(do bed bugs eat beds)
I can’t shut my eyes at night
Delving deep in the darkness
Slight splinters of light
Revealing the shapes of my room
But still my eyes seek deeper
Let there be grotesques and horrors
Rip me from my slumber
Tear my shreds to shreds
Let me feel the sickly breath of a non thing
As it gnarled smile boasts rows of teeth
Close enough to claw and scrape the skin from my bones
Take me to your deranged dwelling
Where I dangles as your meat
The darkness fizzes with hints of grizzled greys
Tired now struggling eyelids close unfettered
Sleep that hopes for an end
but it won’t
Categories:
grotesques, poems,
Form: Free verse
THE TENSED ENVIRONMENT.
Hurdles come in between
My teaching and preaching
About keeping and maintaining
The beauty of my horizon.
Little did I know
That my thoughts were unknown
To my users whom I bestowed
My body and soul.
I have been trying everything within me
To make them understand what I mean
But they all seem to be numbs and indeed
A caricature of failure and mischief.
Only if they could feel
All that I experience and see
Due to their impelling deeds
Destroying the span of my fit.
My eyes bleeds tears
My mouth murmurs fear
That I might lose the care
My users promised to share.
All they think of is to struggle
To gain all what they can handle
Forgetting I am facing the hurdles
Which is entangled in their struggle.
I just wish the next generation
Will for the sake of affiliation
Use my already grotesques condition
In a way I will be full of admiration.
Categories:
grotesques, analogy,
Form: Rhyme
Ugly man, ugly man where do you stand;
When no one comes to you;
No one comforts you;
Self-esteem down in bottoms;
No one loves me, grotesques am I;
No one understands I the ugly man;
Save your wears;
Why are there tears;
No one comforts you;
Self-esteem down in bottoms;
No one loves me, grotesques am I;
No one understands I the ugly man;
4/9/10
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2010, 2019©
Categories:
grotesques, addiction, anxiety, character, conflict,
Form: Light Verse
In cold melancholy the spirit sings,
As angels toss their darkened wings,
Grotesques upon yon pillared manse,
Awaken for this gruesome dance,
Fountains spout their molten flames,
Whispering forgotten names,
With furtive glance does Time evade,
Memories to dust doth fade,
And moonbeams shine on frozen glass.
A hollow gong of rusty brass
Chiming from the tower stark,
Nestling in the unbidden dark,
Where songs of joy and songs of hope
Vanquish'd in some gruesome stroke,
Resound in halls 'twere never built,
As oak and ash do groan and wilt,
For naught is true but falsities:
Shall this night ever come to be?
Categories:
grotesques, mystery,
Form: Couplet