At five years, what matters fits within one hand—
A beetle, a stone, a fistful of warm, soft sand.
Five fingers close around each thing that's new;
What matters is what a little hand, can hold as true.
At fifteen, what matters is the watching crowd.
To be yourself, but not too different, odd or loud.
The crowd's glances matter, weighing who they see.
Their recognition shapes who you might want to be.
At thirty, what matters gathers into something more.
More keys, more names, more feet across the floor.
Fingers grip the proof of what they've built and own;
What matters is the weight, the way they have grown.
At fifty, what matters turns from having more, to needing less.
From what is treasured, to what's measured in tenderness.
The fingers loosen their grip on what they used to hold.
An open hand held out to greet, outweighs the fist of gold.
At seventy, what matters circles back to five.
The smallest things again, feel the most alive.
Old fingers touch the morning's silver dew—
A reaching hand seeks to feel, to touch, and renew.
Somewhere between the silence
The excuses
The things left unsaid
And the things said without thought
I realised I was holding together
What was already falling apart
Giving grace where I felt hurt
Giving understanding where I received confusion
Giving chances where boundaries should have stood
But this is not a story of love turning to hate
It's a story of affection meeting its limit
Of a hand that wanted to hold on but forced to let go
Not because I wanted distance
But because closeness began to cost me too much of myself
Some endings are not decisions
But realisations
A moment when clarity outweighs hope
It was worn down by every moment
That made staying feel heavier than leaving
Autistic poet,decades have passed;
and humanity outweighs it's perpetual punishment.
Quid pro quo my darling, yes or no?
Press play.
Caught within an erotic cold war,
control.
It’s not acceptable to bend the knee,
break it.
My desire outweighs your defiance.
Give in.
It’s our sinful hierarchy of hunger,
my dear.
We’d wake with numbers stitched beneath our skin,
a quiet countdown no one dares to pin,
each step we take subtracts what we can’t see,
a life measured in what’s left to be.
You’d learn the weight of saying “stay a while,”
when “while” could cost a month just for a smile,
and conversations wouldn’t wander far—
small talk is cheap, but truth leaves scars.
The desperate trade their years to feel okay,
the wealthy barely notice lost decay,
a handshake might require a piece of you,
a debt collected in what you once knew.
But I would spend it all without a plea,
no fear of what that emptiness might be,
because a fleeting second in your light
outweighs an endless, borrowed night
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
There you are standing out in the deep, dark sky
Shining your cascading light on me like I'm the most marvellous person alive
I find solace in gazing at your different shapes and sizes
Each showcasing a different beauty the stars could only admire
When I can't sleep I burden you with my endless stories
When I can sleep you cast your warm, flowing shadow upon me, until the sun rises
Your presence ignites in me a feeling of delight
That nothing can snatch away except the morning light
It amazes me that you stay the same through all the seasons
While witnessing humans change for a multitude of reasons
As dusk arises I wave you goodbye
Oh, moon the peace I feel with your presence in the edge of night outweighs all my feelings for humans
So no matter how luminous your eyes
Never get tired of shining so bright
I need your friendship in the deep, dark sky
In a world of wizards, I chose Malfoy.
Among superheroes, I chose Loki.
Among gods, I chose Medusa.
They say villains are often misunderstood—
that their pain outweighs a hero’s motive for peace.
But that’s not quite it, is it?
Villains were crushed to the depths of the earth,
yet they learned to grow in the dark.
They carried their cuts deep within their hearts,
tending them just enough
not to bleed—
until their reasoning felt complete.
And the world romanticized their suffering,
glorified their agony.
They were cursed,
and still chose to rise.
They were taught there was only one throne to sit on,
only one supreme power to attain,
only one man fit to rule the world.
And sometimes—
they folded before a woman,
forgetting empires, crowns, revenge and conquest
for the sake of love.
So don’t blame me when I choose a villain.
