Long Mortgaged Poems
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Never Too Late To Say "I Love You" Until...
Futile lamentations reverberate along
corridors of times long gone, this papa
tearfully apologetic revisiting his base,
fitfully lachrymose torturing unrelenting
voluminous wrongs against thee dearest
precious daughter aware poetic/ prosaic
ministrations cannot substitute bonafide
nor ameliorate cumulative forsaken joys
requisite to bolster compromised delicate
innocence exhibited upon begetting deux
darling (wool worth more than fine spun
gold) healthily nurturing priceless progeny
two quickly grown to young womanhood
priceless offspring, whose treasured quasi
nubile kindled joie de vivre far surpassed
petrified plaguing yours truly (particularly
during pre/ post pubescent phase), outlook
grim to take life by the horns, nee apathetic
pestiferous psychological, frankly zapped
wracked, plagued aversion to live steering
any natural borne autonomy, (within meek
minecrafted muffled mortgaged self) bereft
existence, (albeit manifesting during latter
sainted days of boyhood), a death grip vis a
vis anorexia nervosa (robbing, stunting, and
halting critical puberty) against attaining my
maximum potential, nee then and every sub
seek went till present day truncating, stifling
raining aftermath of torturous, noxious, jinxed
insufferably hellacious, (hence reiteration to
cease livingsocial, rather antisocial) under_
scored, ordained, narrated by whirled series
of unfortunate events, (without courtesy of
Lemony Snicket), which passivity degraded,
exacerbated, fouled... gradual punctuation to
adulthood overridden when me as man-child
never tested survival, but found this scrivener
beating hasty retreat defeated by emotional
illness demarcating the Waterloo which I
fitfully fought when mandatory ultimatums,
measures, dictates...forced eviction within
cocooned hideaway (such as bedroom at 324
Level Road), which parallel repeated when
decamped at 1148 Greentree Lane, the latter
poisoned your welfare, with dire declaration
of toxic dependence (Zison's harshness) fed
deprivation, and desperation, while ye bore
brunt of emotional, financial, mental...fallout
indelibly etched within impressionable
Tabula Rasa, now the anguished suffering
ye unfairly experienced.
AU REVOIR!
You grew up knowing you would work,
for your dream job you made a search,
then went to school and took the tests,
burned the oil to be the best.
You interned for experience,
and developed good business sense,
got a good job with a big firm,
then through toil you quickly learned
how to bring service to the mass,
and how to solve their problems fast,
the hard work brought you lots of praise,
with corresponding bumps in pay.
You took a chance, went on your own,
started your own shop from your home,
set your hours, were your own boss,
built it all up through free-time lost.
But all the effort brought the join,
the upper middle-class you joined,
through tenacity, grit and nerve…
seven figures going forward.
Wait--someone is now in office,
makes promises with words practiced,
offers his voter much free stuff,
declares that you have ‘had enough.’
Your own success, it’s just not fair
when others live on in despair,
sure, they may have made bad choices,
but he wins votes with their voices.
Besides, don’t your care of the poor?
Don’t you know what they have endured?
We can’t rely on charity,
you might help the wrong folks, you see.
Who care if you mortgaged your house?
We have to have ‘compassion’ now.
Who cares if things are yours by right?
And if new taxes make things tight.
Who cares if you must close your doors
because they just keep taking more?
Don’t you know what professors say?
You ‘exploit’ workers anyway!
You know that you don’t ‘give them jobs,’
you ‘steal’ from them, you take and rob,
they’d rather those jobs not exist
then thank a ‘damn capitalist.’
Don’t you know that you’re ‘all that’s wrong,’
it’s ‘fascist’ to work hard and long,
it’s ‘immoral,’ and should be spurned,
the thought that you should keep what’s earned.
You think your work gives you a claim,
so bourgeoisie…that’s quite insane,
you could do your work just as well
earning no more than someone else.
“It’s not worth it,”you do announce,
then you’re a monster, and they pounce,
take all the wealth you did create,
say it’s for ‘the good of the state.’
To want it back would be greedy,
they need the cash for ‘the needy.’
Then you see them drive fancy cars…
they’re only thieves with good P.R.
