It is beyond ridiculous
But anyway, it’s true
The dullest of dystopias
Is here again like new
No use to cite the history
Cause no one can unravel
What is infold in mystery
Which way the story travels
One takes preventive measures
For others it’s a flake
In trash one sees a treasure
His rivals see mistake
It happens in a snap of fingers
A brave new world appears
Most stupid jokes it lingers
Another war spreads fears
And those are first to die, who can’t
Stay silent, then of course
Returns the silence, and witchhunt
Begins, same as it was.
Apocalypse---
Abortive gorgons cling.
Political messiahs creep.
Other dystopias eschew.
Called messiahs lament.
American messiahs laze.
Lyrical raptures luxuriate.
Youthful doomsayers linger.
Private revelations lurk.
Startling revelations cower.
Environmental catastrophes cavort.
3/8/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
With you, I remember
what it means to love.
And in love I find life,
rising from the morose shadows
to fly like a purebred charger
across asphalt fields
and through urban dystopias.
With you I remember
what it means to laugh.
And in laughter I find joy,
fleeing the hurricanes of hate
and the wrath of drunken self-tyranny
to walk with you side by side,
almost touching, in fading sunshine,
breathing as if for the first time.
With you I remember
what it means to be mortal.
And in mortality I find solace,
shattering chains of deist doubts
and fears of worthless art
to cherish my little time with you
and agonize over our parting
inevitable, when I wave to you,
a comet soaring through
the brilliant heavens that bore you.
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