Because in doing so, I choose his desires,
his potential,
and the entirety of who he is—
not just the scars he bares
Is it so hard to accept the truth
When history shows the proof;
When reality doesn’t miss
Defeating the thickest mist?
When the facts destroy the lies
Does one close their ears & eyes?
Does it come as a surprise
When the truth outweighs the lies?
Does one run or do they hide?
Try to justify those lies?
Try to bury history woes
In the hope that no one knows?
Is it so hard to accept the truth
When history shows the proof?
Like the sun that shines bright
Defeating the darkest night;
Like the vastness of the sea
Truth will always be;
Forever one can see
Throughout eternity.
Is it so hard to accept the truth
When history shows the proof?
As I sat and pondered my final draft,
I lifted my cup for another draft,
When the cracked window let in a cold draft,
And chilled me just like the '69 draft.
Bringing back faces of the men I led,
In '69 the air was filled with lead,
A sudden snap. I broke the pencil lead,
This note to a soldier's son outweighs lead.
I could not let the chance to write you pass,
And tell you how he fought in that damned pass,
Your father never let a challenge pass,
Never a test so hard he could not pass.
Of all my men he was the best in line,
So I'm writing you...the last of his line,
And hoping you don't find me out of line,
Bringing back the past with such a poor line.
Hate is more potent than Love
as is darkness more awesome than light,
Silence’s more deafening than sound
Vice is more enticing than virtue
as is knowledge more enlightening than faith,
Passion overrides piety
Malevolence outbeats benevolence
as is brute more awe-inspiring than beauty.
Death is absolute
as is life fleeting,
The fear of hell
outweighs the bliss of heaven.
As are nights and days,
Life and death rotate in sync
complimenting each other,
One cannot exist without the other,
As is with good and evil
love coevals with hate —
you cannot choose one without other,
the outcome is correspondingly synonymous.
The devil is god’s alter ego,
The devil almost always
outscores god,
God fares better as the devil…
Damning and bedeviling mankind
for his own devilish delight!
the choir chimed in
a chorus of rebuke
or stones we'd hurl
abusing the adulteress's skin
shoot your pocket rocks
passing judgment comes down
like diluvial rains splashing
gory-red upon your frocks
it was to be...
her luggage, some water-jars
Samaritan's soles cooked &
cured by partiality &
cancel culture, burying stars
Desert Rose Parchment Gazette
circulated the dame's tragedies
watering-hole purists rebuffed her
like Hester of Scarlet
it was to be...
but five (4+1) days late
the state of death
arose, rank and proud
with results beyond debate
Brother Lazarus' fate sealed
in the tacit tombs
there for the world
and his women appealed
none was to be
ne'er was to be
Oh, Creator of Earth,
& Heavens outweighs the
chains of men's destinies
enters seas of dearth
that i should gain
Your cherubic fiddling surceased:
extemporizing treatises in sands
divining springs quenching pain
How impossibly the author
of Tomorrow and hero
of souls and spine
of faith, the purveyor
of Paradise and mercy
of the made, despoils
death's feats & fervor.
Selah. Let it be.
The weight
of what I
haven’t done
far outweighs
my past
Those things
left vacant
on the shelf
of what I left
for last
Excuses
linger
as empty
choices
following behind
Reminding me
of what
I’m not
in content
— and in kind
(Dreamsleep: February, 2025)
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?
Why can’t I just be honest?
Why is it so hard to tell you?
I’m more terrified of rejection
Then being left in the dark.
Why am I having trouble
To trust you and your intentions?
Am I getting too paranoid
Or should I trust my gut this time?
Cause when I mess up with you
I always keep blaming myself.
Whenever I think there’s problems
I always think I’m the one in trouble
Your reassurance is what I thought I needed
But I’m relying on your approval too much.
The dynamic in our relationship
Outweighs the balance on a scale
I’m not sure how this relationship will end
If it keeps moving like this, it’s gonna crash
And I’m tired of being left in the smoke
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