Brutally, sometime the concession, the consensution is brutally disallowed, it pains the senses, the nerve endings, sometimes truth hurts. But when truth is void , lie lingers , and it covers discord binds sometimes truth makes you cry. Sometimes truth makes you sigh make you sad. You think you're bad, sometimes you're even mad the truth lurks. Sometimes it hurts, but truth is the foundation of grace and forgiveness.Truth for longevity of life truth embraces my mind and heart as liberation sparks.I am grateful for truth
--- 4 I c no problem in truth
2/5/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
spirit eternal, caged in feeble form
remains shrouded under a thought form cloud
silence and stillness invokes a bliss storm
exhuming false ego that once stood proud
its admittance thereafter disallowed
that thus as pure awareness self-aware
with the heart of God we seamlessly pair
Pleasure rides,
On...
Pleasant moments
With
Gladdened haste¡
Soaked!
Raw rod richly
Into
Gleeful gap gasping...
Like
An athlete's heart
When
On the finishing line,
To
Feed glucose syrups
For
Sustainable physiological energy.
Aftermath comes,
missing:
Catamenia, informed
Both--
Happily saddened.
Pretense
Strikes minds*
By
An unknown song,
Through
Sweet words to lure
Submission
Assumed right for peace.
Denying
Shame to cover up truth,
Timing
Few months to come.
Having agreed:
They
Disallowed mixed bloody fluid,
Into space awaiting expansion,
To formulating foetus fleeting...
The race of days into months,
Before knocking the soil's door
And have duties land on owners.
Like
Noah's dove; unrest...
Returned to his ark.
So is it; ferment...
Emptied the vessel.
Once, a little Spanish girl
was given a "regalo" -
a dainty little potted plant,
a purple-petaled mallow.
She set it in a sunny spot,
beneath a southern window,
re-housed it in an iron pot
and named it, "Don Galindo".
She gave it water every day,
and gave its loam a hoeing.
She talked to it and petted it,
and marveled at its growing.
Her plant rose tall and strong and fine,
rewarding all her labors:
"¡Te quiero!" sighed the little girl:
"¡Que raro!" cried the neighbors.
Joy never lasts, grief always comes,
said someone (maybe Byron?)
Galindo's roaming, ravenous roots
were hemmed-in by the iron.
The fine plant sickened and declined,
all hopes of salvage scuppered:
its lower parts, by steel confined,
could not sustain the upper.
And so, the moral of our tale -
resisting is not giving.
Do not preclude, prevent, prevail -
rigidity's all very well,
but soon turns heaven into hell!
Give in to me -
set us both free -
don't cramp or crowd -
things disallowed
can hardly go on living.
Soft touch
No long notes
Just feel it
Get the message
No writer is perfect
Yet inspiration can’t be disallowed
When poetry intrudes nature
So let’s go slow but steady
Let’s share let’s touch let’s heal
Despite the time despite the realities
Deliver your worth
Such is a legacy of a living soul
Remember you won’t live forever
So let go slow but steady
Lets tell the truth to the young
Let’s build a world that accommodates peace
The world needs to stop bleeding so
Get the message
No writer is perfect
Just feel my
Soft touch
Both France and Australia were nil-nil until extra time when Aussie Alanna Kennedy’s misdirected header during a corner kick produced an own goal for France. The goal was disallowed for a foul inside the box by a French player. But Australia had more than luck on their side. Aussie goalie, Mackenzie Arnold, was a force to be reckoned with. The vanquished French coach Herve Renard said, “We came up against a Goliath of a goalie.” Then all it took was the late substitute Cortnee Vine to calmly convert the winning penalty kick. For the first time in their history, the host team Matildas are in the World Cup semifinals!
Vine’s PK winner
Matildas’ goalie Arnold—
France shown no merci
Flipping back the pages of my time
I realised I messed up some times
Given a stage in a dance hall
But kicked myself hard in the balls
Wrecked in the shame of my fall
A loved one I can no longer call
I'm sorry for the truth untold
And for the lies that bursted in the cold
The lust that maimed me I allowed
An own goal that should be disallowed
The man in me drained and left me in hallows
It wasn't a game I wanted to play
Was a trade I thought we would gain
Faced with a scene that was insane
Ought to be a night of solace
But ended up a slap on your face
I know this apology is long delayed
I just hope it's never too late
I cant stand the shame I brought to your space
I apologise for the shame I caused
For the pain rather than love
Heartbreak and the rude shock
It wasn't what it's worth
Wishing I can do this in person
But can't stand the judgement of treason
I goofed, and I had no reason for that
No matter how long I freeze my woes within
My apology won't have the best of season.
I regret my actions and inactions
And I hope you heal and forgive me
I'm sorry please
Wasn't my intent to cause you hurt
He walks with a limp, dog in tow,
lives on streets, 'neath an azure sky
says, "Morning," with smiles as he goes
Wears logo, "Like you, I could fly."
but people compartmentalize.
He's one of the derelict crowd,
some say they must be disallowed.
Kindness calls us to contemplate
what they go through, no longer proud
with mishaps, we may own same fate.
Years ago, a life-drawing group
met near spot homeless congregate.
