A soul's etched cartography
compasses spins a needle frantic
above a parchment of skin.
A map…
Each line a river I've drowned in,
blood I waded and divide
each faded scar
a language scarlet, unfound!
My soul no longer shapes
foreign land of waste annihilates
behind my eyes...!
I see nothing
deserts exhale silent sacred sands…
Hearts pulse with unheard drums
an archway to oblivion
weathered eons I haven't lived.
I drift towards a courtyard,
run riot in green eternally…
Where faces blur like old cars
my mind whispers, doom from afar
on winds that don't remember me.
Trace the contours of my lost continents
in this cartography of bone and shadow.
Forgotten by the wraiths of the moon…
that echo within my chambered heart.
A tarnished key lies heavy in my mind,
unlocking doors behind infinite walls… sublime!
five torpedo bombers
known as Flight 19
disappeared in December of 1945
over the Bermuda Triangle
an ominous mystical zone
recorded precarious by Christopher Columbus
when his compasses began acting erratically
Flight 19 is just one of many ships and planes lost
forever in the bowels of the Devil’s playground
the treacherous, notorious, mysterious Bermuda Triangle
Children of the macrocosmic implosion
grow the seeds of bioluminescent oxytocin
Symbiotic by design, the prana and the potion
That dihydrogen monoxide flow of all word spoken
Existential kintsugi thaws out every heart frozen
and gilds the cracks in every single circle unbroken
Those chosen?
Those awoken here to serve in devotion
with the motion of the ocean
Salt of Earth for the wounds that will open
We, the tides that choose to rise
Open eyes and light the skies
We, the lanterns on the darkest paths
Compasses that guide
So we stay loyal to the mission
Seek absolution of division
Bring the North, the South, the East, the West
a centralized vision
A whole revision, it's vital
A microcosmic revival
Let the ripples make the waves that lift us
out of survival
DIY EMF from inside you
Evergreen that exhales to ignite you
Eat the fruits of the Spirit that light you
and watch the Universe grow to provide you
On the loom of existence, our saga unfolds,
Lives woven in controversy; a story is told.
A symphony of chaos, a dance of extremes,
A canvas painted with a myriad of dreams.
In life’s maze of choices, dim paths appear,
Paved with right and wrongs, joy and tears.
Interconnected like vines in a garden of fate,
In a delicate balance, a real precarious state.
The whispers of opinions, their clamors aloud,
Of “friendly advice” from a supportive crowd?
Steal my thunder, and firebolts spark debate,
Thru storms of perspectives, a way I’ll make.
Moral compasses spinning, destiny is unsure,
In the vast ocean of beliefs, tsunamis obscure.
Truth through a prism, is fractured and bright,
The kaleidoscope of day and unvarying nights.
Controversy will bloom like roses in the spring,
Prickly thorns on stems, each one with a sting.
Yet, within the turmoil, life’s lessons are sown,
A chance for true growth, and wisdom to own.
So, let’s embrace the paradox and duality of life,
Navigate the joyfulness, the troubles, and strife.
On the loom wheel of life’s controversy, is space,
For threads of understanding woven with grace.
Will humanity ever get it right and learn from the repeated wrongs?
Or have our moral compasses been lost forever and too far gone?
Has empathy, compassion and integrity been replaced?
With violence, division and discord infused with hate?
We must humble ourselves pray, and seek guidance from above..
Only as one nation under God, will we find that unity and love...
The joy is flowing through your veins
The blood speaks life in your breathing it explains
The life flowing through you living energy
Spirit truths first then it's physical identity
Energies essence flow you are more than just flesh human-meat
Your soul spirit compasses you relapse your heartbeats
So sweet for the eyes that look from the heart
So sweet is the voice that beats from the heart
So sweet are the hands and arms that protrude out of the heart
The mouth of the heart speaks life sweet
Blessings always so sweet the spiritual heart
Everso sweet the spiritual heart beats
6/29/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
"From anthology "a Love Song"
A dank cavern
Unlit torches on the walls
Some light easier than others
You bring a compass
Drawing you through the inky darkness
You sense little with just yourself
Armed with recognition
of the ground
of yourself
Most compasses grow obsolete
As you find more than they can point you to
Visitors on a planet
Near the outskirts of uncounted stars,
We experience time in expanding space.
We grow and develop,
and in wisdom
Come to know the questions of eternity.
Deep within us all
Near the core of unexplored life,
We experience love, the Spirit of God.
We are all united,
and in faith
Return to know the peace of our Source.
