A pit of molasses
devoured my glasses.
Coiled tendrils rose
to seize and dispose
of treasures unsighted
so minds are blighted
with flaming contusions
and twisted confusions.
Faces glowed scarlet
like strawberry tartlet
when things sailed
from pockets unveiled.
Running towards
self driven passion,
I rock the boat filled
with past anchors,
and I tied them down
with beckoning ropes,
inviting dear life
to resist the restraints
placed by overbearing
mothers and fathers.
Contusions earned
by pondering along
rapid waves but
the breeze is mutual
as I welcome all
that comes my way.
No longer caught
in the nets of
imprisonment,
I set sail letting go,
without holding back,
as life is a tidal wave
carrying you across
back and forth
to destinations
unknown,
forthcoming
endlessly.
I dim with the dark.
I spiral with the world.
I look up to see you: Bright and still.
I shiver in the cold.
I crack at the pressure.
My blurry eyes gaze: Warm and solid.
Desolate contusions,
Mend me of my bruises,
I can't seem to place quite why.
I hurdle just to stumble,
Embrace me in the rubble,
Never to complain or sigh.
A shoulder, not a hand out.
A puddle makes it stand out,
You let it flow and start your own.
I'm drowning, but you hold so tight.
You make me want to hold the line,
And reel me in as though I'd never left.
Hold my breath,
Pull me back,
Lungs fall,
Pull.
Allegory illusion
Misconstrued contusions
Clouded mind mental block
heartbeat stops
10 inch asbestos floor tile
~
1940's steps gone wild
Making perfect sense, making it very clear
Daunting doubting rainbows, Blended in the new atmosphere
Atomic bombarded Warfare debonair
World War 111 we're all out
I’d rather walk into a quiet house
Lone sweet kitty greeting me at the door
No hell raging from my fiery spouse
Lips spewing lunacy and hate no more
Still jumping when the phone rings late at night
Your constant contemplation of sweet death
Ringing in my rousing head as I fight
Running from your cold hands and heated breath
I’ve covered up the holes inside the walls
But contusions in my soul are steadfast
I feel the crossness of your rising calls
As you wake me from my slumber harassed
Lone sweet kitty calming my wounded heart
I put together what you took apart
Unconscious bias, an interesting subject indeed.
While I would never be biased, allow me to proceed.
Bias is experienced by dummies, crazies, and kooks.
Not something that would apply to someone with my good looks.
When you give me new information, I just throw it out.
I know what I need to know. The rest I can do without.
But I'm open-minded, to your idea I'll attach
merit, if, to what I already believe, it's a match.
I do not like to bother myself with data and stuff.
I already know most everything. Isn't that enough?
Did I hear someone rudely interrupting? Was that you?
I'll kindly ignore it and continue to tell you what's true.
It's so wonderful that all of us in this great nation,
like me, have achieved such enlightened civilization.
No sir, not one of us suffers from delusions.
Unconscious bias never results in illusions.
Yet, why is it that I reach the dreadful conclusions
that political debates will lead to contusions,
and there will be a rise in demand for transfusions?
No wonder I live in seclusion.
delusions, illusions,
these random contusions,
idolic notions of
noiseless commotions,
keeps me in motion,
whirling with the gravity
I'm on my knees,
praying what you're saying
I still believe
and if its true
what i really need,
is to be sent away
from family
and friends,
I will contend
but that doesn't mean
it's not right for me,
can't you see
I'm not in control of this body
anymore
restless and sore,
an endless downpour
of emotions, evoke erosions
my sanity, slowly bleeds
leaving me a shell of me
all the while I beg and plead
leave me be, leave me be
I'm fine I'm fine,
you're acting crazy,
not me, can't you see,
I see it all so plainly,
time for me to be set free
from this false reality
with this slice I'll set it right,
clean and quick,
pick it up,
hazy drift,
I'm giving up,
a carcass is moving
out from the white of the eye it is
so all-consuming
dots form in lines on the absentee spine
dry undefined lumps are soft and infusing
the bruises and rind and the opal contusions
they fire with pus and with derelict mucus that
rises in shape as if living and human
adorned in the fumes as mycelium blooms and pours
wings form from mold stocks that spew from the local pores
leeching the fluids the carcass now wizens forth
reaching the sky with a forest of open sores
sink in the bleak rims of deep skin have peaked
they churn sinkage and reak sin that bleeds from the meat
and it turns as it sings and pulls taught and it dreams
knots drink him and blink in with pinkeye beliefs
tiny lump-like, grown soon into a mass nested
in a pouch, born into a gentle light flesh with tiny limbs and heart sealed in a bottle left off to the shores of critics.
