Long Forced Poems
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December Seventh and the U.S.A.
By Franklin Price
12/07/2021
December seventh, forty-one
A day that lives in infamy
Had it not happened, as it did,
Where in the world, would we now be?
Was only four score years ago
We could no longer isolate
Became THE POWER of the earth
With destiny we made a date
Japan and the Axis powers
Forced us, the U.S.A., to fight
They woke up the sleeping giant
And since, we've never slept a night
For us the war began that day
To end, at last, in forty-five
Veterans, of it, still among us
Aging, a hundred, but alive
Are they proud of where we've traveled
Since the atomic bomb was dropped.
Or do they realize, as I,
That World War Two has never stopped?
We helped the whole world to rebuild
Could not retreat from all the fight
Communism now our enemy
It did not happen overnight
In the war they were our allies
Defending all against the foe
When the Axis was defeated
Became the enemy we know
Policing actions, came and went
Korean war, and Vietnam
The Cold War, so called, ended
We did not really give damn
Had to meddle in the Middle East
Bringing terror to our lives
Putin's Russia and Red China
Are both where the war still thrives
May not yet be full on combat
But the threat is in the way
Why can't we all just get along
In the World we're in today?
Can't we sit down at the table
And listen to the other side?
Our blue, third planet, from the sun
Is the only place to ride.
THE POWER on the planet Earth
Is still the good old U.S.A.
But it's slipping exponentially
And will soon be gone away
We're losing sight of who we are
Of who our founders said we'd be
We the people, are the government
Not those in Washington, we see.
Don't have our interests in their hearts
They'll take our freedoms all away
They'll defeat us from the inside
That's what I see for us today
It's not over 'til it's over
We can fight until it's done
We can help or we can hinder
To see again a rising sun
In a high rise block in Toxteth lived a Jazz clarinettist called Joe.
His fans in the Jazz club worshipped him and flocked to every show.
And night after night in that smoke filled club, his fingers weaved a spell,
While the audience cheered to the echo, unaware of his private hell
For, every night, in his tenth-floor flat, before he could play again,
He injected himself with Dutch courage to deaden the inner pain
It began with soothing cannabis, which the law doesn’t class as abuse
Just so long as that stash in the biscuit tin is purely for personal use
It can’t do any harm, they said, to smoke the occasional spliff;
Then the drummer introduced him to a line of white powder to sniff
It was just an occasional habit he wasn’t dependent upon
But he found that his music lost its edge when the buzz of the powder had gone
His dealer had something better at an introductory price
He wouldn’t become addicted if he tried it once or twice.
His music got better and better and the audience howled for more
But now he was hooked on heroin and stealing in order to score
One Sunday he didn’t turn up at the club so the band was reduced to three
Who thanked him as they pocketed a larger slice of the fee
When they tried to ‘phone on Monday, his mobile wasn’t on.
The neighbours hadn’t seen him and thought he might have gone
They found him three days later in his squalid tenth-floor flat
When they forced the front door open past the junk mail on the mat.
“Death by misadventure”, said the Coroner’s report.
“A tragic waste of talent,” he told the crowded court.
The church was overflowing on the chill November day
As they gathered to remember him and send him on his way.
A host of jazz musicians and a multitude of fans
Joined in celebrating the life of a gifted man.
His own band followed the coffin as they took him from the nave
Out to the wintry churchyard to lower him into his grave.
They have a new clarinettist now but, although he’s very good,
He doesn’t have Joe’s magic; well nobody ever could.
He lacks that extra something that no-one can define.
But the drummer’s offered a helping hand – in the form of a thin white line
In my feelings I’m fillings
In my splitting placement settings
Intentional pig intestines
I LAMB COVING MY LINKAGE
My beef is forced anger
So goose my way through life passages go figure
I goat what I eat what I ate aspirate danger
My by product waste excrement, temperament
Cleanse out covered wrinkle tribe
Neither lamb fry nor black pot
In my feelings I’m fillings
In my splitting placement settings
Intentional pig intestines
Spiritual and Physical
~
Left over thrown away chitterling
Skins of mine intestines
Mutton never tasted spiritual under taking
I’ve been bomb basin
A jointed of veal provide
How we feel been denied
Speaks of feces yum turn inside out
In my feelings I’m fillings
In my splitting placement settings
Intentional pig intestines
Physical and Spiritual
11/12/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
In silhouettes hold
I quietly sleep,
with nothing to bother
in darkness I’ll keep
A Feeling of nothing
pervades all around,
how do you put ear?
with a void to ground
A suspended belief
is drifting away,
reality in darkness
has its own bouquet
Obsidian the depths
I am forced to take,
diving into darkness
the devils own lake
Dancing with Demons
tapped into my spine,
if you look in the night
they ride the moonshine
Fixated to light
I move to the edge,
to not look back
my last dream pledge
Moving through droplets
of the purest peace,
in the bright of the zen
I find comforts release
And letting fates will
take over and reign,
I dream in the twilight
of shadows profane
Verse1
I put a spell on you
Did you feel how I did it?
