Long Arrest Poems
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Borrowed Time
Tom
5/17/2018
November 15th 2016, spinal stenosis surgery left me not at my best,
On December 27th, during Open Heart Surgery, they cracked my chest.
And three days later on January 1st I experienced Sudden Cardiac Arrest,
God gave me a near death experience, which became my ultimate test.
Had I been in a conscious state I couldn’t have expected
To recover from Sudden Cardiac Arrest just three days after open heart surgery and 1-1/2 months after spinal stenosis surgery. But God knows I’m a fighter and since I have, I envision myself as living on borrowed time. Each morning I feel blessed to have another day while trying not looking beyond it as far as life on earth is concerned. I try to forget the inconvenience that my current situation finds me in and my other ailments that time has bequeathed to me that hinder my ability to do much. God promises three score and ten and has lent me nine more and I continue to count.
Tom
Form:
Technological marvel:
who’d have ever guessed?
They went to the moon,
powered by less.
The thing receives phone calls,
it’s got GPS,
a mindfulness app
for when you are stressed.
It monitors heart rate,
can produce EKGs,
prompts you when it’s time:
take your medicine, please.
Blood-oxygen levels,
hours of REM sleep;
If you’re under the water,
it knows just how deep.
If you’re lost in the woods,
it will help get you back,
or blast a loud siren
if you’re under attack.
The steps that you took,
the stairs that you climbed,
record a voice memo
to capture a rhyme.
Listening to music,
or receiving a text,
keep up with your groceries,
so your wife won’t be vexed.
For the gals, tracking cycles,
and for all, track your phone,
keeps up with the NASDAQ,
and the stocks that you own.
But it doesn’t record
all the things that you missed -
Life in arrest,
watching your wrist.
Night casts shadows on hollowed ground
An eagle flies, painful the screams;
While reddish crown lifts, armed with grit
That its rafters fight bleak of dreams.
Wisps of clouds, like puffs of smoke
Rage on stents of bushy trees
Its royal pose and nest fledgling,
Are caught up in a claw's tight squeeze.
Soon mighty eagle flees by night,
Wings swooping to escape arrest;
To gather might for life ahead
Unfolding freedom at its best.
Dated 10/22/2015
Screwed Vlll Contest
Sponsor: rob carmack
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~Dedicated to the endangered Monkey Eagle of Asia
which may become extinct due to unlawful hunting.~
Dangerous days
Truly , we are living in a world wher life has no guarantee
We have no clue of what's happening in the system.
We are no safe ,The lean people leaving their life through heart stroke.
The young people are suffering from cardiac arrest .
Life has no stability ,now a days..
Dangerous days..
We might be laughing ,standing ,walking but the next moment we are prone to brain stroke ,fell down become unconsciousness ,wake up in the hospital bed.
Dangerous days.
We can't plan our life ,because we might never know of death disturbing us..
Truly ,dangerous days ..
No life has warranty...
We might be proud of technology ,but still no sound knowledge of direction of death..
Technology doesn't stop death ...
We hope for a good days .expecting the life span raise up to atleast 70 ...
Dangerous days..
Alex couldn't stop thinking about his mess
It was just so silly and depressed
But he could never forget the pork grease
That morning, Alex encountered a spill express
He had to calm himself with an arrest
Alex couldn't stop thinking about the mess
Later, Alex was spooked by a test
He tried to focus on it in English
But he could never forget his breakfast mess
Maud tried to distract him with an embrace
Said it was time to start thinking about a nest
Alex couldn't stop thinking about the mess
Alex took action like a success
The mess was like a toxic test
But he could never forget the egress
Alex nosedived like a common distress
His mind turned into rest
Alex couldn't stop thinking about the mess
But he could never forget the egress
01/19/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2020
To be predicted means that you’re the fruition,
Of a rational process, effortful and determined;
We can all predict that someone will soon cure cancer,
And so Jesus was foretold as medicine’s romancer.
The name Jesus Christ means predicted saviour,
And Isaiah 53 verse 5 states that he definitely would be,
Wounded by the government for the people’s freedoms,
But that because of his wounds society would be superior.
Those who were intelligent just before Jesus came,
Felt a wave of change in the medical field,
Where doctors only treated the families of the rich:
The intelligent said that such a wave would equality yield.
When Christ was stressed out, about to be arrested,
He forsook his medical mind and surrendered all to god;
You can see that the god thing is for trials by government,
Or today, trials by society when your stance is not odd.
Upon arrest, the soldiers wanted Jesus of Nazareth,
Not Jesus the son of god, or the Jesus of any divinity tribe,
And Jesus simply replied to them “I am he,” squarely and plainly,
Unlike at his trial, where for speech he had to be bribed.
The allegation was indeed productivity in profession,
His work skill, which came and grew from his family roots;
He got much social power from his healings and exorcisms,
As he had learnt the joinery trade well, had invented new shoots.
Caiaphus asked if he was a king from the miracles he did,
Miracles of course being new methods and techniques,
And he replied to Pilate that god, the church and he himself,
Determine his actions, that their lee-way is his health.
