Long Apothecary Poems
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Historic flood
There are a few unread books on me
bookshelf and they will stay that way
I needn’t everything in print.
My depression hangs in the landscape
streaks on dusty window panes tell me
the obvious: clean me now!
I wait for the pharmacy to open after
the lunch break, hope it is not full of women
talking about pills, illnesses and diets.
I’m not watching TV today I need not
to know more about the storm everyone
talks about, I have seen it worse.
Soon I will be stopped by a hero telling
me he was in New York during the histrionic
storm which made the governor famous.
The apothecary should be open now
better hurry and don´t worry
what the afternoon newspaper prints.
Beloved Apothecary, you are most
lovely to me in ways you cannot guess;
your subtle smile, which haunts me like a ghost,
exalts and elevates me nonetheless.
More beautiful than the rest, you beguile
the best in me, a tame and mild, old soul
your soft demeanor has blessed all this while;
and mended to health and to being whole.
Because of you, I have gained newfound wealth,
a treasure and fortune from meeting you
one fateful night this last spring, on the twelfth
of May, which I remember to this day, too.
Like “Mona Lisa,” so are your delicate ways;
but a glimpse of you oh! so divinely repays.
Come on down to Pleasant Pharms:
Apothecary quaint with charm.
Motto here is 'Do no harm'
Sometimes we sort of miss…
Grab some psychedelic fungus,
Mushroom that are quite humongous
On the trails right here among us,
And colors when you piss!
Don’t need any antidote, see
Mescaline’s here, and peyote.
Howl the moon like a coyote,
Then go chew off your arm.
Drop some acid; be discrete.
We’ll hide ‘em in a blotter sheet.
Perforated little squares, neat!
They say no long-term harm...
Come on down, don't be a stranger!
There’s no clear and present danger,
Just neural pathway re-arrangers
Down here at Pleasant Pharms.
The reaper rhymes a rhyme to Riddle me
"Your Castles gone", he said, "now go be free"
But "What" I pray, "will be my Legacy?"
"The air you breathe, these words you speak to me"
"But man", I cried "is judged by his possessions"
"On earth", he said "these things are mans obsession"
These truths I fear lead only to confession
"Confess" he cried, "let that be your progression"
I only craved the Wealth that others claim
The money, the lifestyle and the fame
The Celtic Tigress roars within her shame
A Nation left unbridled writhes in pain
You say your faith is strong, yet you despair
Again he says "you speak and breathe Gods air"
For this alone my friend should bring you cheer
"There are far harsher crosses you could bear"
Oh can't you see I struggle, day by day
These Tears I cry can't wash my Sins away
The debt amassed is more than I can pay
"Have Faith", he sighed, for "help is on its way"
Apothecary ease my wearied thoughts
The battle flares again, each time it's fought
As time it flies and leaves me here distraught
God knows in time, it's only time I've bought
"Behold the Gifts you hold within your reach"
"Are you not Blessed with Word enough to Preach?"
"Preach what" I screamed, your favour I beseech
"That Love of God is Fading out of Reach?"
While 'Naked', peoples lives unfold in drama
A shirt and tie, be the Politicians armour
We wait in line to gather Heavens mana
While drowning in a sea of Celtic Kharma
PERFUMER
Nectar from the Father, God;
Sweet honey from mother;
Apothecary, Apothecary;
Honeysuckle
Aloe sally mighty God, Perfumer;
Balsam balm bedellium;
Clams sweet fragment cane;
Cinnamon, frankincense, galbanum gum
Henna, myrrh, spikenard, gnocchi, saffron
Honeysuckle
Aloe sally mighty God, Perfumer;
6/12/10
written words James Edward Lee Sr.
An idiosyncratic apothecary,
neo pop corollas line its grove;
The price and results may vary;
Heinous hues hang extraordinary,
the bourgeoise see a treasure trove;
An idiosyncratic apothecary;
Chartreuse poppin’ pills be wary,
a champion’s golden boxing glove;
The price and results may vary;
Bating mediocre alive to bury
immobile in the web they wove;
An idiosyncratic apothecary;
Citrine and amethystine they carry
promise calm, balance, and love;
The price and results may vary;
Naïveté of the Sucker is scary,
silk subterfuge we do not speak of;
An idiosyncratic apothecary,
the price and results may vary.
at the pharmacy
ome books in my bookshelf are unread
and can stay the way, I need not read
everything printed
depression hangs over the landscape like
dust on windows tells me the obvious
come clean me now
When finally going ashore, I had floated
like an ant on an oak leaf, I was baffled
electricity bills have to be paid
the pharmacy is open, but I will wait a bit
it is full of middle-aged women talking
about their illnesses
there had been a storm, pot plants
had fallen to the floor, the weather
is getting worse every year
the apothecary is empty. I walk in
to get medicine for diabetes, but
I no longer ask why me
High up here,
amid this cold and alone,
my tools might best be
forgiven if they've
long-since forgot
that they deserve better.
But the only lips my teacup
have known are my blurburing two.
The only ink my brush has known
has been that scolded into some
sorrowful form on this not-mulberry rock.
The only skin this robe has known
was that of this persistent perpetrator.
It's yet to feel a worthy monk; the only sage its known
is the sage I've crumbled into my pestle
in pitiably inchoate mockery of an apothecary
when my knee went turned and grew as big
as my dreams.
The only ears or heart my poems have reached
up here, in this thin air,
have been,
has been my own -
Source and resting place of my
ignoble offerings.
I forgive my cup.
I forgive my robe.
I forgive my brush.
I forgive my flesh.
It never knew better.
It always deserved better.
It never knew better.
Her man was woven into love spell
By another woman, not of her smell.
Bewitchery, she will not tolerate
To the perfumery she’ll calculate.
Apothecary had the perfect answer
An exotic earthy whiff from vetiver!
Happy she was her man found her erotic -
But, alas, it was only episodic!
She spritzed the air with essence of rose petal -
Then a reminiscence of the betrayal!
Love and romance the attar generated
Very soon enough it evaporated.
Memorable scent of basil she wore next,
Pleasurable things her man not to forget,
In vain, it was she who cannot forget -
In her mind fresh the err her man had make,
Scent of her rival made her green with envy,
Scent of betrayal made her very angry,
Desperate but hopeful, she went to a lone edifice;
Temperate and humble, the scent of water brought her peace.
7/14/14
The storm recedes, its rage now spent,
Leaving the earth to emit a scent,
A dank, damp, earthy smell of wet grass,
That breaks the drought, from its parched impasse.
In the quiet there after, all is still,
Thunder's rumble quelled to distill,
Sound to liquid, rage to peace,
As hopes of rebirth and new life increase.
The scent of rain is a heaven sent smell,
Wafting up to dispel a lingering spell.
It's a therapy from nature's apothecary,
Dispensed from a dry-grass prairie.
Imbibe the aroma of the heavenly scent,
To flush the stench of discontent,
From your life's toil and strife.
Imbibe its smelling salts, revive your life.