Partakes in, not he, this perverse
An unnatural abhorrence
For the true, the good, the grandly fair.
Feigns, from this time's place absence!
In my garden I am often ankle deep in peace
And my head is fleshed within the mind of God
When each day I root out weeds and dead growth
I remember the work still to do with sins remaining
Lying in the regions of roots and worms and serpents
And my soul feels the pull of the garden’s twin in paradise
And knows it can’t stay here much longer in the mud below
Suspended outside together with the poisoned demons
Breathing the same air as the malevolent hemlock
Swinging to the wicked rhythm of a perverse dark breeze
In the abandoned corner of this twin garden hiding
Hanging heavy in the land of the Harlot and the Unclean.
The sun rose this morning,
Some extra red --
I attribute that to atmospheric dust -- man a manic
Bulk-polluter – taking some personal blame
Last evening’s carousing did not serve A Higher Purpose.
Blank nights prone to bleed into equally unremarkable days –
Since your abrupt departure each dawn has
Become a perverse mirror of profound absence --
Bath and shave, check for new wrinkles, and missing parts
If poor maintenance an occasional inventory of animate sensibilities
Is a wise unscheduled meditation --
Cycles of nameless risings and numberless sets --
Beloved day-launches and warmth of after dusk glitters we shared
Till your guardian Angel took a vacation...or her jealous nature tragically revealed.
Fate and Faith, Worship Therapy mean little to a suffering human heart….
The lips that speak
Those perverse words
Are often misspelled
Mostly unheard.
5/8/26
Written by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
If you ever get your thingamajig caught in a hoozicawhatsit
Don’t swear and don’t curse
It’ll only make things worse.
Just sit tight
It’ll be alright
No need to book a hearse.
You might be keen
To have a scream
But that’ll only please the perverse.
Take it easy
Don’t start feeling queasy
You won’t even need a nurse.
So here’s a tip
Just take that zip
And put it in reverse.
Well hard as they might fight and try
So tight are rarely barely getting by
Sigh jobs squarely unfairly go to AI
Picked nicked then flicked on the sly
No sorrow poor borrow more to buy
Tricked by CGI lie from a cloudy sky
Social media spy pigs in the Tech sty
Future can’t deny no one gets a bye
Suitor will be AI then humans will defy
Pyrrhic critics decry but it is do or die
Titans fight for their piece of the pie
White collar all about the dollar guy
Dash for stash of cash ultimate high
Purloining while just coining on the fly
Spend as know the end is almost nigh
Flash rash brash greed splash they ply
Keys for wheeze must seize or will pry
Happens so fast they have cast the dye
Command it’s about demand & supply
Sycophant pant a creamy dreamy chai
Ego blast will last with your past will vie
Perverse creed gets worse this the storm's eye
Sow the seed impede our swede teed up & fry
Won't conform will curse why must I lie with AI
Plead don’t need IT to perform bellow thy lullaby
No go slow mellow Hello but a wry dry Goodbye
Cry for Help
Winnowing time for recollection
In life’s moments of satisfaction
Without artificial stimulation
Or the blunder of the situation.
Stuck in an era unresponsive
In the guttural dungeons of despair,
Begrudging a knee-jerk reaction,
Mechanical friends become repulsive.
The beleaguered mind crazes
For a one-directional mission
Of taking life to the limits
To achieve perverse relevance.
A call is put out (an S.O.S.),
Like a message on the Internet,
“Light is flickering: Save me!”
And by chance, someone will notice.
EXPRESSIVE INTENTIONS
small
separate
precise
&significant
sublime
laconic
specimens
unfold
&encompass
vestiges
of
obscure
imagesless
dialogue
of
the spatial
realm
in
delineated
defiant
visual
contemplations
of
perverse
illusions
of
stimulated
sentiment
The Trump administration
In its quest to shape the nation
Won’t be deterred by our collective groan
And will ban the word ‘homophone’.
“GOD ONLY INTENDED TWO TYPES OF PHONE;
THE CELLPHONE AND THE TELEPHONE
DEI WILL NOT EFFECT HOW WE CONVERSE
TO DO SO WOULD BE SIMPLY PERVERSE.”
In attempts to attack the woke
Trump and his goons go for broke
Trying to give the far right placation
With yet another example of mental masturbation.
P.S....
Irony that a colony built by ebony is migrant adverse
Shared curse spared if you leave or in a hearse travel
Toast iconoclast Trump’s boast America will unravel
Coast to coast what he craves the most does rehearse
In his perverse parallel universe wearing ICE apparel
So for feck’s sake forsake fake Tech on the make & take
For Czech poet Havel or new “The Nerve” host Carole (Cadwalladr)
Fly the flag at half mast die is cast this is the Last Post or Carol
The end's coming fast says our Ghost of Christmas Future & Past!
