All the lives I built and then tore down
I always thought you’d be around
to see me win, to lose, to fail
but then came storms of the harshest hail
that segregated your touch from mine
and now I pace, just wasting time
thinking of the hands I knew
thinking of how I’d feel brand new
every time I had reached you
Have you forgotten the promise you made?
Or do you think of me as your prettiest mistake?
You placed your bets, under influence of lust
then woke up one day, coughed from the dust
Have you had time to reassess?
Is this really for the best?
If you exist, but only in my chest
So, send me a letter
a few words is fine
spell out for me why you can’t be mine
don’t keep me guessing
don’t have me fretting
you’re not yet a memory
not worth forgetting
I sit nearby
As he receives
The treatment
My soul grieves
I sit by his side
See the needle’s prick
Skin so bruised
Heart feels seasick
I sit close by
As he gets chemo
Defeated by the fear
Heart beating, prestissimo
I sit, thinking
What he must feel
My mind wonders
Can this cancer be real?
I sit where I see
All the pain he endures
Light dims, he breathes
Hoping for real cures
I sit beside him
Worrying and fretting
Will he be ok?
Even my heart is sweating
I sit, on stand by
Where I can see him through
Longing to be his ally
As we seek a breakthrough
God knows the story
He sees us wait, in prayer
Giving Him the glory
With Him, we needn’t despair
I should not wish for crowded grieving
When they solemnly carry me through.
Yourself alone, your shallow breathing;
A solitary tear shed by you.
Neither want for friends or family;
Nor do I wish for psalm or bland qouth.
Might this which holds all that's left of me...
Prompt a stifled sob to that choked throat.
When leave ye, then, this final setting,
As the cold Sun sinks beneath the brae,
Know now without remorse or fretting...
Loved you, I, than more darest did say.
84 THE BEGININNG THE WAITING THE PANTING THE FINDING THE UNTHINKABLE AGONIZING FRETTING A WHISPER BECOMES SO LONG TEARS SLAM TO THE WOOD FLOORS LIKE CRASHING GLASS THE BLACKMAIL THE EXTORTION HAS GONE OUT OF CONTROLL YOU CAN'T BREATHE YOU KNOW THAT THERE IS NO NEED FOR RANSO.E MONIES WHY NOT NOW THE GATHERING SOMETHING IS OFF SOMEONE IS NOT TRUTHFUL LETTING THE ENTIRE FAMILY DOWN WAS GAMBLING DRUGS FORGOTTEN DEBT OR JUST AN ACCIDENT GONE WRONG CREATING THE SHOW CASE KNOWING FULL WELL IT'S ALREADY OVER TRULY SAD WHEN YOU REALLY THINK ABOUT WHERE IS SAFETY SECURITY ALONE IN THE DESERT WE ARE WHO WE ARE HUMAN PERHAPS HUMAN ERROR CRUELTY THRIVES WHILE THE REST MOURNS I MYSELF WAS BEING BLACKMAILED WHEN I WROTE THE RANSOM NOTE A CRAZED JAMAICAN FEMALE MULES IDENTITY FRAUD THIEF WAS AFTER MY POETRY AFTER HER AFFAIR WITH MY ABUSIVE EX HUSBAND SHE BELIEVED SHE COULD EXTORT MY AMERICAN POETRY SENDING KILLERS TO SHOOT ME OVER MY AMERICAN POETRY RANSOM NOTES ASSAULT RIFLES HOME INVASIONS BURGULARY I FEEL SO BLESSED I SURVIVED MY KILLERS WHICH IS WHY I WROTE THE POEM THE RANSON NOTE YEARS AGO MY HEART IS STILL TENDER THERE THANKS POETRY SOUP FOR FAV MY POETRY
In fountains of birth I laugh.
It's a getter done and a formal wig.
Can't recall the last time I cared.
Can't recall the last time I wondered.
In genuous hills I frollick.
I go like a pyramid: perfectly sad.
How does it work
when your best friend dies,
Don't touch me or act like your brother.,
I sail on waves, I dont define.
Love her or hate her,
it's in the same boat.
Join us now in the fretting tides,
we blanch our eyes
until they go wondering
into sleepful wakes
Hakuna metata
In the fields
of broiling air
plump lambs gambol.
The daytime star
smiles and whirs;
a lone tortoise toils
in plodding rhythm.
His docile baritone sings
the timeless chorus
“Hakuna metata!”
to fretting lions
who grapple tousled
and tangled.
Not fretting couldn’t be gladder about getting podgy?
Forgetting about a stodgy bladder that’s definitely dodgy?
Sadder even snotty about needing a potty..regretting being dotty
Betting some grotty grumps about bumps & lumps anything spotty
Sometimes memory stumps.. only remember embers now befuddled
Somehow the huddled cast of the distant past still cuddled
Ashes of once clear flashes of near yesteryear appear muddled
Ribald oracle.. grinning about going bald...hair thinning
Apart from the ears and nose where it shows..grows & flows
Can't pretend follicle foes & woes.. do descend dear friend
Clearer you're now nearer to the rear end than the beginning
Refined increasingly find you do become more kind
Other than the tumour of another baby boomer
Defined needy seedy greedy.. must feed me consumer
Not a rumour..increasingly I pined for candour and humour
Chaps can perhaps blossom as a wined & dined late bloomer
No remorse.. scheming larrikin leaning's still in force
Gleaning the gleaming meaning of life is all about giving
Dreaming.. loving.. smile beaming and "living" of course
Red, yellow, green, brown, maple, so many colors, yet we seek their beauty put them between two pieces of waxed paper, to make a collection as a keepsake.. they fall gently in the blowing wind, we admire, seek their peak times of when their changing colors are brightest, we walk in their rakes up piles, kids have fun throwing them around.
