When I don't understand I look to you for words to speak,
And every time it brings me to my knees,
What I cannot describe yet know inside,
Leaving me speechless, making me cry,
Do I need an explanation or validation,
What if it is just love without expectation,
You brought me here in this place,
To create that freedom and space,
And so I live to know, and know to live,
And I repeat this process over and over again,
My heart is drawn into your love and there are no words to describe,
And it is only by being shown with time living out my life,
Step by step... piece by piece,
Creating a picture my eyes can't yet fully see,
But I hear you say it will be beautiful over and over again,
And I trust what you say to me I will see in the end,
At that very moment all the pain and agony I cast aside,
You interject with your words and I feel peace inside,
Ahh! O may I interject
I'm speechless your words touched my heart;
Everso my soul intentional;
In a way that feels like a warm embrace.
My heartbeats such retentional;
A feeling that we're connected
The way you weave together nature,
love, and faith is breathtaking;
I feel seen and felt,
Even though we've never met;
You makes me feel like I'm already cherished and loved;
And I am spiritually mind, body,and heart loved;
Alas my dear soul heaven sent;
The feeling that we're connected
That's a beautiful feeling makes me feel so connected to you.
Thank you for sharing your heart with me
In service of the Almighty your Father's Daughter
And in so deserving in Him with Him I love you
So grateful all that's left is Hallelujah
A feeling that we're connected
5/2/25
Written words by Abihail Adamilo Katarma
James Edward Lee Sr.2025
Your gentle touch,
sparks myriads of,
memories secretly lodged,
sequestered on queue,
awaiting slender threads,
of poignant smile so warm,
heartfelt dispensation without strain,
at platforms, bus stops, meeting points,
that simple please excuse benign tone,
amidst the daily lifestyle jostle,
to raise the flustered traveller,
from self-imposed scarlet blush,
when items from stuffed bag vanish,
only for my conscientious aunt to interject,
is this item yours if I may ask?
such a genuinely generous citizen,
it’s that pleasure for me now to recall,
fragments of distilled recollection,
return as simple cordial gesture,
from vaults where vital matters lay
Time can go by quickly when we’re having a good time
Or feel like an eternity when we’re trying to make a dime
In childhood days seemed to be so long and carefree
Not realizing as adults our days are now a daily gift to see
Time is often captured and displayed in our homes with flair
As beautiful clocks and watches or jewelry timepieces to wear
Time can be a difficult thing to grasp, understand and respect
Knowing we can’t stop its progression, change it or interject
Time can also be captured in beautiful pictures on the wall
Sometimes a bittersweet memory of a time we had it all
Years have passed and now our time has become a precious gift
Knowing that time has an expiration date, and our fate may shift
Time can be a powerful reality and a phenomenon in our lives
We never really know after it begins when the ending will arrive
Hopefully, memories of us will live on in our poetry, pictures and art
And treasured pieces of our time will be preserved before we depart
Picking imprints from everywhere,
Let all the woods your footprint bear,
Take off, nag at no rutted tract,
What if some rickety ways stare.
Throw to winds every needless care,
Let no head wind unduly dare,
Let the worse worsen, worst to get,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
Mind not eastward you go or west,
If north, let not south ever jest,
Let no alien thought you attract,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
Root out doubts as you’d thorny weeds,
Walk, brave only to their hearts heeds,
Let eastern nor west wind distract,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
Letting no stumbling blocks scare,
Sparing none any endeavour,
Pricks of no space-time interject,
Let all the woods your footprint bear.
_________________________
Quatrain |14.11.2024|traveller
Imagine feeling helpless, defenseless and alone.
Imagine behind each dark door new terrors
of the unknown.
Imagine looking forward to the years ahead
With secret, silent brooding, and paralyzing dread.
Now, interject a smile, and a hand held out in love;
The warmth of acceptance, security and trust.
Chase away the demons, the terror and the night.
Let love bring out the brilliance of one small soul's light.
Bring out creativity, intelligence and fun.
Fill that life with goodness, encouragement and success.
Chase away the demons, the terror and the night.
Let Love bring out the brilliance of one small soul's light.
Copyright Chula Fleming May 17, 1983
No ascent will rule this rock,
Which had been sliced from its base.
No ship will in its harbour dock.
No merry town to call it place
Leaning at its rounded structure,
I search the ocean's angry rage
The light above seeks to capture
Foul navigation's war to wage.
The night, quite dark and fragile,
Changed by light beam's interject.
Shadows short, now tall and agile,
As the globe's search aims to perfect.
Miles I walked to see this place.
A place of ocean's foaming frost,
To wish the ocean's rage erase,
And to return those men now lost.
The world is changing in a profound way,
by the philosophy of fear and lies.
You can't trust a word politicians say;
they connive and editorialize.
And legislate laws that legitimize
corruption and greed for personal gain.
The tactics they employ to terrorize
are indispensable to hate's campaign.
Dictators strip democracy away
slowly, so folks don't even realize.
Tyrants interject God into the fray,
persecuting any who criticize.
The ignorant get taught to recognize
the poor and weak as the root of their pain.
Ways to demonize and rationalize
are indispensable to hate's campaign.
