As an entity in the dream we conjured
We know not we are both the dreamer and dreamed
How then may we wake up when we are in trance
In bondage to illusions we ourselves streamed
As both the dreamer and the dreamed
We manifested each other,
Being solely each other's prayers heard
Set to hold a row in each of our hands
As we sail down the river of life,
Heading towards tomorrow
I the dreamer and love the dreamed
I the dreamer and love, an eternal kiss
A grip holding on to eternity
A promise offered by the divine
A hope amidst life's dark tunnels
An opening amidst all closures
I the dreamer or you the dreamer
In each of our slumbering minds
We vibe with existence, setting our pace
To match the tempo, creating thus
A whole new universe,
Filled with beings of all sorts
Set to be governed by ourselves
Yet, the dreams would not have been
Had the divine not willed it
Does it not make of us, then,
As an entity wished for by the celestial power
And does abiding to it not become a celebration?
*NOTE subtleties emphasized in their articulate closures contain a quantum message.
I think we're in trouble mate
why, what's wrong
I saw the pilot reading a manual
was it how to land a plane in a storm
no, how to fly one
???---!.
there's no life preservers on this ship, mate
I heard this captain say that the ship has a full complement on board
so what does that mean
well after the ship sinks
we'll just sit tight
with no life preservers
there'll be plenty
just wait a while
give or take ... !
Sweet juices spilt Spring, free thee greeneries
ye lands amend, then weave to Summer's eve
ere its proclaim windswept name, a said leave
from Indian grabbed drum who beat the trees
sown years to be, made wholly thick of leaves
that fairs their surrender the length life cleave
presence parting, color-filled glimpses, grieve
end tone boughs under the rainbow it heaves.
Promised life gift wrap, belly breathless dews
touch, process the fallen heaps, hues go dark
as arched sensed the passing, a rainbow drift
abroad, probed closures, 'tis bit of year, clues
deem it's Autumn, chills stretch a wintry mark
tho' Thanksgiving's present in the swing shift.
Earthquakes, mudslides, and floods.
The flood came with mudslides and road
closures, causing a major bridge closure.
She brought death and destruction.
She went, but not before changing
the landscape of Northern California.
She altered lives, but I was fortunate.
Once caught in a flood, I was
neither harmed nor felt any danger.
Family and property were fine and
never threatened either. But we
were shut off from each other
for a night and a day. But many
others suffered so much more than me.
Driving through a puddle of water,
My car stalled and so did I.
Communications were shut down.
So, I sought shelter and found
it through the Red Cross.
I was cut off from family 25
miles north of the Golden Gate,
a mild headache compared to
others in the Golden State.
So far, the reddest river
But does not flow forever:
A coursing through enclosures
Vessels furnishing closures…
For journeys should Heart Pump thank:
They would cease, if The Heart Sank
To be left a congealed mass
While owners eyes ‘doomed shut glass…’
Lots of information stores,
Not the same a saint’s and a whore’s;
Medics who checked the river
Could pick out one with fever…
Many things run in the blood,
Some of them unleashed ‘foul flood’
The Best from this Red Fluid ‘Gift’
Which from parents did lift…
On robes Automatic Stain -
Their wearers always in pain:
Means they should face the way home
And for replacement dress comb.
While dealing with blood: gloves,
For even he that one loves.
On men mounting the oddest pressure,
Little time for the truest leisure;
Many doctors neatly can measure
The losses from the things we treasure...
It's a breathless pursuit of treasures
And ceaseless the cases of seizures,
Many a chapter lent to rude closures
That's for us treasure and pressures...
Then, let us fail not the right measures
To romances reduce with seizures:
I would rather it came last Treasure
And, first, how to Safe Dangers measure.
