Long Misdemeanor Poems
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DEADLY SIN- LIE
SALIGIA,
Or the seven deadly Sins,
Covers all the probabilities
Of peccadilloes,
That could be committed by the HUMANITY.
Lust
glows up within a man
It is like a sentiment
that can not be brought under control
It can make a rich man a refugee,
Because this sin deprives him of his mores and morals,
And makes him do all the wrongs,
Just to fulfill his desires.
Pride
We all have two faces,
We cover our real image, cover our wounds
Not admitting the pockmarks in our character,
We always keep our real emotions incarcerated
And show the world a conceited face,
Forgetting our hard days.
We assassinate out fears,
And show as if we are the winners of all the races.
Greed
IT develops like a voracious thirst
It creeps like a climber,
Ingests all our emotions
demolishing us from the inside
The want seems to be endless,
Just like wanting a sunrise during a sunset.
Envy
It is like a bane that shrivels us
IT is like a sweet poison that never makes us start the race,
We keep our focus on some other person,
Diminishing our own soul
When we put every thought under rest,
It is too late,
And we never can achieve the wanted position.
Gluttony
Its intake seems endless,
Makes our mind more materialistic,
When we suffer from it,
Everything seems fantastic,
When we realize that
What it has really done to us,
NO one but we are dejected.
Sloth
The body throws out all the energy,
The anesthetizing decline
Converts into redundancy,
That leads us to reverie,
We never try to uplift our position,
Rather we choose to mix ourselves with the ground,
To become a person never ever to be found.
Anger
It rises slowly in our body,
Bubbling our minds
Most of the time the reason is
Incomprehensible
Emotions gone with the wind,
Control converted into ash and dust,
We lose hope, life has no reason
We are into disloyalty and sheer treason.
But then,
All of this consists of one common
Misdemeanor,
That is – Lie and false hood,
It is more than these 7 sins,
It is above all the wrongdoings,
It leads to one sin, to another,
Leading a man to decay
And sentiments to be smothered.
Oh dear! It’s December - time again to look into my crystal ball.
A ball of thoughts in front of me that I don’t need at all,
for I can see the images portrayed from other years,
where different circles feel the touch of agony and tears.
The focus and the buildup always comes across the same.
We’ve indoctrinated to our culture; that Russian roulette game;
not with one bullet in the gun, but alcohol and cars or shame
to spoil the festive season when commemorating the Lord’s name.
From that party’s endless pouring where limits have no end.
Who pays the price of conscience when someone has to send
the messenger to bring the tears that flow from they close by
who live Christmas as another day, with the question echoed - why?
I hear on the dates, the ninth, thirteenth, fifteenth or twenty-first;
the closer to our Christmas Day the more it seems the worst.
A shattered family claims a body. Gifts are silently held dear,
and Christmas Day is over before the twenty-fifth is here.
And there’s the shame of letting out what has been a lustful thought,
loosened by a carefree attitude the Christmas orgy bought.
One misdemeanor iced with lust brings on magnitudes so great,
where children, yes the children have their Christmas filled with hate.
Family’s who have lost touch; not through distance from afar,
believe that Christmas is the time to heal the feuding scar.
Curt are greetings for the foe, for so long kept apart,
and soon the flame of alcohol awakes a murderous heart.
Through close knit societies, away from your very own,
a fragile crack can open; the time of peace and love is blown.
This may not happen close to you where the path is smooth and clear;
Christmas comes and goes in perfect time. This is your lucky year.
Come January just look back. Ponder what you’ve heard and read.
Piece together one by one, the living, left and dead.
I know like me you will be touched with every role that we recall.
It’s the lead up to each Christmas - I am no prophet after all.
WARNING: POLITICAL CONTENT
“I know that everyone here will soon be marching over to the capitol building to peacefully and patriotically make your voices heard...."
~President Trump, January 6, 2021
Why did Speaker Pelosi AND the DC Mayor refuse Trump's offer of National Guard troops for security TWO DAYS before Jan. 6th?
Why did Speaker Pelosi ignore the Capitol Police Chief's SIX requests for security reinforcements on Jan. 6th.
Why did Capitol Police on Jan. 6th open the doors at the Capitol Building and invite protesters into the building?
Why hasn't ALL of the security video of the Capitol Building for Jan. 6th been released?
Why have arrested protesters of Jan. 6th been in jail for more than a year without bail when most have been charged with only misdemeanor trespassing?
Why was the only person killed during the protest an unarmed, female, military veteran, shot by a Capitol Police officer?