I tried to be the best for you
Did you feel what I felt?
I was still a kid,
I think, you did admit it
I had a desire to
Be liked by you
pre-chorus
So I’m afraid you have no clue
Who is with you? What is my colour for true?
chorus
My nightmare is you decide to go
Claiming that I was a fake in all
I tried to be ideal girl, hiding my flaws
I shouldn’t played with life, I know
I was deeply in love with you, I hoped
sometimes it could be forced
because
I thought that you were mine
verse
I put a spell on you
I shouldn’t have done it (have done it)
But I was so selfish in
My wills and my dreams
I tried to change the fate (poor fate)
Decided “it’s just a game”
thought “there’s no other way”
Be liked by you
pre-chorus
So I’m afraid you have no clue
Who is with you? What is my colour for true?
chorus
My nightmare is you decide to go
Claiming that I was a fake in all
I tried to be ideal girl, hiding my flaws
I shouldn’t played with life, I know
I was deeply in love with you, I hoped
sometimes it could be forced
because
I thought that you were mine
There is a song "I put a spell on you" by Screaming Jay Hawkins. I was so amazed by the lyrics, the voice and the music , that I decided to write a story from the woman's perspective.
The Man Who Pushed Himself
There I was
a boy with bars in his mouth
and rhythm in his bones.
They laughed.
“You’re not good enough,” they said.
“You’ll never make it.”
But I stepped into the battles anyway.
Sweat on the floor,
lights in my eyes,
and the crowd roaring like thunder.
And somehow
I won.
Before that I was dancing,
always the worst in the room,
always surrounded by people better than me.
So I stayed.
I studied their steps.
I sharpened mine.
Not because someone believed in me
but because I forced myself to.
Then came the army.
More voices.
More doubt.
“You won’t last.”
Yet there I stood again,
boots in the dirt,
proving them wrong
one more time.
I came back,
shaking cocktails behind the bar,
learning mixology like an art form.
Still the same whispers
still the same disbelief.
So I worked harder.
Another push.
Another climb.
Music called again.
Tracks with friends,
late nights,
beats in the dark.
Then life turned rough.
The wrong roads.
The wrong crowds.
To survive among sharks
I became one.
Sharp aim.
Cold lessons.
A man learning the world
the hard way.
Still
no cheering crowd behind me.
No partner saying “keep going.”
Just me.
Pushing me.
So I learned guitar.
Then piano.
Drums already in my blood.
Push.
Push.
Push.
I stepped into my uncle’s worship band,
wrote songs for love,
even when my voice cracked
trying to find harmony.
Push again.
Then university.
Then betrayal.
A knife from someone
who was meant to be my best friend.
That broke something in me.
A man I used to be
disappeared that day.
What’s left
is a shadow
learning how to walk again.
But even shadows
move forward.
So I write.
I build worlds.
I make music.
My first real track
under the name Treesar Greene.
No applause.
No great support system.
Just the same truth
I’ve always known:
Every week of my life
I had to push myself.
And maybe that’s my curse.
Maybe that’s my power.
Because I will keep learning.
Keep creating.
Keep rising.
But I pray
my sons and my daughter
never have to walk this road alone.
Because a life with no support
is a heavy road to carry.
Still
I rise.
Still
I create.
Still
I push forward.
And one day
the world will look back and say,
He never stopped.
My prison is a place known all to well.
It brings joy to some and holds terror for most.
The air becomes heavy as I am forced to listen,
and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was declared treason.
the opportunities keep on getting cooler,
but the techniques that are used have always been quite peculiar.
I begin to ponder if it’s indirect torture,
taking its course gradually over time.
I wish that I could resurrect my euphoria,
even so, I have to return annually and I have no choice but to keep this
nostalgia.
All I can think about upon entering those gates is my downfall.
In spite of that, all I want to hear at the end of the year is a drumroll.
I’m well aware that it’s true and good for me,
however, it doesn’t hold a good tune,
Oh how I wish it could have been a better melody.
