Feeling dead
Nowhere to turn
Dead beat ex
I'm stuck
No way of freeing myself
Finances so intertwined
Like a tumour
Attached to something vital
"We can't operate I'm afraid.
Too risky"
How did I let this happen?
So insidious
So slow
A parasite. Unseen, leaching, infecting, invading, taking, taking, taking.
Eventually, clarity. The alternative.
So often dismissed now better than the present.
But I must pay for my blindness.
I must pay the price for hope.
I cannot be set free
Like a prison sentence.
And, by the way,
Don't bother looking up
Don't pray or ask for divine help.
Help,
If there is any,
Is ground level.
Friends, family, gestures, kind words, hugs, a sympathetic emoji in a motivational text.
You've got this
You are strong
I believe in you.
No choice. Hold tight, wait for better days.
Nothing is permanent.
Lean into the love and the sun will shine again some day.
At sunset, orange frescos on the west wall
Sink gradually into the bowels of hills flung
By distant wavelengths of a backward illusion,
Which yells silently at concupiscent terns,
Yodelling and returning from carnivals of the
Wild. From the faint glow, a rainbow stretches
For a cuddle, musing over a curious world,
Ditched by diaphanous tarradiddles of the odd.
Shadows on ground level travel on painted
Tars, recreating their bosoms on surfaces
Raven-black and soot-framed.
Seagulls welcome waves in one cracked voice,
Honking the horns of billed staccato.
Among able-bodied patterns of bituminous tracks,
Rivers, ponds, pools seek their faces on sun-flushed
Mirrors, which laugh at their fatuous inclinations
Mired by the sputum of drained rains.
Humility is to apologize although it's rejected
Showing respect although you're disrespected
Being humble isn't something most practice in daily life
Most people focus on who was wrong and who was right
Humility is the hardest quality of character to apply
Imagine being honest with a person who constantly lie
Humility can be shown if assisted by the quality of love
You can't have one without the other their hand and glove.
Forgiveness is another sign that displays the quality of humility
To forgive and forget isn't something that's beyond our ability
We're taught by human nature to be on top and be elevated
That if you allow yourself to be humiliated that you'll never make it
Constant competition among the people in the world to be flawless
Pumped up ego, to be conceited, always being presumptuous
We do all of this just to be knocked back down to ground level
Is it really worth it to imitate the characteristics of the devil?
I grew a rose from cuttings
pinched from a loved one's plot,
watered at ground-level, not at the top.
Dung and mulch kept well away,
from stems lest their collars rot.
In time, it grew buds that blossomed
into flowers, a bounteous bouquet,
with bursts of red petals, blood bled.
It started with a sprinkle
like from a watering can, but grew.
into a torrential shower
blasting the petals
onto the ground, all around the roses,
which were stripped bare,
to stems, buds, shredded leaves and thorns.
I cried to see all my endeavors lost.
All my efforts lost in vain
to sometimes rain, falling on my roses,
with disdain of rain, utter and complete.
But, when I looked again
I saw the petals all spread out
as a lovely bedspread quilt
surrounding the stems,
on the bare cold ground stained by rain.
Their beauty astounding still,
with red blooms shed, shredded, departed,
garlanded into a ring of petals
that arose to save our day.
the mind is open for a change
Headless embrace an easy life a lift down the seventh floor to a foyer and doors that open automatically a café serves one from cooking peeling potatoes and ready-made salads
a walk in the avenue of shops that have empty words while expensive cars drive driven by owners whose sense of beauty is a Musk truck dead steel against the greening grass
then you know there will never be dog hair on the sofa, and there will be no happy, friendly dog you're here and she is content
You plan your escape from the trivial, how fast a lift takes to ground level, but meet an obstacle called old age and the maidens have gone
Finally, you see yourself in the bathroom mirror the ultimate purveyor of truth, the loss is
absolute, but despite that dreams are bigger than you whisper and tell you of a way out
I like to write poetry sitting on the floor.
Even when my body is sore.
From feeling panic throughout the night.
So I am tense and tight.
When I wake in the morning, I could eat breakfast.
But before that, I write a poem really fast.
I like to write poetry sitting on the floor.
Pages that I tore.
Crumpled as my hands feel.
I should probably have a quick meal.
I like to take a nap on the floor.
Scattered pages that I tore.
Scattered thoughts that are tumbling out.
Making a mess like the way blood could spout.
I like to wake up on the floor.
The day is no more.
But at least I got out of bed to sit.
On the floor beside it.
I tell myself…
I like to sit by my bedroom shelf.
I’m at ground level.
Next to a grave dug by a shovel.
What I wrote today.
Is beside me, as I pray.
When I write.
