Long Outweighs Poems
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There is a place; a road some room? town; city or
Square, be it protracted or soon? I will get there"
Perhaps a party? Or funeral? A wedding or wake?
Or courtroom? or beach where i might contemplate?
As I listen to thesis..or radio; or watch t v.? There is a
Place i'm going..That today I can't see.!
That does mean its not there.' Not relevant or real.'
Like satan or God now.' This thought upon me just steals?
If life is a test.? Just how would it seem? Almost hidden?
Or quite vivid? full of lore and livestreams? Often mundane
Yet with drama? mingled in; the true Love of Jesus
That outweighs carnal sins? I leave you to ponder? All the above.
As indeed will I too' Is there more to this life? Than apparant
To our view? There are murmurs hints and witness's
What? or who? Is really appealing to you?
I see it tied up to its pier,
steel monolith, huge and grey,
the USS Massachusetts,
now a museum by the quay.
Big sixteen-inch guns are silent,
the five-inchers point to the sky,
kids play on the forty-mil guns,
shooting phantom planes as they fly.
Tourists walk this leviathan,
product of my grandfather’s age,
he served then, in the Pacific,
might have seen the ship’s cannons rage.
His great-grandchildren scamper ’round,
one tries to lift the anchor chain,
each link outweighs him massively,
but the boy still tries all the same.
Above the superstructure stands,
a massive, armored sentinel,
as if guarding Fall River,
should any not wish the town well.
As if those big guns are waiting,
to swing up, belch fire again,
a dragon floating on water,
built proud by the hardest of men.
I know she won’t fight anymore,
by modern ships she is outclassed,
yet looking at her, most admit:
that battleships feel more bad-ass.
Come, feel my pain, and cry with me:
grieving my loss to wind and sea.
As wailing winds mocked children's screams,
Maria washed away my dreams.
When a surge of water drowned Hope,
Puerto Rico struggled to cope.
To lose all, even who you are;
outweighs the loss of home or car.
Puerto Ricans felt all alone,
America's heart turned to stone.
Collapsed homes, with no walls or roofs;
get pimped by the news: out for spoofs.
No lights on in the streets and bars:
night skies were reclaimed by the stars.
And, as in a hypnotic trance:
Fear joined Death in a ghoulish dance.
Pray to God, if you feel you must,
but food and water's what I trust.
My life was destroyed on that day
as I watched bodies float away.
the mystery
there is a mystery to it all
a moment in time, when clarity
outweighs the rest
and emptiness is filled
and light displaces the dark
for the cloak of mystery to be lifted
requires nothing
save our souls and our emotions
we must be clean of ourselves
society must openly bow to each individual
the journey is one of selfishness
it can not be shared with others
it must not be shared with others
understand that there is no
grand reward involved, nor monetary goal
it is here, inside, where it belongs
here, among the days of youth and the
nights of passion and resolve
here, where you truly live
there, the mystery will be found
C2026 Thomas Lee Rhymes February 1, 2026
I am not your stepping stone
for you to deftly tread upon
while making your way to the top
and leaving all your friends behind.
I am not your booty call
to sate your longings in the night
when you come knocking at my door
and passion’s need outweighs your pride.
I am not your ATM
to line your pockets with cold cash
so you can have the latest trends
and show the world how chic you are.
I am not your servant here
for you to use as you see fit
to meliorate your place in life
and show your grandeur to the world.
I am but a simple man
whose willing heart is filled with love,
but I demand your true respect
for I shall not be used by you.
August 2, 2019
In a hypnagogical state I’ve lived my life
Inventing realities that exist on another plane
These wings of time have flown me far
My Will outweighs the importance of staying sane
Angels and demons fighting for what remains
As some see only the darkness of the night
Others the clarity dwelling high in the sky
But the eye, only the eye, contains all light.
Falling, sinking - in time aligned
Embarking on the cusp, I dwell alone
Cocooned between the luxury malign
A visual state of clarity undefined
Existential dream of mine.
(A collaboration with life’s tapestry)
Not long, but clear and strong, came Dad to me.
Gone six months now, grief still filled me empty.
One day he helped me avoid tragedy.
Scared, so scared, I left work for my son's school.
His epilepsy was being cruel -
school said .. hot .. red .. damp head .. remote .. no fuel.
Driving, Dad's voice clearly called out to me ....
he repeated my name with somber voice
until I was a good listener by choice.
Then, once, twice, thrice he spoke four words to me.
(no, no, no this cannot possibly be
I am desperate to be worry free,
to believe it, my sanity has quit.)
Five times more he delivered the four words.
Seemed he would say it 'til I believed it.
Directing my moves using Dad's four words
enabled my son's health to be restored.
