Long Adulterer Poems
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Because I'm an adulterer, my town is making me wear the letter A.
People constantly stare at it and give me finger, I've had better days.
My town is very strict when it comes to adultery, they hate that sin.
But they're not doing it to the women, only to the men.
I tell people that the A stands for Archie but they don't buy it.
I was told that I'd better not remove it but I decided to try it.
When I removed the A from my chest, the jerks threw me down a well.
When people walked by, they peed on my head when they heard me yell.
They helped me get out the well two weeks later and I'd lost 35 pounds.
If you're a man, you'd better make sure not to commit adultery in this town.
Today, I was informed that I'll have to wear this A for another forty years.
If you're a man who lives in this town, you'd better get the hell out of here.
This bowl is no longer mine,
was never so,
Let it go.
well worn before the oath,
A gift that despised the guardian,
Presented freely without a dowry in May.
tainted, and abandoned.
used, and widened by many.
too wide to keep a home.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
insatiable, licentious and libidinous.
The bowl was scorned by many.
ere i fell a wandering,
incorrigible, rebellious, untutored.
a bait on my way, the sorrow on my path.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
Like many seeking for prey, and so was i for a time.
intent concealed,,
desperate for the gift of the semen.
as adulterer urged rebellion by ignorance.
the rage, the rave of ego and bestiality.
deceived the Law for mere gain.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
It is broken cannot be fixed by logic.
this bowl is old, alluring by mascara.
This bowl was used,
i take exception on your list,
This bowl is free available to all.
the next victim can explore.
the bowl is cheap,
forced a dowry to conceal the shame.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
T'was sold for free at Ikoyi with ego,
Who is next?
A thousand many had the bowl,
I played along for a time,
ere this voyage of deceit,
I took a flight from restrain ,
hoping to make a jewel from the Flesh.
This bowl is no longer mine,
Let it go,
This bowl is addicted to the red zones,
Incurable addiction i recalled,
The friends,
The internet,
The phone,
The TV,
The cinema,
And tattling,
The routines of unending dark flights
Incorrigible,
Venomous.
You may have the bowl if you would.
think no shame on me, I lusted.
This bowl is No longer mine.
Let it go
Once a street bowl,
and always so.
Find the bowl in your homes,
Let's hope the bowl recovers.
but a broken bowl is irreparable by man
People whom are haters, better love mercy
People who rape women and children
People who steal for false prosperity
Like minded sinners filling up hell
People whom are murderers, better love mercy
People who abuse elder seniors better love forgiveness
People who mistreat animals is it true all dogs go to heaven
What chance does a sinner man have
When he's an atheist
And what about those who fondle and rape children
Who persecute those less fortunate
What about the one who shoots the guns
Wounding and killing at random
What about the adulterer, and fornicator
People who rape women and children
People who steal for false prosperity
Evil men dictators
Evil thoughts coming from us
And God once repented Himself that He made man
For you see we are sinful and dammed
Evil monarchs, kings and rulers
Whom cheat, lie, be ill-human--sub human
Dictators, Kings, Presidents
Evil men dictators
Evil thoughts coming from us
All shame, all sin
Are you all out or all in
Repent now, did I leave off something
Every knee shall bow, every tongue confess
That Jesus is Lord, so if I barely make it I better...better love mercy
Just in case I scarcely make it in
With all my sins, all my repentance, I better love grace
12/13/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2018 ©
Zealousness prevails to amass knowledge
lifequest nsync toward expansive lexicon
extant since yours truly kneehigh toddler
inquisitive mind fired passion to steep me
within inexhaustible voluminous treasure
trove housing increasing bound knowledge
inexplicable to thyself, wherefore heartfelt
ineradicable passion to sequester attention
between newpages of selective genres for
hours experiencing intellectual ecstatic née
orgasmic excitation sustains purposefulness
as explains escapist redoubt within mental
framework, thee singularly soulful asylum
offering me cerebral satiation, sedation, and
solution to cope with unbearable millstone
linkedin with emotional/psychological pain
wrought courtesy neurological mutation all
throughout tender years, when one doth seek
natural predilections in tandem toward naked
lunch (heady salad days lettuce not go there),
quite the contrary this socially malnourished
individual burrowed within reading material
even now tickles fancy of mine johnny come
lately body electric exploring, crafting, and
allowing milieu writing to pacify, gratify and
codify mindset never entertaining delusions
of grandeur hypothetically envisioning to
discover friendship (even platonic) regard-
ding another, who exudes similar love with
words, though accepting fickle human nature
at most hope flickr of ephemeral pinterest
maintains attention of anonymous reader
rabbit nibbles morsel of recondite tidbit, and
synchronizing ever so briefly with logophile,
whose aura, charisma, dogma, karma, persona...