Why did Speaker Pelosi refuse to allow House Republicans to appoint members to the Commision?
Why has nothing more been said about the pipe bombs planted outside both DNC and RNC ON Jan. 5th?
Why has Ray Epps not been arrested, and who exactly is he?
Why does the FBI refuse to answer questions about how many operatives they had embedded with the protesters on Jan. 6th?
In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist."
~President Eisenhower, 1962
Circling and spying over aching heads
Vultures swoon and pick the flesh
Spotted from sunken skies on beds
Where distended bellies in a crèche
Bellies moan and groan
Under attack by bevies of vultures
Mourn
Lost sanity cultures
Hitherto quiet
Tranquil
On a diet
Administered with gusto on a quill
That strafing vultures who snatch a widow’s
Car, house, kitchen utensils
Cash at the bank, a photograph on her bedroom’s door
Pencils and stencils
Asking the widow why English dominated discourse
In her home when they visited from the village
Where three-course
Meals knew a siege
That vultures accused the widow
Of instigating by remote control
In every clean window
In their deceased brother’s bedroom played a role
In his demise
Vultures accused the widow of engineering
In the prize
The widow extracted from the sneering
The widow’s nose in her attitude
Reflected
In the ingratitude
Deflected
From their generosity
Which in the vultures’ considered view
Existed not in their brother’s home in the city
Vultures dreaded to visit because they knew
Not how the widow cruel
In demeanour
Filled with in her fuel
Of misdemeanor
Would deny vultures morsels of beef
Tea with rancid bread
Served with a stiff
Attitude ahead
Of a plethora of scorn
Heaped on vultures with a haughty gait
As the widow with her penchant for ****
An ingrained trait
In her faulty figure
Would inflict
On vultures with snigger
In every ounce of contempt the widow inserted in her relish for conflict.
you were larger than life
love maker
norm breaker
praise taker
soul shaker
what happened to you?
epic embodied were you
every word: a spell, a hue
made make believe come true
ancient lore, you made new
heart happenings you drew
what happened to you?
thoughts thundering line on line
a mix of ordinary slash divine
transforming tedious to sublime
redefining reason and rhyme
what happened to you?
did your creative flow go slow?
is there more to it than you show?
heart lost where quill cannot go
heaven birthed now caged below
what happened to you?
Break the silent soliliquy
share stream of thoughts with me
give the words written mastery
remember reigning history
Victory was your entity
what happened to you?
Write! let your soul grind
crush out that apathetic bind
leave your misdemeanor behind
mistakes aren't seen by the blind
love makes enemies kind
forget you're confined
find the poems hiding in your mind
what happened to you?
explore, soar, and then pour
that essence of your soul, more
better even than before
so much you have in store
poetry galore!
what happened to you?
Oh...WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?
your quill is now still
yet I'm here for refill
succumb to your skill
feed this ache, use the quill
let the genius spill
I need that thrill
what happened to you?
Listen,
Don't let what happened to you
be this silence, this adieu!
SAUL NOW PAUL Now Paul GUARD the GOOD DEPOSIT of FAITH
Lo! I forgive me for who I am
As He forgives me for what I've done
Christian soldiers, Holy Roller they comin for ya!
I not a judger, nor a leader
Yet I come forth to misdemeanor
Reference the prevalent
We are who we are who we am
Saul/Paul was not a follower of Jesus
Before his crucifixion. The narrative 7 years after the crucifixion of Jesus
Saul, I mean Paul
Paul in shaping the faith of the early church
Due to the amount he wrote,
But also because his writings are possibly
The earliest historical witness we have to be
Jesus Christ and His gospel
Paul had preach to gentiles
Apparently out of his own revelatory experience
This was the mission that had been given him
By God when God called him
Function as a prophet for this new Jesus movement.
Ahh! Yes, O’ yes Paul confess
He addressed, he says, he said
Jesus is, He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.
Oh, yes. Remember first born here.
Prior to His beheading by the government
Soldiers, Holy Roller they comin for ya!
Government I not a judger, nor a leader
Yet I come forth to misdemeanor
Reference the prevalent
Lo! I forgive me for who I am
As He forgives me for what I've done
We are who we are who we am
Saul now Paul was a follower of Jesus Christ
6/14/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
*Authors note: Be prepared for the inappropriate use of a fork. (Shelter your children.) Proper and Improper soup matters and manners are explored. Legal interpretations and fears surrounding the viewing of and consumption of soup are lightly touched on and on display for the shock value, pleasure, entertainment and amusement of all. (The author here is lobbying for the use of spoons...as well he should.)
