uphill climb,
rigorously relentless
with ambling ambitions
and schematic stratagem,
blueprinted blatantly
on the blank
parchment of marooned mind,
sketched skillfully
with chameleon color shift,
transiently transfixed.
gripping gravity
of transcendental time
of the loaded past
pulls back incessantly
the strings of present,
fastening in retrospect
the incoherent network
of faltering footsteps
at the refurbished root
of existential essence.
intent inertia
of living force
creates proactive
causal momentum
of tumultuous time configured,
permeates the perception
of the fourth dimension.
construed continuum
of elusive eternity
strives to unveil ineffectually
the shrouded acuity
at the summit of actuality,
emotionally evasive,
abortive climb connotes
futile foray
to somewhere intangible.
MENTAL HEALTH ALONE
Once a party of aloneness;
Group together, with confinement;
Shatter for ego, trip, bliss;
The truth of the matter containment;
His selfishness
Construed mental health
Other diagnosis identifying
Step by step opinions, qualifying
Who deems alone a sickness?
soul ?
ALONE
1/12/26
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
I
Since I left you I found the world so new
‘Left’ meaning that as I got older and grew
I realized every apology you ever construed
was a strand in an intricate web of your lies
where is the full explanation?
A spiraling maze of emotional abuse under the guise
of a man living the American dream
so, it seemed you were an idea more than a person
I almost wish you weren’t there at all
because every time we see each other thoughts resurface
from somewhere deep within my subconscious mind perhaps?
traumatic memories spring like the flowers in April
contrasting imagery in the last line of text I’m certain
but confusion is what it feels like
I’m trapped in your dark world like it’s Tim Burton
The love that knows no boundary set by clan;
The clans that know no love except for war;
The flower that dares to bloom, but never can;
This then the story Shakespeare told, in core.
And what the nature of a petty feud?
Where pride replaces peaceful, prosperous life;
Where little things as mountains are construed,
And things far greater die within its strife.
How might a lesser quill have writ the tale?
One family good, the other dripping ill;
The timeless lie, the righteous must prevail;
And happiness the final act to fill.
But not these things, you had much more to say:
And that is why we think of you today.
JUST ONE MORE REVELATION
Lines that radiate out from a centre
Like spokes of an umbrella or wheel
As new thoughts and ideas are born
Yet some memories can still intrude
Reminiscent of the things I’ve seen
And all that I could have ever been
Or even by mistake, have construed
As if a baby from the womb is torn
And making me both think and feel
That this universe is like a placenta
Most often we misthought,
yet understood
The bitter truth
that nothing here is good
Our earthly life,
of reason is unbrewed
That hides the pain
and hurt which we allude
This root of gall
becomes my daily food
And eat the fruit
that turns my bowels crude
My tongue was fooled
by that which could not soothe
For I did swallow
more than I had chewed
For this I stumbled
and became most rude
I was offended
like the multitude
And though my mind
is calloused, I construed
His chastening rod
is made of tender wood
And ceases not until
it breaks for good
A wormwood changed
my bitter attitude
'And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works." ~Revelation 20:12 KJV And then [Jesus said] will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity. ~Matthew 7:23 KJV
The sound of solitude
Means I am now alone,
Yet reminds me of my finitude
And for sins I must atone.
Guilt racks me like a cyclone,
For the lies I have construed
Lay around me like a clingstone
And the shadows of hellbrewed.
A creed of cruelty I tattooed
Upon the armored heart I honed
With every virtue I eschewed,
Now I stand before my God, unknown.
Memories form in colors
vibrant, vivid, varied
by Time diminished
as the echo filters reality
Each person's process unique ...
Echoes form organically
Desires, wishes, dreams,
hopes, aspirations, schemes,
inclinations, rationalizations,
attracted to then reflected off
Life's hardened surfaces
Discordant reverberation
increasing, subsiding,
in constant flux colliding,
with reality abiding ...
Perceptions construed
from the magnitude of
echoes merging as one ~
Life's composite echo filtering reality!
Does it Matter?
Does it matter today
If a cross stood high
On a hill
Two thousand years ago?
Does it matter today
If there
A man hung dying
In company with criminals?
To most,
Long years have faded fact
To history books
To lie like fragile threads
In ancient tapestries,
A mingled pattern
Of some fertile tale
Construed to build a church
On empty gullibility.
