Spirits meandering, whispering entreats
Energies orbiting, pendulums swinging in beats
Vibrations of the unseen, spinning and fidgeting on doors and dingy walls
Captions, inscriptions scraped by knives and rolling golf balls
Picturesque emanating from a primordial scene
Grotesque apparitions of many lost jinn
Floating bug-a-boo of the unknown
Bloating in stomach and nerves, eyes of the blown...
Struggling means listening
For what isn't said.
To read a room is to discern
The air shift before the
Words do.
Rooms carry experiences you
Weren't there to witness.
Struggling is detecting truth
Beneath the surface.
To read the room is to trust
Your own pulse first.
Rooms reveal themselves
Gradually-
Especially when you're the
Only one paying attention.
Listen.
Once, you were a small room.
Your mother's arms were the walls.
Once, you were a seed
in the dark soil of her,
fed a little, kept warm.
One day you will be a box of earth,
and that is not the sad part.
Listen.
Say it with me:
a door, a door, a door.
Say it to the girl with a book by the window
until the glass melts into a road
and the road runs to a new land.
Say it to the empty plate.
Say it to the empty slate.
A hungry belly and a hungry mind
cry with the same small voice.
Listen.
They put the river in a pipe
under the school ground,
under the noise of the bell,
and told it: go here, go now,
stay in your line.
They gave it lessons made of stone.
But water is a keeper of names.
It holds every song
it ever carried to the sea.
And one dry summer,
one grey morning,
it climbed up through the tap
like a word climbing up a throat,
and the river,
the river,
learned to read.
Just give me the room now.' Be it ever so small
And crowded as anything.' Spilling into the hall..All because an Elephant entered
And stayed? we were told only for just 'two
Weeks.' As violins they played; But that
Was six years now gone.' And the feaces and food.! Are a great tax to shoulder' i hope you'll not think me rude.'? As i shout, Loud and clear;
Its a small space
YOU FAT ELEPHANT..! that it might dissapear.? Back into the tv? Or radio
Perhaps? And folks, i'll not be sorry for my
Actions..No not at all, that thing is just
real plain
stubborn..Someone must make the call.!
Fai finta di essere un personaggio famoso; scegli l'intonazione giusta per cantare come quel cantante.
Al tre: uno, due, tre...
Ah, che bello...
Bellissimo, bellissimo.
Cantalo su un'altra toFai finta di essere un personaggio famoso; scegli l'intonazione giusta per cantare come quel cantante.
Al tre: uno, due, tre...
Ah, che bello...
Bellissimo, bellissimo.
Cantalo su un'altra tonalità... ops, così è meglio... dolce, dolce... ah, il finale... bravo, bravo!nalità... ops, così è meglio... dolce, dolce... ah, il finale... bravo, bravo!
Fly BMI, to land in time
There is no time to waste
Stroll down along the Serpentine
The morning air to taste
Across the park to Albert Hall
To Kensington High Street
And further on, towards the Mall
Where you can rest your feet
It’s got to be the Living Room
Their Dover sole is great
Pale sun, and even paler moon
Fall down on your plate
Two people here, three people there
Dull people talk and turn
I like the fuss they make, don’t care
To be liked in return
On Charing Cross I’m quick to toss
Some CDs at the Foyles
A truly searching lad I was
To find my kind of noise
End of the day, the hotel bar
I’m looking at the floor
There is no more Thistle Hyde Park
And Living Room’s no more
The times have changed, but I remain
About the same today
Although it’s quite a different game
I imitate to play
Those were the days, my darling dear
Those were the nights as well
Fly BMI, to disappear
No one would care to tell.