Some were asked to be model troup
Honored, none seemed to hesitate,
we had their plight to contemplate.
Then we saw them as people are.
yet all carried homelessness scar--
their eyes were sad, seldom wore smiles,
pleased we chose them as our co-star.
we learned: we have not walked their miles.
February 6, 2023
For "Writing Challenge, D-Word" contest
by Constance La France
howmanysyllables.com
First Place!
Looking back, as too often is the case
Consumed by hazel, that bears the soul
Listening to a truth, reflected in tragedies
Holding candles, to lives passed
Signs taken too lightly, the memory survives.
A smile unrestrained, freeing a captive heart
Lines that speak, boundaries flattened
To capture an image, would do little justice
A portrait of perfection, could not exist
Disturbances disallowed, if only seriousness was not so.
Silence never born, a stream of words became a river
Attraction blooms, where mental stems meet
Entranced would be apt, everything else, meaningless
Stimulation can not be denied, an estacy of sorts
Drowning in depth, acknowledged too late.
Skin touches, prints act a spark
Grasping a bit tighter, accustomed to departure
Motions guided by nature, eternity could be real
A part has been taken, a residence built within
To stay was too much, away, the walk was made.
Home in a hug, a peck enough to know
The gate opens, beauty shows in every step
Alive has the world become, joy paints with colour
Thoughts wander, always around the same point
A love too soon, the pieces left behind.
Love someone with deep expectation
Try to corner that soul's heart wisely
In case the other one gets irritation
Do not pursue by being damn silly
As you get rejection, not invitation
You must quit that person now duly
Many souls are waiting to be loved
By destiny, this relation is disallowed
Agony arises by losing our beloved
Still, we must preserve the joy of all
We cannot easily make others yield
At the maximum, we can lovingly call
Requesting one to come to our fold
But, for our love, that one may not fall
We must preserve sense feeling bold.
There is a crooked man
Who has a crooked mind
Which renders his decisions
Malignant and maligned:
The Paris Peace Accord
The Pandemic Office crowd
Both among the things
This man has disallowed.
Bodies in the morgues
Were cordwood stacking high
The count of them increased
And still, he did deny:
Vaccines and materials
Could cause the plague’s defeat
But his plan was to delay
Which made his plan replete
Those who once supported him
And gave an accolade
Are finding now within their grief
They all have been betrayed
The Bell of our Democracy
Which at one time rang so true
Begins to show a crack in it
As we allow this man to do …
All the things against our Creed
Against our very core
It’s time for us to stand and say:
Support this man … NO MORE!
Watch the flight of the milk weed fluff,
A very humble effort indeed.
Wingless,
It is disallowed the crossing of borders,
And denied the owndership of the skies.
Yet it flies, carrying the seed
Cradled like an infant.
‘ Under the shade of the tree
It imagines-
Someone will rest tomorrow.’
The milk weed fluff is unaware of these lines.
In the weightlessness
Of its ignorance
It flies.
In the compassion that we show
By not calling it a bird,
It might float a bit more distance.
A humble but valiant effort!
Where it falls,
Unknown to anyone,
A plant might stand
In memorium
Tomorrow.
(Poem written by. Veerankutty, Translated from Malayalam by Ministhy S.)
It’s long I last bowed
To the Adjudged Endowed;
Long I had vowed
To boycott any crowed
With voices irksomely loud
Or purposely proud
Which often got me cowed
Of feel “The Ploughed”
Or my peace disallowed.
The choice should be a Man’s
To idolize the Endowed
Or kick-start juicy plans
To ascend to some cloud
And from there govern The Proud
Or down throw to The Endowed
The message of “Overtaking Allowed”.
So, it’s ‘A choice to bow or not’
Depending on what you’ve got.
Ah, twas only by a fluke conversation,
whence a speech pathologist
informed my parents about
the Lancaster Cleft Palate clinic,
where oral an examination
revealed minor birth defect
identified as a submucous cleft palate,
which explained the severe pinched twang
somewhat mitigated by wearing
a removable prosthetic
fashioned by Prosthodontist
Dr. Mohammad Mazaheri MSC, DDS
fastened with clasps to upper teeth
whereby a makeshift miniature
plastic protuberance closed the gap
so air would be prevented
passing thru my button nose
and thus gentle and soft as a shutterfly
shunted air out thee oral opening
though congenital defect disallowed
returning merchandise back to sender
nor could blame be affixed
at either father nor mother
who both harbored the genetic mutation
now such admissions
re: aforementioned impediment allows,
enables and provides boasting rights
if in a mood to temper
any curiosity or satisfying a rumor
whispered down the alley,
whence I said “ah”
left nagging nincompoops
as if pie hole filled with a gobstopper.
Art in all forms
has a certain freedom
disallowed elsewhere;
though art does not
become art
without artful care –
Art cannot be entirely
loose – recklessly scattered
nor restrictively obtuse –
(never obviously defined
by its implements –
though no blossom
can blossom, if rejecting
all rudiments….
we have standard
tools to poke and kneed;
if wind the protagonist
we blow at the reed –
if the point a sharp object
we jab and bleed –
for no art comes without
its blessing and injury –
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