Mine boggled journey through the letters
Voices in my mind I hear I heard, reciting revealing words
Radiant verses, some words misspoken are curses
Humanity prime objectives numeral story tellers
Social modern time twenty-first century verses
I know longer write alone
There’s a greater power to be shown
One publisher, Elohim Jehovah
Purposeful will story teller
no dot, nor tittle
Not a unsolved riddle
There’s a greater power to be shown
I know longer write alone
There's a master crafter, a grander poet
A one whom creator of all words
He spoke the first words so stoic
Let there be light
And that point all was right
12/19/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024© from anthology "COGNISANT”
What will we do now that we’ve reached Gen Z
Will we have to do like hurricanes do
Give them names like Alpha, Beta, and Gamma
or perhaps just Roman Numeral I and II
Shall we call the new babies Gen Trump
Or perhaps Gen Pandemic or Gen Covid
Or do we just let them live out their lives
Like long ago generations did
You see, I don’t recall Gen Caveman
Or Gen Industrial Age
And they seemed to have made it just fine
Without the help of some superfluous adage
I wonder why we started naming ourselves
Are the children so ashamed of their parents
Perhaps afraid they won’t be able to overcome
the terms of their inheritance
Ahead of a just fixed funeral
He'd started counting its numeral:
Negotiator of the fairest price.
For twenty five bags of Thailand Rice...
Negotiator meets, too, Mortician
And relates to him as Beautician:
One is as good as partaker,
Who goes around as undertaker
"Well, he's for badly frowning corpses
Owners pay thousands for cleaned lapses".
Man wants his wife's corpse to start smiling;
If this can't be time away whiling.
If possible her lips archly grinning:
Guests sometimes cough for face in linen...
The discussions he will not linger,
Mortician to at price point finger...
All corpses have interest to protect,
Job of the living to them detect.
Deep & Dark Part 1... Let me
Fall... And tell
You All...
I've had to crawl... Walk on broken bones alone.... So cold & still nobody knows..
I've been hated
Replaced..... I feel as if I've disgraced her faith... Our fate has wrote it's final date.... Its final numeral, I watch its funeral...
I insist myself to
Never miss her, I can't just forget her.... Its sticks in the pit of my stomach it makes me sick…
Eternal life makes some kind people's time
To grow wealth, unless it comes natural.
Through time, you will reach your own destined prime!
And keep warm, the hot history of past climb,
Reaching out for luck's unknown numeral.
Eternal life makes some kind people's time.
Many grows it against all odds- through crime,
But all: a fleeing whisper's deferral.
Through time, you will reach your own destined prime!
Pastry shell don't dry fast like baking mime,
The process at same phase, just cultural-
Eternal life makes some kind people's time.
Only soul is our undying gift that chime,
Heavenly breaths; being supernatural.
Through time, you will reach your own destined prime!
Echo through grace, your days trials had grime,
Never relent to retreating several-
Eternal life makes some kind people's time,
Through time, you will reach your own destined prime!
Bitterness is
feeling pathetic
Remembering your age
Looking like thirty
Becoming obsessed
Failing each test
Missing the steps
Accepting the general
Suffering is numeral
Screaming for help
Seeing your friends
Making progress
Forgetting your name
Sitting awake
feeling some hate
Growing regrets
Feeling like waste
Losing the chances
Missing your fate
Sleeping so late
Thinking your state
Looking to blame
Landing on parents
Choosing to blame
feeling pathetic
Remembering your age
Looking like thirty
Becoming obsessed
Failing each test
Missing the steps
Accepting the general
Suffering is numeral
Screaming for help
Seeing your friends
Making progress
Forgetting your name
Bitterness is
Existing for sakes
Waiting for death
Lacking the courage
To jump from the plane
Did zest for life have a term until dialectal?
What comes before the numeral mystical?
Only God can discern my soul name.
He counts our hair and the sand with kame.
I grasp to worship his name as a young soul.
To be grateful and to sue God for his role.
I was raised to shimmer and shine as a juvenile.
Echoing his faith and leniency and being luminal.
I tried to be aware of the ocean's load.
It had to endure scraping at the sand.
Then spoke something in a hushed tone.
And I knew all that before, from the stone.
When the lights dim owing to the fading sun.
Ideas that once helped now steer you to stun!
When tragedy begins to veer toward standing.
Don't miss that a good mood is all you entail having.
Written: February 09, 2022
In a small dining room enclosed by three walls, a setting for two. Two candles across from each other lit cast shadows on the ceiling above the crystal chandelier. The round maple table- mirrors and reflects two tall wine glasses half filled with pink Champaign. On folded pink colored napkins three tine forks paired with matching gold handled knives compliment the candle holders. two pure white porcelain plates with saucers with gold trim shine. In the background on the center white wall, a black framed painting of autumn trees sits rectangular. To the left and right are two pedestals each with a bouquet of red roses resting atop. To the wall on the right a curio filled with Swarovski-"Wonders of the sea" Chrystal figures. To the wall on the left a roman numeral oval shaped clock with the time showing 4:45 pm. In the middle of the table is a small roasted turkey. Cranberries, potatoes and stuffing all in separate matching gold trimmed bowls 'round the turkey. On the dark oak floor, in the middle of the two chairs a golden retriever waits patiently.