The past plays back
Like a reel softly buzzing in a dusty projector
Frames jitter
Grain dances
Scratches run vertical like timelines
Nobody bothered to clean
On quiet unassuming days
Friends flicker in and out of the light
Laughing in that warm sepia tone
Not knowing they were becoming memories
Gate weave wobble
The joy stays centered
Family moments spool through
With light burn marks at the edges
Holidays melting into birthdays
Birthdays melting into twilight talks
All of it patched together
With tape only nostalgia understands
Workdays show up as overexposed flashes
Bright
Loud
Then gone
A few frames missing
A few frames scratched
The story still runs smooth enough
To feel like you were there
Somewhere in the reel
The dust settles on the parts you forgot
You didn’t mean to forget
These parts just fade like film left in sunlight
Still visible
Still yours
Just softer now
The projector keeps spinning
Casting old light on new walls
Every flicker reminds you
Even flawed reels can carry the whole story
She walked into the room without any word, and with familiars eyes staring through her whispering a silent, "Why "?
And then walked past every mirror, hoping her reflection somehow change, become lighter figure.
A little more acceptable to a world that taught to fade when they were born to be seen?
And then she think why did society neglected the darker kids with a fade figure?
Then she stopped and looked at herself.
"I'm beautiful in every way. "
I'm just beautiful in the way I carry myself, ln the way I stand
In the way i represent my self without asking permission to take up space.
Brown skin are natural Tan
Glows with the every kiss the sun leaves upon me.
And my thick hair it is my mink coat, a crown of richness not everyone can afford .
I am the girl
Who learned to love her reflection, the girl who turned her scars into petals _
And the strongest flowers and the ones that“bloom through every season”
A man made out of dust/ dirt and clay;
Comes not now through the womb;
His awaited anointed place space;
His entrance through the womb;
From grace, to faith, to space place the womb into a room;
First eternity with the Father, Elohim;
Now spirit birth into a flesh a vessel of mankind;
Concurring energies graced, to faith, in space into womb-man;
God man and womb-man jointly co create;
Humans
9/2/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2026©
Dancing blind is what they called us,
we both had two left feet.
I moved on the dance floor,
then she followed me gracefully.
Awkward it became,
as they laughed at us.
We did not care,
as we held each other tight in love.
In love with each other,
in love with the rhythm of the music.
In our last big turn,
our canes showed.
The room went silent,
only the music could be heard.
Now they knew we were blind,
but not by the music or by our feet.
In purpose to uplift the spirit
I got up and said hey ho
I thought, if you could hear it
You’d likely say, hello
I heard your muffled cough
Through the ajar kitchen door
I dashed to see you, love
I passed the corridor
I popped into the sitting room
And checked the bedroom too
I smelled no Gatineau perfume
I saw no sign of you
It wasn’t a trick of tired mind
I’ve heard your cough, I swear
But you were out of sight
Just when I thought you’re there
Inside a room, or maybe
Out in the pretty wild
My garden on the balcony
It could’ve made you smile.
I'll give you an idea of what I'm thinking
let you into my darkest room
I'll hold your hand just to comfort
peel your eyes you'll see soon
in the silence of the night
sitting all on my own
I offer myself help
and try lighten the gloom
Talking to myself
stacking thoughts on a shelf
in a darkened room
only light is my screen
in a darkened room
I 'm allowed to dream
In my mind I'm a superstar
been around the world
In my mind I'm superior
my flag has been unfurled
my dreams are ghosts in the dark
and they are haunting me
I'm still building a Noah's ark
and filling with my fantasies
Nothing outside these four walls
in my tiny prison cell
the world doesn't exist, thank god
so glad I'm on my own
In my darkened room
It feels good
to
discover
new poems
which is
exactly why
distracting me
will usually
always
result in
my distance
though I still
always wish
fellow writers
inner peace
and serenity
and all
the very best
as they try
to explore
their hearts
and minds
with
the power
of
their
words.
Trump
Racism
Chaos
Lawlessness
Incompetence
Lies
Inflation
War in Iran
Food and gas prices
Cheating
No accountability
Is this what you support?
If so you're part of the problem.
The truth is the truth nothing more....
I hold myself accountable for all I've said. How about you?
Something to think about.
Got a dirty room to broom
To make it spic, span, zoom
Tumbled on the greasy floor
Pale flew here, broom yore
Glad, a pretty nurse came to groom
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