uphill climb,
rigorously relentless
with ambling ambitions
and schematic stratagem,
blueprinted blatantly
on the blank
parchment of marooned mind,
sketched skillfully
with chameleon color shift,
transiently transfixed.
gripping gravity
of transcendental time
of the loaded past
pulls back incessantly
the strings of present,
fastening in retrospect
the incoherent network
of faltering footsteps
at the refurbished root
of existential essence.
intent inertia
of living force
creates proactive
causal momentum
of tumultuous time configured,
permeates the perception
of the fourth dimension.
construed continuum
of elusive eternity
strives to unveil ineffectually
the shrouded acuity
at the summit of actuality,
emotionally evasive,
abortive climb connotes
futile foray
to somewhere intangible.
Meet me—by the abandoned houses—>there
not here<—, for it’s a danger! to be seen
in such ill company as I__I mean:
if strangers knew how strange was our affair,
they’d **** us!—meet me when night has grown fair,
bring gifts (flowers) (for nothing’s more obscene
in such situation as we are keen).
Though I’m well loath to leave you unaware,
you’ll must need hear silence ‘stead my full name;
—(it’s customary practice;)—tell me not
yours either; I want to know as little
as possible,—so to go without blame,
and still to lick the flame:to spill the plot:
to linger - - - on your delightful spittle.
The uphill climb,
rigorously relentless
with ambling ambitions
and schematic stratagem,
blueprinted blatantly
on the blank
parchment of mind,
sketched skillfully
with chameleon color shift,
transiently transfixed.
The gripping gravity
of transcendental time
of the loaded past
pulls back incessantly
the present instants,
fastens in retrospect
the incoherent network
of faltering footsteps
at the refurbished root
of existential essence.
The intent inertia
of living force
creates proactive
causal momentum
of tumultuous time,
permeates the perception
of the fourth dimension.
The construed continuum
of elusive eternity,
strives to unveil ineffectually
the shrouded acuity
at the summit of actuation,
emotionally evasive.
The climb connotes
a futile foray
to nowhere.
Oh, what powerful lights on a sable sea
Sugar crystals sprinkled on all ebony
Back to the ground, eyes up to sky
Plant me like this, the very day I die
In a glass coffin on the world, display
My eyes to the stars, as comets foray
I pray to heaven if this be how my soul is condemned
In looking up, my words on angels garments hemmed
Sunflowers in a lavish bouquet, warm with the heat of day,
Tall, elegant and lovely, faces turned in different directions,
Like a pearly, August moon foray, as the sun is going away;
While it bestows most recent, bronze, sunshine recollections.
The lustrous leaves deep green, and just waiting to be seen,
In the large, red-violet vase, on a table, beside the window,
In zesty, thrill days of summer sheen, and fragrant dreams.
Sunflowers, so elegantly yellow, by the south wall of indigo!
Cavalry chivalry;
Splendor cadillac ;
I'm sure love
For you shall;
Not to be ignored;
Beloved you are my
Beloved;
And heated bliss;
I must insist;
I 'll seal our hearts wish;
With the Velvet kiss;
Splendor a cabaret;
I love you so this day;
What a beautiful foray?
12/23/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Soft Clock Foray #1
He serves her armadillo heart
to four knaves under glass,
and tones her angst with creams of slight.
He pours himself a generous sea
from under her Ouroborean eyes,
to slate his endless urn of thirst,
and milks her breasts for sweet blue
syrups.
He rides the pulse of her loudly sleep
to meld a silent crash
that oozes verse from myriad wells
which seal themselves with stones of light,
and brilliant are his tongues for her.
She knows this all and yields to him
circles of small vanities.
What side can you judge infinity from,
the front or then the back
If it’s never over, or never ends,
how then can you protract
Can infinity stop and start again,
would it be different or the same
Can judgment ever qualify,
what it can’t even name
If generalizations are generally true,
what can we really know
With the distance between our hopes and dreams,
beyond what time can show
One step forward and one step back,
micromanaging the present away
The ideas you profess, whose laws you tout,
tethering emptiness—to illusions foray
(Dreamsleep: June, 2019)
In this silent foray
Mystic music started to play
That was soothing to ears
A calming balm for the heart
Simple truths revealed
Complicated lies thrashed
To the mystic tune, heart beats danced
Just some moments, revealed all that is
This venture into silence, my greatest adventure
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