feather witch queen had a colorful headdress of feathers
she showed it off to her familiar, a black crow named Weathers
Weathers was irritated with the dyed job, it is fake he said.
She got angry and gave him a super noogie on his fat little head.
On board
in corners of my mind
forfeit never, it’s
c a
s
t l
e
i n
g
sacrifices for queen's gambit
The quivering quitters, quaking and quacking
In quite a quizzing quagmire, quietly
Quash their qualms. The ***** quest they have acquired,
Is a quandry of quantum quantity.
Mama we are your Abba Fathers Kings-Sons-Queens-Daughters
Mother we are your children
We should have understood
And who to say we didn’t or should
As adults what we were
When we were children
Mother’s embrace to Elohim Abba Father
His Kingdom Kings/Sons, His Queens/Daughters
We now embrace, mother’s embracement now in such
---A beautiful place
For all eternity, Hallelujah thanks be to God
And to God be the Glory
Mama we are your Abba Fathers Kings/Sons-Queens/Daughters
12/26/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
In pursuit of curves, some choose the lift,
A quest for beauty, a transformative shift.
But amidst the surgeries, a deeper tale,
A journey where self-love might set sail.
No judgment for choices, the paths we take,
Yet ponder the reasons, the risks we undertake.
Society's pressures, perceptions we bear,
A world where self-worth is laid bare.
South African souls, playing a role,
In the pursuit of beauty, losing their goal.
Attachments for love, a side hustle unfolds,
Prostitutes and marriages, tales to be told.
Relationships falter, lost in the void,
A nation sickened, values destroyed.
In African hair, judgment is cast,
Weaves worn proudly, but shadows are cast.
Obsessed with material, souls for sale,
Range Rovers and Mercedes, a tempting tale.
In pursuit of dreams, they trade their core,
Yet later, reflections bring insecurity ashore.
Selling bodies for riches, a path they tread,
But marriages suffer, innocence shed.
In the mirror, they question love's essence,
Forgetting the purpose, losing their innocence.
We are all of us kings and queens
I don't mean in family genes
But: God loves us to smithereens
We're adopted to royal means
(Jesus is King, Mary the Queen)
Today I thought of roses,
thought of you my dear
royalty – God allows us
other kings and queens
shares of His Monarchy
though a jealous God
first and foremost a lover
If hate was diamond
crowns, it could be hard for kind
queens to put them on.
September 27/2023
The Stirling Castle flowers speak
To those who stop their feet and mind walking
And declares in honesty the verity of the corporeal soul
Among the insects who fill the air.
The Queens of the Castle though colourful, beautifully crafted, fresh, scented, celebrated and majestic
Will enjoy a short reign
Before they fade in the summer Sun
But the shortness of their reign
Does not traduce their glory and usefulness.
But the invisible soul smells the new life won
Sees the hope in the beauty
Hears the sound of the Chief musician
Feels the joy of the Producer.
And has Royal ascent to lounge and play
For the dancing Composer calls the tune
Tends His garden
Protects His field
Provides for His guardians.
When these Queens pass,
Next season, new proclaimers will be appointed,
And continue to personify the beauty of Him.
queens crown
emeralds
diamond ruby
dazzlingly flashy
daydream
faerie queen grants wishes elfin whispered
my wish was granted the instant I saw her
she arrived light, lithe, luxuriously lightning-like
her wings were blazing; I felt honored and humbled
drag queens are exhilarating, exciting, expressive, enthusiastic
Their dexterous delightful minds discern society’s truths
There is an opulent mindset that allows extemporaneous joking
They are great at improvisation, their quips often impromptu.
They live in a world I can barely understand, yet I want to.
There is an honesty about them that makes them brilliant.
Their shows are effortless, smooth, freeing, revitalizing.
fuddy-duddy stuffed shirts will probably miss their shows.
I want to see them all, I love their wisecracks and their jokes.
adore their pretty dresses, high heeled shoes and glitzy makeup.
They are glamorous, gleaming, and gratifyingly glitzy.
They are fearless, living their truth, dazzling the rest of us.
I found a site on Etsy this morning that intrigues me
an artist named Laurie Terrier creates women statues
These are not skinny waisted women
or Barbie doll shaped women
These are corpulent, Rubenesque women
Real women like this are often trying to hide
Wearing dull blacks, tans, grays, and navy blues
Not these CR women. They are flashy.
Painted in a variety of bright colors.
With black and white checks to round them out.
I found this site today, and plan to return.
Confident women are portrayed by this artist.
The kind of women I surround myself with.
My kind of women.
Women who own their shape.
Apologizing for nothing.
Strutting their stuff the best they can – queens.
I watched King Charles’ coronation this morning.
I’m not British and some things confused me.
For instance, they kept saying “The new king.”
New? The guy’s a boomer - at least - right?
Apparently, he is, at once, the oldest king
ever and the newest king yet.
Can we talk about the old lady with the crown?
The wrinkled one on the right of him, in white,
the crypt keeper, with genuine platinum hair.
At first, I thought that it was Charles’ mother.
But apparently, the old Queen died.
Has anyone looked into that?
Anyone who’s read Shakespeare knows
how brutal royals can be and successions,
over time, have earned a sketchy reputation.
Anyway, I wish him well. I wouldn’t want to live a life
where everyone around me moves up a notch
if something sudden and nasty happened to me.
.
.
Wobster’s Dictionary, word of the day: Coronation: “when you put a target on someone’s back”
*Is it me, or is his family so high school - why?
slang: ‘why’ = because I said so
sat in a prison of my making
dark holes in piled skulls
an unwelcome reminder
I am nothing like that boy
so full of righteous ambition
certain of what was just; right
blinded by that conviction
consumed by my fervour
I became the whirlwind
danger swims in certainty’s waters
sirens sing and sailors sink
rapt in passions promise
armour now covers what’s left
immedicable wounds etched within -
right can become wrong
I learned to build walls
to separate and preserve
some salvaged solemn sense of self
a sworn queen’s man
duty done, I sit apart
making peace with ghosts
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