I awoke hoping for a golden day
I’m easily dazzled, I suppose.
But it’s cool and overcast in Paris.
They’re limiting the sunshine today
because of global warming.
How can global warming bring a thousand harms
if it can’t even cook a turkey?
I love this after-Christmas week.
The crowded activities and Hallmark card events are over
but we still have the sunny moods and infectious vibes
(and no classwork).
My parents flew in last night.
It’s a holiday miracle.
What’s better than running into your mother’s arms
for a, “Mom-MEEEEEEEEEE!” hug.
Joy is a land unto itself, dizzying and potent.
“Your hair,” she said, almost immediately
- confiscating my adulthood with ease.
I‘ve missed her interrogations
and itchy, absorbing interest.
Re-entering childhood can be emotionally wearing
I needed a skin of those shuttle tiles for reentry.
The funny thing is, I get to watch my momma smother
under Grandmère’s beam-fixture gaze.
It seems awfully bright in here - far below the overcast.
.
.
Songs for this:
Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Sirens
Conexão by Amber Mark
The lure of lucrative jobs
In foreign lands
Excites desperate souls
As they see a better future
Than in their homeland
Recruitment agencies
Operate from shady joints
Promising dream jobs
With perquisites to match
For these gullible customers
Human traffickers
Pose as messiahs
Enticing innocent candidates
From rural areas
With tempting proposals
Once on board,
They exploit the poor souls
By confiscating
Their travel documents
And short-selling their skills
They are not petty criminals
It is a well-oiled machinery
That perpetrates
And perpetuates
Such atrocities on migrant labour
Many agencies chip in
To run this recruitment mafia,
Negligent government agencies
And casual outlook of courts
Add to their woes
The hapless victims
Pay a heavy price
And get sucked into the vortex
Of a vicious circle
They did not bargain for
If you live inside a glass house then don't throw stones
or put cameras in your home when you live like Sean Combs
some people got it backwards catch them operating drones
filming all their parties should be confiscating phones
Questions are proliferating,
people search for answers
in old pants pockets
in long discarded purses.
The scampering feet of baby philosophers
can be heard from the moon.
The media is stymied, they are manipulating,
confiscating and hiding behind the backs
of massively overgrown ballers,
willy-nilly they scribble an alternative reality
upon indoor swimming pools.
The manic mayhem of our daily grind
is wearing our hair thin,
Somebody should take control of the truth,
but it keeps dodging questions
and slamming doors behind it.
Mark my words with invisible ink,
scratch a cat behind its ears,
somersault all you like
but we are all getting overrun
by imperfect pontifications
by the indecent Doctors of spin.
and all this endless self-questioning
keeps replying over and over again
but only in unbreakable code.
On the the brink of change
Vague yes but rearranged
At the edge but with a grin
Not some grim hypocrisy
It might seem like a phase
You said "Grow up and act your age!"
But I reciprocated
While you elated, confiscating
I may not seem enraged
But the seam has burst this rotting cage
And now I've been unleashed
Only to see that I can breath
Insanity's cold touch
Has softened up this bleeding crutch
To gain a new perspective
Convey to you I've had enough
Tropical Frozen warm
Dust particles flow
It's a hundred and four degrees
The atmosphere freeze
The Sun is bright yellow
There are no other colors
Has it rained in 15 days
Clouds have evaporated
Sparkle passion bright
Confiscating the darkness
Devastation proximation
The end of life
Genocide nuclear blast
Mankind cries
Hope dies
No clouds the rain has gone
Dust in the air blizzard in July~
6/19/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr
I found you within the
darkened corners of my mind
Controlling my very thoughts
flowing through my being
Imprinting upon me as no other
Confiscating my dreams
each night guarding them
from nightmares
leaving nighttime fantasies
of you and I
Visions of such tender sweetness
watching our bodies flow
with the fluidity of unflurling silk
as our passions fulfill each fantasy
My essence cries out to yours
Resistance so weak yet beautiful
Yearning anxiously awaiting
for those dreams to become reality
So until that day comes
I will love the nighttime where
we two rendezvous
to share our deep absolute love
It's within my nighttime's
I feel a peace and I can
truly feel complete joy
Because all I need in my life is
...YOU!
1st place in Brian Strands contest
1/27/2020
Translucent juices flow
forth with each syllable,
every moan,
a heightened affair,
every groan
a chance for repair,
We've made reparations
reading independent declarations
knowing we are free
but always a slave to this.
Touching you ever so subliminally
you becoming more
friend than enemy
confiscating all your energy
You hate the way I do this to you
Every word
your body devours,
Ordering from my menu
requesting, "Desire
on desire with a large diet
desire to drink."
Go ahead,
let me taste your reply like
Me, Oh, we,
Oh my...
You've been quite
the surprise
When my wife found my pot, she thought it was tea.
