I saw the second law of thermodynamics
loosely applied to my ceramics.
A tremor knocked my statue of Jesus to the floor,
and now He doesn't have a head anymore.
And the devil is in ecstatics.
Her soul was starved of acceptance
An aching hunger wanting to be fed
Her body weak
Not from the lack of food
But for the lack of love for her skin
Being black meant a life where no matter what she did
She would never win
She couldn't control her race
But she could control her body
She wanted to be invisible
And the only way she could make that happen was to disappear
Her body, her skin, her mind
A place of imprisonment
But she could control how she decorated it
To her that felt like a rebellion
Even if it meant she lost herself
Deep down she knew this wasn't right
But she just didn't want the fight
She was willing to make that sacrifice
With every meal skipped
She got weaker and weaker
Not realising how she was getting closer to death
Mistaking it for freedom
She had got everything she wanted
Just not how she expected
She realised a little too late
How true this statement was
The world wanted her gone
And she had finally given them what they want
We all know that feeling. The one that we don’t want to end. The one that’s so satisfying it’s intoxicating. It starts subtle. Sometimes, it involves thoughts. Thoughts you wouldn’t dare share with anyone. It grows through your entire body, screaming and scratching through every single nerve ending. It spreads slowly, burning down every narrow passage and every inch of your skin. Your entire body is on fire. You feel it growing and growing as you inch towards your finale. It bubbles up, boiling to the top until it overflows. It flows over the edge, violently and satisfyingly. It flows and flows, releasing every tension in your body. The release is the greatest feeling, toxic, infuriating, invigorating, and all so inviting, making you want to feel this feeling all over again… The Release.
You may—I might—theywill—some ‘won’t’—just say:
“Living’s a walnut begging to be cracked!”
And if-or when-but why-sosoon-the impact
of such a soundstatement will hardly weigh?
on the forget- fret- fear-ful kind of gray
dispositions who dwell on the abstract
(no)tion of (this)regard or a(n/a)tacked
self sobbing in the corner of the day.—
Re—again—jected once one final more,
such spirits spurn the sense ‘security’,
to cling to cleaner, more clearly bonded
couplets.
But who when where better (core)responded
to that desperate pre-immaturity,
else than the ever further distant shore?
Not all of us ‘Eat, Pray, Love’.
One plate: a minefield
of coulda, woulda, shoulda,
of clink and clatter
long after a bite.
Taste lingers,
here!
The river breaks its mirror with a scream,
Moods whip the trees — calm, then storm — then gone.
In love, I drown; in fear, I flay the dream.
A thousand selves pull knives inside one dawn.
The eyes of others turn my skin to glass,
Every slight — a spear, each kindness — pain.
Abandonment’s cold breath will never pass;
I chase and bite and beg and start again.
I wear my bleeding heart for all to see,
But shame is acid poured upon my seed.
Rage blooms in seconds, vanishes in cries,
While emptiness gnaws marrow from my thighs.
Unchecked, the soul dissolves in fractured light,
Births deeper wounds: addiction, endless fight.
With hands unmet, I spiral through the gloom,
A body living only to consume —
And none can save me if I don't choose soon.
I stare timidly into the softly lit mirror,
Its gaze staring back at me unrecognizable.
I've been told this person is my friend,
But its reflection paints a different picture.
Its mixture mixes a mess of colors I never thought go together anyway.
A bit ghostly.
I trace its outline carefully -
A bump here, a dent there, extra padding everywhere -
So pathetically unfamiliar to me.
So frightening
to me....
To me
to me
to me
to me
Why does no one else seem to see
What I see?
What I see...
I've been told is my friend.
But friendliness bodes forbidden,
Foreign between the eyes of those destined to be one.
When will I learn my body is my friend?
Who honestly teaches that anyway?
I say honestly purposefully.
Lies, all lies.
You see it, don't you?
I don't even need to explain for you to know.
That's how low this show has gone.
I need help unmasking and redefining
this
festering,
fatal
phenomenon.
PUAD- PUBIC UNREST AND DISORDER
naw botha public unrest and disorder
shouldn't treated as thus
We have pow'er to dismiss
before it's even comes
liken the winds and rains
we need to rebuke the pains
Lord have mercy, as He surely does
I am, We are covered in His love always
Humanity, satan begone
Ain't naw public unrest and disorder, here
Puad- pubic unrest and disorder
naw botha no public unrest and disorder
no treated as na im make
we get pow'er to dismiss
before it's even comes
liken di winds and rains
we need to rebuke di pains
lord don mercy, as im surely does
i am, we are covered for im love always
humanity, satan begone
ain't naw public unrest and disorder, here
4/11/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
I am a house with many doors,
Each locked with keys I do not own—
The laughter of a child upstairs,
A weeping girl who walks alone.
One sings to stars in trembling light,
Another rages at the moon,
And I, the quiet one they fear,
Watch dawn arrive too soon it's near.
The mirror shifts—my face is new,
My name a sound I half recall.
I live in echoes, fractured rooms,
Where no one voice can speak for all.
Yet there is balm in whispered truth,
And hands that do not flinch away—
A gentle word, a steady gaze,
Can thread the night with day.
And one by one, the doors unclose.
There’s tar on the floor,
Two, or three, or five, or more,
Don’t know why I’m counting, there’s nothing in store.
Sticky and dark, there’s nothing to read
You don’t rid of it, it will only breed.
Strong, loud, conscious
Living, living, living.
I love you my dear
especially when you're near
you always seem to make my head feel clear
I hate you, you traitor
you left me in fear
you were gone so long that I drank five cases of beer
I'm so in love with you
please don't leave
truly I'll do anything to make you stay
I beg of you please
I wish you'd die and go to hell
I heard your tone
now I feel unwell
Oh I love you so much
can we get married?
It's only been a few months but
I swear it's not that crazy
You sounded off...
I swear I heard it...
I'm sorry I didn't mean to be such a big burden...
Colors
Blue the color of her eyes
That hid the pain
The ones that ahead the tears
When no one is near
The ones that have the glow even
When the tears flow
Red the color of her lips
The ones that hold back the tips
The tips that mad her once feel full
Now seeps through the tile floor
Pink the color of the nails
That scream I’m Fine as she stands
On the scale after her favorite meal
The nails that pick up her food
In her pantry that counts
The calories and safely puts it back
Till she screams in pain with
Tears running down her face
And blood gushing out
Me the girl who acts like
Loving herself comes easy
But hates herself more everyday
Disorder in symmetry, crack in the line
Distorted perspective, cubistic design
Sculptures in celluloid wrappings stand by
Amorphous stains on your hands - wonder why ?
Clean them away with the acetone drips
Mix a new color, paint some bright strips
Autumnal wind blew those images down
He is the author, and I'm just a clown.
Eunice tried to break the cycle;
caught again, hunched at the plug,
charging up the unicycle.
Many thought it rather strange,
but as for me, I simply shrugged.
Anxious, she, about its range.
Ignorant, this thief, methinks..
Like a whisper, off this thug,
had she known it was a Lynx.
Now she's truly living large,
daydreams oft of lightning bugs
in a cell with brand new charge.
Chaotic hypnotic robotic symbiotic Carotic hieratic proglottic automatic
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