When anthro-privileged consumers
of massive monotheistic miscommunications
replace faith in compassionate StatesMen
and bipartisan StatesWomen
with vainglorious hope
for straight white supremacist BusinessMen
Then what might have been a healthy
polycultural democracy
has now become just another nationalistic
monoculturing kleptocracy.
Sacred EarthMother
does not define
what matriarchal yin Beauty is,
and yet S/He seems to refine
what patriarchal yang Ugly is not.
a death causes a family and friends so much pain
words have not been invented to give this pain justice
the coffin, the service, the minister who did not know them
Expect hurt feelings, miscommunications, anger and sadness
On the other hand....
hugs are never more heartfelt or welcomed than at a death
wonderful stories come out, stories that make the family laugh.
friends share things they would have never known
if there had not been a death.
Atmosphere is anybody there
World spinning around is anybody here
my love the skies are so great
Our hearts melt in the clouds wake
Till dusk of day the night feedings
Rain clouds away drippings
Misunderstandings Miss identifications till days dawn
Crawling skies
~
Anybody there, anybody here
Sunshine's beauty is great Wandering Minds
Sun Cross the sky changing of times
Till the sunset clouds Thunderings
Is all I do while waiting for the moon's plungering
Those rain clouds away clouds turning blue
Misunderstandings miscommunications today's gone true Skies calling
2/11/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2021
I come across a photo and it all comes flooding back
The glances and whispers of a promise of a future
I see your face and remember what I have lost
Due to miscommunications, and words unspoken
You are so far away, you have disappeared almost completely.
You might be dead; I have no idea. It has been thirty years.
Ghost you smiles at me as I sleep maybe, yet maybe not.
My thoughts do not linger, for I cannot bear them long.
Losing you all over again, every time I remember,
So I put the photo back into the back pages of my Bible
Where I never venture, so I never have to see it again.
Knowing it is there is almost too painful to bear.
Sign language, a terrific way to give a voice to the little ones who have not yet mastered words.
When my eleven-month- old granddaughter learned “drink” and “hungry” and “tired” at her day care center I was amazed and that was eleven years ago. I was partly amazed that out of the millions of caring adults,
no one had thought of it before.
Sign language, a language of hand,
A language we can teach our children
Before they master spoken words
Sign language, a standard practice, and so wise, so smart,
So wonderful that a caring, loving preschool teacher
Figured it out.
Because it always starts with
One person who truly
And completely cares.
Thank you, whoever you are,
As it has eliminated many tantrums
And miscommunications
And it has helped so many
Two’s and three’s convey
Their needs without the
Throwing on the floor,
And the slamming into
Walls we used to do.
Frustrated beyond
Forever, not
Knowing how to
Yet use
Words.
Dashing of hopes, disappointment, despair, discouragement
Internal struggles, I statements,
Vicious misunderstandings, vicious rumours
Outrageous miscommunications
Reasonable mourning
Children suffer the most, feeling they created the situation
Everyone's nightmare,
As the World turns clock hands rotate in circular motions
For the hours I count in hopes of all of them to freeze
For the silent moments I think to myself of the time that has passed
The person who stares to the ground while they walk on the streets
One step they take going farther into a direction yet known
As the world turns so do the heads
In search for some kind of entertainment
In hopes of satisfying the need to laugh or gossip
The world is funny
As the world turns there is always a voice that speaks
But yet there are so many secrets and miscommunications
Words roll of the tongues of today's generation
The people expected to continue whats been started
Blood sheds before a tongue slips
As the world turns there is always the word change
If there is a yearn for change why is there a display of consistency?
Transition
from the mind’s condition
revealed God’s unconditional love!
I had been my own man within usual concepts,
I needed transition from carnal mind’s inept,
I realized error of my ways.
By God’s love, precious style,
reconciled!
Of social resigned,
I was own worst enemy…
unconsciously blind!
Living my mind’s illusions,
not mindful of power source!
Having lived natural incline,
was paranoid schizophrenic,
of the flesh, nothing authentic,
miscommunications of mind.
Now I dwell in graces complete,
and all new commitments I make,
having lived natural incline,
I have spirit's eugenics.
Love’s composition not of mind,
transitional maturity,
in the grace of love’s purity,
most heavenliest, top of line,
having lived natural incline.
For: Trois Par Huit Rondel
In Honor of Jared Pickett
There she lay
While a crimson pool around her head
Reaching into the cracks of the blacktop bed
Still and inaudible
While the her last breathe lingers in the mist
Taken from her mortality
A sad and horrifying reality
He didn’t focus in the moment of rage?
Now mapped out he’s turning another page
If only he had faith in the Lord above
The angels called on him but he gave them a shove
Trembling and frighten with his actions
A glitz in the brain with a minor distraction
His jealousy took a hold
Now minutes are ticking, and the damage is done
And he finds himself on the run
The police enter the scene
With shock and remorse for Christine
Just a week before she paid the police a visit
Asking for help and a restraining order with it
Miscommunications and untimeliness won
Her husband killed her with a gun