Have you seen how nights are?
Sometimes glowy but sometimes dull and dark
Doesn’t always show us the stars
Because she preferred self sabotage
Scars of being replaced by the morning
Scars of not shining as bright as she could
Scars of not being appreciated for trying
Scars that couldn’t be comforted by the moon
For he had his own phase
And I, dreamt of a place
Where mornings didn’t exist
But here trees couldn’t spread their radiance
Butterflies didn’t show their grace
And colours couldn’t reflect light
How sad would be the man
Who hoped for the sun to rise
Night learnt how she isn’t meant to be perfect
For the man now wanted twilight’s disguise
Have you seen how nights are?
Doesn’t always show us the stars
For she was healing her scars
And this time it looked like a kintsugi art
Upon a late spring day as sunny as June more flowers had come to grow in the dune. The flowers were pretty one of a kind ; you might even compare them to mine. The flowers were bright pink just as mine were and even had a pleasant smell to endear. The flowers were the best to pick even though mine used to be. As summer came along. my flowers weren’t as pretty and my flowers never stood as tall. My flowers grew sad. As the other flowers became mine. and I hated those flowers very very much. I hated them because their flowers were pinker, greener and taller. But I hated them most of all because they are what my flowers used to be before theirs came along.
Food taste buddy
She turn caddie
For just a day.
The Devil replace
The Fear of God and enthroned
Guilt of human fear.
A childhood summer
leaks away, taking with it
its raft of unanchored memories.
Thoughts grasps at the cold hands
of the never-was.
Time and age question.
The long buried emerge,
a would-be history
exposed as a replacement fiction;
one stolen from an imagined life.
A borrowed sunshine -
yet still preferable to the head-dreams
that deny both fact and fairytales,
and open doors long nailed shut.
The time seemed to stop
but it kept on moving,
one year after the other...
today, it is four.
I am glad that the time we had
always stays year after year,
but I wish we had more of that precious time.
I miss you, Dad!
The great replacement
Through the bird’s world came the call of a land of plenty
rives, mountains, lakes and plains place for everyone
Millions flew to this Paradise, but mostly sparrows settling
inland where the wild oats were plentiful
Vultures came, eradicated the local birds, and nothing left
but paintings of birds with colourful plumage.
Raven, the incurable thief, occupied coastal march land
to get powerful, stealing a wonderful feather at a time.
The eagle took position on the highest peak, aristocratic
showed, contempt for the lesser sparrows.
Until, a powerful, rich bird with flamboyant plumage
showed up and together, with the ravens, promised safety
for the lesser fowls and the negligible ones rejoiced they
didn’t know they were pawns in a much bigger power play.
Whom I had decided to pick
For the office was Dick,
Until I learnt that he’d been sick,
Unable to even his lips lick
And on drugs to not seem a stick…
And I had to settle for Nick.
Now sure that it was no trick
Like wonderful jobs, in reality ‘slick’,
Yet aware that Approved Nick
Had been too many lamps their wick:
To impervious rivals, pin prick…
And no push-over for a skin thick;
The same thing as one breaking a brick!
So, for Dick – replacing Nick
A very long ‘Good’ I tick.
To endure such excruciating pain
with no guarantee of gain
Reflecting upon the experience
I must have been insane
More than five years later now
I sometimes wonder
how much happier I might be
if I still had my God-given knee
Image this!
I canvas the skins, of my sins;
I was sunburnt often;
I was winkle, beaten and tied up;
Yet in my face did I grin;
I was molded and stinky in my dreams;
In my spirit was I green;
Intervisions divided so up tight, that
All I could ever do was to lose and not win;
I was a dried up, cracked up picture;
Once was colored now faded;
Had no scheme of things;
Cause my new make up was no longer sin
Replacement imaged this?
Why? cause I was birth new, I was born again;
8/20/2021
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
What good is a martini without an olive?
The gin and vermouth have nothing else to give.
This drink is something with no class.
Something else has to be put inside the glass.
Here comes a member of the Gibson family.
This bartender appears to have a quick remedy.
He brings a bunch of pearl onions in a jar.
Gibson has an idea that will go far.
This bird has pizazz, perkiness, and he is popular.
I rolled my eyes inside my head, for she owes me money.
Seriously, she said, I felt you rolling your eyes, but he is magnificent.
What is his talent? I demanded. Singing? Dancing? Telling jokes?
Not sure he has one, but all the women love him! She assured me.
I met him on a Tuesday. He was jazzy, and wonderful.
I liked him instantly. Brought him home, and kicked my boyfriend out.
What did I ever do? Motormouth boyfriend screamed from outside.
I put on music and began to dance, determined to keep the bird forever.
I have not heard you sound this happy for a long time, my mother said.
What is different?
I have a new bird, I told her. He is porcelain, and he does not talk.
you said I was a wuss;
you said I couldn’t take it.
You said I’d make a fuss;
you said I wouldn’t make it.
what you said did not make sense;
you didn’t think I had the guts;
now you’ll feel the difference;
with my new knee in your nuts.
Tell me:
How is it that you can just shut the door on our relationship and not do me the courtesy of letting me know?
Tell me:
How is it that after conversing with me nearly every day for years, you no longer send even a simple text 'hello'?
Tell me:
How is it that you can just dismiss the feelings you felt so strongly for me, and then replace them with someone that strokes your ego?
Just tell me
September 30, 2020
@katladyt_
Yeah those feelings and the emotions;
But there doesn't exist any relation
Commonly that is found,is the physical attraction;
But the rare one,is the mental connection
When the toxic embossed imprint start getting blur;
And the deep hidden reality inside the heart begin to uncurl
Sooner or later I realized however;
That the dusky dawn can't cover the twilight
To read the secret in those eyes, no stone remains unturn;
And to bring those brightness again someone is ready to burn
An old tale with a new twist,that was left unread from long;
Has enlightened again from subdued craving as a mesmerizing song.
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