hoopfully nets/ brings even ad hoc “FAKE” smile
courtesy buzzfeeding lapsed adulterer,
whose prickly propensities
no longer promulgated –
illicit flagrante delicto behaviour condemned
nearly plunging papa into divorce court.
There’s an aborted child at the gate in heaven;
WHO AM I
He’s just been murdered because the woman and government has the RIGHT
Now…
Just
WHO AM I
Knowingly, justifiably
Fulling unrighteous choices
And where are all those aborted voices
Here standing under the tree;
Here beside God and Jesus in
Heaven
Fifty child molester, murderer;
Whom am I to judge?
The final judgement, the final call was
Did he repent did God forgive him
Though his victim was young
One thing for certain he’s gone..
The child has been recited by the master
He’s standing beside Jesus and the Master
WHOSE AM I
Knowingly, justifiably
Fulling unrighteous choices
And where are all those aborted voices
Here standing under the tree;
Here beside God and Jesus in
Heaven
Wife abuser, striker;
Hit her once to often;
Now she’s in a coma;
You said you loved her;
But love, true love doesn’t hurt;
She finally died;
You’re a murder, wife abuser unrighteous man;
An adulterer, your new woman you’ve burned;
So the authorities after you;
You too need repentance and forgiveness too;
He you stand on death roll
On your dying breath you were told
You heard a still small voice in the air;
As you cried and ask God for, forgiveness….
It’s not up to me to judge?
Maybe, just maybe. Like the thief on the cross
Next to Jesus his last dying words we’re lost
In paradise he too shall be
He repented gracefully
Knowingly, justifiably
Fulling unrighteous choices
And where are all those aborted voices
Here standing under the tree;
Here beside God and Jesus you and me in. . .
Heaven
6/19/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
What is forgiveness, good question if anything at all
Forgives the adulterer, but did she make the right call
Some crimes so egregious, there’s no second chance
Unless we bury our heads, and go around in a trance
Only the injured party, has the power to truly forgive
Poured acid on my face, but at least then let me live
I mean come on, some fates even worse than death
Torturers, psychopaths, should we forgive and forget,
This is not hatred in my heart, it’s just common sense
How do we believe our perpetrators, actually repent
Prisoners tell the parole board sorry, to get out of jail
Some speak the truth, but others are incorrigible fails
I’m sorry I done wrong, took your car while you slept
It’s ok son your forgiven, left my keys around, so inept
On second thoughts, condoning may encourage it again
Only the next time, they run someone over, what then
Not so straight forward, when I put it to you this way
Forgiveness has consequences, makes hurt seem ok
Indeed in some cases, offence should be overlooked
Where a circumstance dictated, unbecoming conduct
Perhaps the culprit was young, just went off the rails,
Forgive by all means, with some cautionary harsh tale
But what is forgiveness, perhaps just simply letting go
Showing your the bigger person, also good for the ego
Is forgiveness a human delusion, to just give permission
It’s our Christian way, but did anyone tell the inquisition
If there is an almighty God, or indeed some higher power
Will they overlook our not forgiving, come the final hour
To die with a resentment, does it mean an incomplete life
Wait til on ones deathbed, condemn your unfaithful wife
To die of some disease, contracted doing charitable work
Sorry! my own choice, I forgive myself for what it’s worth
FORGIVENESS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
24/5/2021
You were an evil preacher and that's a fact.