Epilepsy left and spirit had scored.
Dad gave me proof that death invites no fear.
Souls ebb and flow, roll like ocean's own tide.
Death must be two doors, one souls pass through,
and one love-sealed to hold humans earth bound.
When flesh life dies, one's spirit life remains
on journeys aptly mapped for souls' growth-gain.
Each soul endures umpteen human lifetimes
'til spirit consciousness shines light divine.
Now mortal senses hold the universe,
when spirit senses would spare us our worst.
In race and gender, many are fast wrapped,
yet death shakes gone both sad, human rigged facts.
Misplaced emphasis could be what ends us.
When spirit sense outweighs human nonsense,
we shall seal heavenly wrapped, peaceful traits.
All of life brings different kinds of days
some are bad but others are good
we think that the bad outweighs the good
but sometimes vice versa so better understood
There are days that upsets us
causing indeed from many a tear
bringing to mind all that's gone before
makes one consider all so very clear
But thankfully there are other days
that you would seek with many cries
for on that day brings a glad heart
one that comes filled with many sighs
This proverb speaks real truth
making one sit and ponder
on such impressive words of thought
takes you out into that blue yonder
(' These days you complain about, one day you will cry for '
- Arabic Proverb)
hear the phrase all of the time,
‘It doesn’t fit the narrative,’
used in news, academia,
and in political missives,
a phrase that I find curious
since so many do seem to yell
that the narrative they’ve chosen
outweighs even the world itself.
Like Marx’s view on history,
and the old ‘progress’ fallacy,
this thought that we must have stages,
advance through them relentlessly,
but history won’t hold them up,
it doesn’t go by what they say,
there is no path man is bound to,
just crazy lurchings everyday.
Did not 2016 prove this?
The narrative was she would win,
but things didn’t turn out that way,
and folks went nuts, thought it a sin.
Screamed about it for four years,
it wasn’t supposed to happen, no!
Despite the fact, scanning the past,
that this is how things often go.
I think, perhaps, the first mistake
you see in the narrative crowd,
is simple overreduction,
to pair all human beings down.
We saw this in Collectivists,
and their misplaced faith in ‘the group,’
but others do this trick as well,
simplification hides the truth.
Humans are a chaos system,
even taken one at time,
sure, we do have our old routines,
but every so often you’ll find
we do something that makes no sense,
that no other man could predict,
that unseen burst of randomness,
is so often what makes us tick.
Expand that to the whole species,
and you see chaos written large,
chaos actors interacting,
I think that it's a stretch too far
for any human mind to grasp,
to think you could is a conceit,
too many factors change too fast
to be forseen reliably.
Add to that the physical world
is a chaos system as well,
and we’re all stuck living with it,
this makes it really hard to tell
what causes this, or changes that,
to our mind it seems randomness,
it’s plain to see that narrative
cannot encompass all of this.
Our brain simply can’t organize
or relate to something that vast,
we simplify to understand,
and there’s a great danger in that.
Some start to think the narrative
is objective reality,
and act as if denying that
is a troubling perfidy.
But when has the world ever cared
about the thoughts we apes create?
The world is not a narrative,
that is a fact we can’t escape...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
After experiencing a wonderful production of Spamalot…it reminded me to always find a way
no matter what life throws at me…to look on the bright side…every day.
It’s not that I haven’t experienced tragedy or loss…
that there haven’t been moments I’ve been sad.
It just…when you look on the bright side of life…
you realize….the good consistently outweighs the bad.
When I look on the bright side of life…I realize how blessed I’ve been…
let’s see…if I was keeping score…
although death and sorrow have touched my life…I’ve never been to war.
Except for a few aches and pains…I’ve been healthy…I’ve never been depressed
In all the years I’ve been on this Earth…I’ve never been oppressed.
I’ve never been told I’m less than someone else…that I don’t belong…I don’t fit in
because of my religion, my sex, my race…or the color of my skin.
I’ve never been judged harshly because I don’t fit some universal diagram….
I’ve never been made to feel I’m different…or wrong…because of who I love…or who I am.
Having never had my joy rained on by the dark clouds of judgement or bigotry
I’ve been able to walk proudly…unafraid…and listen as the whole world sings to me.
Since I’ve never had to worry about what other people think…my confidence is strong
and on the bright side of life…when I know the words…I happily sing along.
Looking on the bright side isn’t always easy…
It’s like the actors, actresses, and musicians on the stage…
who didn’t know of Spamalot before…
Anything that’s worthwhile in life…is…worth working for.
If you want to learn how look on the bright side of life…
I know where that philosophy is being taught…
by the staff of Theater Exceptional…
currently at the Central Park Performing Arts Center in Largo, Florida
in a place called…Spamalot.