The cement is heavy when mixed with the loss of autonomy
It's dried around my boots; I welcome the body of water in front of me
Where my afflictions will feel each drop enter my lungs, and then I'll be free
Of the horrors, plagues, and false words, that are brought by living honestly— FML A.S.
It sure was grand I must admit
I'll always think the perfect fit
Was Bluebird and the Troubadour
Tracing fingers, red guitar
Penny, Phil
Brooke and John
Anne and Gilbert
Elsa, Tom
A fire and a big snowstorm
A cozy cabin nice and warm
Paris, France and Veuve Clicquot
And someday maybe, Dos, Uno
Fitting
Tic tac toe
Marigolds
Loose fitting dialysis
Pidgin toe
Skeptical
Aromatic bowling ball
Sheep ba baba-volleying hair ball
5/31/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2025©
bent like a grass stem
I fold, I yield, I twist, squeeze
between stakes labeled
'Been Done' and 'So Becoming'
buried, far behind the lines
I held it like a prayer,
like something sacred,
like something that could save me.
I built my world around it,
tied my worth to its spine,
carved my name into its walls
as if that would make me belong.
And yet, here I stand,
palms open, fingers trembling,
watching it slip through—
sand through clenched fists,
water through cracked earth.
I gave it everything.
And still, I was not enough.
Still, I was the wrong hands,
the wrong shape,
the wrong name to hold something so bright.
I watch others take it with ease,
watch them bloom where I have withered,
watch them step where I have stumbled.
And I wonder if it ever loved me back,
if it ever meant to stay.
Or if I was always meant to lose it.
Meant to love it,
and fail anyway.
If you want your day to end on a productive note.
It may pay, to this poem about nothing take note,
In order to take away something of note.
A well planned nothing in your day,
Will help you make something of your day,
As doing nothing for 15 minutes minimum each day,
Could help you complete all tasks for the day,
As a mind that races through the day,
Seldom has a body to match the pace on any day,
With disasters and costly mistakes on the cards by the end of the day,
With either mind or body no longer present the next day.
Whereas a mind that can go blank once a day,
Will take the body with it all day,
And both mind and body will be in tune for another day.
So next time you are asked by the boss at work or at home,
"what are you you doing"
You will be proud to say "nothing"
And the wise boss will just smile and say Nothing,
Knowing it will lead to something,
That is better than nothing.
Thin and thick we are
so many sizes and shapes
how do I know if I fit in?
beauty has no scale
nor people's height and weight
we grow how we live
how we eat
whether healthy or not
it's how we feel
so I guess
I'll just classify myself as
overweight woman who likes food
Eisenhower was a tower of power
Nixon 'the Quaker Peacemaker' was dour
Reagan had the grace of a Carl Sagan
The Bushes were Christian Episcopalian
How does Trump fit on this list
Methinks he exists to make them pissed
Too many ups and downs in the journey
Too much sweet, bitter and honey
Far far away long way travel
Crying for peace in front of the devil
Destructed abstracted undefined destiny
Self-realizations in the middle of the journey
Multi-personalities in a tourney
Giving up and giving in convicted felony
For murdering the person in me
Painting characters to fitting in to see
Too many unanswered questions for thee
Humming happily for the sunflower-like bee
Praying for God to unlock the key
Self-realization got me on my knee.
That I am worth it and worthless
That I am hopeful and hopeless
That I am cheap and priceless.
I go round and round on my youth
Nursing my pain for pills of sooth.
I finally found out that realization is self-lose.
a silent giant
i feel it wash over me
a corpses veiled breadth
i am pieces of granite wall
undetermined reason for being
tolerating chisel masters
crumbling into dust
falling into bowl of crevice
scraped up into Chinaman’s baskets
roughing up against dainty seashells
fitting nowhere
out of place
out of sorts
out of ideas
The governor’s accusers
Say he acted in a way
That made them cringe and naturally,
He has to somehow pay.
All three of them reported
Language seeming to suggest
A kiss or maybe more would be
Enjoyed at his behest.
He touched one on her back, connecting
With her skin exposed,
Which made her most uncomfortable,
She recently disclosed.
Demands for Cuomo to step down
To me seem out of whack,
Especially when we’ve heard boasts
Of grabs below the back.
Behavior should be judged, of course,
Apologies deserved,
But resignation shouldn’t stem
From three who’ve been unnerved.
The governor should learn from this
And watch the way he acts,
While those so quick to punish him
Should follow just the facts.
A battle within
I, simply, can’t win
Forced in this ocean
I’ll sink or I’ll swim
I, too, shall learn
I’ll burn or be burned
Without casting stones
I’ll never fit in
Plastic girl,
scars painted over
Plastic and shiny,
looks like nobody's hurt her
But deep down inside,
She's broken and torn
A lifetime of hurt,
to hold down she's sworn
So she covers her face,
with a painted-on smile
A hard plastic girl,
the plastic heart has been there a while
Fitting In
She never fit in, or so she thought.
In the lonely moonlight, she pondered...what good had her many
poems wrought?
She was not one to impress others, perish that thought.
She was writing for her friends and family, no trophies were ever
sought.
Like all of us, one day she knew she would not be here.
These were her thoughts, left for posterity.
Acknowledging to the world, that she, indeed, was once here.
December 8, 2019
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