I will have a caged hoatzin for sure
Hilarious that he’ll smell like manure
A tube of hummingbird acrobats
Barn swallows and wrens to amuse my cats
Komodo dragon with his friend mr gecko
Their cave so large, there might be an echo
Saltwater crocodiles and black cobras too
I am building my own personal zoo
A grizzly bear just awakened from his dream
A couple of deer captured as they drank from a stream
I will make their environments friendly and warm
When the honey bees hear, to us they will swarm.
To tickle my fancy,
I like places plain.
From fancy environments,
I must abstain.
The same goes for clothing
And housewares and food.
For anything showy,
I’m not in the mood.
I sometimes like funky
And whimsy is cool,
But gaudy or flashy
I would overrule.
I don’t want things boring
Or sterile or bland,
Yet there’s lots of room
Between tepid and grand.
I thrive in the middle,
For deep in my gut,
I’m far from a pedigree,
More like a mutt.
My father, complex, yet now understood,
His behavior was shaped by his neighborhood.
He called them "A-holes," and they called him the same,
But the environment was really the one to blame.
From giant beasts to tiny bugs in a dance,
Our behaviors are dictated, not left to chance.
Imagine a world with less conflict and fights,
Understanding our actions, seeing the lights.
"A-holes" bring humor, a show to the stage,
But empathy and patience, could lead to less rage.
So cheers to the "A-holes," amusing as they be,
May their environments change, setting them free.
For we are reflections, mere products of space,
Finding our understanding in this human race.
I can’t help thinking it has all gone wrong
In letting humans write the planets song
We need to acknowledge our responsibilities please
Various waste, not just plastic, filling our seas
The signs are there, we must heed the warning
Polluting the air, causing global warming
Ignorance, denial, greed, all sorts of reasons
All contributing to erode the order of seasons
Birds in the trees, not sure when to nest or sing
Emerging flowers with no idea when it’s spring
Environments disappearing bit by bit each day
Rising sea levels and Polar caps melting away
We clear forests and take land, so humans can play
Where animals once roamed, hunting their prey
Balance and harmony was always nature’s aim
Now she’s confused and man is to blame
I can’t help thinking it has all gone wrong
In letting humans write the planets song
The aging street mourns its faded splendor.
It remembers having red tulips and roses
in manicured, fertilized, emerald lawns
in community yards lining its borders.
But neighborhoods gradually decayed,
and nobody’s planted flowers in years.
The asphalt’s once-black fresh-tar patina
is now gray and chockfull of countless cracks.
In those rifts grow rows of feral weeds
that no person planted or wanted.
Rooted in forgotten fissures of the world,
weeds lift their hearts and heads toward the sky.
Survivors of severe environments,
baked by blazing sun, infrequently watered,
deprived of easy access to nourishing soil,
and squashed by droves of mutilating tires.
Yet, still the stalwart weeds survive,
paragons of beautiful resilience.
Glamorous, fragile flowers are transient.
Plain, ordinary weeds are forever.
For humans who feel our messy lives
are more like run-over weeds than roses,
weeds’ wild fortitude foreshadows
an unexpected, untamed eternity.
We’re all important in different and various ways
But we shouldn’t ever get to caught up in our own significance
or self-importance
Whatever we believe, we are transient
Whatever pigeon hole, box or compartment of our lives, we are transient
Friends, strong friends, we may bump into but rarely do we seek or
be sought out with any regularity
We hear ourselves say “we should do this more often”
but we rarely do
We are all guilty
Work environments, once left, people quickly fade
An acknowledgement that the world moves on
Quite rightly so
We are transient
Even with families, that most permanent of connections,
time erodes any permanence
Most can remember our parents and even grandparents
but how much beyond that
We are all of us, transient
Our lives are relatively short, for most our legacy is even shorter
Very few people have any form of permanence in history
This doesn’t mean we are irrelevant
To the contrary
We can be important and influential in a number of ways
It’s important to remember
Who you are
What you are
How you are
Be true to yourself but know life for what it is
In not so many years, no one will know any of this
The ice’s soul so melts;
Heated powers that represents;
Cooling warming distances breeze;
Ever soul so comforts me;
As I release myself from myself;
The Father’s breath inside me alive;
I breathe the breath of life I live;
Embraced in this environments;
THE FATHER’S BREATH INSIDE ME LIVES-
3/18/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
Giving someone something for nothing
Worst idea in the history of man
Yesterday's safety net expanded to universal permanent entitlements
~ Sabotaging esprit de corps with 'Gimme-what-I've-got-coming'
environments
Chocolate? Sure. I like it several ways.