I Hate Soup
I hate soup!
No I don't
I love soup
Get your story straight
We are going before the judge today
He or she is probably judgmental
If they hate you more than the soup
I don't know what They'll do
If they love soup you can only pray for leniency
Claim insanity
It is only a lost day in court
Stay away from name brands before the law
Keep it simple
It is safer not to say Campbell's
Lipton is forbidden
You are being charged with complicity
Watching a full fledged felony in action
In broad day light is more than a misdemeanor
Someone dared to eat, to slurp their soup in public
Sipping it in plain view is a capital offense
On top of that a fork was used
Why oh why did you dine at the Greasy Spoon
What bad timing… What bad news
Now you have to pay
Soup crimes are severe in the light of day
Penalties for watching are much more graver
Not reporting it is simply crazy
I hate soup
I love soup
It does not matter
I'm being sued
When relationships face
an uphill slog and bike's
battery is flat as well,
take on the four spokes
real deal, bespoken.
The first to speak is 'what'.
What is it, that makes you
want to shout out such abuse?
Describe it in a 'matter of fact' way,
in a single simple explicit sentence.
The second to speak is 'meant'.
What does this misdemeanor mean to you?
What are the consequences
in the tragic story-line, and scream play's script?
The third to speak is 'felt'.
How did it make you feel as the wheel turned?
What did the gravel scrape of tires reveal?
Did it make you feel less happy, sad,
frustrated, demeaned, misunderstood,
left hanging in the lurch, besmirched in some way,
belittled and bemoaned, unfairly ignored, left out perhaps?
Lay your raw emotions out on your sleeve,
revealed to be how they make you feel, deep within your being.
The fourth to speak is 'move on'.
How do you suggest we move on, to get the wheel
turning again, to recharge the battery,
and face the hill climb together.
How can we get all four spokes back in shape,
back in place, all four in turn bespoken.
'what', 'meant', 'felt', 'move on'!
'I think I can', 'I think I can'.
'What', 'meant', 'felt', 'move on'!
meant
|
|
what----|----felt
|
|
move on
I am a broken man,
Life's terrain ain't fair to this man,
For serenity I yearn,
As I struggle to live and earn.
I am a broken man,
Struggles been with me to learn,
I make a lot of mistakes,
And I have lost many stakes.
I am a broken man,
I am conflicted human,
I have bottled a lot of treasure,
All in the search of worldly pleasure.
Brokenness has been my portion,
As I lose all the jubilation,
That's comes with celebration,
Culminating marriage bliss in the station.
Brokenness is my tag,
I carry it along with honour,
As in the case of a war of tug,
It has been my major misdemeanor.
I am profusely broken,
My choices are all broken,
I leave everyone else broken,
It is a case of all Brokenness.
Near me, do not come,
I am far from being handsome,
And I will make our relation troublesome,
I am broken, and I will give you some.
They say a stitch in time saves nine,
Mine has been bleeding since nine,
I am not able to keep anything feminine,
As I always carry this tag of mine.
I am wallowing from brokenness to brokenness,
I am the epitome of numbness,
When it comes to those who are heartless,
I got broken from time to timeless.
My story is now out here,
I embody everything you hear,
Because brokenness leads to fear,
And I never wanna live in fear.
Alice
I got my draft notice in 1971
Nam was winding down
I didn’t wanna go.
So, I started hummin a song,
just a few bars mind you
about Alice, you remember
Alice. This is a song about Alice
and the war of course.
I thought I would have to report
Then I remembered my special crime
I committed in Stockbridge, Mass.
Garbage, that was the ticket.
My friend and I had put our garbage
In a pile with other garbage
Sad part was we left an envelope with
my name on it. Officer Obie tracked me down
that clever scoundrel. We thought we would be
charged with a misdemeanor. Oh no, we were
charged with a minor felony and fined $250 and
Had to pick up that garbage.
I had to still report to the draft board.
I walked in and this fast talkin’ sergeant
Has me fill out all kinda forms.
Then, the last question was
Have you been rehabilitated?
I was perplexed. How could they
ask me to kill women and children
and wonder if I was remorseful of
my special crime of littering.
I told the sergeant so
and he told me we don’t like your kind
and to get out.
Went back to Stockbridge, Mass and
Had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner
with Alice-you remember Alice.
It has been twenty years. I need
to get back to Stockbridge and
see if Alice still has her restaurant.