Long Like a fox Poems
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I JUST HAD, TO ASK THE QUESTION,
WHAT'S REALLY, GOING ON?
SO I OPENED A DOOR IN THE UNIVERSE,
FOUND A PEAK TO PONDER ON.
ODD THINGS SEEM TO HAPPEN
AND NO ONE SEEMS TO CARE.
ONCE IN FICTION MOVIES,
NOW, IT'S EVERYWHERE.
NO ONE, SAW THE UPRISE.
NO ONE, SAW THE THE FALL.
OTHERS, WERE SIMPLY BLINDED,
NOT NOTICING, ANYTHING AT ALL.
PEOPLE WERE BEING BRAINWASHED,
CONGLOMERATES WERE BEING FORMED.
NO ONE SEEMS TO NOTICE,
TRANSHUMANISM, IS NOW THE NORM.
" "SLAVERY" IS A WAY OF LIFE."
MEANING "STAYING INSIDE THE BOX."
NEVER UNDERSTANDING,
THINKING LIKE A FOX.
NO ONE SEEMS TO REASON
SOMEHOW LOGIC DISAPPEARED.
FROM SOMEWHERE, INSIDE THE DARKNESS,
ANDRONIKOS REAPPEARS.
STREETCARS WERE ONCE ELECTRIC,
NOW CONSIDERED, IN THE PAST.
ANOTHER WAY OF SAYING,
NOTHING EVER LAST.
THOUGHTS AND WORDS ON PARCHMENT,
HAVE STOOD THE TEST OF TIME.
ELIMINATING HISTORY ,
SHOULD BE THOUGHT UPON, AS A CRIME.
Michael E. Harris
07242022
*Yo YO yeah, yeah Bet B LeaVE, yeah!
Mr. Lee don’t want 2 B 2 RUDE
I KNOW OUR NOT BUFF,
But girls had enough
Of your ugliness
Someday you’ll git a broken glass
When you Look-N- tha mirror crack
My FRIEND done don’t smell like a fox
Don’t bully my friend or I’ll put you in a box
Don’t come ta mee or yo B dead*
Ma, Name B Brody Hale
I’m a scholar, a book worm sorta’
I caress misunderstandings
Sometimes I git reprimanding’s
Now I may listen, but do adult also listen aren’t we all on different tunes
I hear the same music it’s just they don’t use it
Their impatient banter, cause me to scatter
MakeN us both madder and sadder
Mr. Lee don’t want 2 B the DUDE
I KNOW he’s serious,
But God hasn’t enough
Of your of your faithfulness
Someday you’ll git before the class
When you find all the children laugh
My FRIEND done don’t smell like a fox
Don’t bully my friend or I’ll put you in a box
Don’t come ta me or yo B dead
I’m Mistha Lee’s guard dog B. HALE
Mistha Lee’s
GUARDIAN ANGEL GUARD CHILD
Yeah! I dan’t take Naw mess, I’m Mistha Lee’s Guardian angel kid
5/2/23
*WRITEN BY BRODY HALE*
Co- written by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©
Let me tell you a story from the old wild-west;
Of a terrible lawman with a star on his vest.
His title was “Ranger”; not bound to a town
He studied the outlaws then hunted them down.
One long hot summer; played like a pawn
He’d failed to take down the man called “Big John”.
He was tired and thirsty, his mood like black jet
As he rode into Dodge his sights were still set
On Big John!
He stabled his horse, and checked out the saloon
‘cause he’d heard the big man liked to drink there at noon.
Through the wide swinging doors, he strolled to the back
His face as long as a wagon-wheel track.
The scowl on his face told me this man was risky,
But I was the bar keep, and he needed whiskey.
So I poured him a double in a clean mason jar
And slid it down deftly to the end of the bar.
He quaffed it and gave me a tip of his hat.
I thought it was over, except for the fact
That his mood was still dark, like rain in a flood,
I knew in my gut there was bound to be blood.
There in the corner; his back to the wall,
He waited with patience; said nothing at all.
