the palms are in focus again
mirrored of course by soles of feet
they always pulsate in tandem
radiating magnetic heat
rapture spikes till the bursting point
then pauses like a hovercraft
we smile but if we did not know
we’d take these bliss bursts as witchcraft
In the wilderness of want
A mirage reflects imagination
Exposing secrets of the heart
Rippling rhythms of sensation.
Even without experience, a heart can find itself
In the wilderness of want - and why?
Humans were designed with the need for mutual love.
One can't avoid this inbuilt force however hard one tries!
"What is a ripple without its rhythm?"
When "Tortured by the taste of Touch"
Those ripples pulsate their rhythm through
Something special the heart needed very much.
"Tortured by the taste of Touch"
Of something pure and true
Aching for the impossible return
Of what I had with you.
"Tortured by the taste of Touch"
Of how relationships should be.
Ripples wave rhythms of heartache
Ghosted by certain friends and family...
In the wilderness of want
You know you're still alive.
Rhythmless ripples run flat
And Tortured Touch you can survive.
"What is a ripple without its rhythm?"
Let it be your determination
To fight on through disappointments
To become an inspiration.
When "Tortured by the taste of Touch"
You will find out in the end
That the hurts are well worth conquering -
They teach you how to be a true friend!
chakras hitherto ignored now pulsate
all polarised nodes wish to merge with source
manner of change varies as does blink rate
all accomplished without the use of force
kundalini being our sole resource
that as subject and object become one
all we are aware of is bliss beat’s hum
When the flowers open petals in the spring time,
flittering fleet of butterflies makes luring lattice,
the blind doesn’t see the tapestry of heavenly beauty,
but dances with unsighted boundless joy
to the whispering rhythm of the fragrant air.
When people spin in a pattern on the dance floor,
lively with the psychedelic light show,
watch the steps measure the pace of salsa,
in the undefined space of the blind dancer
the invisible floor throbs beneath the intuitive feet,
feeling the concerto of illumined cadence,
as the rhythmic moves pulsate unseen
with each movement of grace made in darkness.
The blind dancer moves instinctively
maneuvered by the strings of sound like a puppet,
living the vibrato of the music with rhythmic reflex.
Following no shadows, watching no applauding crowd
for the sightless hearing transforms the visual prompts
into dance gestures, the real rendition
of the articulate feelings
flowing elegantly in the empty dark space.
no bliss thunder, no soma nectar rain
yet does not the seeming mundane shine bright
our heart’s secret yearning seeks love’s refrain
teleporting us to zenith like height
angst lasts but a moment, voids within fill
bliss beats pulsate, consciousness elevate
nectar of the gods too begins to spill
ushering knowing that stifles debate
come what may, God never gives up on us
so we remain a humble receptor
metamorphosing without any fuss
as bliss pierces every body vector
poised in timelessness of meditation ~
devout’s our faith, firm our proclamation
innumerable tiny bliss bubbles
like heartbeats pulsate in the head ovoid
they act as a whole though each is distinct
as is-ness of being-ness unalloyed
correspondent to the soul star chakra
between crown and Bindu
highest point of head
subtle bliss beats pulsate
we are still, being by God’s hand led
if my soul ever wept like a rose
drunk on thornless scents ...
would you, O love ,
trace the lips of time ,
glazed with passionate patterns
of poison and starlight?
untying the rubies of romance ,
sleepless, infatuated ... with the flame
of your pensive pixie-fire ...
I long for you, to pulsate in lush lilac
as the sunset bleeds in your tattoos
dressed with tequila temptations,
read me ~ like a poem ~ laid bare
as I unfurl softly, a luna-pearl ...
lovesick .. in liquid pink lustre ,
dreaming of dulcet demons
in the kiss
left by leafy fingertips
of tie-dyed july ~
on my waning heart ...
Cool calm soft serene
humble heart of mine
aching being lone,
as crack was shown
on once -made promise.
leaving a permanent bruise.
My heart beats are to pulsate
in slow rate as I’m alive till date.
Not expected tragic end of love.
Surely I didn’t deserve.
Flow of tears to start
piercing crust
of my wounded heart.
Wow secreted from tears-flow
yielded pearl of dolour to glow.
Fractured heart hard to be healed
The holes couldn’t be sealed.
Dreamy desires lost expectancy
Me sinking in deep despondency.
He promised me to be back by tomorrow .
Years had passed, my heart is now hollow.
For that ‘tomorrow’, I’m still awaiting -
My heart is sweating !
He promised me never to be apart,
but walked away leaving my broken heart.
why would we switch on thought
when bliss beats within pulsate
in stillness we are self-taught
teleported to heaven’s gate
*QUOTES MISGUIDED SCHEMES
Crypt overture of pulsate streams;
Vocalized quotes misguided schemes;
Relentless, protested passions fruits;
Disabled absolutes mentions groups;
Dilly-Tally atop the hoses saddle;
Strip and stratal above camel’s hump;
Smoking, inhaling mystical clouds bong;
The kiss, the breath, the life of God in battle:
Pacing/placing hells choice fires/smoke lump;
Now the vessels growing cancer ratter;
Yon choice matters, now setters;
Crypt overture of pulsate streams;
Vocalized quotes misguided schemes;
Relentless, protested passions fruits;
Disabled absolutes mention groups;
6/15/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
From between eyebrows till the crown,
the entire grid is our third eye,
a stream of bliss in which we drown,
that deluded ego may die.
All nodes pulsate at the same time,
since why would omnipresence move,
being the source of bliss beats chime,
whose each tremor heart does approve.
The mind of God directs life’s play,
an intelligence so supreme,
we’re gripped in rapture night and day,
whilst dancing atop love’s moonbeam.
From head to toe, we are shaken ~
Bliss is the way we awaken
The thunder screams outside my window.
The low, rumbling threats seem to decipher the knots of the obscured gag in my throat.
The white shocks my room with a stark, sudden white, coating the walls in a raging light.
I look out the window.
I ask him what’s wrong.
He screams again, louder this time.
The scream seems to coax itself onto the cracks of my skin, solving the puzzle of my silence.
The rumble tries to pulsate beneath the callouses of my skin, quieting the throb of my silence.
The white appears to alarm the calamity of my skin, triggering the mortification of my silence.
My silence.
That is all I find in the brown of my skin.
That is all I find in the amber of my eyes.
That is all I find in the silver of my rings.
A silence sculpted from an ignited plea for obliteration.
ah, what is there to say
our head ovoid is ignited
a million bliss nodes pulsate
toroidal heart is delighted
potent is pulsation of peace
yes, peace is what bliss beats become
we transcend the world of names and forms
melding with the magnetic hum
A nobler theme needs more sublime art
In order to its honorable nuances impart;
And thus may famous muses of niftier writ
More tastefully craft this little lyrical script.
And if generous gods of superior rhyme there be,
Who with pure ease mellifluous tunes compose,
Then may such these tottering lines indite with me
And delve deep where rarest musical gems repose.
Where do love’s purest pearls lie
Beneath this bland ancient sky;
Where hug and kiss their warmest
Elusive touch pulsate at its best?
Truth is maimed and denied its form
And falsehood has become the norm;
Who knows any place she still thrives
Wholly unsevered by knavish knives?
And hope no longer blossoms
As it did in sweeter days of yore,
Now she’s worn out to the bottoms
And angst and doubt rule to the core.
And peace completely extinct is:
Chaos and strife now carry the day
And gallivant about in their hubris,
As mourning sufferers tearfully pray.
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