Why?
The interrogation of my terrain remains united with the departure of my illicit rout.
Unanswered;
It remains unanswered.
Every neglected weep of desolation seems to surrender into a twisted sense of homecoming.
As if I sought for it.
As if I craved for it.
As if I was such a deceiving fool to find comfort in the con of my own coiled hatred.
Every huff of laughter blooms in the scored rage of my cruel consciousness.
Every wretched scald for logic cuts through my stripped armour of malice.
Every beseeched gouge for a way out ignites the contamination of my polluted isolation.
Why?
The secluded sagacity of my sadistic void fades with the shaves of my skin.
As if an answer would demolish the fences of my enclosure.
As if an answer would kiss my wreckage back together.
As if an answer would dim the conceited lights of a blinded stage; a theatre dedicated to the amusement of my liberated decay.
I ask you a question.
Yet perhaps, all this time…
The answer has been inked onto the rot of my revolting ruin.
I am my own void.
Whenever I sleep beside you
I wish I could touch you
Whenever I touch you, you go off in no time
I thought it would never be a crime
Whenever my heart burns for your enclosure
It brings instead an overexposure.
Whenever you are far my side
Little emmets retried
I wish they are far gone
As they make out my compulsorily learned turns
I wish the atmosphere is cool
My duvet should be a tool
Aren't it good enough a follow up
And sometimes; alarm's scrap of a hyssop
Found in fabrics designed to actively regulate temperature
Mattresses and bedding that feature Outlast pleasure
Perfect for couples as they absorb excess heat
Release it as you cool, store it
Thanks be to thee
What used to be shall stop to be
A great weird help
That would simply put a stop
To unwanted pregnancy
Hesitancy creating exigency
Though for the time being
And maintain common care keen
No more "hold me, I am cold"
It's now "shift, I am hot GOLD"
Faux lashes, little arrows to the heart.
Cradling her sternum, bleeding so kindly.
Love knows where to aim.
I'd tell you I'd run marathons, only for my breathing to become an enclosure.
I'd tell you of the wild things in my head and you'd laugh and say "my home is not a quiet place for rampage."
I'd respond, only with frowning eyes, ears perked for an apology from the mouth that hurts.
While you'd stay empty hearted, pouring it down the drain.
I apply lipstick to chapped lips, rubbing blush into the cheekbones of the girl of the year.
You can spot her eyes in the many who gaze.
They still taste of her, reek of her perfumed haze.
And yet as girl of the year, no man could love a woman so ablaze.
Let me tell your a spooky story ... it begins on a day blue,
in a quiet and peaceful cemetery with many an angel statue.
I got there late in the afternoon walking past graves old,
as I walked the air seemed to change and I was shivering cold.
There to water flowers I rushed to get it done and leave the dead,
it was then that I heard the whispering and angels weeping red.
Then came the sighing and crying and it was scary and terrifying,
this place of the dead, this boneyard was just to horrifying.
It was becoming gloomy and misty as I passed trees ancient and knotty,
oh dear, there was a spine tingling scream and it had become foggy.
The iron gate enclosure was locked and now there was snow,
a ghostly lady said follow me as snowflakes started to blow.
My heart is closed again,
Croaking with but a beat to stay alive.
It is angry, cramped.
It is remorseful,
Now scared of the possibilities,
Of false ties and
Infarct seeping once reflected.
It is drunken,
Longing to say soaking,
To inflate and explode in waves,
Clawing at it’s enclosure.
It is confused,
What are these ties?
The string woven over each other,
Wrapping and complex and unintelligible.
Elder fingers could not have the insight
Into a tale as known as this one.
My heart wants to know who you are,
But it aches still,
As my brain absorbs our string,
And it spits out Morning Glory.
“It is more blessed to give
than to receive…”*
Thus says the Scripture
carnal mind can’t accept
yet spiritual heart regards as truth
in vanquishing selfishness
as well as covetousness-grip
and smiting greediness-enclosure.
Indeed, giving is gaining more…
yes, more joy, powered by sharing
while insuring blessings
of divine abundance faith acquires
along sufficient provisions
midst supplies that meet needs, even wants
toward peaceful contentment
showered by heavenly fulfillment-triumph.
*Acts 20:35 I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.
December 7, 2024
2nd place, "Counterintuitive" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Suzette Richards; judged on 12/10/2024
Oneness
A beautiful profound statement of spiritual unity and oneness!
Beautiful and heartfelt love
Holy union
union: "I am in HIM"
In a deep, spiritual connection with the divine
Invisibility: "You cannot see me"
implies as in my truest self
that is hidden from physical sight
Beautiful and heartfelt reverence
Divine enclosure "in HIM" envelops I am in God's presence, making you invisible to the physical world
Together a poetic, devotional quality,
Unioned we're expressing a beautiful and heartfelt love
of spiritual unity in oneness
Awareness of being hidden in God's presence
I soul trust in the divine enclosure and protection
Beautiful and heartfelt reverence
Keep embracing the beauty of being in Him!
