SAILING TO GLORY
You can't rock my boat;
God’s my captain and rutter:
I am smooth sailing:-
A windswept fall leaves a rake's prongs grounded free,
obliged sapphire's realm, tinged with a seasoned spree,
blissfully fathoms the governed spirits of caromed eyes,
of gathered acquaintances rings about you as time flies,
queries the mobile a stance, a glance at echoes of lights,
as a soloist envy all-eyes dancing that September ignites.
Perhaps ...,
if I were to hold the whole world
in the palms of my hands amidst
the wavering and not its weights
nor the blinded truth burrowed
its mountainous out fathomed
with tethered skin turned about
scoping its expansive route
of its veiled pit succumbed
to twisted fate as the sinner buddies
innocence, gripping the willful
to withdraw slipping its handful
of a woeful world's fallacies
albeit afeared spirit stirred
warmth deceived cold corrects
quivering under vain texts
whilst folly sifted, lest perturb I'd
perhaps ...
show me the sand-bags
of altruist craziness
that you pretend
and lets not intellectually
shift through
grains of the sands.
I was the one
who convinced
you
and yet I'm the delinquency
of a friend knows so safety
of the pins within the blades
I can't pull your strings estranged....
a master of this so very strange...
I won't be on the train tracks
your boyfriend has no hacks
A boy imagined a world
of wrapped strawberries
without conflict
to the puppet on a string
And you released him here......
and no further harm
to his well-being...
He was always dead
to any and no well-being
He just doesn't know it..
The cities will be dead
as we are sitting
on our so called blames
and memories of shame
Are we to blame for
any of it
as children?
an idealization
Radicalization
Vigilantism
and for here?
I will be buried
but on my own terms.
I don't comply
to a so called
America of here
A president
who we all know
a demon resides there...
I don't know you
personally,
and I never will.,
hot flushes and chills,
are less of
a voice of mediation.
You never tried with a beat
just the cliche of a country's
of lonesome and the wheat....
red is primary
as not
even a shade
as black
and white
and darkness
is a secondary
called
purple.....
the ones
here
before
whites
We conquer
and pretend
to be kind
to
indigenous
beings
here way
before
our conquests...
Blue
is
a lagoon
that appears
and
disappears
with not a clue
to wishing
Yellow
is brave
and never
afraid....
and every
drip
of mixed
comes
up with
the brightest
acclaims
A cliché
are Asians
being so smart
but we know
deeply
its actually truth
and yet
treated
like enemies
at our feet.
Mixed colors in
every day life.
Rooftops
seem so free
until you
glance
at the grey
of our feets....
then
every-day
life
to a beating
no longer present
Black and white
before the fall here...
I will refuse
to face the pain
of my conflict-ions
if confronted
into your eyes,
the beautiful
how they fall....
I can't
ever see
tears in your eyes
Did I cause them
or the one
abusing you
with much pain.....
I never called
Child Protection,
but its a relief
and anxiety
but for you,
I know its good....
and yet I should
but my conscious...
If you understood
reasons why
you may finally
able to understand.
I don't get a jail
out of free card
unless
I pull
a figure of 147
of arrests
back so when.....
I hate myself
but Anne
will not lie.....
Don't think for a second
I realize i'm messed up,
if you have seen my vision
over the damn years,
your little eyes may understand
I'm the mud and not dry sand,
Its always been this way....
There are monsters
and then
there are monsters.
I'll never be but
broken pieces,
but you're so brave
and its all
I ever wished
to see....
I am a demon
I don't pretend
but still
your will
is inspiring
to me.
I wish I could still see,
I've been locked away
now for 2 years
by the worse
of people...
inhumanity,
He forgives
his father
who
brutalized him
but I'm
the black
of rainbows,
I feel sick
lack of remorse....
of his pity here.
When I
mention
suicide,
he wishes
me into
the concrete.
Damocles
Kate The Shrew
are killing me
of all-poetry.
Trolls doxing
me into oblivion
with bull ........
Satanists
pretending
with a purpose.
A syllable count
holds no doubts
the green leaf,
will turn to red
and then to brown
and crispy
in just one hand
gets crushed
released
and its then
the beauty
of something
becomes
nothing.....
We never
appreciated
the it....
