Long Subconsciously Poems
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Ditsy moment, wow!
This takes me back a few years
I think I was aged about twelve
It left my father in tears
It was on a summers morning
I was sound asleep in bed
Subconsciously I heard my father shout
And throw something at my head
"Hey James get up,
Your going to be late for school"
I sat up straight in bed
Hurrying not to break the rules
Quickly I got dressed
As I rushed for a bite to eat
It's then that I noticed my father
Crying in his seat
His tears turned to laughter
As he struggles to calmly say
"I'm sorry my son I just couldn't resist
In fact it's really Saturday"
Looking back at that time
Today it's still funny to me
But you really had to see
Me sitting up as stiff as a tree
An inner voice is telling me
To take off these headphones,
Yet listening to these songs:
So soothing to my soul.
It's even telling me
To stop looking into this screen…
Oh how long it's been when I first agreed
In having this fascinating world
Be my mindful sanctuary.
I'm left all alone now, away from Home,
If only His presence were
Inside of these mere things.
Delving within what is supposedly darkness,
I feel as if I subconsciously still
Hold the lamplight of Him in my heart.
Tears bring me to Him, I cry and cry,
Yet no longer did I feel a presence
Of Arms holding me as I lay
In all my cries of loneliness.
An inner voice ss telling me to let go
And give my emotion to Him.
He truly functioned our tears
To eventually release
A fleeting form of joy.
It's even telling me
To give up all my curiosities.
Yet all I want is for Him to watch over me
And to be there, to be a forgiving Father.
I worked 25 years for a company that taught me several valuable lessons, but one has stood far and above all other lessons learned from that company. They taught me to 'check and double-check' and always 'assume nothing'.
I once had a friend who never realized that maybe her preconceived conclusion was not only subconsciously prejudicial but also offensive to me, and whereas I could have been righteously indignant toward her, I chose not to be. She never knew because we never discussed my beliefs about the subject matter. She was an older person set in her ways, and when she spoke in such an uninformed manner, I did not want to set her straight. So both in mind and in my heart, I forgave her of her serious 'lack of understanding'.
Barack Obama was running for president, and my white friend assumed because
I was Black like Obama, I would be voting for him to be president. She assumed wrongly. She lacked understanding about the fact that there are 10% of Blacks who vote 'Republican', unlike the 90% that traditionally vote 'Democratic'. She therefore lacked the understanding of me and my beliefs. She passed on several years ago, never knowing that she offended me. I knew her to be a good person and a personal friend with no offense intended. If I chose to correct every person that offended me, I would be overly busy.
I tell this story because it is very relevant to the times we are presently experiencing. These times are not new, but they continue to surface because we never solve them. At best, we conversate but seldom communicate. We investigate and facilitate, but we fall short of compensating with justice. I learned more from listening to my friend's discourse than I ever could have by correcting, arguing, or debating with her.
I've learned that we humans serve up more division and bigotry when we fail to listen. My friend falsely assumed that I was in a certain group and therefore thought the same. Racial injustice is nothing new, but there are times when egregiousness becomes a tipping point, a neon sign that compels and forces the world to take notice and act.
061220PS
Once I was infrequent hard to pass ;
As God's righteous movement in my heart and my chest;
Caught up in mine spirit soul dysfunction;
Captured heart beating in my chest;
Why am I constipated with the world's thoughts;
I believe that I believe beliefs attitudes can't be brought;
Feelings emotions travel through the interstate highways of my mind and yet;
Subconsciously, I am abundantly yet still thinking;
reasoning what is my purpose I know my purpose;
And know I ain't been drinking, don't need no control substances to catch feelings;
There're mine, those of yesterday and tomorrows past through the glass;
Outwardly now I've forgotten;
But yesterdays life past stored, becomes tomorrow lessons;
Free will choices, yet in still you have three voices;
Whose do you hear, which one the quiet quietest ;
How I'm I chosen am I loved I know I am loved;
I'm a three-part being housed in a fleshly shell;
But am I instinct with Spirit soul body praise am I aware;
of the right order
Am I a witness witnessing believer more than with My soul;
But the real meaning in my spirit purpose is it love, it's love His love;
But yet through life's toils all along my body to rule;
When my spirit the center of me, should be the reverence of me balanced;
And my soul surrounds my heart endowed with due process;
I am His Child
Captured heart beating in my chest;
Why am I constipated with the world's thoughts;
I believe that I believe beliefs attitudes can't be brought;
Feelings emotions travel through the interstate highways of my mind and yet,
I fly I'm above in the heavenlies looking down with eagle eyes and I see what transpires
And I fly even higher I am God's child I am loose of this world, I am His Child;
Now I am influent infused filled with Him;
Diarrhea out my sins, been washed and cleansed;
Hung, laid up high on the cross, them there those my sins;
I'm a new vessel, under immediate construction;
Potholes been sealed I am influent infused filled with Him;
11/29/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Poetry is my escape when reality becomes too much,
Recently poetry has become my crutch.
When I start to feel like I am drowning in the ocean
with arms too heavy to swim or make a motion.
I can pick up my pencil and paper and write it down;
Being able to release the anxiety, fear, and sadness is profound.
For so many years, I tried to keep everything locked deep inside,
Where nobody could find my real emotions alone, I would cry and hide.
The thought of everyone’s judgments and disapproval,
It turned into a deep depression and my complete social life removal.
My diary became my best friend,
Being able to release my emotions without worry or criticism was almost more than I could comprehend.
My journal was there for me day or night,
Anytime I Felt anger, I could write out my spite.
Anytime I felt sad, my hand could write through the tears,
Every emotion I had been keeping closed off for so many years.