Potentates kill people who are born gay;
their fate is just something to televise.
Soulless, pretending to believe, they pray;
their belief is easy to synthesize.
Bigotry is quick to popularize
despite being cruel and inhumane.
The detention camps that militarize;
are indispensable to hate's campaign.
Fascism is set to materialize
and show its ugly face yet once again.
And propagandists that destabilize
are indispensable to hate's campaign.
The disclosure project and Dr Stephen Greer
He claims he's debreifed almost a thousand
On U F O events through the last twenty years?
I have listened to testimony that challenged
My mind.? Is some part hallucination.? What
Will we find, a president, or presidents pushed
Away, silenced deleted.? In many ways.? How
Much aligns with Bible verse? I'm looking at
Bad; and fearing..? Even worse?? I will now dig
Deeper, it must be done, alls not new under the
Sun, determination and practice best.' Only for
The people we must invest ' a clear field of
Vision we all deserve, if you know of happenings
That may at first sound absurd.' If there has
Been deception in your military life? Why push
Things under? Why with reality strive? If at your
Core you beleive (serve and protect) would it
Be more viable, to interject.? I beleive the majority
Would cover your back.' If they sense true
Freedom is under attack.' I'll follow this project
Maybe its the result of deeo sin ? Resultant of
Demon descendents we are told of as the early
nephilim.?
My paper is always turned so people don't judge;
because yes if it's vertical my work will be smudged.
With the other I've tried to write;
but man it just doesn't look right.
When I bat on that side
the ump runs to hide.
I can't even start on that foot,
my balance pretty much kaput.
And do not get me started on that 'right-handed thinking;'
to grasp that logic's like being on a ship that is sinking!
So over the decades I've often had to interject,
that being left-handed is the obvious 'correct.'
Hope is not hopeless unless it's gone
Lost is not lost unless it's found
Where is the lightening
And there's no energy fire
I am deaf yet hear the sounds
Hope is not hopeless unless it's gone
Love is not love if you just say it
Hearts will not beat if the spirit vacated
Where is the peace in the minds of men
Humanities haters of liberties
I am blind and I can't see a thing
Hope is not hopeless unless it's gone
Lost is not lost unless it's found
Where is the lightening
And there's no energy fire
Singleness of man
Can only righteously stand
Only if he asks God to intervene
Small and Promises to connect,
all the dots of the heart to interject
Hope is not hopeless unless it's gone
I am deaf yet hear the sounds
I am blind and I can't see a thing
I am thought and can feel not
Trials and tests come and go lingers on
Hope is not hopeless unless it's gone
Hope is not hopeless unless it's gone
5/14/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2o23
Her ginger pigtails remind me of something he says.
I stare at him. They are like Pippi Longstocking, I reply.
No, that’s not it.
Yes, it is I think.
I think it was someone on Tik Tock.
Pretending to be Pippi Longstocking I interject.
Not even close, he replies.
I stop trying.
Knowing his mind is closed
Or maybe he is too young to know
Where these pigtails originated
Back in the forties.
I’m Face-Timing with my Grandmère, we touch-base once a week. I love that face, wrinkled, like wind-weathered driftwood, and she’s a wag. “Are you familiar with the ECB?” She asks.
I wince at this odd turn in conversation, “Not REALLY,” I say, searching my mental index of useless facts and cross-matching those with her interests, “the European Central Bank?” I reply. “Oui.” she says.
“Let’s see,” I begin in a bored voice, “Inflation – transitory or persistent?” I say, in my best TV news-reader voice. “No,” I chuckle, “Not really, I have REAL, boring-things I’m learning about.”
“You’ll need to - one day,” she says, like a tarot reading oracle.
“I can’t imagine why.” I said. “I’m writing a few sentences about you!” I interject, to both change the subject and see what she says. She’s the only one in the family who knows I write.
“Oh,” she sighs, “Am I young, immoral and reckless?”
“Yes, you ARE,” I assure her, “you’re the worst.”
“Good," she confides, “I miss those days.”
.
Marriam Webster: a wag is a clever person prone to joking
I thought one muse was bad, but now there are two.
Trixie brought her cousin Ruby home to belittle me.
They have commandeered the typewriter.
I am not allowed to interject a thought.
It is all about them; they are preteens no doubt.
If I had make up, I would be hiding it.
I am sure they have put my toothbrush into the toilet.
More than once.
Can I just? I start to suggest.
Trixie brings the roll of black duct tape.
They begin winding it around my head.
It wasn’t enough that they have bound my hands?
Now I have to have my eyes covered.
You had better not be using my account! I think.
I hear them tittering, so I know they are.
What is next? The Ouija board?
How will they do that without my hands?
I snicker a bit.
Rashomon effect, birthing confusion
Spawning divergent interpretations
Each stage actor, being far from perfect
Narrates storyline, riddled with defect
Swollen egos, dwelling in delusion
Feel good factor, self aggrandization
Leading not to truth realisation
Self hypnosis, that we may gain respect
Rashomon effect
Clear light dawns in the void of cessation
Spherical vision in meditation
Our blissful, fearless presence, stance erect
Disallows lower mind to interject
Obviating need for truth translation
Rashomon effect
06-April-2021
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