
their pure memories, now defiled with blood …
I waited … and waited more
for I half expected the heavens to rend
and a bolt of lightning to strike
this person down …
that’s how egregious this was -
how utterly … disgusting
but all I saw was people celebrating and
cheering this blatant beast of a human
all I heard was the acrid, revolting
sound of derisive laughter …
and I realized then humanity had crossed
a new and remarkable line
where malice and animosity and intolerance -
where the precepts of HATRED -
have become something to celebrate
something … to be proud of …
my knees buckled, my spirit crumbled
and my broken heart wept
for what this new reality might mean to
the futures of my grandchildren
and the precious destiny
of their …
world.
~ POETRY AGAINST POVERTY ~
( photographic art created copyright-free by the author with Gemini AI / Meta AI software )
I tried to fix a window once,
That was partially broken.
While doing so,
I started to think about parts of my life
That also need to be fixed.
Scattered pieces in my life
Of decisions that I knew didn't fit
—
A choice to either sweep them
away completely
Or salvage what's left.
While fixing the broken window
I learned that at some point in
life,
You have to realize when to fix
yourself.
—thestreetpoet08
the pendulum swings
s i l e n t l y
inside of it's chest,
the iron tongue
that can no longer move,
but the brass and copper wheels
have come to a rest,
and silence
curls its head like a cat.
they measured life
in little mouthfuls before,
dividing sunshine
from the encroaching shade;
for all our days
and all of the nights
that set a metronome
to save a warden
of the promises made
now the time beats
o u t s i d e
and spills out of service.
beyond the measure of years,
beyond the ringing of bells,
those seconds gone
never gain their temporary title,
breaking free
from the shackles of their prime.
sleep on, old custodian
in your wooden shell,
the rust has given way
to your frantic heart.
there are no more hours left
for you to narrate
where tick and tock
decay to rust.
A sadistic killer, who enjoys it with relish
A woman desperately in want of love
The age numbers small talk turns to relic
A paedophile never at rest until he gave
A robber on the prowl seeking victims.
Broken hearts need that need mending.
(Written on the 28th May, 2021)
bereavement
of beauty:
best
bodies
become
broken
bottles
I have lived and learned,
and i thought i had earned
experience, strength,
and mental health.
But one more time,
i trusted and died.
I don´t want to hide,
i just want to be fine.
Once again people lied,
once again a had to cry.
I know it´s not my fault,
and that soon it will be in my past,
but it´s one more scar on my soul.
and probably wont be the last.
I sat again on that old broken bench at the park,
Watching birds, people, and the last rays of the sun fade by,
Remembering our final words—spoken so far from kind.
A single tear I had to shed for the moments lost in time.
The skies turned suddenly ominous, though I knew not why—
But by the grace of God, a little girl smiled, ever so bright,
And I finally realized: forgiveness is not so far behind.
All the dishes fell down broken
Favorite cups, you won’t believe
Smashed to bits, but it’s unspoken
Myths don’t mention human grief
They don’t want us to come close
Private troubles doesn’t count
If you ask, nobody knows
What was their crime about
The collective guilt is fake
There is no such thing on earth
Otherwise we’re God’s mistake
From the accident of birth
Trevelyan, a sole survivor
Is the one we should remember
See the picture of white rider
On eleventh of November
Of one thousand ninety nine
He escaped the great excess
Of the punishment, confined
To the Land of Lyonesse
Then the plot disintergrates
To the pieces that don’t fit
Well together, so it fades
To the dishes crashed in bits..
BROKEN
Damaged shattered
No longer functioning
Reduced to pieces scattered
Unable to function
Cracked, fractured
Busted
9/3/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
the bucket's cold aura
blooms in white,
though planted seeds,
already read your eyes.
one day's rain
trips out of her rust,
and holds sun,
or a northern hand;
becoming the light
for the ground, made wide
God's weeping
returns weeping —
full like water filling up steel;
pain...now a lily.
Shadows wear no crown
Yet they stand tall
Like they know what
I’m trying to hide
That a man can smile
And shake your hand
While sending you to hell
Building a cage around your neck
Hiding the floor beneath your feet
A broken piece of mercy
Pleading,
Just give me one more night
To find myself.
I Am That I Am
The architecture of the flesh
may fail,
The skin unstitched, a frayed
and fragile veil,
Where silver staples close the
crimson seam,
And hold the borders of a
fractured dream.
We sit within the sterile, quiet
room,
Where shadows stretch and
heavy doubts loom,
Measuring life in sips of clear-lit
glass,
Waiting for the wilderness to
pass.
Yet in this crucible of ache and
bone,
A sovereign sanctuary is made
known.
I am the anchor in the shifting
deep,
The vigil kept while weary
angels sleep.
I am the breath that steadies
through the dark,
The sudden, iridescent, blinding
spark,
That turns a ruin to a holy space,
And paints a window on a
broken face.
No longer tethered to the grief
we hold,
Nor to the phantom weight of
old despair,
I am the vastness where the
storm dissolves,
The axis where the wheeling
world revolves.
Unmade by time, untouched by
mortal scar,
I am the light, the lantern, and
the star-
The timeless current flowing
deep within,
Where endings fade, and all true
things begin.
Wicked smile, turned dust,
Two halves of a broken soul,
Nothing left to chase.
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