Long Hook on Poems
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I predict
In another few hundred years
Humans will have evolved to have no legs
Our hands will instead have evolved
To have smaller, more dexterous thumbs
And our butts will have flattened
To make our tiny flying saucers easier to handle.
Why do I say all this?
Because it’s clear Life outside of an inter-net
Is increasingly irrelevant.
In the future there will be no need for books
No need for one on one interaction
No need for adventure
No need for challenge
And when I say no need, of course I mean
No desire.
The addiction to instant gratification
Will replace all previous human desires
Sex, food, sports will all be redundant
In a virtual world.
We will all be hook on the e-soma
And those who aren’t
The irredeemable Neo-Luddites
Will be somewhere else, marginalized
And minimized with their long legs,
Big thumbs and butts.
And we in our 24th century Mouse Utopia
Will be blissful
When the last of us
Dies.
(8/25/26)
Of those to admire, or crusaders we've known
pulled from the movies, or comic-book clones
there is one to consider, I wish I had known.
I'll say "Mr. Rogers", and eyebrows will raise.
Considered, perhaps an unlikely name.
Not the hero we're used to or one to seek fame.
Just an everyday fellow, with a soft-velvet voice
Humble, and gentle, you might call an odd choice.
With a gentleman's warmth, he would open the door,...
then ask us to join him for a neighborly while.
He arrived on the scene when my children were small.
Would reach for his sweater, from a hook on the wall,
and, change into sneakers that lay on the floor.
Inviting us in with a comfortable smile
He opened that door to a new state of mind.
Never demeaning, always thoughtful, and never unkind.
Puppets and people, and storybook poems,
and a neighborhood trolley that always came home!
The postman, McFeely, and Lady Elaine...
A neighbor called Aber, and memories to frame.
Each day was a lesson, with uplifting traces,
taking my children to other-world places
Yet, what mattered the most, was a presence with heart.
His endearing examples, and the lessons he taught
such as loving your neighbor, or helping a friend,
or how grief could be softened, when worlds come to end.
He encouraged our children to take things out of that box,
when parents got tongue-tied, or stumbled a lot.
He could gently, with wisdom, look into their eyes.
where they found understanding, and the lessons of life.
How do we describe our heroes today?
Do they kill and destroy, and the enemy slayed?
Have we not learned the message that came softly spoken?
Our children still listen and will thrive or be broken.
Some will look for their heroes in the comic-book craze.
I'll claim Mr. Rogers ..... as a hero today.
________________________________________
That word, really, what is it?
Is it a rope tied to a hook on a ceiling with me hanging on the other end?
Or is it me getting a gun, pointing it to my brains and spilling ketchup on the side wall?
Is it me gulping poison like it’s the last supper? I hear rat poison is less expensive,
Or perhaps slitting the cephalic vein on my wrist with a knife?
The jugular, oh I almost forgot, is it me ripping it open till I run out of tomato paste?
Is that what is known as suicide?
Perhaps there’s a lot more to it than meets the eye,
It’s more of my hidden emotions that I want to let out,
But can I trust you, my friend?
What is the guarantee that no one else will hear about my insecurities?
Or will a counselor do? Maybe a psychologist.
It’s more of depression, it’s more of me feeling unwanted,
I feel like no one will even notice if I’m not here anymore,
I feel like there’s nothing worth living for anymore,
So why not disappear for good, these thoughts keep coming to me,
Almost every time I’m alone, I come up with new ways of ending my life,
But is that really the way?
Maybe if I shared more of my worries with a friend,
Maybe if I talked to an elderly person,
Maybe if I had a chat with my next-door neighbour,
Maybe if I got out of my room and socialized with friends,
Then perhaps I’d feel loved, wanted and appreciated,
Then perhaps I’d have a reason to live,
Then perhaps I’d have someone to live for,
Then perhaps suicide would not be an option.
"Every struggle in my life has been a lesson and made me stronger" - Constance La France
Sometimes I find myself at war
With obstacles that life unleash
And I enter the battlefield
To defeat them, or die trying.
I go deep into the trenches
To fight all of mine.
I meet the obstacles head-on...
I fight my way in
And out of them with faith and grit.
When life's dragons come
Breathing fire and baring their fangs
I unsheathe my sword
And face them.
I've stared down many mountains...
Imposing and towering some may be,
Yet I claw my way to the summit.
I refuse to let any obstacle
Standing in my way, giant
Or infinitesimally small,
Get an upper hand.
I've felt life's vicious hook on my chin...
Though knocked flat on the ground,
I did rise, and I'm still here
I don't retreat from the hardships
Nor surrender to them, neither should you.
Slay all of life's dragons
Standing tall.
