Flee the scene
before the dawn
frames the escape.
Treat with plenty of faith
& you can suspend belief,
like the irony
in how it takes a cynic
to persuade.
Poetic contracts speak
for a Man,
and a lord,
between a grave;
wonders death doesn’t come
when you’re aware of some strings,
even when waves roll back,
they tend to more often break
solely to come back again
and continue to take.
A power
to turn entire coasts
into the oceans deep.
A power
of breaking chains,
and setting free
the wings of angels
and their screams,
by tossing their guarded
and posts
into the tides
of the seas.
You’re not fleeing the scene
you’re redirecting,
and setting a stage.
Think again…
or, for once
and breathe.
Remember
of the unintended shadows
fallen in between
the ideas,
the words,
and the worlds of things.
You’re only claiming
of what you can’t see
of what we can’t know.
Anything can rise out.
Anything can become again.
That’s the curse of hope
that can never leave.
Let it go
And let it be.
What a sham,
I’m still fleeing the scene.
The tight fibre of spring
budding out of its buried shell like cove
coming on as battle fatigue camouflage
redirecting us from the throttle of Winter
Liquid green like tomato feed
The Angiosperm of the root structure
teases us all
This vast uniformity of hope
flawless cherried blossoms
forging a challenge by the promenade
creaves to us all
daffodils and tulips together,
resplendent in their perfume
How I love Irises
The tight skin of spring
buried in finery
coming as camouflage
redirecting us from the throttle of Winter
Liquid green like tomato feed
The Angiosperm of the root structure
teases us all
This vast uniformity of hope,
flawless cherried blossoms
loving a challenge
it creaves to us all
daffodils and tulips
resplendent in their perfume
Hollyhocks I could speak of them forever
It has been said that
“Wicked is as wicked does;”
And somewhere, I heard/read
“Death can be an award or a punishment;
The Creator both gives and takes away
All life that is lived and passed on:-
Is it not conceivable that it’s possible
To destroy wickedness, rather than
The source from which it is conceived?
In no way can we eliminate death itself,
But we can destroy murdering causes—
It’s a matter of choice: God or Satan?
Yes, choices—all—have consequences;
And may result in rewards or punishments—
Whichever it is to be, requires consciousness:-
In deciding how to deal with wickedness and its source,
Choose to seek ever-present, divine wisdom and guidance;
Ever ensuring blessed rewards rather than abject punishment:-
May we soon be awarded the ways and means
Of ridding ourselves of the Oppressor Syndrome:
“Murdering ourselves for the sake of our oppressors:-”
Likewise, may we be rewarded with redirecting our kids,
Guiding them towards controlling AI, rather than the opposite;
Future leaders, aware that it takes liberated NI…to liberate bodies:-
In a life like these
We need Jesus
Hatred self loathing depleted
Recognition redirecting change of heart
Never more part turn around
Depleted anxieties deployment idolatry
No more worshipping my desires negative woes
I am mine worst enemy
In a life like these
We need Jesus
Hatred self loathing depleted
We need
You need
I need Jesus
Everything else is secondary
He has
He does
Meet our needs
We need Jesus
5/16/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
When you feel rejected it may be God's redirecting and protecting you from an unknown situation. It may be He is slowing you down, redirecting you for His perfect plan for your life. "Write the vision, that he who reads it may run. For the vision is yet for an appointed time; but it speaks of the end, and does not lie. If it delay, wait for it; it will surely come, it will not be to late."
(F.A.I.T.H.)
FAVOR AS I TRUST HIM
It takes your money and robs you of time,
Chimes for attention, and rings with crime.
Your give it the power to mold and control
Unending hours, absorbed by its hold.
An instant response is expected, demanded.
Heeded is good but delayed? Reprimanded!
All in-person prowess becomes diminished.
Face to face talking so rarely gets finished.
A bully’s bat and a hacker’s treasure
Anonymity’s cover and popularity's measure.
The catfish pool where deceivers swim
And ransoms demanded at every whim.
Larceny’s tool for the unsuspecting,
Innocent calls for fund redirecting.
Our sense of purity known implicitly,
Is replaced with images shown explicitly.
It was made for our good, but buyer beware
There are dangers galore lurking there.
Be not deceived, what you hold is quite sinister
That cell phone of yours is a devious minister.
beer bloat
morning after
football Sunday
am I, or the bar
the consumer
I don't know
I had a good time
shot some pool
cracked some jokes
flirted with girls
not half my age
so vain
so pointless
so fun
journey coming
soon, so
shutting it down
redirecting energy
focus
vision
to what I want more
than football Sunday
a different land
a different people
I hope at least I
brain bloat
broader horizons
deeper insights
and sharper perspectives
than I afford myself here
...yeah
unto that end
I will exercise my mind
and body
un-glut, unclutter
minimalize
rid myself
of this
beer bloat
Which is better or bitter without been in cool paints?
What will remembrance be like if there is no alphabets?
To memorise all thoughts would be very silly of sages
Or something else like the divinely blessed earth revelatory saints
What more would be the perfect ever glowing safe diskettes?