And her employer fired her after he made her pee.
My dad caught me when I smoked my very first joint.
He blistered my buttocks, he wanted to make a point.
He also gave me a lecture about how dope users never win.
The next week he caught me smoking pot and he blistered my butt again.
When he was done, my butt was bright red.
He spanked me so hard that my butt bled.
He thought that I'd quit because twice I was caught.
He thought that I'd stop smoking weed but I did not.
I no longer pay for marijuana because I grow my own.
The cops just found it and I'll lose all that I've grown.
The cops are confiscating my crop and they're arresting me.
I'll see you in ten years because that's when I will be set free.
(This is a fictional poem and I believe that smoking marijuana is wrong.)
Monomaniacal Mist
I am the finite of the infinite for the shadows bleed my presence
My habitual hunger is imminent and toxicant time is of the essence
Like the serpent swallowing sorrows slithering to sanitize your soul
In view of marauding morrows whispering winds wavering console
As a malodorous mist, I appear a demi-god of recyclable tangled time
A fallen angel fostering fear bringing forth a new pernicious paradigm
I come within denigrative dreams a diabolical debacle demanding end
A Svengali of silent screams an oblivious organism that will transcend
A jaded jackal conjured by the broken hearts withering to their demise
The grotesque genie that departs only to enslave before it’s downsize
I am the confiscating conqueror of night banishing your barren breath
Like a fallacious futile frostbite a feculent frozen fire ... for I am death.
April.03.2018
The Life of Death
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
Tonight my inner demons escaping trying to take control, my depression making me cower, that devil, he on a role, I’m trying to fight but I’m smothered with them breathless sighs, suffocating within, saying I’m fine, when I know that’s a lie, everyday alive I’m drowning in pool of pain, screaming into my pillow, nails sunk in, as I go insane, memories are just a constant reminder of what I’ve done wrong, I’ll continue to make mistakes, so I’m better off gone, they just watch me burn as my mind clouds up with smoke, sit & laugh at my pain, as if it’s a joke, fakes smiles & laughter, they make for a great disguise, time to say my prayers & wipe the tears from my crying eyes, I’m tired of acting with such disgruntled behavior, watch me lay it to rest in the hands of my lord & savior, my body confiscating the abuse, can you ease the pain, I apologize to all but the only thing left is for these wings I’ll gain.
Poems Are Definately Democratic
My poems definitely did become democratic;
While hearing Trump raising so much static;
Commotion caused,
With his small paws;
Being terrible had been his biggest tactic.
Trump has not only confiscating the clover,
He sure had been screwing all of us over;
Sunny and bright;
No not tonight,
And even is an obvious orange hair grower.
Trump skinned a coon and made into a cap,
And trouble he caused is all over the map;
To north ponted;
Finger disjointed;
Still has been learning how to cut the crap,
Jim Horn
When the mind's disease is hate,
it flows through veins unchecked.
I'm just a voice in the midst of darkness, striking a match.
A light for minds seeking refuge from storms,
to lift a crying child above the swollen stream,
that may sweep us away.
People are angry, the Earth shakes, lightning flashes,
a child cries, crowds move as rivers,
their murmuring sounds become louder.
Confusion fills cups they carry, fear fills lung's every breath,
between rage and reason.
Demons rise to shackle the fragile soul,
bringing evil from those claiming purity.
Frightened hearts beat louder at the source,
bubbling from wells of self-righteousness,
marching in step with flags unfurled,
demanding all follow their graveled path.
A scythe they wield sweeps, cutting the marrow of all who question.
The multitude moves swiftly, confiscating freedom in freedom's name.
Who dare stands, to lift the crying child from the crowd's grasp?
Giving hope, from madness. as the stalk of democracy burns brown,
withering from a drought of common sense.
While a mob demands to rule.
He learnt to fly when he was a child,
Darting throughout the air.
Shooting through crowds, leaving everyone happy,
At the country fair.
Shooting people in their belly, back and their legs,
With his small little love tipped dart.
Leaving them with a crush, a brand new love,
In their beautiful heart.
And then the local fun police arrived,
With insurance to run the carnival.
They saw him, caught him, held him down,
Confiscating his arsenal.
The fair is now safe, no one will be shot,
No loving, no dreams, and no dance.
And today Cupid’s on the airport runway line,
To holiday on the tower in France.
A pharmacon was not be, God saw you confiscating drowsy
He mantled him in his loving arms and whispered come with me
The Family has minus one gentle fervor and heaven one angel more
Fathomless in my heart your memory is kept of one i admired and shall never obliterate
Oh! The duress of life; death which has taken you away and impeded me to see you no more
And has made a veracious soul at composure
You fell asleep without goodbye but memories of you will always stay
Thank you for the foothold, care and love
I will miss you!
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