Just stared at the space ‘bove the wide swingin’ doors,
His hands at his sides, drooping down toward the floor.
It was quarter past noon when the room darkened some,
Big John in the doorway; blocking the sun.
Two shots rang out from the man in the vest.
Two blood stains emerged on the big fella’s chest.
Big John just stood there; there in the door,
Then the glasses all rattled as John hit the floor.
Dry-gultched, like a fox at a watering hole
Big John was finished; so, likely his soul!
The old wanted poster said “Dead or Alive”.
They just didn’t care how Big John arrived!
The Ranger just smiled and sighed, “One more round!”
Then he gathered his pony and rode out of town.
May 9, 2017
You are all cool kids in your youngest ever age,
You make each other day like you’re out of your cage.
When I talk, you always listen.
My pretty good lessons are enjoyably missing.
You make arguments like you are all geared for war.
Exchanging of words is so much but gnarl.
You easily get cracked in my foolish same japes,
Those dreamlike faces are as sweet as those grapes.
We found each other in this old darkest place,
Our bonds are crazy like a guy running in maze.
You frequently ask questions about me,
Easily believed like a fairy tale book on my knee.
Yes! You laugh and correct each other’s mistakes.
It’s totally dangerous like a fox jumping in high stakes.
You put me in an all high status of my life,
You are always part of me… Part of my life.
"Glom!" she said
Huh? I thought ... "Glom onto me - I want to be glommed!"
Is that even a word?
Well, even if SO, I'm not a glommer ...
Or the glomming type
Still ... if I applied a bit of sensuality to the interpretation
Then ... perhaps ...
She was certainly glom-able
Was I staring at her?
Did she catch my sly 'I'd love to find out what glomming means' look?
Uh-oh ... she's smiling ...
"You don't talk much, do you?" she giggled, winking
I DO, I thought, but mostly with my hands
"Then touch me!" she replied
What the ...?? I spun to hide my smile ... and surprise
How did she hear that? Or was she just guessing?
"Oh, I never guess!" she answered my silence
Grabbing the front of my jacket with both hands, she slid me toward her
Across the slippery snow, smiling like a fox
"Did you ... ?" I started ...
"Shhhhhhhhhh!" she said, putting a purple fingernail to my lips
Then drew my mouth to hers, lips parting
Glom, indeed, I thought
And psychic, too
I'm in deep this time ... oh, hell ...
Glom away!
Uncle Roo
I forgot to celebrate your 89TH
Birthday but as you turn 90
May be i will
Some how for the some reasons
You know it
Gaddafi Is dead
'king of kings'
who died like a mole in a hole
Was he buried in the sea or space?
Wise one i believe you know
Amin Is dead dead
'The king of Scotland'
Fell from his monarchy
Butcher of black
Far from black is buried
Mubutu Sese seko dead dead dead
'The leopard king
In the jungles of Zaire
Buried like a fox
Rests in peace?
Like Charles Taylor
The deer of Africa
Breathed and went breathless
In the cage
He shies away always
Now Mandela sleeps
The true son of Africa
Not a king but a son
Our Mandela
Our Tata
Is gone
Son who wasn't a king
A son you become a father
Mandela stands even when he sleeps
Sons stand Kings fall
My Mugabe
Will you stand or fall?
I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists
of wilderness,
only found in
woeful woodland.
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a
forsaken rainforest.
Misguided on
delusional paths,
where spring-tides
mirror liquified colors
of warm diamond tears
I’ve suppressed
behind ice blue sighs.
And I’ve seen
splintered petals
beneath thick-leaved
jewel orchids,
that surrendered
to greying leaves
on tainted twigs
and broken branches.
I’ve walked through
fields of thorns
where the
musky scent
of roses remained
a poison to
my aching soul.
So, why does it
feel like I’m chained
from vines of changes,
that suffocate
the sun within me,
crucifying the fragility
of premature
begonia beginnings?