Enclosed tightly in a well framed document of many pages
Power to the deaf and relief to all who stammer
Its awesomeness has learned students unique ability to create writes
Of different kinds figured historical building the classes
Which keeps redirecting and reshaping human as it continuously hammer
On all ears the need to respect one another's rights
Its effects remain despite how soon each new generation passes
Thanks to the awesome 18 consonants that romance the vowels
What more diamonds are; digged deep all out from heart
Absorbing all the beautiful thoughts of minds like dry towels
And restructure its uniqueness into a pleasant and lovely art
Jubilant Johnny Jump Up runs all over town
But what about Debutante Julie Jump Down?
She lands on horses and cows and such.
Would re-directing her be too much?
If she were to also jump up along with Johnny
Would that infuriate his lovely wife named Connie?
They used to have a running feud, these unhappy two.
Getting them to agree would be a coup.
Are you on board on helping me redirect Julie Jump Down?
I think we can catch her; she is on this side of town.
Uh-oh here is Connie and she looks mean and sour.
She is one hag I never want to make dour.
My apologies to the horses and cows and such.
But I think redirecting Julie might be too much.
I want to stay on the good side of terrible Connie.
So, I am not going to mention Julie or Johnny.
My road to hell began with good intention,
Floating up then crashing down more times than I can mention.
Tripping through time in a parallel space,
The scars of my life reflect upon my face.
Mistakes interwoven with guilt and shame,
I’d justify it all, but there’s no one left to blame.
A path of wreckage trails behind me in my wake,
I smile and nod but it’s all so fake.
Disengaging from the world, I tremble at the thought
‘Cause space can’t heal what time has brought.
Overwhelmed by the tashkent depleted from the guilt,
Love cant’ always climb the mountain dope has built.
Mending from one, another takes ahold,
I watch my pass so I take heed as things unfold.
One straight shot is all you need tom play the game,
But the voices in my head till call me by my name.
Stubborn and cold, like a frozen shoulder,
In the closet of my mind; on a shelf in a folder.
Rising on up like a Phoenix from the ashes,
I’ll ride the wave of freedom ‘til the buzz inside me crashes.
I’ve been shown a door and got to peer into my passion.
Fleeting but stable in its’ own unique fashion.
Rounding the corner, approaching the gate,
Diligent and solid; redirecting my own fate.
when you ask me how I am,
I don't quite know how to answer.
rather than admitting my life being disastrous,
I parry your thoughtful blow with a joke,
redirecting the question right back at you.
the hypocrite in me revels in my inherent inability to practice what I preach;
instead of allowing my feelings to flow freely,
with utmost consistency I cowardly hide behind line upon line of charcoal-tinted ink,
posing rhetorical questions,
to mask my own grief.
it'll be the day when I at last admit to being clueless,
my existence mixing Atlas with Sisyphus;
forever rolling a boulder up the incline,
just to have it fall back down,
carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.
I saw her tens of yards before she noticed me
Matter of fact, I was enthralled and intrigued.
With the confidence of a five star general
She was lining up the neighborhood kids
A formidable foe or a major asset
Although we never spoke, I watched and learned
Where does this confidence come from?
Was it something inbred or learned?
She barked orders, and the other children fell into place
She was a scrawny little thing, weighing nothing.
But a queen, a czar, a flying ace.
Her hand on her hip, she began redirecting.
The children scrambled, trying to please her.
I smirked and smiled, trying to look away.
But I could not, for I was fascinated by her.
God had somehow given her the blessings we all want.
Confidence, satisfaction, joy, and the gift of persuasion.
What are you doing here? An old lady asked me.
“Just observing the pretty flowers,” I said.
I moved along….
Midst deafening echo of skepticism and doubt
My hope* in God prevails through faith’s reverberating shout.
Anchored upon spiritual constitution, the Scriptures
My hope’s abode is secured around wisdom of certainty pastures.
When lured by worldly delight along fleshly, sensual pleasure
My hope --- I admit --- succumbs to the carnal lioness, offering lust’s leisure.
In my dissociation entanglements caused by unrighteous engagements
The Lord upholds me, redirecting me to His service of heavenly involvements.
Hence, to the Saviour be all the honour and praise for my hope’s victory
While I yield to Him my all, even my dreams and visions ... devoted for His glory.
*Romans 15:13 Now the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, that ye may abound in hope, through the power of the Holy Ghost.
July 16, 2019
3rd place, "STRAND SELECT J ,any form,any theme" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 2/10/2020.
The Bible is God’s Truth* for me in my servant’s function
Redirecting me against vain goals to pursue after heavenly vision
Restructuring me midst shaky stand to fit godly foundation
Refining my faith by the Lord’s strengthening tests and guiding admonition!
The Bible is God’s Oracle for me along my stewardship-faculties
Replenishing me whenever I’m weakened by varied difficulties
Realigning me toward divine sensibilities
Refurbishing my soul thru the supreme Director’s counsels of priorities!
The Bible is God’s Testimony for me with my obedience-consistency
Referring me to the Saviour’s answers to prayers’ earnestness and urgency
Recharging me against coldness by the fire of Gospel message about His mercy
Renewing my courage by the Spirit Who inspires Christian fervency!
The Bible is God’s Covenant for me toward revival-blessing
Reinvigorating me within the bounds of the Master’s standard and cleansing
Reawakening me for submission that His epistles are expressing
Restoring my hope for Christ’s coming on to eternal praising!
*Psalm 33:4 For the word of the LORD is right; and all his works are done in truth.
November 2, 2018
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