Jesus was popular at church, not amongst the government,
So it was informally considered to be his validator;
The question was whether the people still saw state over church,
For common order to be maintained and not left in the lurch.
He knew he would die for the good he had done in life,
So inaugurated communion to remember his cause:
Loving the weaker, lower ones no matter who they are,
Saying everyone should know that personally in applause.
The Passion of the Christ film 2004 used.
Rolf was born in Wallertheim, in an optimistic year
Progress seemed to be everywhere, and not much to fear.
Then the reds took Russia, shook the world to the core
Millions killed when in power, a crime you can’t ignore
Drafted in World War One, every moment was a scare
French came at him in bright red uniforms, too visible, wasn’t fair
He claims he didn’t kill anyone; I wish I could believe
He was on the wrong side of that war, a past you can’t retrieve.
Under Weimar, the dollar was worth 4000 trillion marks
That kind of inflation destroys society, opens it to sharks.
Nazis got into power, took guns from all the Jews
Rolf threw his weapon in the Rhine, and his medals too.
He left grape vines behind, took his family out, down to the wire
They rode through Palestine, saw Jewish farms set on fire.
Then a letter came from the Reich, called Rolf to the reserve
We still have it, bureaucratic time lag, an ironic reminder to serve.
If Rolf had gone back, he would have been doomed
Into the maw of the gigantic bloodshed one more life consumed.
I met Rolf in Denver, a short, muscular guy
He even flipped me on my back, with a Judo move I didn’t spy.
I watched a rodeo with him, history was in arrest.
It's a strange thing, in one man, so much time compressed
I spoke with a great-aunt who had uncles in the Civil War
A great uncle told me he saw soldiers marching to fight the Boer.
He also fought in World War One, but on the English side
Showed me wounds in his arm, to fight was part of pride.
And now I use ChatGPT, and admire Space X
In me through memories so much history connects.
And yet I’m the black sheep, so many things went bad
I’m relieved these men never knew my saga, so dismal, and so sad.
I also look at the world, there is so much bad news:
Jihad in Africa, and in Holland a “hunt for the Jews”
China, Russia on the rise, the west has seen better days
Will we end that compressed window of history in a fiery blaze?
First Placing : Poetry Marathon 2025
Sponsor: Mark Toney
{ FREEDOM “We may want to linger, to stay, to arrest the flow and talk about it, photograph it, lyricize it. Yet this beauty is mercurial and we must let it go, for it is already slipping away to be replaced by the new.” -Stuart Sovatsky }
YELLOW FIELD OF WHEAT
Angel of Death skims blacker than tar
a skeletal knock overturning bowl of oats
smelling of frankincense and ashes
to carry you to a yellow field of wheat
where you will dance radiant waltzes
haloed free
your laughter pranced across blue walls with
Michael Jackson, Spider-Man, cheeky elves
relishing Kentucky Fried Chicken as you
played scrabble with forlorn neighbour
bony body birthing revolutions of
roulette with green life and grey death
how you endured those precision needles
wanting to drum tapered fingers on
waiting desk overflowing with car sketches
your thirteen year old bald head smiling
veins on an enchanting spring moon as our
hidden tears crystallised hospital sheets
we tried to keep up with you scoffing
encyclopaedias, Dickens and muffins alike
cancer like a chess game mastered chemo
doctors and nurses becoming kings or pawns
time was now or endless pathos stalking minds
Laurel and Hardy keeping hearts unlocked
on Merlin’s star-patterned couch you will
jokingly converse with Pele and his team
soccer ball silent under quiescent table
my ink cannot pen sad lines as I feel
your lips still sucking dripping nipple
freedom moonwalks on a
yellow field of wheat
There is one thing I have noticed recently.
Some of you do not know the meaning of “private property”.
If you attempt to encroach upon my land,
I will just have to act and take a stand.
My team of pit bulls has been trained to attack.
They will maul you whether you are white or black.
Each one of them has a voracious appetite.
They are always hungry, and are not afraid to bite.
I am a very good marksman. That is what many people say.
I can shoot a flea off a dog from a thousand yards away.
You are never safe no matter what your position.
My gun is ready and I have plenty of ammunition.
However, if my dogs don’t get you and my aim is bad,
you will be in for a time that will really be sad.
The police will be here any time of night or day.
They will arrest you and haul your ass away.
You had better pull some lucky cards in your game of rummy.
The last thing I have to say is, “GOOD LUCK DUMMY”.
"...Secret things belong to God" Deut. 29:29
True song. It is no secret what God can do.
But some secrets are hidden from me and you.
Secret things capture, arrest, and indulge
our deepest attention and imagination.
And there are far too many to mention.
Things that are beyond our domain.
Things from which we have nothing to gain.
They are reserved in a different dimension.
Unrevealed and hidden from mortals,
Such secrets belong to God alone.
They are reserved in forbidden zones;
Zones that we dare not enter or roam.
May it suffice us to let the secrets remain,
Forever sealed until we reach our final home.