Am I to follow
the darkness,
to cast away the evil,
constantly pushing me
into a cave of
cacophonous silence?
As I see beyond
the gossamer veil,
hiding sharpened talons
of treacherous eagles-
flying amongst
vicious vampires;
emerald foes
masked as friends,
feeding my conscience
with cruel concoctions,
oblivious to the truth,
that I am a bark believer
of marigold miracles.
So let the
steel black breeze
and the
faceless ghosts
of fleeting time,
witness how I
rise against
wicked wolves
lurking behind
stars within
a chiffon laced
canopy of nightfalls.
For, I am more
than the empty labels
you’ve placed,
like the shame,
I’ve buried beneath
lyrical lies drizzling
from vanilla skies.
My Love, unknown
Your skin glows like the strawberry blossoms, flowing as the sunflower in the purest hope of spring.
My yearning heart rises to your violin voice and leaps like a fox at the whisper of your name, unknown.
The evening ascends in on a great raven wing.
I am calmed by the feeling of you that I carry into the twilight of moonbeams and hold next to my heart.
I am filled with hope and the curiousity of rapture.
I inhale the scent of your skin, it reminds me of a gate I once passed through.
In the hushedness, I listen for the last rustling of the spring.
My heated chest leaps and bounds.
I wait in the crystal moonlight for your secret , until we may climb as one, the glorious green and spiritual steps of love.
It started with your eyes, you, like a cat,
disinterested, passing the time of day,
oblivious to mindless idle chat
such nonchalance, until you looked my way,
It started with a smile, a subtle link
to bridge the gap , a letter of intent
to say you'd read my mind and what I think
reading my lips for what I truly meant.
It started with a laugh like dawn birdsong,
or streams whose water giggles over rocks,
head tilted back, but knowing all along
who had control, you stalked me like a Fox.
It started with that kiss, hands tightly clasped
in case the force of it tore us apart
or fear that maybe it would be our last
instead of as we hoped just be the start.
It started many, many years ago
unlike jigsaw pieces not meant to fit,
we do, and through the years I think we know
when all is said and done, you started it.
February 20th 2018
For contest 'Love poem', sponsor Laura Loo
Remembered boy along these lines
Remembered roughness through our tough times
Remembered blue eyes with his laughing look
Remembering him reading me like an open book
I called him up the other day
With so many memories for me to say
I haven't spoke to him in over a year
And I can't remember from him my last tear
Remembered walks and remembered talks
Remembering his slyness just like a fox
Remembered our high school years with each other
Remembering the wrestling-match with me and his brother
Remembering old songs he used to dedicate to me
Remembering 7 long years of us smoking bomb tree
Remembering deep talks and the tears we have shared
Somewhere along the lines then were we the cutest pair
The pictures taken of him and I
Remembering nothing unasked or a why
Remembering bus rides down the 38
Remembering his love and never experiencing his hate
I remember calling him in front of my fireplace back at home
Remembering our plans that were once set in golden stone
I remember the years I spent by his side
Somehow hasn't completely yet died
I remember his smile and his familiar touch
Way back when I loved him so much
My pureness to him I chose once to give up
Back when we were just kids --- just little pups
But still throughout high school our love stood proud and tall
Taller and taller and taller than the Berlin Wall
Now years later he's back to reunite
Back as best friends --- never having to fight
But with him he's brought a new piece of him
For I see Sophie has scored her perfect 10
Back a bit taller and a bit wiser than before
Back into my life into my newly-opened doors
And it hurts more than it ever has before
It hurts over all over again on top of all my past sore
To see him with her is a blessing I do confess
But our strong past history is being a pest
I smile for him, I talk to him, I make him laugh
I released his true love from a contradicting, jaded, wrath
Back to his arms she is home once again
Watching my new best friend score his prize and win
I look at him now to the man he's become
And give her props because she's truly won
To see a smile across his gentle face
And to watch him set his everlasting champagne glass on a beautiful lace
Would make life worth all of the while
And make me happy to see his well-deserved, happy smile