Writing Challenge - "V" Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Inspiration with a theme of - Introspection
Date written: 11/22/2022
eudaimonia-
cat's in the birdcage;
bird has lit away;
anxiety outlet;
as the dog chews away;
that old beat-up rug;
shag as it was;
the cat used to roll around in
hook on dark and light;
spilled sour milk from the cat's bowl;
WOW
bArk
Meow
Now
withered clumps of fur;
Scrambled empty soul
bird tweets at the clock;
as the cat watch;
as the doggy scrapes he itches;
needs his medicine;
in grief no hope nor apologizes;
as the bird tweets and burps;
the bird twitadee-tweets and just flies away
Free
11/04/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Little red riding boots hang from laces
on a hook on a wall,
a warning for my granddaughter.
I want to say that there are wolves out there,
that abandoned footwear are occasionally found
in the backwoods.
I don’t want to scare her
so I just mention that not all Fairy Tales are true.
Today while we were walking
we found several discarded children’s shoes
along a forest path.
I shivered
suspecting a new grizzly tale unfolding.
The little girl looked at me and grinned.
To my surprise I saw for the first time
that her teeth were very strong and sharp,
she was drooling,
and her eyes glinted with a wolfish anticipation.
I watched the farmer do daily chores, year after year.
On hot days, those of snow, each morning he was here
before lavender light of dawn, he checked on his crops
tended to all the animals and fed the pigs their slops
Farmer Ben didn't talk a lot about what needed repairs
I'm just an old shovel, but I heard his humble prayers
We're old friends, so I sensed his worry and frustration
each time he clutched my handle, I felt Ben's desperation
There were times when only digging relieved his stress
and I helped him work off the concern he couldn't repress
We shoveled snow and broke up clods of the Earth's crust
Always taking care to clean me so I wouldn't start to rust
I'm gettin' kinda old. Been here thirty years, maybe more
Since Ben bought the farm, and me at the hardware store
I feel honored to hang on the highest hook on the wall
but didn't ever mind he used me to clean dung from a stall
Sometimes a gentle hand holds me in a garden of flowers
His missus keeps me busy in Spring, planting for hours
If a rock bed I hit while she went about with our spading,
she'd clear them with her hands, and the roots pervading
Don't know how much longer I'll be in working condition
but I'm not ready to be retired or put out of commission
When Ben needs me, from the wall he'll take me down
I'll always be ready and willing to help him break ground
Autumn arrives
Like calloused hands
From Canada,
Squeezing
The summer sogginess
From the air
Like a wet rag
Wrung
From a pail of warm water.
Downhill
From
Its hollow avalanche of wind,
We bang
With brooms
At the shins of the fleeing trees
Like shepherds.
The first scarlet leaves
Are stripped
And flow like rivers
Of snapping piranhas
Vibrating atop the sidewalks.
I put my dog on a leash.
He is not trustworthy
In crowds,
Especially in riots
Of ghosts
That flail
In spiral gales
Like newspaper pages
Sailing back to life
From gutters.
In my garage,
I take my rake
From its hook on the wall.
I stand as a scarecrow in his front yard,
Straw shoulders
Shaking from the introduction.
One by one,
Crows
Gather
And eat from the ground.
A raspy cawing.
I am coughing.
A DIRGE TO A GREAT MAN IN CAPTIVITY
Like the morning sun you appeared in front of us with your glory
Like the satellite you outshone the stars while they talk of your story
Your shoulder was a mountain which gave birth to springs to flow
Even the grasses looked up to you like a fertilizer to grow
Difficult as it sounds you were a noise we listened to as sound
Your dark skin glitter like the diamond
On your head lies the dreaded hair of a Nazarite
So tall like the iroko you stood amongst other trees
The squeeze on your neck so thick like the Tigers skin
In your sight fear runs while brevity is your kin
How empty does thy name now sound
Your journey to your fall a reality we do not understand
The hands you put fish hook on used you as their bait
Your faith was decided by a mere soul
O... Thou great Father, your end a journey never foretold
Difficult as it sounds your memory will live on
While your Litany will be told as tales by your friends.
TO A FRIEND HUNTED DOWN BY HIS OWN CHOICE
A problem to most men and A dynamic explosion to anything I paint orange
The missing link is always overlooked, of course I'm Intellegent enough to say it loud, I never fear the unknown and the way I started here was unexpected especially to the purple power I be coming In A Cherry Terror . AS I screamed them words I woke up and IT Echos and it's sick faces
My enemies make they cant believe Im bold they question my sanity but in truth I sanitize in troops of men i am the line with a hook on it, Not with a rifle and scope no! with a ****in tomahawk I kill the hit sticks and i feel the Assasins. A team so strong they laugh in the face of danger, they master the statosphere she creeps as mr backup I cant believe she paints a masterpiece and the enemy retracts in fear, As the Power is the utmost respected, not one man with sense would toy with it, i just like to strengthen things and make them strong, no easy target here, no abuse of power, respect the blue i paint myself in, we're all in agreement i think, i love the feeling of course its an enviroment where understanding is appreciated, for The Law is Love untill you seek her life, I dont play Assassin games, Im a Alpha Dog unilke you demosicated Officer at Parole, I be risking my life for this girl i saw, she be several delights in my heart as we connected She sees exceptionally well cuz i make it very clear