I think I’ll make a portrait
With inky words of my soul
But false starts get in the way
I’m hungry the body says
Feed the body, not the soul
The soul will pester my body
Make a mark, hear the critic
Draw a line and see the soul flee
So it begins with a portrait sketch
Every picture reminds me of me
False starts stutter and stumble like me
The three of us are in disagreement
My soul is amorphous like a poet
My critic plotting like Lucifer
And me completing my trinity
So say we all, say we all
When we are in tune
The ink will flow
Good starts start with a stumble
Start again like a toddler
Newborns do not make mistakes
Not like I do in this worn poem
Feed the soul, not the body
Watch the body wither in ecstasy
My soul is not my possession
Neither is this canvas of words
The body is mortgaged to the man
Only the ink is truly mine
Only when the nib hits the canvas
Then like a wasted body, compost
Many false starts are behind me
Even these words mirror my face
Feed this poem honest nouns
Let it sip my veritable verbs
A clean line is never neat
Like drilling for dirty oil on a gamble
We’ve ante our soul for a glimpse
I’ll feed you boiled eggs as a reward
I’ll fill you with Chilean wine
Just stop with all the false starts
Please stay steady for this portraiture
Make my reflection easy to gaze
I’ve shattered so many mirrors
These false starts never end
Just to capture a perfect portrait
No matter how I age I still look like me
My words still act like me
Maybe false starts are all that I am
False starts follow me to the end of the line
The soul waiting endlessly to take flight
I fill up the final stanza with all my faces
With false starts behind me this time
Like a photo from the past put away
Painting a portrait of me again and again
I think I’ll make a portrait with my soul
I’ll dip the body and soul in my ilk
I’ll make words better than my face
False starts will be my emblem
My portrait will become faceless
Then maybe true starts will begin
Incomplete metamorphosis of this stilled adolescent...
petrified, sheltered, and mortally wounded prepubescent
I consider myself
analogously buttressed, cocooned,
garrisoned, hardened, insulated,
where cell baited jumping frog
o' Montgomery County ne'er
went leaving larvae stage,
now no divine providential
power can assuage,
yours truly metaphorically locked
within invisible iron bound cage
every occasion to shower
validates steep wage
permanently doled out,
yet tis futile to rage
against this human machine
i.e. body dielectric rampage
clocking three scored
orbitz chronological gauge
forever fixed feigned fodder,
when unlived uber story
of mein kampf writ faint
chicken scratch final page
gin hated anorexic
regressive toddling cribbage
deadly game of mine Life pampered
post infancy attended
Aladdin (a lad in) his hermitage
late childhood marriage
with grim reaper as
coefficient co-inhabitant
feasting emaciated lovely bones
verily scrawny, puny, and
nerdy, yea easy to lyft
courtesy lost livingsocial scrimmage
trademark spindleshanks -
stagnant embarrassingly useless
two legged equipage
at childhood's end...,
me skinny package then
weighing, eh no
more'n half dozen stone,
these days when
undressing to wash
forced to espy physical
*****sapiens wreckage
constant visual reminder
this spare rankled, stunted,
tendered ship of state,
yours truly nah oh sage
enlightenment gleaned i.e.
20/20 hindsight kickstarted
quickened, leveraged, mortgaged...,
principly unbalanced worthiness
anatomical disparity
impossible mission to salvage
accounting rent permanently askew
fixed APR rendered
amortization sabotage
irreversible penalty suffrage
escaping serfdom volunteering
self as webbed vassalage
til death do me part.
The Cockies are in trouble, they can’t live off the land
Mortgaged out of existence with the need to expand
Hope like the land eroding, luck just giving out
Bushies fighting continually, fire, floods and drought
And so the Banks are now the terror every cockie dreads
As they climb into debt fighting their overhead
Yet here in the big cities do we even bloody care
About their rural problems, the despair the bushies share
Streuth the bloody farmers live off the fat of the land
What galahs to think sugar a great way to expand
The fat cats watch their stocks rise in world market shares
The need to make big profits about Aussie battlers who cares
Then shares dropping to the bottom and life ain’t so sweet
Everyone struggling with mortgages they now can’t meet
Of course the Aussie farmer has been down this road before
But its getting harder the Banks now shut the door
Payment after payment, to keep the dream alive
No more borrowings so how will they now survive
Friendly creditors turn nasty destroying many lives
Scrubbing floors and cleaning the lot of many wives
Men trying to keep head above water, shattered lie the dreams
Australia where are you heading a disillusioned cockie screams
While Bankers in their ivory Towers no comfort do they lack
They the mortgage holders reap the rural lands outback
Farms, cattle and sheep stations, for generations were owned
By proud settlers and farmers those Kings are now dethroned
By prices and rising taxes, the bloody creditors and Banks
The bottom of the barrel, the battling farmers only thanks
Many facing foreclosure, they have nowhere else to go
While others are trying desperately, a profitable seed to sow
Farms soon under the hammer to the highest bidder they're sold
Blood suckers watch what you are doing, when you sell your soul for gold.