It is hard to except that our world now is broken—
I have heard it whisper so at night,
When the stars, like punctured lanterns,
Bleed their ancient light.
I have walked through streets of ashen hours
Where hope lay trampled, torn, and thin,
And every door I dared to open
Groaned with grief within.
The clocks all tick with hollow lungs,
Time coughing dust instead of breath,
Each moment married to a shadow,
Each cradle pledged to death.
Once, truth wore garments white as snow,
Now draped in rags of doubt and dread;
The lie is crowned with jeweled head,
The honest word lies dead.
Yet still the heart—perverse, undying—
Refuses silence, kneels, and cries,
As if some mercy sleeps beneath
These bruised and blistered skies.
O world, thou fractured mirror-face,
Reflecting sorrow, shard by shard,
To know thee thus, and love thee still,
Is agony—yet hard.
For to except thy broken form
Is not to bless despair’s cruel reign,
But name the wound, stare at the blood,
And yet—I am remains.
What have Tests become
Not really a conundrum
The game’s true fulcrum
To beach bum humdrum
Cricket now plays dumb
Kowtow to cash cow scum
To T20 aplenty did succumb
Moolah the ruler in this slum
Seduced reduced simulacrum
Absurd but heard the word’s still mum
Batters in tatters another LBW plum
Chickens no bantam baby tantrum
Same silly song will willy nilly strum
A dastardly turns bastardly doldrum
Forget regret best bet rule of thumb
Rank dank stank so glum & then some
Beat the drum or Tests simply overcome
Stark dark depths these guys lies do plumb
No comfort for our sport not even a crumb
Our sort annoyed destroyed in Pink Floyd void
In perverse parallel universe worse is to come
So ho hum reeling feeling “uncomfortably numb”
If batters do always stumble we will curse
If chances fumble don’t tease be adverse
Crumble if new ways to play won't traverse
If wickets tumble please don’t be so averse
Converse chaps humble perhaps rehearse
Bumble & us mumble alright grumble ..terse
Coerce if in a jumble must be more diverse
Perverse rumble in hollow Bazball universe
Reverse don't have to follow chapter & verse
Pom aliens can pilfer from the Australians laden purse
Bashes heirs to their nations flair reputations do nurse
Or flashes of crashes in another Ashes clashes hearse
Robbed by the hobnobbed Baz Ben & Bobbed curse
Hot beauty
Like a rattling dove
Whirling cocooned in a flood
Like thirst dripped
Onto the furnace
Of hot galloping wax
Into my tingling
Expanding fibers
On that balm-coated
Trembling cloth of canvas
In that moment when the flame
Flares up with a great heat
As a bomb exploding
Drop of wax is pounding
Sensuous broth is boiling
I am covering you up
With beeswax
With the honeycomb
This glaze of love
Wrapping you like a shroud
A spoiled brat in a raging heather
Prince on board
With his bluish temper
With his depraved rampant
In Perverse abundance
Lid on the lid of lids
This ark of passions
Tavern decays
Delusional Grieving
Monastery of Struggling
Sine Diagram Cosine Graphs
In contemptuous arrogance
In the flight of excitement
Shackle stick me to the ground
The unsurpassable ratio
The Unstoppable Quotient
Horizontal constant eight
Let out a giggle,
In the delirium of
Snickering laugh
The sand is pouring,
The alarm is beeping
Time is running a race,
Can’t keep up with pace
My relentless robotic
Endurance overtakes
(Immediately after being found "guilty"
of denying that the earth was stationary
and the sun orbited around it, Galileo
said, "Eppur si muove!" [But it moves!])
It's hard to live in Lilliput, I find.
I have to cross my fingers, play their game.
Their billing, filling, drilling daily grind
sits ill with me. They all trot out the same
tired cliches. Passing a painting, never fail
to comment on the squareness of the frame.
Unprofitable, weary, flat and stale.
You can't earn prizes here. These fools prize earning.
No sweets to eat. It's one long dreary tale
of condemnation, disapproval, spurning.
The Sunday supplements determine taste,
all tearing down, forbidding, banning, burning.
They're sealed in heavy metal, concrete-cased
austerity. They put the "die" in "diet".
What will survive of them is nuclear waste.
Denounce, detract, dismiss it and deny it.
Don't look for clover - look for cloven hooves.
Excoriate it, flay it, vilify it.
They'd love to let life lurch along in grooves,
the gauche, perverse, unruly human mind
trapped tidily in aspic. But it moves.
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