Once understanding truth, is when fiction becomes paramount.
If not for fiction, truth would never expand, rather stay static.
Without fiction, invention would not become possible, just a cosmetic.
Without fiction, creativity would become impractical, in turn ceasing much doubt
Without fiction, where's contradiction? Relying on fact alone creates a closed mind,
Unwilling to learn or listen to opinion or interpretation, with a mind stuck behind.
Letting go of what is already known imbeds a sense of venture, a willingness to interpret.
If not for this sense of venture, opinion becomes subvert.
Learn from past followings of mass consensus,
Think for yourself, form your own opinions, free from collectivization.
Only once you have your original thought, begin intertwining with truth, make it pragmatic.
In order to grow, you first must relinquish that which is known.
following secrets
that efficiency of prayer
lights electric soul
~
secret followings
efficiency of prayer
lights the electric
3/31/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
They are dead for all eight hours!
They'll rise to wag their fingers!
At that time they will talk big things
That talk to their egos and powers!
They will rise with all their trappings
And recall the last happenings
Including the altercations
And what they told their followings!
While they sleep there are no tensions,
Vindictiveness or contentions!
They sleep soundly, contentedly,
Free of injurious actions!
After eight hours they are surly,
Even spiting all things holy.
They mock even the divine will!
Of course, they reap for their folly!
God, in our heart love please instil
So the cup of wrath we do not fill
In the day hours we are awake,...
That we may not wantonly kill!
leaf waving at me
on the fall autumn chill breeze
tree stiffing cease
the eve of winter
falls followings new begins
bye-bye leaf wavings
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
broken poems
restless shapes
knowing this pass
teach'ers hallways
forbidden
my last
write
is
now
so long poets
with your dot
followings
mymicing
misery
here
i
am
pick me
last write
from misery
think they are
over sculpting me
freakish minds torment
inside butterfly fly cacoon fly
let the mother moth die
dusted to dust
my words
of
disgust
jealous freaks
search for complete
again teach'er pick me
why soul i want another half
i
am
an whole
one makes
you complete
when two combine they make one
completeness can be found within yourself
what part of me escapes never to be returned
after all is done only ourselves can be held responsible
for all the love we give and for the love we have taken away
?
just rambles
...
..
.
What a terrible thing;
to not know whos behind you
or followings down the street an
alley, or old country road, to not
feel safe when I'm all alone to feel
like someone is outside my just waitin
to jump in, To have that erie feeling that
someone is always watching waitin just for
for you just waitig to get in the fear of unknowing