Self-freed,
Our media age
Needs no such creed,
No faith,
No God to reckon with,
No concept of beyond
To analyse and capture
By some smart device.
Our media age,
Itself held captive
On those screens of imagery,
Projecting violence
On a fragile world,
Disfiguring,
Slow-motioning to death
In the focus of a godless dream.
But a vacant cross
Still stands,
Calling lost sinners
To a life in glory!
I AM OF HIM A KINGDOM HEAVENLY BODY-Dedicated VERSE FOR SHASTA SIMMS ANTHOLOGY 2
The color of purple, is blue;
The meaning of love, is you;
You are the air in me;
I am the fragrance entirely;
In truth I am of you;
Chorus I am yours, you’ve created me heavenly
I am shaped by your hands man and woman
Kings and Queens to rule have dominion over these lands;
It’s your purpose, your will, your plans
I am, your child, I am your heavenly body
The skies in my eyes I view;
In richen by your creative hand construed;
In awe of the pleasantness;
It’s I in you nature caress
I am bless, not pressed;
ChorusI am yours, you’ve created me heavenly
I am shaped by your hands man and woman
Kings and Queens to rule have dominion over these lands;
It’s your purpose, your will, your plans
I am, your child, I am your heavenly body
The meaning of love, is you;
You are the air in me;
I am the fragrance entirely;
In truth I am of you;
All that I am, I am of ALL I AM
So a soul that I am, a HEAVENLY BODY
10/8/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©
Oh my, why am I always on the flip side?
Fleeing from hope, slipping down the slide.
In moonshine glow, seldom in sunshine bright.
Always in the consequence of negativity's plight.
My joy and laughter are often subdued.
My tears and sobs are wrongly construed.
My feelings are torn to tatters and shreds.
By doubts and uncertainty, slipped threads.
But why am I here, when the solution is free?
It's only a flip-flop coin toss away!
I just need to re-flip immediately with glee,
To get back on the hit-side where I'll stay.
“Floating on divine delight the journey
isn’t construed amiss,
it takes life through the sanctum of soul
to the bay of bliss.” – Quote by Poet
The journey began a long time ago,
across rough terrain of plaintive plateau.
Traversed lone life’s meandering pathway,
despite distractions I didn’t ever stray.
The sun shines now in seamless cobalt sky,
ripples of whispering breeze pass me by.
Colored canvas of joyous scene in sight,
while I trace butterfly trails of delight.
At edge of twilight a surging stream flows.
When all portals of time behind me close,
I’ll build a bridge designed by destiny,
walk the last mile on path of ecstasy.
Cross the bridge over the angst-sliced abyss,
from where He’ll take me to abode of bliss.
views are thoughts imaginal
construed, conjured
and as such
of no use
by touch
direct experience
organic form transmutes
then we know since we become
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
I'm drawn to this bouquet; I am left so madly.
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
Happiest are these thoughts deliberately construed.
Winter taking them from my core destroys me, sadly.
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
Purple pillars of violently swaying happiness imbue
So I harvest them as fast as I can, enjoying them gladly.
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
After such a long time between blossoms, histories accrued.
I waited patiently for their replacement, so very badly.
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
I felt the truest of forlorn, nearly left lifelessly blued.
Springtime rain brought them back to my welcoming hands, comradely.
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
Once I found eyes on them, new happiness did exude.
Replenishing their hearts energy regrown in me
By your ink on this parchment, my thoughts tattooed
Fields of blazing stars, lying randomly, strewed
The uphill climb,
rigorously relentless
with ambling ambitions
and schematic stratagem,
blueprinted blatantly
on the blank
parchment of mind,
sketched skillfully
with chameleon color shift,
transiently transfixed.
The gripping gravity
of transcendental time
of the loaded past
pulls back incessantly
the present instants,
fastens in retrospect
the incoherent network
of faltering footsteps
at the refurbished root
of existential essence.
The intent inertia
of living force
creates proactive
causal momentum
of tumultuous time,
permeates the perception
of the fourth dimension.
The construed continuum
of elusive eternity,
strives to unveil ineffectually
the shrouded acuity
at the summit of actuation,
emotionally evasive.
The climb connotes
a futile foray
to nowhere.
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