Its been a long time since I’ve felt blissful,
I know I’m the one to shoulder any blame.
Bliss ended long before years turned golden,
too many matters I’ve allowed to inflame.
I’ve always been, for the most part, a loner,
crowds and idle chit chat I’ve tried to avoid.
Married sixty years to the same woman,
Just two D.I.N.K.S. one in need of Freud.
But surveying the past changes nothing,
so musings should focus on time unspent.
But the future holds no aspirations for me,
it’s just about time to take down the tent.
But throughout my life I have been blessed,
faith in God has seen me through each test.
A Newspaper
Elon Musk, a liberal newspaper that never tires
of writing about his wealth, also, for the most part
dislike him, and the power that follows in the wake
We read in the Guardian that Elon Musk is trying to
Get a license for the electricity market with Tesla
The paper points out that Musk has met Putin
and can't be trusted, he is a security risk, that
The remark is quietly funny
A meeting between two giants, I would like to
have been there, my world is mundane, what's
for lunch, and petrol in the car, but we accept
On our part, avoid the struggle to be the top dog in
in command for a moment of worshipful praise
before disappearing into a historic footnote.
head melds with heart and thoughts recede
synced with gong Om, the void’s our home
free from desires, on earth we roam
ego dissolves, love takes the lead
heart-centric soul begins to glow
resistance ends; we gently flow
bliss pheromones begin to breed
pulsating within day and night
God bestows spherical sight
we live as of need, not of greed
our eye’s mindful and touch gentle
for the most part, nonjudgmental
one with oneness, our will we cede
Breathed by God, we see Him within
His grace erases every sin
head melds with heart and thoughts recede
ego dissolves, love takes the lead
bliss pheromones begin to breed
we live as of need, not of greed
one with oneness, our will we cede
149 poems later, one can still trace you in my poems
I wrote you carefully in metaphors and words that scream
In the anagram that holds your lovely name
149 poems later I’m still stuck in this hedge maze life
I try to cut my wrist and let my tears speak the unspoken
I’ll try to cut the ones who surround me and be a new version
149 poems later, my feelings remain unspoken
For the most part, they’ll forever haunt my existence
Even if I bleed them out on paper
149 poems later, I wish to be left alone
i'm afraid to walk into the future
I'm taking my leave here, soon I'll be 20
For the most part, the lost years were self-inflicted
the foundation made from a hypersensitivity
which had a foundation of insecurity
which had a foundation of instability
which, in turn, was born within
the whisper of a black veil.
The hypersensitivity was replaced by wet plaster
allowing for the smoothing of the wrinkles of living.
I'm slowly coming around-now
back into the light of the light
Its and absurdly cautious plight...
I've yet to master the fine art of happiness
Every moment an exhausting sparring match
with black veil and battle axe.
Thank God, that plaster is very slow to dry.
Time and space
Duration and displacement
Words suggesting separation
And necessary apparently
For the stories which
Make up knowing and doing..
For the most part
Few arguments are posed
To threaten these assumptions
And an argument would
Be another story featuring
Time and space..
Words seem to map what
We know and can know
A prison of words..
However..there may be
Another story never told...
For the most part in life, love the leading lady.
burdened wandering among negative energies
although for the most part they impacted him not
he searched in vain for that elusive elixir of love
resonating at a frequency matching his own
poised in stillness, he exited the lucid dream
recognised all as one, as thoughts he did stream
I think the hippies had it right
pop a red and watch the lights
pray against the cold machine
tie dye the world in tranquility
breaking bread with old friends
lend your heart -become undead
BUT
Sometimes the world has blight
evil eclipsing the gilded righteous
time to put away the peace pipe
march within the muck and fight
clip the wing of evil before it flies
dust off the camo-burn away tie dye
BUT
For the most part the hippies had it right.
America gets fooled at the ballot box
Bucky Fuller shined a light out of duopoly’s might
Can America get unstuck,see the light ?
Do vote for what you Want,this will seal the deal
Every vote counts,if it is not same o’ same ‘ o crap
Forego anyone who supports the MIE,that’s the rap
Go for a party that can advance some utopian ideal
Help the Earth become a beautiful place to live,
Insure everyone in your ‘hood is taken care of,
Jill Stein’s manifesto -a breath of fresh air,
Know her manifesto with an open mind- if you dare,
Love everyone with a flaming heart,
Mankind is your kin for the most part.
No more thinking third parties are spoiler votes,
Only you can bring the change,
People have to stop drinking the duopoly’s cool aid,
Question everything.
Read Radical Mycology by Peter Maccoy,
Such an eye opening book you will enjoy.
Thevenusproject.com shows the future,
Utopia or Oblivion by Fuller,shows the facts of life,
Verily look at book for future direction,
Why would you want anything less than perfection?
Xenophobia in our brave new world has no part.
You can be a trail blazer-shine your light.
Zion,not Isreal,paradise on Earth will reign suprem
I'm known as The Hulk in my community,
but you wouldn't assume that from looking at me.
For the most part I am very cordial and friendly.
I am just a little man you don't want to get angry.
Only then will one see The Hulk within me,
verbally, never violently.
I have a firm grip on anger management fortunately.
I Oh! I love you
I wooo O I love you
I O’ I soul love you;
I love you with a love that won’t stop;
I love you as you are
And as you are, I love
I love you for whose you are;
And you are love
I love you for the most part,
And each and every part
Heart and soul, I love you;
O’ how I love you
I soooo! Oh! So much love you
The kiss of God His breath in you
As you sleep your closed eyes view
The heavenlys the pleasant dreams
And as you sleep the angels speak
I love you for whose you are;
Graced in mercies faith so,
Yes O yes you so are, and you are loved
4/5/2024
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. © 2024
With no agenda in our shelf,
having become the witness self,
our gentle touch and mindful eye,
allows life to flow by itself.
There yet are moments when we sigh,
since thought tempests take time to die
but for the most part, we are still
and in the vast void, wingless fly.
We sense in heart, bliss nectar spill
and drink greedily to our fill,
which is of course to steady mind,
surrendering to God our will.
Thoughts slow down and we become kind,
our head and heart, with love aligned
and as we slowly vaporise,
fears and desires no longer bind.
This oh monk, is the way we rise,
ceasing to weigh, measure or size,
merging soul with the all-that-is,
feeling each heartbeat in surprise.
Apart from writing poetry, who are we
cannot be defined, for we wear many hats.
Looking back at life thus far, we clearly see,
that though destiny bowls and consciousness bats,
for the most part we’ve been tied to our mind tree,
our deluded ego seeking praise and pats.
At this juncture in life, we’re a neophyte,
who seeks the truth absolute, in black and white.
So as to complete, what has been left unsaid,
we each have but two ways, to explore our soul;
either follow scriptures, by blind belief led
or dwell in staid silence, path sages extol,
so since pastors sermons leave us feeling dead,
we rely on stillness to fulfil our goal.
The poems we pen, seeks souls who care to pair,
who discarding belief, wish to be aware.
.
The blessing
for mine i
(for the most part)
eyne
for
unto
it seemed forever
i
yesss mine
(with the ever so soft)
wiped back
hern halo
But
(there is a but)
i kissed and
weaned her
unto hern
Wild
(polygraph me)
morning
noon
and nights
*]
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