The floor, I fight.
Until night.
When I might,
Die next to my pages.
That I’ve been working on for ages.
I should really clean my floor.
From the pain that I tore.
Or I could just,
Lie on the pages to get some rest.
If they were zombies.
Who have no brains so they don’t care about what I’ve turned into…
Maybe they’d be more likely,
To come back for me.
I’m not saying they don’t care.
They just have to do the dishes that I forgot about.
And vacuum the floor, sorry I never did that either.
They are my parents but-
Maybe they forgot.
So here I am, in a place that is like a basement, but is actually ground level.
Unlike me.
The floor sinks.
Maybe someone should fix that.
Maybe I will someday.
But I’m a little useless.
I could have done the dishes or vacuumed.
In here, they do those things for us.
It’s not as nice as you’d think.
To have your parents drive away.
I’m not saying they don’t care.
I think I’m just a zombie, is all.
I don’t really think about that.
I just think about chores.
And how I miss them.
As though mixing the caffeine of deep desires and wishes
With the crystal water cognizance to make gold-brown niches
Where-from, yearnings, like fogs of fine frankincense, resurrect
Bedecked with the sweet-bitter-blend, filtered conscience effect
Settings get upset; there's an idle-ordeal order.
Foundations, once set, turn reflections on a broken mirror.
Kingdoms and empires are brought to below-ground level dust.
When stirs turn earthquakes, born out of rebellions of mistrust
Time's tumult; seasonal surge; waves of the ocean weather
Stir has set its soul within each fragile flying feather.
The friction set by the spiritual stir, like a sage
Goes on discovering and finding wisdom's newer page
Questing the perfect scenario,
Desiring for heights,
Wanted to drown in the success seas of magnifico life,
From childhood to infinity,
Accelerate the feelings of success towards insanity,
Draw your attention towards glory,
Dare to succeed quickly,
When you would reach up to the heaven
Don't be apart from the ground level,
Working for late
Will let the people to wait,
Drowning in the glory,
The best end of a success story.
-Ashneh Singh
I
We forget, days go by
We forget to gaze at sky
II
We are so earth-bound, non-birds
We see level, ground level, as words
Made for learning, learning theory, that is
Bound in text, texting, books, libraries
III
I learn to remind myself to look at sky
If u can't see skies easily, look high!
Trees will do, even thorns. If there are hills
Do gaze. Amaze you: mood lifts, soul trills
This year’s been so long. So long to Winter!
With blinding shaft and bright bleeding of sun,
the limbs of trees, like flames, trust their tinter.
Unfurl the soulful buds, ye Holy One!
The soak of pomp at ground level unfurls.
Angelic, sonorous romance of Spring.
See tea cups and saucers — bouquets uncurl.
Astir your eyes to the rebirth God brings.
True garden grows within — reds, purples, blues.
The rose, tulips, and wildflowers — His gifts.
Forsake not light of brightest scent and hue.
Lean in, darlings, and pluck the sweetest lift.
To live is Christ! Adoration of life!
So friends, spur away Winter and its strife.
3/6/2021
Breath of Spring
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
variety of size, limbs
once helpless in the wind,
a haphazard torrent of leaves.
no pleasantries in rescind.
moss, plush with bouncy roots
tripartite surgery of bark,
sans clean cut.
ground level hallmark
apartments, at close inspection,
varmints inhabit an oak.
how do trees survive the dark
when susceptible to croak?
the yard with all its idiosyncrasies,
a social distancing playground
for a curious player of minecraft —
a five year old’s hardly earthbound.
4/17/2020
Sometimes you can reach high of highs
or touch bottom low of lows
what you do when you reach a point
is up to you
you can carry on with life
being positive+++
or drown in self pity
being negative---
you can pick yourself up
or drag yourself down
drowning in despair
life can bring happiness
you walk on air
without a care
what goes up comes down
what goes down comes up
it is in finding the middle
between the depths of the ocean
and the heights of heaven
we have to find ground level.
Man WORKING- Sitting Under the Autumn Sun
Envision concrete steps;
3 @ 8”inches each;
A man at home, alone;
Dog lying down to the left of him;
Alone;
These two, enjoying the autumn views
Tree’s waving leaves, squirrels running here and there;
Green grass surrounding site on his ground level porch;
Legs crossed in a rocking chair;
At this boarding house
He runs;
Sitting under the autumn sun;
Rocking in his chair;
Cool warm breeze lights on his face and arms
Sitting under the autumn sun;
Rocking in his chair
A
MAN working
11/04/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Mauna Kea is 44K,
Mount Everest is 29K,
Kea is measured from ground level,
Everest is on a shelf level.
Date: 08/31/2019
Related Poems