I am indeed hidden in His loving presence
He and I are we are purged and merged
Effervescent we are evident we are residents of Heaven
Beautiful and heartfelt love
9/4/24
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
The
Self
Appears as a
Bundle of
Memories and
Hopes and the
Seeming
Enclosure of these
In a human form
Making
Us us...
Coupled, they brave the storm
and critical exposure
forced by the storm to form
a perilous enclosure.
Under its salvo, they
press shivering shapes together
to limit the foray
of such unholy weather.
Embedded thus, they dare defy
the higher forces. Yet
his chivalry is impotent.
For nature soaks her wet.
In his shirt of bright yellow nylon,
Nicky hung, with his curious eye on
A pool he bent over,
Cool water enclosure
Still, he's well-dressed with his smile on.
I wasn't a native in the land, but I blended in
wasn't a place I called home, but I dwelt it
simply a misfit trying to fit in
a victim of circumstance
a weakened soul that knew no resistance
adapted to the cruelty and swore my allegiance
In the mist of the pain I found closure
despite the stress, i took hold of my composure
My true self hidden in a chained enclosure
I survived the tyranny
sorrowful songs were the only company
but in all the agony i remained a faithful slave
convinced that the only alternative was to be brave
Freedom was far from a delicacy I could crave
Then you came
with hope engraved all over your name
Rescued me from the land of shame
Fed my hungry tummy with the attention I never had
Pointed the way to freedom, where i could be glad
Watered my withered Love garden
and welcomed my torn heart into your haven
I beg of you please!
Take a tight grip of this hand, to never release
From a distance I see Pharaoh with a swarm of chariots like bee's
I give you my heart and soul to encrypt
I can't take a step back to Egypt
In the corner of a room is a showcase
received from a library rummage sale.
It's being utilized differently than
its original purpose for the public.
It is now very much a family focus.
On top of the case are two pairs of small
shoes originally purchased some 40 years
ago for our sons who are now 42 and 46.
Three garments hang inside this glass enclosure.
First, our daughter who is 50, has a high school
jacket with her name inscribed, and there's her
Yearbook dated 1989. There is a Boy Scouts of
America shirt belonging to our oldest son. Next,
there is a beautiful little vest of our youngest son
denoting him as a member of the church's group
known as 'King's Kids'. Finally, there's also a handprint
in a clay mold. It is the handprint image of our youngest
son with his name inscribed and the year 1987, when he
was 6 years old.
These are precious items of our kids from yesteryears.
We have embraced all of these family treasures for more
than 35 years, and display them proudly with much
gratitude toward God.
Its the slight waft of rotting flesh
That first hits you
While the smartly dressed
Smiling warden ushers you in,
Through narrow turnstiles
There are rows of enclosures
A maze of them, a maze of the wild
Its like a snapshot of danger
A dangerous predator-laden savanna
Danger enclosed
Lions...
You will hear their shouting matches
Royal majestic roars
Like cage competitions
Even the females join in
While one stares you down
Sizing you up
Like a piece of flesh
(Well come to think of it...)
Some males lie down
Nonchalant
Amidst the noise
The leopard paces in its enclosure
Waiting for its daily ration
While the young buffalo
Grazes nervously,
Its enclosure next to the lions
They have emergency exits
Just in case...
You will spot a Serval cat
A croc, bored
And nervous rare Sokoke cats
Terribly out of place...
In front of the China Palace restaurant
there was a stone frog,
it was not hatched in a cloud of spawn
like the rest of us,
it was decorative,
placed as it was,
upon a rock
above an ornamental pond.
Inside the China Palace
there was, at some time,
a similar stone frog,
it could have been a female frog,
hard to say for sure.
If given a million years
the two stone artifacts
may have rolled into each other
as many rocks do in time.
Sadly the two gender neutral frogs
will never now meet
for the restaurant closed for good
some time ago,
it is now a Burger King franchise.
The stone frogs have been banished,
one to a faraway garden center,
the other to the back of that same
fast food eatery.
At back of the former China Palace
there remains a small enclosure
where hard working Americans
in the catering and service industry
are known to smoke a hasty cigarette,
and talk into their cell phones -
mostly about sex.
That’s just how things roll around here.
Never say never
It could happen
It could not
Committed to
Non-commitment
Vocalizations stuck on
Silence
It's enticing?
It's inciting
Riots
Put your President
Behind bars
Unlocked my cage
Set me free
Free to roam
In the predator's enclosure
Your enticements are incitements
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