I walk in a world painted with charm,
where laughter drifts like sunlight,
where hands are gentle and hearts are soft.
Yet I stumble on the broken echoes,
the half smiles and misfired warmth
the ones the world seems to have set aside.
I have watched the golden pass me by,
their steps in sync with the universe,
while I gather the fragments left behind,
learning that solitude is not punishment
but a quiet, fierce companion.
Alone, I sharpen my edges,
I claim my own rhythm,
I dance in rooms built from my own light.
I do not wait for the lost or the lovely,
for I am enough
without the handsome, without the kind.
In this crowd of misfits,
I have found a throne of one,
and it suits me
better than any hand could.
Don’t be weak brown eyes don’t cry
Have to be sterling silver strong deny
Purple pain when it’s lupus vanity
Nothing to gain but mood swings insanity
Why don’t they get it I am tired
Of pain from the bullet of gun misfired
For my body turns in on itself
Could I use pain as a melody for health
Buck lupus you wild white wolf
I sing a song of denial to be hooked
On meds that led to more side effects
Feds won’t let us be cured I guess
I see hope in the future
Not so much in meds but in nurture
Maybe a cocktail of lavender love
And a cure so pure from heaven above
Shoved from my barrel
I only have one place to call home.
The body of my target.
I'm soaring
Screaming
But I don't know where to go
I fly into the nearest crevice of warmth
and embed myself there.
My work is done.
He misfired the gun.
All I hear of Hilton Hotels is terrible,
making mistakes but taking the money,
slanderous to staff now that ain’t funny,
acting all proper job
when a proper nob,
discrimination I can prove
seeing certain staff removed,
we had no HR we could turn to
the manager had no concern for staff like you
setting me up to be disciplined and sacked
somewhat misfired though that plan, fact,
and when I was eventually fired
it was illegally done I’m no liar,
if Hilton Hotels challenge this poem as libel
then I will prove it’s not a lie I will,
they keep managers that manage like monsters
power mad heads become like satanic imposters,
this manager got sacked but still works for them
he's the manager of the York Hilton
they charge too much
care too little
so to Hilton Hotels here’s my middle!!!
My mind is in a battle of its own.
My demons are taking over,
the fight is getting out of control.
But only my soul can help me thru this fear.
The battle of my mind,
isn't with swords or knives.
Its the battle to survive in my mind and my darkest deepest thoughts.
The painful battle has only just begun,
No amount of pills can undo the damage that has become.
My mind is a battlefield,
my demons have taken over.
My thoughts have misfired and they have all won.
A sword thrust,
parried before it’s
finale;
a pistol misfired
aimed at;
my immortal thoughts
held at bay
by the;
a wasted life
wondering,
please my love,
for me;
AIM STRAIGHT
Wouldn’t marry you if your true colours I knew
But the best of me infatuation took
Thinking all about you I had a clue
Playing by ear the amateur’s rulebook
Taking for granted I had you figured
On the surface and in depth
When blindness and recklessness in me triggered
The mistaken faith
In which I swam
Misled by the profile in you I saw
In the gullibility spam
In which in you no flaw
In the picture my mind painted
Projecting an angel
Till my illusion fainted
Though you and I did seem to gel
In spite of the distorted notion
Of you I built
To reap sorrow in the motion
Of you in silt and the slit
I spied
Conjectured
Misapplied
Textured and nurtured
Until in matrimony the knot
We tied
Signed marriage certificate on the dot
But you and I to our detriment misfired.
B- Ballistics blast burst
O- Outbreak
O- Outbursts
M- Miss detonation Misfired
4/22/18
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.
Copyright © 2018
Roman pro-life Pilate politicians
got their abortion trigger finger
on the gun
Sending public notice of more bullet crucifixions,
a Surgeon General quarantine warning:
Lead cancer epidemic is spreading,
pistol pestilence ...
gunsmoke you best deadly shun
Herodian arms whisperers advise,
to let the virulent violence run it’s course
That’s the American Legion way of the gun ...
Give and take is the bullet gladiator way of life,
written on the name of every Republic citizen
To give birth to the precious metal bastard babies,
you gonna have to
bury some of your flesh-and-blood legitimate ones
Hypocrite politicians say the news ain’t that bad:
Step outside and Lucifer relax ...
take a puff of the lead cancer stick —
but keep your gun cocked and ready to shoot,
locked and loaded bulls-eye barrel smoking mad
Don’t be scared by what you saw, or what you heard
You just can’t believe the graphic images and sounds ...
no, not one fake media misfired word
Take your chances, everybody don’t get lead cancer
Survive, and breathe the polluted gunsmoke air
You’re still alive —
just remember, the next bullet coming won’t care
All England, blinking nervously, is out!