Something
more than we
saw as
shining
a path founded
and gently
holding hands
kindly
of your castle
left in the sands.
My inner child
I hate the trembling
of this conscious
of my young cheeks
I wish suffered
the least.
But I swallow this
of the harrowing
of no built of bliss
but
how I came to miss....
Days I didn't sleep
for most of the days
of built we are of clay
and knocked of hay
I know my ways,
the scars I caused
I am a garden hose,
a killing
of a baby
as I sleep
in my dreams.
I hate
the welcoming
to this
reality,
scars
are harrowing
and I do not believe
you too
are over this.
I was always obsessively
full of painful anxiety
and blood of wishing,
I can scream,
but blood never washes off.
A something
in the wave of distressing
a tidal wave of hope-lessly
and its full of their hate
and my own backyard
of retaliation,
of why I sleep
for hours of eighteen
Why can't I
just live in my dreams?
Will I be able to
if I spill the blood
of the guilt
of my painful momentum?
I never felt joy,
until my lights were out,
and my fantasies
were true events
as I remembered
and now the holy
of such remembered faces,
Jesus and I never
had a good
relationship.
I feel my soul,
is escaping to joys
of their misery
and they won't
pretend,
I meant anything
in this damn world
Its getting worse.
Stars fall into cereal boxes
that we munch and crunch
without a spare for dresses
or a flirt as we were kids..
We see nothing
but the innocence
we were meant to be.
The hunters chase after foxes
with a shadow and a hunch
to spill the red of messiness,
and a strange to rid...
the world of something
so beautiful......
silence isn't homely
but utmost sincerely
of the line that ends.
justice for someone,
I can't pretend
to be on the mend
of this conscious.
I hurt and I destroy
like a heat seeking
missile of no phony.
The mistakes are not mine,
it was the creation of I.
I woke up these demons
and I can't control them.
Excuses are blasphemy
I made on a whim.
How justice should fall
like a triggering
of games of dominoes.
I am happy to lose.
Least I could do....
I look in a mirror
and see the severing
and for once,
I see her suffering....
A conscious
for once
here,
my rapid heart,
can't stop
Flowers
exist,
will die
tomorrow
and
I can't
bring myself
to face
their radiance.
They die as I live
and its not fair.
I've given the clues
to wipe me out here
and for once its fair.
I never have had fun
for decades in the sun
I'm losing my humanity
and I'm so sorry for it....
I wanted to be perfect,
like the ladies so pretty
Radiantly so shining......
I'm fading like a fallen star
and I wish I was already afar...
Your heart has a yearning
And a burning desire
To share what you’re learning
Like voices of a choir
Small pieces of paper
With the things you have thought
A con or a caper
How the villain was caught
No time is a wrong time
If you wake up at night
With a thought of a rhyme
Then you know you must write
Watching movies with you
Your friends do not enjoy
For you catch every clue
And discern every ploy
And time seems to fly by
When you sit down to write
With that glint in your eye
There is no end in sight
You longed for the teacher
To ask each for a story
You wrote down your feature
Of our flag called, “Old Glory”
Friends with the dictionary
Filled with word after word
To some it seemed scary
When the big words they heard
But not to the writer
You knew you’d become
A reader delighter
You knew you’d please some
So write on forever
As your stories you tell
A writer so clever
Right inside you doth dwell
The stench of endless days clings to my name;
My folly, like a rust, but stings not him.
A meek heart paid for by relentless blame,
Youth’s bitter wine- a draught forever grim.
Past twilights reel in cadences untrue,
I fall, a penitent within the flame;
Bound to repentance- ash where roses grew,
My voice, the echo of a sullied name.
O sickle, strike the valleys we once promised,
Lay low the ghosts that haunt my dwindled shore.
Let golden breaths on iron fleece be kissed,
And singe the thought that kept me wanting more.
So let the world unspool what once I wore,
That even ruin might return me pure.
Beat beat beats
The Tom Tom of the drums
Tom yom Tom Tom Tom Tom
Sounding beats the drum
9/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
Specific Types of Introspection Poems
Definition | What is Introspection in Poetry?
Poems Related to Introspection
contemplation, reflection, soul searching, scrutiny, meditation, rumination, egoism, self absorption, deep thought, self examination, brooding, introversion, heart searching, self observation, self questioning,