It takes a while,
time gets trapped behind closed doors,
mice need to be nudged into awareness,
whiskers electrified.
A sleeper adjusts its mouth,
for often lips arrive
behind a scream.
The brain is now ready for its screenshot.
The body stretches to a window,
neuronal mice
pull upon somatic ligaments,
yank upon slabs of connective tissue,
slowly reshaping a new reality.
Unfortunately,
you are not exactly transferable,
you can’t get on the same hamster wheel.
A new you must be rehabilitated,
the world also must be trained
to accommodate this au currant -
this avant garde prototype
of an old guy.
Human and using my hands.
Strong as me, I guess.
Padded locked rooms like honeycombs.
Wanting to be un-extinct.
False memories.
Human and jumping around.
I like to write in notebooks too.
Dashing through the hallway so fast.
A spider that thinks he’s hiding.
Nothing-connections.
Human and having eyebrows.
Grappling eyes and nothing else.
Honeycombs oozing like padded rooms.
False memories just hop on board.
Like spider-things.
Being human is.
Like lying all the time.
Sleeping other times.
And resting, never.
The padded rooms don’t morph, but I try.
Being human.
Sometimes we think it's unique.
Other times, we buzz around trying to break out.
Trying to sneak out too.
I lie.
Lying to them.
Knowing it won’t get me out.
The feeling of sticky connective tissue.
And me.
Human.
One must master the rules
before breaking them -- it is
like that, especially with poetry:
One learns to logically manage
the spaces~ what isn't said, the
pauses and non verbal connective
feels --
The novice often says too much
or is so obliquely obscure that he
or she makes senseless attachment
with others --
Fine fabric of poetry closer
the frayed edges of language, loose
threads of thought we light, to keep
from unraveling. What lasting value,
if any at all, rises in the smoke, is
sustained by memory of the lyrical
flash.
Shining through the dark
I met a star - so tiny, quiet and so far.
But her shining was so bright. I was magnetised and so delighted and I couldn’t stop my self and ask her:
“How could you - such a tiny and sweet star and from so far, have such power and send us your light here, to the beings of the dark.
The star was so pleasantly surprised by the asking of that strange and so intriguing creature, being unfortunately so far.
She got shy and she replied:
“I was made to shine and be the light, who would create this magical connective path. And we, no matter how far one from another, meet each other. Now you can always feel me through my shining light and I will save you from your deepest dark.”
thoughts, willy-nilly, drift out of mind
restless in the muddle of entanglements
things
twisted
like my garden watering hose that weeps the earth to life
a bold green pushed to fruition
twisted
like winding highways that overtake you with litter
scraps of fast food for gulls in cherished feeding
twisted
like student summer factory work that manufactures
cursing
when assembly line work disassembles purpose
twisted
like landfill debris of mangled cellphones
tech faith that ushers us to connective clutter
twisted
like barely concealed malice
an ugliness unfolding worthy of trash TV
twisted
like war's celebratory cruelty, the tyrant's glee
in threatening a seeded nuclear future
still
in the midst of blaze and fumes, caress what's most
vulnerable
affirm the grit of human living
and hold out hope
like a candle hovering just outside a keyhole
Poem composed April 13, 2023
A sacred connection, an unlikely pair
Those who were strangers to love, became familiar with its scent
A shocking revelation.....
A vibrant flame emerged from the smoke
Bound together in a world of separation
For, no outside interference can disrupt the chemistry
Kindness flows through those who are unaware of its existence
Connected by happiness, strengthened by pain
There is a magic elixir
With secret healing powers
Throughout this big wide world
It is ingested every hour
This elixir is not costly
Is available for all and sundry
From every walk of life or culture
In both hot or cold countries
It calms the nerves and aids the sick
Gives comfort when lonely or afraid
Cheers the sad or unhappy souls
Helps keep troubles and woes at bay
Brings a sense of normality
When all has gone astray
Rationalises situations
To make it feel “Ok”
It can help relax in a social situation
Creating a connective atmosphere
Is cheered in celebration
Way back from yesteryear
It is available in various colours
Like black ,white, green
Can be weak, strong, bitter or sweet
Hot , cold or anywhere in between
You can consume it from many a vessel
It has many a different name
Enjoyed by both young and old
From its benefits all will gain
So ,wherever you are
Or whoever you may be
It’s time to pop the kettle on
“And have a cup of tea”!
