between the crown and Bindu zones
the true highest point on our head
a blob of bliss consciousness hones
the touch of God by Whom we’re led
chin chakra holds steady resolve
it is God’s will that here too acts
boundaries blur as we evolve
dance that kundalini enacts
at the centre our heart expands
it is the sacred meeting place
melting pot of energy bands
where time dissolves and all is grace
spine is a seamless band of steel
it too is pivoted to heart
palms and feet too express their zeal
to align fulfilling their part
between eyebrows up till the crown
the nadi becomes our third eye
in bliss mists we willingly drown
resurrected after we die
I trusted the circle I called my own,
But shadows revealed where betrayal had grown.
A love I believed in turned into a thief,
A million was stolen, my name dragged in grief.
They thought they had buried the fire in me,
But pain is a teacher, and pain sets you free.
From ashes of loss, I’ve chosen my way,
To rise even stronger with each passing day.
I pivoted paths, let the old chapter close,
From fintech’s hard lessons to new seeds I chose.
Occupational safety, with purpose I stand,
Training, rebuilding, with strength in my hand.
For setbacks are whispers, not endings, but calls,
To rise from the ruins, to dance through the falls.
I am not discouraged, my spirit won’t bend,
Each loss is a lesson, not the story’s end.
~ A Story You'll Surely Adore ~
('Suicide's a Pain')
As I was about to enter the store
I was smacked by a malfunctioning door
Without so much as the slightest warning
or a perfunctory good morning
Astonished more than stunned
I took off at a brisk run
to inform the manager-on-duty
of the door that had greeted me so rudely…
When I’d finished my story, to my utter surprise
the manager muttered: “Lies, lies, nothing but lies”
My jaw dropped and I exclaimed, “Why? Why? Why?”
the manager replied, “We’ve an epidemic of spies”
“Spies from our competitors,” he continued
“that’s why we smacked you upside your head”
In disbelief and rage, I said, “Well, I never” –
pivoted right back into that door ~
and keeled over dead
Went searching for good enough and discovered it can only come from within myself
So I went back to the future in a DeLorean to try to pinpoint when things began to veer off track so I could alter time to put them back
It took a few trips after realizing I couldn’t quickly flip the script
Started by slowly chipping away to release the image I was trying to portray
Then pivoted to rewiring my circuits to help wrangle my inner circus
The process pivoted me from my head to my heart which granted me a fresh start
But it was only after I made the choice that I was able to hear a new inner voice
It started as a whisper but turned into a roar that I could no longer ignore
To wash over me to say what had been so tough, that I can relax and rest easy now since I am good enough
Go. Go, already. The father told his son
He bit his lip, clenched his fist
The son did not see the father’s pain
Go, Go, already. His heart, racing madly
The son pivoted awkwardly
~ he quickly walked away
focus pivoted in the void
pristine presence self-aware
we are not by thoughts decoyed
with the all that is in this way we pair
the key knowing is that there’s no one here
all that that is is omnipresence of God
dream forms appear and disappear
heart is by touch of love thawed
A shaggy dog espied a graceful cat
She arched her back, he fell flat
on his jowls, she pivoted - nose up
His paws akimbo, Shaggy arfed
Wait, dear cat, I can explain that
But Graceful didn't miss a stride
After all, she had her pride
Who needs a mangy mutt who falls
she thought, a dame like me must be bought
Now Shaggy may be clumsy, but he's not deaf
He heard Graceful mewing under her breath
She loves me sure, Shaggy felt
His tender heart, her icy exterior would melt
So Shaggy scrambled after her, closing in fast
When he drew close, she turned around at last
It was then that he saw Graceful's face up close
"Adios," he cried
~ Her whiskers were caespitose
The way of the heart is beating
The ways of the mind are cheating
Trifling conspiracy lust and jealousies
Spirit is moving the soul is crying
Pivoted denying the righteous ways
The heart wants what the heart wants
The mind thinks not what just is right
Trouble is the soul as the spirit reaps in thoughts
Beatings so the heart is at awe
1/18/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2022
Thought I knew
what love was
until there was
you.