TO BE OR NOT TO BE HAMLET'S QUOTE FROM HAMLET, WRITTEN BY SHAKESPEARE
Hamlet spoke these words at a low ebb of life
How would he do it, perhaps with a knife?
To be or not to be was foremost in his troubled mind
A solution to which he had to find.
His ravaged and innermost thoughts,
Caused a madness, a frenzy, in which he was caught,
For to live or to die meant so little to him,
And the dawn of each day was beginning to dim.
But death was for Hamlet a thought so near,
With Ophelia now gone who he had held so dear,
Suicide was an option, but after death was his fear,
So staying alive, was becoming more clear.
As death was to Hamlet and all, quite unknown,
He thought it better to sit on earth’s throne.
For who had come back to admit or deny,
That you return to life after you die?
But Hamlet’s fate was indeed to die,
Ophelia if alive would shudder and cry,
It was Ophelia’s brother Laertes
Who brought about Hamlet’s demise,
He poisoned the sword and also the wine,
So once and then twice,
Surely from one he would certainly die,
Laertes had always wanted to try!
But as the poisoned wine,
Killed Hamlet’s mother,
Hamlet in turn killed another,
Laertes, Ophelia’s brother,
Claudius although kin, Hamlet disliked,
Nigh was the end of this family’s plight.
Claudius was forced to drink the remains,
Of the poisoned wine,
Then Hamlet died,
And no one cried,
For no kin were left
To feel bereft!
What a drama and sad end,
To a Royal family’s line.
Through a masterful performance
I keep using
whatever poison is found around
to avoid abusing
my fragile psyche swirling inside.
The most sensitive
fragments my ego beholds are
of resistive
stubbornness and the negative
perspectives I hold.
“Get it together” and “Now”
I am told
after attempts to relate
with an embrace
miscarries the truth
about beauty and grace.
Forced, I listen intently
and dream of hope.
The brain heeds nothing
but this downward slope.
Without a timeless day ahead
I can’t equate
each dreadful decision made
to will or fate.
Positive regard trickles slower
as I drip
off of a ledge into free fall.
I only grip
what is in feasible reach of
the comfortable.
Depravity and gravity unites.
Barely audible...
to those overhead who witness me; ....
. ....now alone
Suspending....… all ideas in
the whirling cyclone
if for no other reason than
screeches
heard from the love left above:
Preaches.
Clarity escapes quickly though;
Echoes haunt the dark below
If I fall where shadows softly go,
will secrets rise from
depths
unknown?
3/28/2017
"on any subject" contest
long form
right side short form
Deemed significant culturally,
a fantastic and old comedy
is this film I love,
which is the tale of
a weatherman played by Bill Murray.
This weatherman Phil has been sent
to cover the groundhog event.
He’s so hard to please,
and that’s because he’s
an arrogant cynical gent.
There’s a blizzard and Phil’s forced to stay
in Punxsutawney for one more day.
He awakes. Something’s wrong!
“I Got You Babe,” the song
by his bedside is what he hears play.
It’s the same song from the day before
when he woke up at six. Out the door,
he goes onto the street.
Things repeat and repeat.
This is something that he can’t ignore.
In a time loop he’s stuck! Each time when
he is hearing “I Got You Babe,” then
that man, once so vain,
begins going insane.
Groundhog Day comes again and again!
When he understands that there won’t be
any punishment whenever he
does anything wrong,
it isn’t for long
before Phil behaves most crazily.
He drives reckless and binges on beer.
Since tomorrow will never grow near,
he drives right off a cliff!
He would not do that if
there were hope, so he’s lost all his fear.
There’s a woman that Phil’s come to know,
and he talks to her every day, so
he can learn more and more
how to make her adore
him! His feelings for her start to grow.
With his efforts to win Rita’s heart,
Phil begins to appreciate art.
He learns French and to play
the piano! Each day
in the townspeople’s lives he takes part.
Seven years come and go. By year eight,
Phil has changed. But will this change his fate?
Knowing everyone’s needs,
he is doing good deeds,
and in Rita’s eyes, Phil’s looking great!
It’s his last Groundhog Day when Phil learns
his life’s lesson. This time his world turns!
Through the great power of
unconditional love
and his good works, a NEW day Phil earns!
“I Got You , Babe” plays next to his head.
But it’s NOT Groundhog’s Day, for instead,
Phil wakens to see
unbelievably
true love won! Rita’s with him in bed!
March 27, 2018 for the FAVORITE COMEDY MOVIE Contest of Alexis Y