LAMENTING HARMS
I am passionate in regardless requiem
I dress ridged and deploring
I need shed tears for my sorrow I bewail and bemoan
I am related to elegy
I vacation at the cemetery
My job is lamentation writing up funeral chant a burial hymn
I desire to sing at my passing in heaven
11/26/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
LAMENT POETRY FORM
OUT OF HARM’S WAY
The arsenal environment was what I did not like.
I went as a caregiver to make everything right.
I straighten her world to be just as mine.
The house was a radiance of modern time and the landscaped intensified.
She came home and was very surprised.
She loved her new interior and the scenery put twilights in her eyes.
Was I right for giving her a loving home?
Of course, I was but why did everything go wrong.
She had lived alone for about ten years.
Nothing had ever happen in her neighborhood.
Because I made her house such a loving place, she came susceptible to burglary.
They ramshackle the place and she exclaimed to me you gave it to much beauty.
I was right but the world is wrong.
I did not argue with her at all.
This time she would make her choices.
Today, she is safe and free from harm.
A security system was installed and her house remains adorable.
A owl perched on a silvery shield
Flanked by two stallions with bullet riddled chest.
Bloods dripping on a earth of cactus,
And a motto which reads:
"Unity personified, and Hatred disguised."
On this shield once an eagle stood,
Which bore the meeting point of two great rivers
And the two gallant stallions once bubbling with soul
And the earth was green with floras,
While its motto once read:
Unity, peace and progress.
The nation is gradually dying
Satirized by its coat of harms
As those whom we call our leaders-
Are hell bent on committing "Natricide"*
* A state of destroying a nation, its reputation, its people and its ideology.
Their mission at hand , can't be defined,
sent far away leaving loved ones behind.
Streets patrolled every minute of the day,
a land of bloodshed, a society in disarray.
Killed or wounded the reports come in,
as more are recruited, and trained to defend.
Tears keep falling every minute of the day,
as families bow their heads to pray.
A wise woman I'm not, but who is these days,
when they send more, and more in the middle of harms way.
God bless our soldiers, and bring them home,
this war we are in, has been going on too long.
oh sweet, sweet mutilation
i feel for the ones that know not your ways
carried in throngs of masochism
you need not know of the devil to know easy deeds
cut, slice, wash petty harms
some new kind of knowledge through some kind of lust
cry, sweat, piss pretty waste
there's no truer art than the art of outraged disgust
i'll haunt for shock value if they bury me in censorship
so just cover me all up before some drone short circuits
forgetting their becoming
all in spite of what they became
so tell me one thing
no two
are you easily harmed?
do you get queasy
at the sight of blood
or sharp objects?
do you quake
at the mention of
abrasions and slits
and gouges and sutures?
or are you
just as i may always be
dead eyes that see everything
oh sweet, sweet exasperation
in the act of infidelity
you wince at the thought of affairs
yet you weep over petty harms, easy deeds
(no, i don't "cut," i'm just trying to bother some people; maybe you're one of them.)