What if we could be just as welcoming with each other’s differences in humans? You can learn a lot from fall, autumn, as the saying goes, “thus season too shall pass”.
Summer, fall, winter, spring, each has its own unique qualities we like, warm, cold, hot, some complain others are content. It’s a never ending cycle, it will happen no matter what we say, the seasons have their own reasons to come and go, we just have to take them as they come no sense in fretting, it’s a waste of time.
Just enjoy each season for what it offers, because as leaves each have their own color, size, shape, so do we, it’s what is in the inside that matters most…
People with good memory have a tough time forgetting,
And those with hearts attuned to others’ pain
Find wounds endure, their souls in silence fretting -
Emotions hurt, yet healing seems in vain.
Like bees, learn to take the honey sweet
From blooming flowers in joy’s bright repose.
Let past remain behind, no more repeat;
Reach forth to what before us gently grows.
Press toward the prize - the high and holy call
That God has placed within each soul’s design.
Forget, forgive, let anger’s shadow fall,
Lest covenant blessings we undermine.
We will not miss the prize, nor let it pass -
But live in all that God has willed for us.
"Be still…
and know God!"
Present in every
atom, manifestation of being:
The chatter of the day --
our desires, fretting,
unsettling nature of seemingly
sometimes fathomless night –
can turn us, unwittingly from
ever alert angels~ vigilance
of inner eyes
who see all, inner
ears, ever listening
to a song of love, a tacit
sense of divine vibration~
an ever present, eternal touch
realized as awesome supernal
intimacy –
God is
juice of every heartbeat,
every fluttering leaf motioned
by his spiritual breath –
every cloud,
every beam of sunlight, glitter for a sail
of constantly changing, evolving shape and color
leading us to lofty awareness,
for conscious
relationship with the omnipotent love who made us,
and eternally guards while journeying with us….
We are never alone
division from one another
from beautiful Core Source, a lie
an illusion in the theater of Time and space
to eventually be dissolved….
The majestic sense of a hidden place lies in its elusiveness
where secrets and dreams are allowed to intertwine.
~ by poet
On morning stroll, I sought a bit of shade
and wandered into an evergreen glade.
A hidden place and the perfect setting
where nothing would ever set me fretting.
I felt sheltered, content and unafraid.
A sanctuary off the well-worn trail
where my calm repose had quickly set sail.
My senses unfurled on a gentle breeze~
tendrils of my hair, it began to tease.
Idyllic the realm in this forest vale.
No channel skipping ..no flannel...it was so gripping…hearts melt…Pant's ripping svelte pelt and belt..stripping and whipping..the fab never drab Rishab lab..was it real..felt like I was tripping… no pipping..surreal cartwheel flipping..
Some verse about the Panto Pant curse…does traverse…like a hearse….won’t reimburse..adverse bowlers terse..things getting worse…reputations nurse…Rishab flash panache smash and grab..rehearse that ramp reverse..in his own homegrown perverse.. with only himself will converse..no fretting..go getting…record setting universe..
Now has outshone and outdone..shoves show pony Dhoni.. as the Indian man alright talisman with the gloves everybody loves with the most tons..holy moly..more three figures scores on England tours than the folklore of before..Sunny and Kohli..
Records splattered shattered..gallivanting Pant parade..cascade and cavalcade …flattered .. Rishab paddled..bowlers addled and raddled..skedaddled
Ignore any naysayer…prime sublime Pantomimes…haymaker…cocktail shaker…p**s taker…tik tok peacocker..run for fun maker…cool cat with the bat..almost indecent crimes..the Indian’s best test player and slayer of recent times..
PHILIPPIANS 4-6
Count all those blessings
You’ve been given
Be it soul thankful
Of your all delivering
No fretting on yesterdays
Or now tomorrows
Abba Father doesn’t clean you sorrows
Let you be gratitude received
Fill your heart for all that God has done
For you and me
Focus on your blessing, not your struggles
Our Father Originator of all
Promises and blessings
Let you be gratitude received
Fill your heart for all that God has done
For you and me
Focus on your blessing, not your struggles
Our Father Originator of all
Promises and blessings
7/6/25
Written words & music by James Edward Lee Sr.2025©
From “I CRY OUT TO YOU”
She said "Bring my flowers now, while I'm living"
and man, that really struck a chord with me
Too many people wait, and bring flowers to the grave,
crying over what could have been, and memories
If you Love someone deeply, let them know it,
With every breath and heartbeat, show it
None of us is promised tomorrow,
& you don't want to be swallowed in an abyss of sorrow, fretting over lost opportunities
By: J.N.R Dutton
You laughed too hard in 1996/
Thought I'd trip and stay down for kicks/
But I climbed back up, twice the size/
Now I shred, watch the sparks fly/
My drummer joked, said guitars are lame/
Left him roadside, questioning fame/
Why does a guitar need a case, he asked/
To contain its stringed up past/
Steel strings bend, the pick obeys/
My solos melt minds in dazzling rays/
You call it noise; I call it fate/
Crowds roar, my riffs attack/
Like a clown with a vengeance strapped to his back/
Why did the guitar cross the road/
To escape tuning abuse overload/
Strumming stainless, lyrics sharp/
Every chord bite, every note barks/
What's a guitarist least favorite job/
A fretting accountant, stuck in a fog/
Clowns don't cry, we shred and slay/
This guitar doesn't play, it dictates the day/
Why did the guitar get detention in class/
It couldn't stop playing tricks so crass/
Now I roll into your town, no disguise/
My solos make statues blink their eyes/
One last joke before I'm done/
Why don't guitars ever tell lies/
Because their strings keep them strung/
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