life is like a fairytale but i'm no princess but an anatomy of your clenching-wordage / thorns of its cicatrice engraved beneath my skin—my sunken dark eyes trail a path to your chest you say is full of love, wishing these claw-like-fingers could rip out your heart and wash gently out my contusions in your blood
and i lay on bare on the ground, free from all dark voices and blurred lines
"as i can junket to a world outside the typical hierarchy and human inferiority complex"
Is it still worth it bumping walls alone just to fight for the truth and what is right, when those that you fight for do not even understand what you are doing? How could they appreciate the depth of contusions that you need to endure and the number of broken ribs that you must suffer just fighting for them?
May 8, 2023
non notables
same is to same old
repeat offenders
nothing new
back scratch revenues
old poets club.
canned scriptures
wasted words
post mortem phrases
casket contusions
dead dendrites.
old poet network news.
boring, blatant, bygones,
corporeal cripples.
I am a self-confident sort of person
Very aware of what I know for sure,
A strong proponent of truth-telling
Separating out the obvious manure.
Considering various points of view
Trying to arrive at fair conclusions,
I am willing to debate with anyone
Oft coming away with contusions.
I really don’t care for know-it-alls
Who think they have all the answers,
Contradicting to foment an argument
To me, they’re like noisy cancers.
I’ve learned it is better to listen
And learn from those who know
Than to speak up and be wrong,
And let my gross ignorance show.
If I’m quiet, I’m listening to you
I’m interested in the facts you lay out,
And I’m soaking up new information
So, the next time I’ll have my spout.
Written October 7, 2022
It's all so picture esc
Like a movie scene where everybodys dead
You're left there grasping on regret
With your will rotting like the corpse in your hands
Wishing that you could just sink into the sand
But your burning fading to ash
Now the grounds turned to glass
Dazed, staring into the skin of your reflections
Covered in bruises and contusions
That come to view like a lifted illusion
That were held down by your false solutions
Cracking the mirror won't change the reflection the pieces
Anger and hate increases
You lay there in a well of bloody tears
As beautiful as broken glass
Sit there tossing turning
Rolling in blood burning
You grew accustomed taste of death
Passing through your breath
Which only now you regret
It seems you weren't prepared for the brutality
Of your wicked reality
Standardstrikingly unveiling streams of letters revelating at this pointbrightly shinesas a strong underestimated by faron the contrary relieving sorevealing strikes at CenterPoint if you're reading this and you don't understand you must putin yourown space words or verse versusfirst on the contrary except preliminary do you understand thereason of the course I'm just a subliminal trying to receive abillion preliminary if you can understand this then you will be a witness of the confusion in the contusions revolutions bard I am just a open bookwetting than dried shutmy mouth my voice this eyewitness I'm justever somentally needythis ismine verbal graffiti?
take your time reread this, does ya understand it, HUH!
WHAT!!!
2/9/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
So, very much like the velvet softness of poetry.
It doesn't bang like a drum in your ear.
Nor is it the sound of raucous laughter in a cheap, bawdy, theatre.
Big words that provide nothing but confusion?
Do you expect poets from huge dictionaries to get contusions?
Poetry is anything but tap dancing in garish poet costumes
on the poetry stage.
Some are poets genuine, not poet impostors.
Anyone can follow a form, let's face it and claim to be a poet, how
poorly they fake it,
The true poet has a heart and loud drums and a chortling crowd
cannot erase it.
Being cheap and tawdry,is not a poet's fare.
He or she has a handle on life's heartbeat which they handle with
The tender sound of a windchime's gentle sound and share.
10/18/2020
Opus# 3
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