Is this the asylum whispering in my ear,
voices of my past want to come back to wash me,
childhood traumas and war genocide, doing its job
i was carved long ago, by the belt of my father
many shapes and many depths,
i can still feel ringing in my ears,
from that heavy hand and a wooden spoon,
my mothers voice, than my fathers,
i took this shape and it was unfamiliar,
how did i get here, am i just a piece of clay,
and who is next, to change who i am
i threw bread into my mothers face today,
i was hungry i just wanted to eat,
father is gone by now probably just a skull,
leftover from a man who raised me,
we were never the same after he was gone
my hunger turned into killer, my killer,
all i wanted was to eat today, mother
but she wouldn't stop repeating These words
" I SHOULD HAVE KILLED YOU WHEN YOU WERE BORN"!!
You, parkland tree, now landed on
Neath, lain of we two, now
Who may not speak up but who listens!
Deep-rooted one, deep thou!
Love-birds, all, whilst that for their hearts
Does, a-flutter, resume
The avid clapper of one made glad
Does, leafy blown, assume.
Maybe the scars have
Meanings-
Not pain,
But proof.
Each mark is a map
Of what tried you
And failed.
Runes of survival
Lit by Oldumare 's breath.
Pain fades
Truth stays
Every scar says:
Still here
I have fallen in love
With the new country
That I call home
It is Canada
I must say
I am always safe when
I live my home first thing
In the morning
I go for a walk in to the park
There I see trees in full bloom
It also takes my breath way
I forget the bar sometimes
And offer up my honest rhymes.
No underlying meanings to puzzle through;
No flourishes to add more goo.
Just plain and simple is my way.
With familiar words, I'll have my say.
You'll get my message right away.
06-07-2022
My Lord
Why do I feel like You have abandoned
Me why do I feel like You don’t come aboard
When I ask to be pardoned
Do the sins I commit
Make You turn Your back
On me will I ever meet
The standard You set even when I lack
The ability to do so I pray I fast I sin
Just like anyone with flaws
Just like anyone who wants to win
You over and obey all Your laws
Without You my Lord You know there’s no life
And I can’t even for a sec a day survive
have I enough?
Adding up the cause,
Because the cost, is gathering
Sum bodies hungry
Justice and cause
Lucrative
Makings of large sums of money
Yet! improvised lacking to show subtenant sustenance
Plenty of no food, nor drink other elements
Though I need to live and survive, even without seeds?
have I enough?
9/30/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
You have been the
One for us father
Also father
You keep us alive
Every single day
Here on earth
Also father
You have made us
With your holy hands
A long time ago
And you also father
Had placed us on
Earth to live
Father we love
To live on earth
Also, we have
Lots of friends
That you also made
With your holy hands
A long time ago
And also they are
Living here on earth
And I also must
Tell you that
They are very happy
To be living on earth
Father, I must tell you
That I pray also
Every single night for you
Before I go to bed
In my heart there’s a fire raging about
Honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to let it all out
I hate that unfairness being rewarded is the norm
Why do I have to shut up and conform?
Day in day out our cries fall on deaf ears
Having to go on with little sleep, face covered in tears
When do we sleep, when do we rest?
I don’t want to continue like this, I want to protest
Fair pay, fair hours
Give us what’s rightfully ours
If things continue like this, I won’t stay
Rather than being rich I’d rather be okay
Or at least that’s what I’d like to say
But I know that’s just a pipe dream
After all, I’ve got bills to pay
I have a mouth and yet, I cannot scream
Humanity has always had its haves and have-nots.
Before it was more about status and power
Wealth and position.
Today it is who has the desire to self-determine
Build their own home, raise their own family,
And who wants someone else to do it for them.
So we have two piles of society;
Those who are productive and who make,
And those who are parasitic and just take.
Both piles are growing, because both
Have their rewards,
But it’s still the makers who provide for the takers.
And what keeps that balance in place
Is the fear of what destruction the takers
Will make if they get cut off
From the hand that feeds them.
It’s a precarious balance of hope and fear,
But ultimately unsustainable.
There is no solution until the takers become
Self-sufficient and determined makers themselves.
But that will take a reckoning
Which society is not yet willing to make.
(9/24/26)
in glorious, splayed light beneath a glowing sunset
the purest passion of vibrant realms has flooded,
when a wish is wished
to close feathered eyelids when the souls of eyes have kissed
and allow the ravenous breath to breathe the soul felt mist
when trembling fingers caress the face of love in bliss
High society has always been
High above the rest
High in their castle and oasis
High in the penthouse and palace
High in the big house and gated suburb.
While the rest wander the hills and fields
Streets and alleys, making a living
Or scraping a living.
Seeking greener lands of the free
Ever westward;
Pilgrims and pioneers, trappers and traders
Roughnecks and rednecks
Seeking their own jackpot
From the Klondike to Vegas.
High and low have always existed side by side
One above, one below
It’s no different today
Just more of both
With the gap between wider than ever.
But what really is high and low?
Are those at the top better as well as richer,
And those at the bottom really less than?
One man’s wealth is another’s poverty
The loss of freedom within a gilded cage.
What is richness, or beauty, for that matter
If it is only measured against another
And not a natural quality of just being alive?
The gap between have and have nots
Is material, but that gap is easier to cross
Than the inner gap that doesn’t know
And cannot see what real wealth, beauty
Freedom and exalted being really means.
(9/22/26)
i have come to believe
that my home is real.
the cup slips from my hand,
falls to the floor,
and breaks with a sound.
my home
has learned my name.
even the mirror
knows who I am.
government men arrive
and write out a receipt for my house.
there is no extra charge
for the blue on the walls.
my home
begins to chew on me,
then swallows me whole.
my home
cannot feed my hunger.
so I go
to work in someone else’s field.
autumn.
at the corner of the neighbourhood,
i notice the sky
has changed its colour.
i buy a new tube of toothpaste
from the grocer
and return home.
beside the window,
a bed lies awake all night.
i am there too.
i enter the house
carrying a handful of dust.
everywhere,
there are so many traces of me.
my home
keeps me alive.
The Robots are here, with more every day
to mimic our actions in work and play.
They're programmed to help in all that we do
and serve with allegiance, steadfast and true.
As time goes by, increasing their score
with added AI, their "brains" do much more!
Expressions will change as eyes flash, beware;
belligerent smiles strip away care.
Intelligence shows a semblance of thought;
programmers express, “what have we wrought!”
Compared to old days of witchcraft fear-
new era of Robots- lord keep us clear.
Those Witches of folklore, evil or not-
won't match the terror of what we begot.
We warmed the bench with cold stares,
holding onto yesterday’s glass of champagne.
A boy cried somewhere,
loosening his grip on a balloon
that slipped into a sky that never looks back.
Should I pity a crying child,
or an adult swallowing storms in silence?
“I should go,” she said, and
I found my hand reaching for hers,
like a child clinging to his mother
as she nears the grocery counter too soon,
hoping time would stall,
hoping something small could still be saved.
But some things are no-brainers,
inevitable as gravity,
the balloon has flown,
belonging now to no one,
or maybe to everything but us.
The child stopped crying
when his mother placed a bar of chocolate
into his waiting hands.
And I envied him,
because how does a child receive sweetness after sorrow,
while an adult is handed a weapon
and told to be brave instead of held?
No chocolate, no comfort,
just something sharp enough
to silence the trembling.
I guess that’s why
I stand where I stand,
not as someone to be soothed,
but as someone to be used.
I guess
I really am
His favorite soldier.
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