Now that you’re
gone
I see what
is true
love severs your soul
love runs you through.
My tears
are raining
staining
all that I see
such depths
of despair Gods
the agony!
my heart is
shattered
battered
tattered
torn
desolate anguish
within me is born.
I flew too
high to the
sun
a flight of Icarus
come undone.
Withering dying
moaning sighing
wailing crying
cannot grasp reality
cannot accept this
casualty.
Crushed and broken
words unspoken
you simply pivoted
tore away
never turned back
even to say
“it’s over.”
Death of
love
so alone
my heart obliterated
I turn to stone.
(click the pic for a preview of my upcoming book!)
When the world was youthful
spiderwebs sang as they were spun.
Language was woven in the air
as accents of winds and trees
conveyed by an eloquent sky.
Untrammeled meadows annunciated
upon the lips of dens and burrows
scooped by shrew, mole, and vole.
Fresh bathed daisies signed a speech
as they swayed,
buttercups birthed calligraphy’s of sunlight.
Giddy rills gave voice to fritillaries
that flew to the sun or moon.
Words were idioms painted upon
the melodious leafage
of the up-risen and rising.
Then that shaggy brat
the primordial ape it grunted forth,
translating its gripey gut
through the clack of a creaky tongue.
Guttural and gregarious
it learned to babble and
belch an oral discordance.
It yapped and yawped,
yawped and yapped
until a spoken language
verbosely pivoted to prolix
polluting the very airy air.
Then it was
that a nascent poet boldly stood
rhyming would with could
until even the dumbest of his tribe
understood
and cheered him fit to bust
while the green grown world
with all its idiomatic kin
lost the will to express
as before
for the fluent earth again.
SCISSORS
S cissors to hold pair of metal blades fastened at middle
C utting paper, cutting cloth, other materials
I nstrument so simple to make pieces
S hearing tools though hand operated.
S harpened edges pivoted at centre.
O pening and closing two blades by fingers
R ings at end allow thumb and finger to insert.
S liding against each other, blades move smooth.
11/14/20
eerie aura augmented
felon feature fermented
cremating callous contractions
drooling drips punctured
hoity relief reeled
vying voluptuous acme
tainted tongue trained'n
decking damped trail
fostered feelings feign
porous pulchritude birthed
crisp conception pivoted
mystic smirk aided
syntactic silhouette seeped'n
seductive syllables' creed.
'20:03:30:19:45
Note: Dedicated to a dickhead I cherish: Oreoluwa.
Our fifteenth year, you and I
If we were married, the ‘crystal’ mile
And oh, we have had our highs, breaking up lunchtime fights
Breaking down novels line by line
Translating Shakespeare to Spanish
for those nonverbal in this language
Dulcet quatrains melted into rounded syllables, thick on my tongue
Still we manage to tease out delicate images
And the consolation of a paycheck educators receive
Not enough to ease the mirage of beach
Allure of waves and palm trees
In rude January (the ultimate schoolyard bully)
You and I have chaperoned this prom, attended this play
Coached this race, given chase to elusive grades
Counted victories in syllables
Pivoted around yawning youths, heads down
or kids attempting to find favor with last minute Starbucks gifts
And still we sit in sweet September
Whole and hopeful, rested, restored
Once again to go around this playground called high school
2/1/19
"A Spiritual Sojourn"
sheer white wings pivoted dreaming soul to pure Throne of Grace
captivated by pink cotton candy clouds to gaze beauty
a spiritual sojourn encompassed taste of Divine Love.
*For Rick Parise SIJO.
Zorro swings and Zorro falls,
sadly landed on someones balls
excommunicated from the mall,
for gross protracted screaming.
Zorro on the crutch of one,
slapped down by a redneck nun,
pivoted crutch to plonking run,
so bad he must be dreaming?
Springing for his horse so black,
drop kicked his oolies slack,
glad it wasn't a donkey Jack,
the Z man enterprising.
Don Johnson 6-aug-11
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