"Rapido"
walks on water fast
salty trinity
soul heeling
a pearl reflects wisdom
on indigo see, the mirror mapped
dancing with diamonds
the light shows
characters
rippling mirages
compasses peppered
rapt in black
and blue velvet
soon arrives the Morning
like a twin, golden apple
rolling before us
Apollo
alighting upon a floating chariot
racing white horses
a storm
is approaching
harnessing the tornado
petulant Horseman
Apollyon, hit lists,
in raised fist
riding a magic carpet
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
heeling.
healing.
list (nautical).
list (enumerate).
Rapido 60.
THE SHIPWRICKERS:
The passengers don't feel okay with the rider,
As the journey don't seem so right.
Some are feeling very worried,
As it's been bad from the genesis of this lap,
Straight down with so many emphasis,
Due to what's going on there in the ship.
Wise men are rejected jointly with their ideas,
Good men are lambasted anytime they appear.
Their compasses and maps are not reasonably revered,
By the shipwreckers who don't see their value,
And the common passengers are enduring the agony,
The solutions are laid askew.
The chief rider and his team are on the balcony,
Refreshing themselves with larceny.
The ship is wrecking gradually,
And the lives of the passengers don't matters them,
Since they can join a different ship with their households;
At anytime, anyday with just the ink of a pen.
Their accounts are corruptibly bankrolled,
So they care not if the passengers are marooned.
Affirmatively, this chronicle is not assumed,
But a reality that is rightfully presumed.
I used to look at the stars and saw nothing.
Until I met you.
Then I knew stars were compasses.
And that their use was not outdated or constrained to voyagers.
I was lost.
Boxed in and boxed by life.
And you found me.
And gave me a chance.
Stars don’t shine in the light.
Maybe that’s why I took so long to see you.
When I was captivated in darkness,
You shone in blinding brightness.
The only thing I have seen ever since
Is the silhouette of your kindness and happiness.
The beauty of the stars light up the world.
That’s why every moment with you opens up doors for me.
My humility elevates me to viewing you.
And your empathy that stretches beyond.
You are my star.
We met at Solomon's house
out of the debts of knowledge
edifying my wisdom bestowing
self as I saw your manifesting hue
catering to my inner most thoughts
bringing the present clearly into view
past was simply a notion of what
I once knew this divine higher being
consoled me of an uncanny trust
uncharted future behold steadfast
to what I've ever known why I witnessed
the souls of the empty the empathy
of lowly thee lack of moral compasses
of the just I'd wondered away from
Solomon's house into Jerusalem's
town square the children of Israel
cried out to Abraham oh Jacob
remembered I as I am began to
covenant my inheritance the spiritual
sense to see beyond here and now
reaching for justice within cruelty
The Ocean
What is there to say about the ocean
except that it’s deep and blue
And if you listen closely
you can hear it speak to you.
It will tell you of the creatures
that call it’s depths their home
and of the ships and sailors
and the horizons that they roam.
It will tell you about the battles
that have turned it’s waters red,
and how mankind has used it
as a graveyard for their dead.
It will speak of weary travelers
that journeyed from a far,
guided by ancient compasses
and the placement of the stars.
It will tell you of the shipwrecks
that lay beneath it’s depths,
And of their buried treasures
and the secrets that they’ve kept.
It will tell you tales of vacations
taken by it’s shores,
of the families that have gathered there
and those that came before
It will warn you of it’s power
and the fury born within,
of the destruction it unleashes
and the peace that it can bring.
It will tell you all it’s secrets
and the answers that you seek
If you just sit very quietly
and let the ocean speak.
People say they have morals but all they seem to do is quarrel.
Their hatred filled words and actions are nothing but immoral.
Racial acts and bigotry beliefs should have no place in our world.
This kind of hatred should be removed, thrown out and hurled!
Teach your children kindness at a young age, be a good role model.
Stop wasting time, make those humane changes today, don’t dawdle.
A better world for our future could and should start in all of us today.
Treat others with kindness and don’t throw your moral compasses away!
1/03/2021
Contest: Morality Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Koplin
Blue Whale is an internet game involving a series of
tasks that end in suicide, invented by Philipp Budeikin.
Blue Whale
It appears
in Budeikin’s brain.
Its baleen plates will filter
the worthless krill from society,
he envisages.
Swimming alone,
it catches teens.
It challenges Varun
in the ocean of dejection.
He takes on the tasks:
listens
to the lunatic music,
climbs
on a crane,
engraves
a red whale
on his arm
with a pair of compasses…
On the fiftieth day,
he undertakes
the last task
and falls into death
from the top of his broken psyche.
Baffling the whalers,
the blue whale swims
with its mouth open.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (Pear Tree Press, US)
Related Poems