Aloof brother concedes duty evaded...
Foremost gratitude heavenly indebted,
jumbling kindling, linkedin mourning
numbness overlaid, pervaded, quashed,
routed thoroughly undermined vibrant
warbling, when xing yesterday's youth
zigzagging, accompanying blitzkrieg
cleaving deafeningly exploding,
formative grim homelife, indelibly
jabbing kid, (little me) nonstop,
overwhelming progeny, quintessentially
robbing, stunting, tormenting
unrelentingly vitality wrenching,
why xyst, zapping assiduousness,
begetting, crushing, destroying essential
fortitude, generating grievousness,
hellacious intractable joylessness,
kneading loneliness, murdering nascent
opportunistic potential, quiet, reserved,
timid, untested voiceless x years,
zilch accomplishments, boyhood
cheated, dieted, extremely famished,
gifted hirsute heir, ill, jettisoned
kippered lunkhead mealy mouthed,
nerdy, outlier psychologically quartered,
repressed self, tamped universal vitality,
withheld Xmas yearnings, zapped
animalistic basic cravings, denied
endeavoring fulfillment, gouged hole
inside, jawboned, kept lid mentally,
nixed opportunities, pronouncedly
quarantined, rabidly snatched tasting
ultimate vibrant x2c, yanked zipline,
aborting bequeathed capacity depriving
eats, forever ghosting hated individual,
jackknifing, kickstarting livingsocial
mortgaged, never ordained physical
quests, ruined self, thoughtfulness
vanquished, worthiness Xrayed,
yabadabadoo zone agitated
beyond crafting development,
executed firstrate glorious human,
impounded jailed kindred love,
manifested nebbish, obliged pleasing
quirky ridiculous travesty, unleashed
vapid wretchedness, xyz, attempted
bizarre concoction, decoding
essentially fruitless, go head issue
joker kick.
Aloof brother concedes duty evaded...
Foremost gratitude heavenly indebted,
jumbling kindling, linkedin mourning
numbness overlaid, pervaded, quashed,
routed thoroughly undermined vibrant
warbling, when xing yesterday's youth
zigzagging, accompanying blitzkrieg
cleaving deafeningly exploding,
formative grim homelife, indelibly
jabbing kid, (little me) nonstop,
overwhelming progeny, quintessentially
robbing, stunting, tormenting
unrelentingly vitality wrenching,
why xyst, zapping assiduousness,
begetting, crushing, destroying essential
fortitude, generating grievousness,
hellacious intractable joylessness,
kneading loneliness, murdering nascent
opportunistic potential, quiet, reserved,
timid, untested voiceless x years,
zilch accomplishments, boyhood
cheated, dieted, extremely famished,
gifted hirsute heir, ill, jettisoned
kippered lunkhead mealy mouthed,
nerdy, outlier psychologically quartered,
repressed self, tamped universal vitality,
withheld Xmas yearnings, zapped
animalistic basic cravings, denied
endeavoring fulfillment, gouged hole
inside, jawboned, kept lid mentally,
nixed opportunities, pronouncedly
quarantined, rabidly snatched tasting
ultimate vibrant x2c, yanked zipline,
aborting bequeathed capacity depriving
eats, forever ghosting hated individual,
jackknifing, kickstarting livingsocial
mortgaged, never ordained physical
quests, ruined self, thoughtfulness
vanquished, worthiness Xrayed,
yabadabadoo zone agitated
beyond crafting development,
executed firstrate glorious human,
impounded jailed kindred love
manifested nebbish, obliged pleasing
quirky ridiculous travesty, unleashed
vapid wretchedness, xyz, attempted
bizarre concoction, decoding
essentially fruitless, go head issue
joker kick.