Morals and ethics were what you lacked.
You were a liar, thief, adulterer and a murderer as well.
Because of all of these sins, you're doomed to go to Hell.
You stole from your church and you slept with a man's wife.
Those things alone were awful but you also took that man's life.
That poor man trusted you, he even came to you for marital advice.
What you advised, ran his marriage into the ground, that wasn't nice.
You're eligible for parole in twenty-five years but until then, you'll rot in jail.
And when you face God on Judgement day, you're doomed to go to Hell.
(Sadly, this is a true story.)
It runs in the blood, you know.
The mind may forget, but the body remembers
There are things you'll try to shake and fail for years
Etched in the nerves for generations to come
Love you grandpa
You ol' whiskey-soaked lush
You've got three daughters and three grandkids who won't touch the stuff
So clearly, the responsibility fell to me
It's extra bitter today
The saving grace my body has
Where it realizes that the fun poison it loves
Is poison after all
You can't even call it liqueur, can you?
Sweet enough to drink with a burger
Sweet enough to sip like water
Sweet enough to lose weeks to
Scotch was always your vice, wasn't it?
The scent of your breath scarring three girls for life
Scaring them away from our stereotypical legacy
Christ, you had good taste
But it tastes so bitter now
Floating on the sweetest cloud for months
I've lost the taste for complexity
Nearly 30 with the tongue of a teenager
It's a pricey habit for a gal too anxious to talk
Half-gallon of milk is half a minute of looking for loose change
Half-gallon of this would eat an entire shift ten years ago
Or at least half of one now
Did it bother you as much as it bugs me?
The drink didn't kill you, the smokes did
But did your stomach ever twitch after a good night
And have you questioning the validity of God?
You were an excellent Catholic, my boy
A serial adulterer and cruel as your mistresses
Only to change your ways so close to the end
Take solace in knowing everyone but Mom forgave you
I wonder how we would have talked nowadays
You've been dead for nearly half my life
And we so rarely held any meaningful conversations when you lived
If I read you this poem, would you fill up my glass?
But even pure sugar was too bitter for me tonight
My liver's getting sassy with me before I can actually stress test it
I made up for every imagined sin of last year
But this hasn't been penitence, just excess
It's a strange feeling, you know
To look in the mirror and see your face in it
I think I'll keep my gaze at the ground for a while
While I fill this glass with water instead
Andrew Mountbatten Windsor
A name to make him wince
When he used to be a royal
Once known as the Prince
Does he have due reason
To complain and whine
In America they promote
Old friends of Epstein?
They're sending him to Norfolk
A move he doesn’t really rate
Probably living there rent free
On Bro’s Sandringham Estate.
According to the Beeb
His ex Fergie has to roam
One of the growing number
Of those looking for a home.
Will the sins of the father,
Only alleged of course,
Be visited on his daughters
An ongoing family curse.
The King was an adulterer
Which must give Andrew hope
Since he was recently in Rome
Praying publicly with the Pope.
Over in America existing
On his wit and guile
Harry’s chuffed he chose
To live his voluntary exile
Willie’s back in England
The perfect royal clone
Wondering if he’ll ever
Make it to the throne.
Has the wold turned topsy Turvey
A revolutionary new era of time
When being rich and powerful
Doesn’t grant amnesty from crime
I was dirty I was wash in the blood
I was ignore, abandon and hated, Jesus gave me love
Ridiculed ripped and torn
Humanity haters made me wish I was not born
O' but yes there is
Oh! Bless there be
A better for me always
I was poor monetarily,
No place to lay down my head no really
Birth burst into this dad gone abandoned us
He had many, many other girls, adulterous adulterer
Other kids had full-time stay at home dads where's mine
O but where is mine
My Father in heaven
And now mine better here and now, always
My Father got better days for me now
My Father got better days for me now
My Father got better days for me now
9/14/22
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 9/14/ 2022