Life is music that drifts in open spaces
sometimes a brash crescendo
that brims with the fullness of now
when stories break from narrow, rigid scripts
stifling random routine
Life is free wheeling inventiveness
peacockish
a feathered tapestry
parading like a wedding dress down the aisle
Sometimes life is a ping pong bounce of sorrow
giant ball
that blurs the sky
that covers our eyes
a fog creeping into ruined places
Life is a tumble of forces
a counterpoint of malice and joy
that goes in an unexpected direction
like the connective chords of love
an airy drift
amplified
in the ringing rush of time
Poem composed: July 2/2022
Concentric constellations of cosmic
Consciousnesses catapult cuneiform
Cubi-calm charismatics, creating
Crystalline coloured corridors, casually
Camouflaged, commanding cyclic
Cryptic compassionate calling cards.
Center court conniptions calculate
Comparable crying connective
Cellular cumulative consolidations.
CAUTION!
CONTAINS CARING CONTENTS
The blade in my hand has been honed razor sharp by reality
I wield it with the careful precision of a skilled physician
who was accrued decades of experience
performing the tedious task of dissecting existence
cutting cleanly through connective tissue to the bone
peeling back striated muscle and skin
securing them with tiny pins
severing ligaments and tendons
disarticulating joints and limbs
unveiling what by design has been hidden
beneath the deceptive shell of rosy flesh
revealing what some shield themselves from
by donning blinders made from money
building walls with the bricks of their success
never having seen or but briefly glimpsed
the darkness and depravity of the world
that exists within each of us
buried deep down or just under the surface
before turning away in disgust
preferring the pretty pictures on the wall
to the truth of it all
What we create we have tendency
to love – even our failures – nurturing
children representing a nation's moral decline –
Too often binding ourselves to the lesser
characteristics of human nature – ego
is a two-way street: it is the connective
tissue forming a cooperative society, while
also a path for degradation, presently
being trans-versed to divide and conquer
for Totalitarian Rule –
It was a righteous hit and the silky smooth euphoric familiar feeling was racing through her veins to her encephalon.
It was an energetic stimulation to her central nervous system.
Her whole body fell back onto the foul-smelling and heavily stained mattress.
Her mind slumped into oblivion.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
The last thing she remembers seeing was a vivid shadow.
A shadow of a housefly on the ceiling.
It appeared to be eating something.
Through a purple haze, she wonders about the filthy creature.
In nonsensical supposition, she could feel the beastly fly attack.
Scissoring meticulously against the flesh of her forehead.
Scissoring against the hard connective tissue of her skull.
Systematically and relentlessly thrusting its cutting blades.
Regurgitating its vile acid fluid onto the soft tissue of her cerebrum.
Imaginable pain and reverberation of the piercing sound were consistent.
And then, the morning light faded.
She saw luminous colors of red, yellow, and different shades of blue, like cyan and turquoise.
She felt her body floating around in a large kaleidoscope.
copyright 2016 Torsional Storm
Heart broken and Spirit shaken we begin the long journey toward the
Awakening path to a lessening hurt embracing your forever lasting,
impassioned heart. The continuity of your aura renews in matter, sighs and slowly stirs. In that inevitable gathering of ancient futures through
timeless space, a cosmic gallery of connective sentient souls shall
effortlessly unfold creating a panoramic patchwork of beginningless energy
and loving light.
(Sequel to the poem, Sondown)
Bone-tired?
Your muscles get tired, actually
Well, perhaps it's the fascia
the connective tissue sheath
mainly collagen
beneath the skin
attaching or separating
the muscles
Chilled to the bone?
Not likely, fellow
unless you are emaciated
due to illness or famine or such
Otherwise, your bones
are probably still
body temperature, 98.6F
I imagine by now that
you've a bone to pick with me
Go ahead. I dare you to try that.
Admit the flowers
Bouquet so brightly blossoms
Sweet fragrant odors
Honey bees suck connective
nectar in the midst of buds...
5/12/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr
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