I can’t write about sex,
I just can’t.
My subconscious tells me it makes me promiscuous.
It identifies promiscuity and sensuality as one in the same.
Scared of beauty, so it’s being stripped from me, for now.
How to talk about a part of myself that holds some of the most pain.
Connection after connection,
Experience after experience.
Casual or sometimes epic love.
Solitude at the end of the cycle.
Explosions of magic,
Endless eyes locking.
Now more painful each time.
I can’t write about sex.
I just can’t.
Why can’t I express this part of myself?
Is it because it’s the most holy?
It’s how our children came to light.
I am so sad to see what the world has become,
How I became that world and used myself,
Over and over again.
Glimpses of universes beaming,
Hearts on fire with bodies aligned.
I can’t write about sex.
Because it’s not a recreational activity.
To me anyway.
I can’t write about sex,
I just can't.
Because that’s not what it is.
What’s your favorite color
What was potty training like for you
Have you ever swallowed a bug
What flavor was your first ice cream cone
How many raisins can you fit in your nose
How far can you spit a watermelon seed
Have you ever farted in church
What was Grandma’s favorite saying
Have you done any “recreational” drugs
Are you seriously trying to answer these questions
Gently, on a baked ceiling of a field
a boy ruffles my fluttering shirt
like a naughty, vagrant wing,
and picks a baseball on the grass…
this smaller kid of almond eyes
clutches it with deep longing to play,
but he could not; his wounded legs gave way.
Yet, he claps and screams like all gamers
such a radiant joy with wobbly feet,
that I liven him up to pitch for one round,
while the team rallies for a winning ride.
Taking in the fire of the crimson day,
this lean figure of almond eyes takes his spot
the crowd wheezing, ' take it home! '
grasping the orb as if it were a white globe.
In a precise twirl, the fast ball reels
curving much higher, splitting the air
until those limbs swivel off freely…
the batter out: through joy and pain,
one young limping boy of summer’s dream
becomes a brave, victorious man
that in this park's recreational feat...
he's never going to be the same again.
Final Thoughts
To face death
openly and willingly
is not the same
as being careless.
To be careless is not to value Life
to take stupid risks
based on lazy selfish motives
like having casual unprotected sex
reckless recreational drug use
or sleepy, speedy, distracted driving.
To be careful is to take risks
in a measured way
to know the consequences
and proceed with caution,
but not without passion,
to live Life
and willingly meet death
with the simple thought
“Here I go...”
(November 2015)
One vote by itself seems less than a wonder
for history is a much larger thing – millions
of nays, millions of yeas, to suggest one small
voice need be heard, to think any little voice could
make a large difference in the greater scheme seems
quite absurd. For one little vote a young man took a
bullet in the throat, left any Opera Ambitions in
Germany, never again to sing a cherished note,
just for the right to cast one tiny vote. For One vote,
Omaha beach took 2,400 lives. For One vote, another
29,000 died in Normandy. For One vote, 5.000 American
boys perished at Guadalcanal, another bloodstained shore.
All having died for one single vote, which democrats
counterfeit and Universities treat like a joke, faux
men in dresses stand in-front of students mocking
a great nation's selfless patriots who donned uniforms
to fight for a land they unitedly love and adore. Lost
limbs in battle yet proudly declare, for cherished freedom
we would honorably sacrifice more. Pervert Demigods, to mush
minded students, preach anarchy, the benefits of Marxist
society, promote all manor of deviant sex and brain deadening
recreational smoke. One vote. One vote. One vote.
MISERY :
After all the wealth and fame he accrued,
After all the wild parties he threw,
After all the promiscuous and gypsy women he chewed,
After all the fake friends he drew,
And after all the recreational places he knew,
He now sits on the seat of rue,
Thinking and planning of what to do.
While his feet are hurting in his shoe.
Now that all his fame and wealth are gone,
And his fair weather friends have themselves withdrawn,
Leading him to die at the edge of the dawn.
As all the women he got and pampered have left,
Making his life go so worse.
He is now weak and heft,
Making him unable to stand on his legs.
Verily,he has no woman to call his wife,
And no child to guarantee the strength of his life.
Day and night, his shame grows rife,
Placing his throat gradually on the tip of a knife.
He lost his property through gumbling,
Leaving him nothing to make his life secured.
Not even a sleeping place as he's struggling,
In his own world pegged with riot,
He never hearkened to advice at his youthful days.
In order to accomplish a beautiful race.
So this is a summary of his wonderful fate,
The misery surrounding most people today.
We will watch video and play games together,
Using not media as a baby sitter.
