Definition: programmed cell death/cellular suicide
in an attempt to remedy damaged components,
neatly shrinking and dismantling damaged parts.
A cognitive dissonant conscious
exists at a crossroads.
My mind fractures at the mere thought
of going back into the closet of deferred romantic pursuits,
even if hiding can ensure survival.
My dilemma encapsulates the quintessential concept of coming out.
Taking a step out of closeted comfortability
opens up the avenue for external toxicity,
while retreating into latent potential is
unintentional self-immolation.
A haunting piece whose power lies in how it encapsulates the inner voice of doubt, that many experience, but rarely articulate.
Does it feel personal and universally relatable, a fragile cry that lingers in the silence after the final question?
The Monologue of Self Doubt
(A lone voice whispers)
There's a secret place I sometimes go
Where the birds don't play
For all hopes of love and happiness have flown away
A sacred place where the skies are dull and grey all day
Sailing by lonely, with nothing to say
As I pray to a strange God and whisper
Why did you make me this way?
(C)
Copyright John Duffy
Clutched jaw, grinding teeth against pulp,
until ash and blood coat a deadened tongue.
The nightsong quiets—a pulsating silence encapsulates the land
as I walk up to a pyre built of withering dreams and deadly nightshade.
The cold, bitter air brushes against protruding flesh.
Looking toward the skies, faith stripped and shamed,
I climb and take my place among my ancestral spirits.
The silence of the night breaks, with chants of *Burn the witch* filling the void.
Leering eyes and foaming mouths scream obscenities my way.
But even among this fanatic freakshow, I hold on to my dignity.
I do not let them see the fear festering beneath my eyes,
nor does my lip quiver.
With insurmountable strength, I hold my head high
as I watch the torches preparing to set me ablaze.
Closing my eyes one final time, I breathe in everything I have ever held dear.
Memories flood—of loves lost and gained,
of the changing seasons,
of my connection to this glorious earth.
I can feel the flames licking at my feet now.
But I will not scream,
for my resurrection will come soon enough.
Life doesn't belong to any of us
It passes by,
unfathomable
It flows through our fingertips
Encapsulates us, satiates our spirits
Graces us with swollen ankles
And delicate skin prone to wrinkles
I have been accepting
that I lost my courage to be vulnerable,
and I hovered over words that would not flow,
For my emotional tsunami hides in the insufferable,
I was just afraid to let this ache inside me go.
My stygian soul then scheduled my mental breakdown
And the photosynthesizes of my overwhelming pain,
I have established that in this
psychological baptism I drown,
But to grow is to immerse
in my sacrifice and appertain,
Should I allow myself to break into small pieces,
then composition myself with love
and become a Kintsugi soul?
My fearless spirit encapsulates a warrior
in the world of Ulysses,
So I unboxed my Worth and discovered my Hope,
To understand my veracity is to feel it in my core,
That running only tires the internal child
who is weeping,
Those tears power my garden of humanity
while being restored,
Unearthed healing from truth
in the eternal spring of the reaping.
Determined energy encapsulates what smolders silently inside.
Quiet resilience produce a bold, inspiring presence that space opens wide.
With a colour gamut of profound earthy tone,
Striking fiery reds and chilling white hot lashes stand alone.
Morgan's painting suggests the perception of dancing flames to a beat,
Within the vision, to create a physical feeling of blistering heat.
This symbolizes deepest strength of passion with his brushstrokes.
Dynamic intensity instills the mesmerizing impression of movement it evokes. Demanding attention to the potential of power below the surface.
Gifted craft accompanied by the celebration of beauty is its purpose.
As I gaze at the canvas, undeniable appreciation of this abstract can begin,
With wild untamed spirit ''The Fire Within".
As my soul heart has a door that is closed;
Noise speaks loudness of per encapsulates;
My vessel contrite I am breathing bruise;
Broke heart open door that I may embrace;
Tears drops down my chin, my cheek, my whole face;
Breaths distorts ultimately---placated;
My arms and hands grasp holds implicated;
Opening and shutting of my heart strings;
Serrated set heart strung constipated;
As my soul heart has a door that is closed;
2/8/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. © 2024
“Absinthe”
Ancient petite green fairy,
dispenser of dreams vivid
In bar corners; this artistic
Madam, beckons the unwary.
Dignity falls beneath each pour,
dispenser of solitude encapsulates
between torn silk; its perfumed
whore, mont Venus in folklore.
Spinning giddy a celestial passion
dispenser of maggots all consuming
ego remains scattered; spilt lipped
wife, her lovers as dogs of a-fashion.
