The children snuggled and
tucked themselves into bed
as Nanny Agatha crept into
the dark room.
She wore a sharp, wicked grin
as she pulled a wooden bowl
from her apron.
Inside sat bruised, oozing
apples, completely covered
in fuzzy green mold and decay.
"Time for your bedtime treat,"
she hissed, her voice sounding
like dry, scraping autumn leaves.
She held a sour, rotten slice toward
little Tommy as she began her eerie
tale.
Her story was about a wicked witch
who trapped children inside deep,
black wells.
The brothers stared at the bitter, slimy
fruit, their hearts racing with glowing
dread.
"Watch every bite," Nanny whispered,
her shadow stretching long across their
shaking shoulders.
The bedroom windows rattled violently
as the foul stench of the fruit filled the
air.
She blew out the candle, leaving
them trapped in the dark with her
endless, unsettling story.
Quiet time feeds the human's soul
As the heat pump does click
Outside arctic air the warmth stole
While the old worn clock ticks
Its soft measured beat could bring on deep sleep
As my life through the hourglass seeps
Instead, I stay awake to repent__weep
God fills needs
Quiet time feeds
seasoned chicken soup
hot clay bowls warm up cold hands
small sips feed the soul
A Foreign Mouth Feeds Illness
Republican Today October 11th 2025
Dissertates oath as majority vote elected democracy to speak on behalf of itself.
As of mid-October 2025, the U.S. Senate is dominated by legislative inaction due to an ongoing government shutdown and partisan gridlock. The Republican Party holds a 53-47 majority
Hearing free speech in elected office must be across the entire earth or democracy destabilizes and civil unrest creates war within sound unlent.
No munitions need halt?
All minds require halt
Suggestion of internal document
Mid Terms are loses in gains
Capital gains taxes and reductions
Reductions in privatized expansion
If impulse markets
Markets as attempt to bypass work
Work a I'm ready awaiting labor
Just picked up a pup fresh off the tit
Had a hunger that just wouldn't quit
Put kibble in a cup
And he gobbled it up
I bent over to pet him...he bit
The world feeds on tragedy, with an insatiable hunger for misfortune,
They demand confessions, not out of care, but to dissect and devour the soul,
When I reveal my pain, their eyes become glassy with disgust,
And their pity drips like acid on my open and bleeding wounds.
Perhaps that's why I've made my sadness a "nameless grave,"
A place I visit alone, away from prying eyes,
Where no one can turn my pain into a fleeting spectacle,
Where silence weaves veils over memories and unshed tears.
There, in the dark silence, I bury my sufferings one by one,
Away from eyes that wish to turn my story into a show,
I have found a sanctuary where the echoes of pain are my silent confidants,
And only shadows keep me company in this dance of lost souls.
It is a place where I can breathe without feeling the weight of curious gazes,
A space where pain is not a phenomenon but a part of me,
A corner of the world where silence whispers solace and secrets,
And where, ultimately, I learn to embrace my own darkness.
As a father feels his children's plight and feeds their hunger.
You felt the need of the crowd and fed them with word-wonder.
Clouds of helplessness within disciples seemed to wander.
You could see Father and Spirit smiling, not so yonder
Bread and fish were less. Your heart, yet, like the cosmos, was broad.
Though your Abba was always with you, his name you did laud
Seated on grass, not for more than a piece of bread, they longed
Finding baskets brimming with excess, who wouldn't be awed?
You taught them, in their need, dependence on the providence.
Your words of comfort created in them clear confidence.
Diligence, patience, and temperance attained prominence.
What else, on this earth, overpowers divine dominance?
Any such deed of yours never ever filled you with pride.
The wish of the crowd to crown you their king, you brushed aside.
Bow down to the better than thous
All us treated like sheep and cows
Corralled and penned and strapped inside
While those on high just break our pride
Whether you're a son or daughter
Prepare yourself for the slaughter
We're all the same to those that bleeds us
It's time to bite the hand that feeds us
one male and female
cardinals sit on the fence....
bird feeder nearby
male cardinal brings seeds fast
female takes them to the nest
While her garden plants she pruned
Often unrestrainedly crooned:
Come her much loved month of June,
Mostly, when it far noon...
You hear her when rules The Moon
Or if Summer should be soon
Peaceful voice that feeds like spoon;
She had long mastered Gay Tune,
As Deserts had Sand Dunes
And a War Theatre Bombs ruins
The voice that feeds A Boon
Ears that it despise A Loon.
The hand that feeds
What does it take to force a bite
Words? Insults given or anger raised
Derision, laughter, unrelenting, no end
Or pain, sharp, sudden, all a deep hurt
Each in it’s own way an assault
Backed up, corners reached, no escape
No turning place, no running space
Forced to face the moment
Options gone, alone, frozen
No flight and so fight rears up
There is a moment, short
Hesitation to halt the instinct
Yet the fear is too strong
And so it starts, no choice
But to bite the hand that feeds
2002
Barren fields of November
Corn stalks ragged
broken soldiers
bleak beauty
stripped of green
Beige bones on autumn's carpet
Margins of daylight that disappear
blending frost to the pinched ground
Corrosive wind like a wet slide of mourning
seamlessly folded into what
the landscape feels
Crows circle in their swoops of survival
seeking the scarce sweet zones of
lost kernels
Momentum to snatch scraps, bits of decay
in field rows that crack like smiles
Under a moody sky, gravestone gray
sparked by the cawing of crows
that scrubs us clean
in the exit wounds of autumn.
Mama vise-grip had but two meals left for her little baby brights.
Her wrenches were beak up, waiting for her to do the right thing.
Being a mama, she knew she had to give them the last two bites.
They gulped down their meal eagerly and began to happily sing.
Our mama vise-grip is the best, long live our mom, we love her so!
They settled down for the night, all snug and happy for the time.
She felt better already, though she knew they had a long way to go.
In the morn she would scour the sidewalk for a nickle or a dime.
It’s what a mother does she told herself, as her tummy grumbled.
Even a vise-grip mama? An internal voice asked in way of a sad song.
Especially a vise-grip mama, she replied, feeling more than a little humbled.
She knew people said vise-grips were cold, and she knew it was wrong.
Lucifer And the Cunning Bowl Woe's He Feeds to Unsaved Souls-
Lucifer came by
He looked into my eyes
He offer me a cup full of woe
Poured it into a bowl
Whose bowl is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch him frown. I cry hello.
He gives his bowl a shake,
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.
The bowl is scaly, cunning and deep,
But he has promises to keep,
Until then he shall not sleep.
He lies in bed with ducts that weep.
He rises from his bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in his head,
He idolizes being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread.
Lucifer left
He took what was left
Mangle souls, he placed in the bowls
To serve to the lost souls for manna
Lucifer And the Cunning Bowl Woe's He Feeds to Unsaved Souls
O
Woe...........................
11/25/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Life re-winds the rush of entropy to disorder,
using energy to build and sustain
structure and order for a lifetime.
Plants ensnare solar energy
to entwine form into structure
and sugar molecule stores,
which plants respire to release the energy
they need to fight constantly
against decay and entropy's tug of war.
Animals feed on the negentropy in plant and animal molecules
to respire and release the energy they need to sustain them.
Life is mortal, as the re-wind of entropy
cannot be sustained.
In time death, disorder and decay are inevitable.
Life is exquisite, just for a collection of life-time moments,
when entropy is suspended and upended.
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