Innervation I was falling
But not an angel
I had a calling
As I was sent in His purpose
I am in His image
WALKING HAND IN HAND WITH JESUS -
I landed on the surface
I'm in a quarry have my own individual story
I have fallen but my Jesus holding my hand now
We're walking I was deaf how
He cleansed my ears not here
WALKING HAND IN HAND WITH JESUS -
I was mute down finally
Now I'm alive living holy close
To the ground on top not beneath
I am a head and not behind
I am alive and not dead
WALKING HAND IN HAND WITH JESUS -
I speak forth reality I am a better man concaved
On course I am His voice
I was falling now I'm walking hand in hand
With my Father and His Son
I have overcome
Graced in Jesus
And I'm moving marching walking on
WALKING HAND IN HAND WITH JESUS
12/6/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
Categories:
concaved, blessing, celebration, devotion, jesus,
Form: Rhyme
Telling that gotesque humanid shape ( i know it was humanoid but i love the sound of humanid)
concaved on the lid of the toilet bin
tapered on the rim
I hate you
then i realised i'm not him
trapped within
Jokered grin
death can't surprise me
cause i don't care
ready anywhere
life was a chore i skipped
when no one watches
danced beneath the undressed trees
cried for crying sake
given what i took
taking the edges of the universe
and ripping it a partly invisible in daylight
Moulded by the contours of the seas of the moon
Licked by every wind
Spoke to
Sooner
Couldn't care to be angry
just a bare pool table
no felt no feel
Psychopath by choice
was was that an echo
or you reading my voice
Categories:
concaved, poetry,
Form: Free verse
I pass by, as I eye, my eye;
I see something nearer, nearer;
On the wall a reflection of myself, myself;
it isn't clear so, never clearer;
As I look upon the mirror, mirror;
Mirror polished metal or glass with an;
Amalgam back and as a TV I've gain weight, weight;
Look at my face I can see my soul in my eyes, eye;
Is this something that showing my true self, myself;
All I have is what I see what I reflex, relax;
And if I were to break this glass, my fears will last;
Thirteen years of bad luck, bad luck;
I see myself and in my reflection I say yuck-yuck;
I've been concaved, been convex;
All I have is my refection left;
Crystal and glass I can see myself, myself;
I'm I pattern for limitation exemplar, exemplar;
As I continue to see myself in the mirror;
Your a faithful reflection of a true picture of myself
Mirror, Mirror
09/20/17
--for Craig Cornish Mirror Mirror Poetry Contest
Categories:
concaved, analogy, anxiety, cheer up,
Form: Free verse
introspection into the heart
dig deep down within the
concaved cavernous
crevices of the caves
of the untapped mountainous
emotional holes that are
scattered through out the
surface that are yet to be
explored by the mind's eye
in fear of causing an emotional
rockslide
Categories:
concaved, conflict,
Form: Lyric
Why are you here?
Your familiar skin,
Radiating miscellaneous emptiness
Trembling wanton security
Filled with finite smiles
Infinite complexities
Why should we indulge you again?
A rejected buffet of frozen tenderness,
Aching for high horses to help you gallop
Hunger, no vacancies to reside in your malnourished smile
Wishing for a soldier-in-arms
Wishing for a human-in-arms
As you reach for your step-stool glory
Another dignified teardrop
Stolen by cacti palms
Proverbial residue streaking across glassy 3rd eye
How would our cries
Affect your tomorrow
Meaningless
Why do you return?
Did your rose tints become another concaved agenda?
5 identities, incarcerated
4 revelations, engorged
3 embellishments, glorified
2 pre-judgments, sexualized
1 memory, tainted
Yet, your leech aches for another devouring of serenity.
Hoping to feel #1 again, before expiration
Of your 90 day return policy
Another Cinderella, with a shoe that was never going to fit…
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
concaved, identity, life, people,
Form: Free verse
My favorite dish, when it’s all done and said
Is the metal one inside my head
The dish that heats up near microwaves
And makes airport security whisk me away
The dish that put roundness back in my skull
When before it looked like a concaved bowl
The dish I cover with my toupee
Because to insert it they took my hair away
The dish that nobody else knew about
Until this poem from me came out
Without that dish I would not be here
So for my favorite dish, I give three cheers
Categories:
concaved, funny, me,
Form: Couplet
down along 42nd and cypress street
the allegorical prostitutes say their not street
hookers but just a symbol of sex.
just like the walking sign post
stop, merge left, bump,
narrow road ahead.
cracked pavement and raindrops,
concaved inward and downward
awake the cornerstreet prophet and
pattern out a little mercy for the junkies
spinning double helix faith.
such a beautiful gray angelican.
the cigarette littered sidewalk somehow
seems to resurrect its stone geist
with dreams of a sandlewood
gossamer in its head.
but he must know just like all
the others to the east, hawthorn st
and alder st, birch st and ash st.
he must remember that things dont
change for the good much at this
time of year.
the gentrified saints have all
moved north, to sit in hipster
bistros and drink organic
sumatra fair trade coffee.
down along 42nd and cypress st
little was said and less understood.
mostly train horns and mumbling,
mostly sleeping nocturnal birds
with a few leaf clogged storm drains.
Categories:
concaved, cowboy-western,
Form: I do not know?