Oh petite liquid fairy so green
dispenser of timeless moon time
cold laying broken; a smudged jack
heart, jackass bitten, pale so lean.
Swirling in an andromeda ceiling
dispenser of ruination vomit bound,
breasts motion blurred; faceless mother
substitute, this fairy, with dawn deceiving .
“It isn’t that I like her don’t be ridiculous”
It’s not like her warm hazelnut eyes encapsulates my world
or as if that smooth smile fluters me forgetting all my worries or obligations
Or as the sun strikes her I cannot imagine how ignorant anyone can be to not adore her
“Liking is a stretch it’s just that…”
She seems like a dream, euthoria incarnate everything I have adored and yearned for in life
She is like a ray of light
Or a drop of rain
A necessity for life
A necessity for me
I life without her seems like a dull life, she is the paint that brings life to the artwork
Like the mona lose to divinci
A stary night to Van Gogh
She is my magnum opus, my work of art.
“It isn’t that I like I, I love her.”
She’s a succulent succubus
witch whom I can’t resist Her fervent pheromones.
Her tenacious trance encapsulates me
into Her wonderous whirlwind of pleasures.
I’m hopelessly enraptured by Her.
And with a whimsical wave of Her wand,
She commands me with domineering diligence,
“Behold lover, assume the proper position!”
And immediately, I’m on all fours
balking banally at Her luscious loins.
My reverent refrain is in disdain.
How can I contest this calamity?
When I’m so adamantly adorned by Her approaching advances.
I sorely succumb suddenly to trembling tremors.
Epileptic ecstasy overcomes me!
How can I refuse?
I’m Hers, and She knows it!
And my Penthouse pantry full of magazines
rattle rhapsodies from my groin.
The time-space continuum,
containing God particles of wonder,
defined the nucleus of nascent creation
in the eternal niche of nothingness.
The collapsed stars of the cosmos,
the high gravity mass of celestial entity,
light can’t escape my event horizon,
encapsulates whatever I suck in.
My black force dilates time,
makes it run slow, even stops its flow,
annihilates all cosmic information
within my singularity mystic core unique.
Things created with God particles,
at the end of life time prime,
the unassailable essence
gravitates soul to disappear in my hole.
I
by chance of chance in spark I love her soul;
Lights in her essence her presence embrace
Voluptuous sweet vessel her so, whole;
Curvaceous molded induced bitter taste
gathered ladle in golden crystal bowl;
It is so as sown now as it be of core;-
Embrace whereso'er I dismay,
Be humble so pray,
The things which I've done I not do no more.
II
Hope that isn't denied by my faith
Deiminase by those the things that can't wait
The Moon doth with insight
Look round her when the heavens are care;
Waters on a starry wrongs to right
Proper and majestic so share;
Brilliants sees O so the lights so burst;
But yet blinded, where'er I chose,
Darkness encapsulates a glory from my birth.
1/4/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
VITALITY
encapsulates
celebrates
innovation
hurtling
pell-mell
straight towards
an encounter
with
the viewer
veering
en route
in
movement
one to another
between
wrong turns
a restlessness
some haste
is
detected
& is
understandable
part
of this
zest
underwhelming
feels peculiarly
unfamiliar
in
an encounter
so brief
an
excursion
disjointedly
underplayed
Into my general path with a low voice.
Included are profound love and rejoice.
There will certainly be no lyrical illusion.
Simply a breathtaking, supple inclusion.
In the same vein as a delectable sweet.
She brings joy and a soft, cherished beet.
This involvement encapsulates her well.
In the bliss of my life or in a crystal shell,
The lightness of the wreath is uncanny.
Gently pulling into every nook and cranny
The depth of the loyalty is beyond compare.
An immensely worthless treasure, and rare.
Her compassionate and kindhearted nature
It calms my heart turmoil and mind retainer.
Love that cannot be evaluated or measured.
That filled my soul with all that I treasured.
To have her in my life is a tremendous gift.
Is this love flawless, or is his barb less swift?
Her dulcet apathy, sparkling as stars above,
My lovely addiction, my unconditional love.
Written: June 08, 2023
Pure as she is, sweet as she is
The beauteous Portia of my dream
With her anchor of roses
Conceived by her body of harmony.
The velvety of her skin I sink
Soft like fresh-ripe melon
Unsullied as perfect Swan
Which encapsulates beauty and love.
Adorned she in her customary apparel
The pride of Africa
She: the citadel of virtue
The Hyena of my land
African woman: her glorious symbol
With her countenance like a beam of light
Which scintillates my nights to bear.
I call her black woman, but pure black
My candle is ignited by her dulcet tales
I hail you, precious woman
The morning star of beauty
The Barnadeth of mankind.
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