Angel Deaths
A dark dawn
Still more illegals cross the border
~ They've 'done nothing wrong'
Peace and Love
Olive Branch, in mouth of Dove
In corpore sano, mens sana*
~ 'Recreational' Marijuana?
Build Back Strong!
Build Back Mighty!
Billions plucked for
~ Day Care 'Infrastructure'
O, such beating of chests
Such thumping of fists
Anxious, we await
~ Euphemism's next twist
____________________________
*Latin expression: 'In a healthy
body, a healthy mind.'
~ Euphemism's next twist
We accept tornadoes here,
expect them, tick them off
as they pass by like demon dreidels.
Usually they are not a big deal
unless they are.
Spring culls its little lambs
in all sorts of ways.
The murder rate in Chicago
climbs ever higher
until the city prays for more snow.
Folks in their privileged trailer parks
get rolled like dice.
A pressing need for body bags
creates work for some.
The addicted and dying oblige
as best they can.
It’s all a small town hush
unless a celebrity overdoses
then distraught, the news is spread
from parlor to parlor.
Shooting-up on the streets
is a recreational choice for those
who camp-out in Cleveland and Dayton.
Meanwhile birds keep singing,
Spring flowers struggle to bloom
squeezed as they are
between such climatic collisions.
We hear the roar and rumble
of funnels turning upon themselves
as they twist the nights away.
In lessons of last chance I began a recalculated pre-walk toward an
awakened scribble scrabble feeling font be it all around your grief gloomed
genre of new knowns all past is empty prologue as future is fodder epilogue with
excrement extent so as not to alter send-receive I me mine only message
swiverings from those sinful islands of torrent ridden times; I love my
cyanide sisters under clandestine laden clouded sky rows listing across
blue dive specters all crowd sourcing crude spawning multiple epoch
unicorn divisions of soft glassy infinite recoils of recreational devotions
alias dire transitions eating illegal concepts 101/alterior motives envisioned
DOA-------ever invisible to the naked eye. Close cover before striking.
It’s my cardinal choice to sit in the porch
Recalling indelible boyhood memories
Playing hide and seek with my best buddies
Gazing at the green cover and trees of larch.
My childhood garden that was adjacent
Fine buzzing tunes of dragon-flies and bees
With cool shades and white jasmine scent
Surprising swishing sounds of shrubs and trees.
Cherished as a recreational resort
And my solicitous spot for sport.
Date: 10-06-2020
Contest: Garden
Sponsored by: A Dear Heart
judged on : 13/06/2020
winner: position 4th place
A day when everything goes your way
I must be doing something wrong
when you do everything on your checklist
Haven't I forgotten something?
when all those checks arrive in the mail
How many will bounce?
when your wife listens to you and says you're right
Are you sure you're feeling well, dear?
when your teenagers clean up their rooms voluntarily
Go ahead and treat yourself to some recreational marijuana, guys
when your boss gives you an unscheduled raise
Uh-oh. What miracle does he want out of me now?...
when you get in the swiftest check-out line in the supermarket
when you make every green light on your commute to and from work
when you win Powerball AND Little Lotto
when you get zero telemarketing calls
when this dream ends with
a wet, sloppy kiss from
your loyal, trusty dog...
LIGHT-SWITCH
I was ignored in the light
So I hid in the dark
I was shamed and sly
So I told myself a-lie
Full of despair, now I grown out my hair
Like Samson my strength in follicles
My feelings recreational
Neither longer truth nor dare
This chapter in my life sparks
Memories no longer in the dark
For you see I am a sinner
And now I’m coming out of the dark
You see I’m saved and forgiven and now I see the light
My life is like a Light-Switch, that I turn on and off
My love is like a Light-Switch, that I turn on and off
My eyelids are liken a Light-Switch which turns on or off
Unlike my feelings for God and Our Lord I will serve Him in peace and when I’m distraught
Unlike myself you see God’s not a light-switch, for He doesn’t turn on nor off
10/28/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
Written for class assignment (WIPS) North Omaha Writers Group (NOW)
The latest Governor of Illinois is Mr. J.B. Pritzker
Your legislative accomplishments make me Illinois want to quit, sir
You've legalized all abortions and recreational marijuana too
Increased government spending; raised my taxes -- Farewell to you!
When troubles and turmoil lay their grip on me,
Solace is found in a simpler time and place.
In my mind or person, it is where I flee;
Recalling Grandpa’s tractor and Grandma’s face.
Across spring-fed brook, past a massive oak tree;
Tall pines encircle and hide my hilltop space.
Nature soothes and recreates me to my core.
Friends’ strife fades here, too; I’ve saved spots for more.
2/1/19
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