A little mild spell, much to our surprise,
has brightened frowsy February skies.
We sniff the air with nostrils schooled in doubt.
Baffled by balm, the fruit trees have misfired.
Like foolish virgins, hurrying on their scarves,
They've pushed out blooms half-petaled and half-starved.
The coming frosts will slice them like cheese-wire.
And I have loved you far too eagerly.
My half-cocked hopes have withered on the bough.
I should have doled my sweets more meagerly -
then, had I granted space, and time, and light,
your hobbled feelings might have taken flight,
in any time or place ... but England. Now.
Father Time is to love
As a breeze is to fire
It enkindles the great
Extinguishes the small
Swirls ashes into smoke
Drifting up like prayers
From some abandoned souls
Wounded by an arrow
Misfired from Cupid's bow
Smoke stings everyone's eyes
And tears become rainbows
Doomed to fade out of sight
Until we understand
That when it comes to love
We all get blown away . . . .
Limerick crochetés: Once Fukushima Lady Uranium
Once Fukushima Lady Uranium
Madly in love with Hanford Plutonium
Sent him hot-kissed missile
Twice Hiroshima smile:
“R.S.V.P. Pluto to Uranus in mime!”
Missile misfired detoured Koreanium
O’er Kamchatka harassed by Putt-Inn-ium
Security Council
Issued stark Codicil
“Pacific love letters: ‘Putt-Inn-Bin, Hmh!’ “
Then lovesick Mamasan Uranium
Stole Crime-ian Green Card made in Elysium
KGB stamp fossil
Put Putt-Inn behind grill
So cut through Alaska helped by Pale-Inn-Yum!
At last Mamasan came close to Plutonium
At Hanford received no hugs in delirium
Sat by waste river spill
Her heart sank without thrill
Till Pluto-Uranus sang the Union Hymn!
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
She wrote poems that would have made Bukowski blush.
I read one once, and twice over again, the fourth time I was in love
With her best-friend, for which it was about, well, more so her friend's ... cat.
She got mad in a way that would have made Shelley gush
Out tears and run, run, run to the monster we make out of love.
Misguided, misfired, she missed my face, more so - She also had a ... cat!
She declared in a way that would have made anyone want to …
Read her poetry.
The Darwin Awards are a posthumous honor, recognizing those who have improved the human gene pool by removing themselves from it by their own foolish actions.
In a robbery way out in Long Beach
Elliot's handgun misfired in the breech
Down the barrel he took
A quite scatterbrained look
Then made it more than a figure of speech
There was a foolish fellow named Gary
Who gulped gasoline over near Cary
The fuel made him gag
So he fired up a ***
And now smokes in the state mortuary
"Look, no helmet!" Phil proudly decried
In the headgear disobedience ride
He stood for his rights
Then put out his lights
When he flew off his Electra Glide
An impatient Korean got miffed
And was ramming the doors of the lift
Then went a bit daft
When he got the shaft
But his ride to the bottom was swift
References:
http://jdgroover.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/the-2013-darwin-awards-are-out/
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2012-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2011-03.html
http://www.darwinawards.com/darwin/darwin2010.html
I dream of snowflakes
they are each identical
my mind is frozen
Two-years-old and contorted, monstrously white-eyed, bloody-lipped and snorting,
gasping for air, as in drowning, but there is no welcome, wishing-well's water.
Do you seek the warm, languid liquid of your benign, pre-birthed beginnings from which
you were mistakenly and recklessly released?
What teeth-gnashing ghoul would bring such a pitiful, helpless, hapless, innocent
creature into a world of screeching suffering?
Autumn smiles in kaleidoscope colors, tossing rainbows
through the trees upon little gusts of laughing giggles.
Every shimmering, shaded hue has cart-wheeled to the peaceful riot.
My precious son communes with every chirp, cluck and click,
as rivers deftly dance to the bouncing beat of his steady footfalls.
He looks to the squinting sun and smiles, with a wink.
I look to the horizon with foul, hatred-filled breath
and curse the conniving clouds that await.
gran mal seizure seeds
horizontal trees are born
nature's brain misfired
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