Become A Painting Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Chantelle Anne Cooke
11/20/2021
I taste your desire" a strawberry mind
blue muffin(casket walls of wet desire)
breasts of isolated systems of dynamic mathematics
by its numeral ills of base ZERO ...
monolithic flowers swaying 1.61 degrees
by beautiful deaths.
GRIND() my pressure colored paintings weeping
upon famous walls of museums and words dripping ink-words
toward the masses. I weep. I weep. I weep! those dreams
are more than handles than women or men as sunlight
in isolated systemic hearts!
Older than wooden ships that offer vanished ghosts
who can hold this hand of mine?
Of mine. Whom zooms through
one perfectly beautiful now...
my home : Ionian isles.
:: 09.15.2021 ::
Decaphobia – fear of number 10, perhaps because the Roman numeral X is 10
Xinoaxphobia – fear of the letter X not to be confused with xenophobia
Xenophobia - fear of strangers or foreigners often confounded with
Xenonosocomiophobia – fear of foreign pickpockets sometimes correlated with
Xanthophobia – fear of yellow, word or colour, but distinct from word phobias
Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia - the fear of long words especially
Gerascophobia - the fear of getting old often associated with
Athazagoraphobia – a fear of something or other, I’ve forgotten what leading to
Pantophobia - which is basically a widespread fear of everything, but remember
Apocalypse anxiety is a real thing, but it’s not the end of the world.
Time
Time, like age, just an ordered number, not ordained
Place marker in human chronicles of sunrise and sunset plains –
Book mark for seasons and blue moon tides
Flags the divisions between light and darkness
In twilight and dawning,
Powerless to stop Orion from appearing – the Southern Cross ascend,
Blocked from sneaking into infinity or the soul
At one with an eternal childhood escaping age,
No breaking in to steal the elliptical vitality of gifts
Or untarnished giftedness
Seen and begotten in full view before the abyss -
Locked out of the continuum of eternal light
Sun, moon and fiery orbs absent source of birthright
Beyond the vortex speed of light;
Soul living in the presence of the perfect circle -
No beginning and no end for grace -
Past the hands of manmade divisions circling on a numeral face
Not hearing rhythmic ticking rhythms – echoes lost in perpetuity –
Where time and seasons, blue moons only watch
Like forgotten keepsakes
Time, like age, just an ordered number, not ordained.
11-15-20
Contest: T Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Hundred
Roman Numeral C
A century
A dollar
The whole percent
Ten times Ten
Ten decades
Divided by 1, 2, 4, 5, 10, 20, 25, 50 and himself
Makes counting easy
Is the star of borrowing in subtraction
Makes multiplication easy
100 dollars
The most money I ever saw
When I was a child
One time 100 was a war
Ghetto me be a bleating poor refugee,
albeit I’m Goshen rich in faith
Got a manger stall in the USA,
Pilate shepherd of the Cesarian peace
Time stamped stillborn delivery
tis iron Roman numeral four C
Furnace cast existence: bane brand bound
Babylonian condition, a marketplace sound
Fleeced heritage ... sob separated,
I am just the latest stolen cargo generation
being cerulean cloth asphyxiated
By legion overseers of an ungrateful nation
These pyramid gnash, link bled bones
twas being Pharaoh oppressed: Prey worked to death
in a Memphis factory plantation owned
Where noxious hate suffocate poverty-cuffed breath
Be daily double tasked in a graveyard shift
Those pale hearts so addicted
to the golden flask, err tilted
Drunk on power, they cull with a siren sift
O miry, downtrodden me ...
temporally chained to this wavy treachery
Verily, a wretched place for a black sheep —
such cotton weary misery!
So after four centuries of Cain deluge,
I do still tearfully seek
A rainbow ark sacred place of refuge
promised to the meek
Segmented straight lines configure
pointed glyph of transformed cross.
In numeral sequence from the top
it’s the second smallest even integer.
After three dark days of primal genesis
when the arch of cosmos needed light,
God created sun, moon and all the stars
on this day, the symbol of universal truth.
This spiritual digit repeated three times,
turns into an angel number seraphic.
Responding to our thoughts and prayers,
it instills courage by numerological power.
At the blind end of life’s unlit path
if the milestone of angel number appears,
in God’s grace you’ll get divine foresight,
beyond dark you’ll see the light of future.
February 14, 2020
Contest : What's In A Number
Sponsor : Juliet Ligon
Dear Future Resident
I’m that old man of the old
Writing from the old times
What I heard from the old,
What I saw in my time,
And what I foresee in your times
And the times yet to come;
Old indeed, upon the grey rock I seat
By the edge of hills under the fig tree…
A man was here..
A man shall be there…
A man of both our ages and all the ages
Not only them, but only Him
Indeed he knows from all the ages
And sees from edge to edge
He walked upon our world without curse
So great a rejection did he achieve, so little an attention did he receive
Behold the day of our days, could not hold him
Our night also….
And the times will be so as of the ancient
The day of your days will not hold him
Your night also…..
Please bear for him
Prepare yourself and prepare yourselves…
Upon the name II ,
For the same numeral holds for all;
That is to say; Second coming of the first
First born of all ages.
Yours
Ancient Resident
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