Love is blind, but so is hate
Blind hatred of Trump sealed our fate
Stupid lockdowns, stupid school closures
Stupid masks never prevented exposure
Yet COVID 'couldn't possibly' have originated in Wuhan
~ 'Scientists' couldn't bear to be DJT fans
Four Cafés
------------
Four cafés were at the extreme left of what I could see from my apartment window. There they were, sparkling in the cold night, trying to stand in for stars in the cloudy sky. I had visited these café-bars one by one as they were opened within the space of a year, all offering similar food: runny egg, soggy chips and pale baked beans. They had a touch of European chic in the quaint condiment containers, otherwise I could have been anywhere.
I looked for some time at them on that January night, their being the only buildings of interest in my vista. Word had it they were all owned by the same man, which may or not explain why there were no closures. As I stared from my high up space, a solitary man entered the third café, otherwise I saw no one. I expected he was the owner. There he would be then, in the café called "Bar Three", reading the evening paper. That evening the paper was full of a murder story. Perhaps, but no... He was a genteel type, wasn't he? But there again, one can never be too sure... I decided to look for a new apartment the next day.
THE END
2/16/2023
Oh demon of destroyed destinies,
Unfurl your nightmares
through the furnace of my drowse;
For if fire steps out to rule,
Shall I be on deck,
Ripping closures ablaze,
Sailing towards the wild shore
of those vicious torments,
Where fate pulled her crown tight,
Trading promises with fallacies!
Honestly I abhor the Rain
Russia-triggered in Ukraine
A deluge as finishing as A Plague
All its relevance fastened on The Vague…
Vladimir finally choosing to mess up,
All along longing to with the Devil Sup…
Consolingly I believe in Sanction,
Certain it falls not to function;
A trust in more closures of Russia’s Banks
For a corresponding reduction of battle-field tanks;
A booing at Wonderful Russian football
And rejection of their players’ footsteps as they fall.
January's snow
leads to school closures and more
snowballs being thrown
The rain fell hard blinding me
as its drops beat on eyes
open and eyelid shut.
I reached up for another grip,
a slippery handhold on slimy cliff
which was my only way out
of the canyon, with rapid rising surge
dragging at my feet, trying to pull me under.
I dared not blink as I tried the hold and lifted
my body up a notch in cranny crag.
I blinked when it held, I sighed for moment.
I blinked again, and again, in relief.
Then, it was time for another try.
Another reach for another sigh,
each moment tethered
to succession of blinks of eye
defining time's duration.
Tethered as it is
to moments in
present tense
between blinks
as shutter closures
when we're awake.
Sometimes in the end
New beginnings cling
Attaching themselves to new premises lend
~
Random yearning closures rings
Often dismiss as over rolf
The end comes and out of its mouth
Future verge fringe
8/18/ 21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr
Nothing annoying is going to bother me today.
It is the perfect weather, the sun is shining.
The cardinals are trilling, the violets are waving.
I'm ready to embark on my four hour trip.
Uh-oh. Three lines of cars are stopped.
A blinking sign says delays.
Okay. I can handle this. No problem.
New blinking sign; it says lane closures.
I feel a little bit irritated when I drive over six orange cones.
I am waiting now for the world's slowest pouring cement mixer.
I try not to take my eyes off the road as I watch it pour the slow moving stuff.
An overweight flag man attempts to stop me.
This infuriates me. I drive around him and go faster.
I see a sign that says ten thousand dollar fine for speeding in a work zone.
Highway patrolmen are chasing me now.
Road construction. I hate it so!
Worst dream ever
Stages in the “Art of Giving Up”
Suspenders
My ass won’t hold the pants up anymore
Turn Signals
Just leave ‘em on
I forgot where I was headed
Velcro closures
If you know why it’s already too late
Your “mobile” phone
Is no longer that mobile
Its ringtone
Bring on the Clowns
Stairways
Look like an optical illusion
Your birthday
No longer a celebration….
More of a destination
Your ZUMBA class
Sounds like a cricket discussion group
Your feet resemble those of Bilbo Baggins
“FUZZY SOCKS AND CROCS”
6/8/2021
Fuzzy socks and crocs Poetry Contest
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