With lots of sugars, layered, and with glaze.
With caramel and peanut butter every day.
Add some mint also, I’ll eat it that way.
Truffles wrapped in fancy foils. Oh, yum!
Crunchy Nestle bar, yes, they are fun!
Chocolate I love in all kinds of environments.
I think I would like it wrapped around peppermints.
I am a chocolate-candy-holic you see.
I would share but I only have twenty-three.
Averaging five candy bars a night,
Most will be gone by Saturday night.
I'm miles from where I was, lost at times in wanderlust
As time moves on, it carries me past no memories unjust
A beautiful disaster moving at the speed of life
Sharing a consistent companionship with strife
A sign of life underneath the emptying hollow alive in me
Good intentions are there for the taking solid in who I be
I clearly see in a different light, no denying I live in optimistic environments
My ashes will fade away like all in time, my connections lived all eternal moments
Different people, different lessons
Knowing the fake from the real is essential
This matter is certainly not inconsequential
Some people come into our lives as a blessing
And some come into our lives as a lesson
There are a lot of fake environments
The surroundings look good but
There is poison in the air!
During hard times
You will see who are your true friends
In essence, when life gets real with you
That’s when you will see who isn’t!
A friend that becomes an enemy
Was an enemy from the beginning!
While the earth is spinning
The enemy moves in stealth
An attractive feature is often your wealth
In reality, we need situations to show us who is genuine!
Different people, different lessons
Knowing the fake from the real is essential
This matter is certainly not inconsequential
Some people come into our lives as a blessing
And some come into our lives as a lesson
Mark Frank
Copyright 2023
The
human sperm cell is haploid, so that its 23 chromosomes can join the 23 chromosomes of the female egg to form a diploid cell with 46 paired chromosomes.
he bulk of our mind's contents is found in the unconscious.uns
The Gatekeeper of unconscious and of the conscious mind is the Subconscious,
Preconscious, the murky
the unconscious the mind undercover, the conscious the deliberate, the discovery of each is once again the big bang.
The sperm meets the egg and The bang of a life is created.
The life within the vessel survives on the murky, the clear amniotic fluid feeds the life, unconsciously feeding the unseen thoughts of the vessel, the delivery is where the conscious mind is slightly awaken, some our brought in pleasing serene environments, others are awaken by a slap in the buttocks with a violent twirl to cold hands, the conscious mind knocks out, the unconscious resides for safe keeping. The big bang ride begins
One's different beliefs, environments, cultures, faith, likes, dislikes, unique faces, religions, countless places, a range of scholastic goals
Economic and Social statuses which contrast one have in common and to learn from one another, and distinction in one Individually in one's dreams and goals deferred.
And then the snow came whispering
“Death to all fragile things in root!”
Brute force aided by ice ages legacy
Fall to the place where zeros go
To war zeros plunge far below barometers
March off with visions of marigolds immortality
In measure, conjuring up lost worlds
Like magicians who make things disappear
And into history things go missing
Prisoners of their own devices cry
Flowers should know better then to grow
In environments less hospitable than Earth
Frozen hell is no place to raise their young
Shivering becomes unworthy of a word
Temperatures like cold keep tumbling
Planets and plants know their depths
Which takes them to new lows
Conditions not worthy of them both
“And Now!” “Uproot yourselves!” “Come with me!”
There will be no soothing rain today
No season to remember geraniums
No reason to remain oblivious to oblivion
Asteroids could end things quickly
But snow keeps drifting on the lawn
Capturing a fragrance at the core
Flowers have no where to go
Pain awaits the frozen hour
Have you no shame?
Have you no dignity?
It is Winter just the same
Time to hold pretty flowers captive
And accountable for their actions
No mirror shows reflection
were it not for light and
dark, that which surrounds
and enfolds us, warms and
chills our inner – the deeper
degrees of being. Numbers,
weights and scales are our own
inventions, for God keeps no such account,
seeing only, who walks in with
us, and how we arrived –
Our internal image charged
by those oscillating fuels of love
and hate; spoken and driven~the
engines moving us forward
and back as a humanity...can stall at
the foot of a mountain, or on a one-way
bridge – gleams that never find
a return channel to steadier stars,
unable to escape the firmament-gravity
of super-glued ego –
Lust for Power, jealousies, need to control
others and all else in our environments,
are some of the Balls And Chains we
sing about, rhyme and push our poetry,
while leaving our souls trailing behind –
True Soul-life, not only sentient feelings, but
the spirit body of God appealing to us, from out
the mist of our wanderings, longing for conscious
reunion –
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