Being able to get it out of my head and heart onto the paper,
It helped me release those lower vibrations; Now, I’m learning to stand as tall as a skyscraper.
If you’re going through a dark place or a hard time
Please consider journaling; I promise it will help over time.
It doesn’t have to rhyme or be perfect,
Just start to write and notice the inner conflict.
Once you have that written down, you can see what you have subconsciously concealed;
Then you have the secrets of your heart on what needs to be healed.
Please don’t give up; keep holding on with all your might.
Understand your shadows, transmute them, and then show the world your beautiful light.
Our bodies prepare us for birth and death;
subconsciously the brain is in control.
At birth, we instinctively take a breath,
without being told: we're born to our role.
Our brain releases endorphins at birth,
which ease our passage: dulling birthing pain.
We arrive pre-programmed for planet Earth,
and it's all possible, thanks to the brain.
When dying, our brain controls what we do,
drinking less, eating less, and sleeping more.
Our bodies release endorphins anew:
affirming that our souls are set to soar.
Death is beautiful: if you only knew
of the exultation that awaits you.
Someone to hold, is that not really your true desire
seeing the title of this poem, you came to inquire
subconsciously you need to have, an outlet to deal
emptiness confines you, refusing to accept it's real
Closing your eyes, and trying to do your very best
hoping to get a handle, on the level of your stress
but your attempts fail, forcing you to admit defeat
loneliness and depression, pounding your heartbeat
You speak with your friend, in whom you trust
seeing you're desperate, she's coming she must
a half hour passes, standing now by your side
crying to her your woes, with nothing to hide
Your chance for true love, how you felt it so close
naivety and desperation, you took a double dose
now he is gone, these days seem to pass as years
a heart so crushed, yielding her flow of wet tears
What you are left with, a pain so endlessly deep
there is no escape, but counting sheep in your sleep
while you paid a price that was ever so steep
realizing your only friend is the hope you keep
Tomorrow will yet burn with a special, warm light
new hope will bring with it a chance to make right
happiness will yet reign, banning sadness out of sight
that someone special, forever to hold you tight
A loving look, accompanying that warm embrace
a way into his heart, finally finding your true place
bound with a oneness that only loving hearts could feel
no longer asking, because you know, you just know it's real
Does it always feel good to be King?
Or Queen?
Diva?
PolyPathic Genius?
PolyPhonic Perfect Pitched Prophet?
White fragility,
like loneliness,
is the psychic
and economic
and disempowering risk we take
Each time and place
we consciously impress
subconsciously oppress
unconsciously suppress
anti-consciously repress
uneven
over-invested white male privileged opportunities
To recognize history as polycultural systems
and climates as polypathic networks,
sometimes health and wealth balanced polynomials
and sometimes more monochromatically problematic,
Played out
in win/lose economic capital advantages
and egocentric/anthrocentric
competing political game environments
habitats
eco-centers
assumed to be ZeroSum
by left-brain dominant win/lose energy conservationists
and also NonZero-Sum
co-arising dipolar 4-season revolutionary
by right-sacredmind win/win emergent progressivists,
change agents vulnerably fragile
and transparently eco-feminist privileged.
Games of physical aggression
too often produce violently wounding
fragmenting
punishing
retributive justice strategies
and spiritual
metaphysical detachment
dissociation
from disempowering privileged intent
Games of metaphysical aggression
grow out from leftbrain dominant language,
patriarchal-ism word and value choices
labeling win/lose natural realism v
win/win liberal in love too optimistic v
lose/lose conservative of static entropic death
too pessimistic
too fragile
too privileged to feel
Ecologic-rooted theologies on sacred Right
and theological ego/eco-logos
for win/win feminist Left
Physical fragile metaphysicians
inhaling,
and metaphysically privileged win/win healers
exhaling.
Does it always feel good to be King?
And Queen?
And Diva?
And PolyPathic Genius?
And PolyPhonic Perfect Pitched Prophet?
Who would know
with ultra-nonviolet gratitude
this empowering East dawning side
of Gaia's BlueGreen Earth
clapping more right mindedly?
Hurt
Immersed within in us all lay such deep rooted hurt
A pain so profound, yet staying subconsciously inert
Be it physically or an emotionally charged event
How does this apply and what does it represent
Hurt can transform us, make our deepest fears multiply
Can abruptly change our life, all within a blink of an eye
Events compiling, wondering if you can bear all this strife
Leaving you unsure of what’s next in this chapter called life
Hurt can derive from an assailment on the body or of our minds
Manifesting into suffering, a life time of sorrow, pain of all kinds
Burying deep within your subconscious, hiding how you truly feel
Not allowing yourself to yield to pain so surmountable, so surreal
Hurt can be an excruciating experience within your whole body
Debilitating you wholeheartedly, within everything you embody
With all your good intentions, all your inner will you can exert
Seeking no more than a simple solution to ease all of your hurt
It hit me like confetti, that supermarket sneeze
in your signature, and that cough in only your tone.
I turned to behold a face I hadn't seen,
but in last September's severed dream.
Those eyes, like evanescent sparklers pulsed at me,
then hastened hardly for a double-take.
You, so it seemed, subconsciously contemplated
whether to tread my way or to pretend we'd never met
two years earlier and every weekend thereafter,
until the leaves began to let go of their life support.
"God bless your heart," I replied to the sneeze.
Then that once sweet-nothing-whispering voice
responded with a cautious taunt.
"What about the rest of me?" you questioned.
"Well," I asserted, "if your heart is blessed,
your body will take care of the rest."
9-19-19