Tom said to his kitten: Don't hunt! It's hard work!
Leave hunting to others and don't be a burk
Watch me and heed me and later admire
We'll slink to the future - a far distant fire
There sat some bald apes - one cooking some meat
Fur clad and thick bearded and great hairy feet
Tom stares at the bald apes - wide eyed and miaows
They throw him a meat scrap - the kit just says "wow"
Did I just see that? Blind luck or a trick?
Why did they feed you? They must be so thick?
Tom cat said just listen. I have a great plan
We'll domesticate bald apes to better catkind
We'll make them build wheat farms then store all the grain
To attract vermin rodents - our staple buffet
Breed bovine and ovine to fill up our bowl
Carved wood then ceramic then hand made with gold
From stone tools to bronze craft to iron we lead
The wheel and the ploughshare makes sure that we feed
Mud huts to brick houses to keep us bone dry
Wood fires, coal boilers - to cold say goodbye
We'll make them cat worship - a pyramid scheme
Then reinvent printing - cat posters supreme
Electrics and TVs and PCs - the net
Cat websites and movies on YouTube - no sweat
Then rockets and spacecraft to aim for the stars
But somewhere warm thank you - it's real cold on Mars
They might have big brains but what's better than clever
Is ruling the clever - forever and ever
And when we are settled in their mortgaged homes
With sofas and cushions and beds for our thrones
And though we are fed, we'll go back to our roots
And stare at them wide eyed - miaow to be cute
Entry for "the love of kittens" contest
7th January 2017
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
Those clothes you wear
Your grey white hair
And yes you dare to ignore me
Compromise and exploit me
You don’t care
You don’t care
Am I too old to love?
Am I too young to use my pension?
Did I mention?
You have to see all you have to survive
Almost be homeless, destitute just too be alive
What now
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
Almost have to tell a lie
Just to be treated human
That home you once own
Mortgaged and sold
The soup you’re having is refurbish bone;
Now your FAM and government want to place you in a nursing home
What’s going on?
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
Those rings on your hands
Some of them grand
Grandpa gave you them
Cousin Johnny pawned them off
He even sold your antique wooden cross
And yes, we ignore you
Oh, yes we have disposed you
What have you got left to live for?
Can’t even afford my breathe
That and my heartbeat all I’ve got left
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
We don’t care
We got yours
And now it’s ours
Not it’s fair
You are too old to love
And we have no room for you
You’ll just git in the way
Grey white hair old lady
Did I mention?
All that money from you and grandpa’s pension
Some of it we spent and
Now that you’re destitute, displaced, resting in this nursing home
We no longer visit you
Guess one day the orderly
Gonna open up your door and see you in your bed
But by then you’ll be DEAD
And gone on to glory!!!!!!!
Those clothes you wear
FAM AND AMERICA DON'T CARE
yET YOU Will be IN your salvation robe your glory clothes you’ll wear to your new home in heaven?
12/12/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2018
Back in day (of ma
mum, and perhaps
since time immemorial)
utterances of physicians
nsync with Staff of Asclepius
pounded against floor,
(which wrought
life to entwined serpent,
whose beady
eyed hypnotic power)
understandably
ranked doctors among
near mythical powerful
Gods, who ought
best not be ignored, thus
(then a young Harriet Harris,
now long since deceased)
felt overbearing heft of
medical practitioners final words,
and subsequently would nought
refute, ignore, nor
dispute sacred commandment
hence would n'er be accused
of sacrilegious immodesty,
impiety, or impropriety
(towards medical institution),
and never doubt voice
most supreme in the universe,
thus she felt caught
against challenging authority
meekly surrendered
her only son, bought
with bargaining chip
indubitable faith
in omnipotent equip
ment with hocus
pocus magic to flip
precious life humming along,
or force death grip
upon a lovely boy (christened
Matthew Scott Harris),
at present lapsed beet hip
pea hooping to stave
off crossing the lip
of LX bracket, there
fore reckons a nip
and tuck (think
prefrontal lobotomy),
asper when just a pip
squeak ushered,
where mine existence
could be mortgaged
with accidental,
(or purposeful) slip
of the knife, while
under anesthetized trip
returning minus a mass of
enlarged lymphatic tissue
between the back of
the nose and the throat.