What is harder, the border, the pictures
or the brightness of light and dark pieces?
It is a mishmash, sordid assortment of
escapism, scrutinized under illumination.
Piece by piece, I fall to pieces, pick them up,
scatter them to my mind’s wind, hem and haw
over the nuances; why do I torture myself so?
In the vice of the big picture - resounding parks.
Two canvas frames, two boxes, tepid waters,
the need to complete, competing only with
me, myself and I. Now, I see everything in
tabs and blanks, even as I count sheep.
Even as I watch t.v., the pixels penetrate my eye,
portion into die-cuts. Dioxyribonucleic acid flesh -
are we pixelated…like paper doll cut-outs with
wardrobe and accessories, my own Barbie palace?
Soon, I will finish this 27 by 20 preoccupation.
With a stethoscope and head mirror, examine
each rectangle - 63 squares; my hope - not
one morsel is lost, pieces of my life complete.
It’s not your mistake, you did nothing,
For every problem we were facing, we should’ve done something.
Instead of keeping everything inside our hearts; letting us shatter,
Talking with each other, could’ve made everything better!
We should’ve scrutinized each other’s, both the sides,
It’s an essential step for a happy life, I recently realised.
But it’s not your fault, I know you were just scared of getting caught,
While searching for a happy life, which, with me you never got.
Everything best for both of us, I know, you always thought.
You definitely had rights to choose your own life and I’m glad you had courage to give it a shot.
In my childhood, dreaming of spending my entire life with you is all I ever wanted,
But for unfortunate circumstances, practicing a life without you is something I should’ve sorted.
If I would’ve done that…Today, I would’ve known how to deal,
With you and our relationship, which neither of us could heal.
Guilty and lonely, is all now I feel…
I speak to the skylights
of your tender soul
in formless forms
in eccentric accents
aching in aloneness...
when tragedies of footprints
remain a sculptured secret ~
like an untitled nightfall
dressed in denied definitions
avoiding the touch
of perception
for mindfulness mirrors
memories I hoard
within titanium trays
of masked melancholy…
but I long for you to wear
chronicles carved within
my cold conscience ~
a universe layered
with moulded memoirs
tell me how it feels
to be a beautiful burden
to the jinxed jewels
feasting upon
scrutinized skin of silence
skeletons of psyche ~
too complex
for concave light...
let me stay ~ stretched
in the still solitary sketch
of surrealism ...
I am not a vision
of gold and glitter
that wicked weavers
can materialize
but an unnamed sight ~
a breathing mystery
the eyes of unfelt dusk
fail to stroll through…
intoxicated on pain
~ an ecstasy etched through angst ~
to never be tamed
to never be told
I am not oblivious.
To what's obvious.
No more will I voice.
Even when given a choice.
Don't ask me to analyze.
When you've already scrutinized.
I tried with creditabilty.
Indeed, what will it cost me?
Silence is my best defense.
Mind over matter resilience.
I will labor and carry on.
Even if the right becomes wrong.
My times are in His hands.
Even if I don't understand.
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
a pail of water they would fill.
I guess that is their story still.
It always was and always will,
but, this reason given, ostensibly
does not hold up to scrutiny.
Let's take another look and see,
and, so, rewrite history.
What do you think this couple did -
something good morals would forbid?
I think they wanted to be hid
from prying eyes, off the grid.
A journey rendered, framed, and set
as plaster comic book panels.
Flip through the Way of Sorrows.
Peruse condemnation to sepulchre.
No matter the church, I found and compared
each episode through ten-year-old eyes
that scrutinized every detail.
Digested the mechanics of suffering.
These fourteen were my first gallery.
A restated traffic jam of nudity and frozen
sadism that floated above me as priests spoke
of love, faith and doing unto others.
I recognized violence when I saw it, the cruel
slapstick in the mortification of the flesh.
Thorn in brow, nail in palm, scourge on back.
Gladiatorial voyeurism. Masked in reflection.
Galvanizing, never scrutinized; each moment falsely tabulated;
Slanted, polarized polls, punishing spiteful pundits
Spouting, spinning lies in frantic unison squawking
Ridiculous versions of fear mongering tales,
Meant to frighten, meant to hurt,
Meant to clutch and pulverize power.
It takes only a calm, rational thinking moment
To see through the maze of their foggy logic.
Nothing they say is fact checked or based in truth.
Spinning frantic webs to catch the unwary
To call forth violence with rage filled rants,
They push disturbing diatribes, provoking mayhem..
Drumming up revolt among the weak-minded minions ,
They still cannot cloak their hurtful and murderous intent.
President Trump has called them out, laughing in their faces.
Finally unmasked and stripped of disguises
There is nowhere to run, no more hiding places.
We see you. We stare at the darkness behind your malicious eyes.
Your fake news fiction will never again deceive us with your lies.
.
i crept through
the
helianthus annuus
'til
ourn eyne
meet'd
such their
mammoth (the helianthus annuus)
i scrutinized
i count’s her
pearlz
each one
such
brilliance
Convincing my
her ready
hern eye tooph
blink'd
On supposedly eternal shore,
steps purposefully wander as they did before not long ago
when existence swoop with the bow over strings-
its created harmony an unseen, camouflaged racket-
where trampled and washed sand
allowed more human traces - inexperienced and confident -,
unlike the possessive waves and foam
who's stones shall not be tainted by the joyful rays or incarnadine.
Memories, new chains, recall
a suave voice and an uncertain ( expected ardous), yet determined one
piercing the darkness; when torment inside and out
covered minuscule, clingy fragments of hope/optimism;
where rusty vision scrutinized distant gas spheres, contemplating.
When chocolate eyes gazed at the timid orb hiding its ablazed cheeks into azure - familiar scenery, unexpected mise-en-scène -
let an suppressed thought take over: they'll never witness nature's paintings again.
Remembering the ages, spent with my shadow – priceless moments when I sought her, scrutinized her, emphatically stalked her because, in reality, she was clearly stalking me! ~ quote by poet
~~~
Flowing, a silhouette, dancing
Under streams of delicate light
In gentle whispers, entrancing
Persuasive musings who excite
Echoes of starry eyed wishes
Glistening beneath the moonlight
Sighs melt the breath as she swishes
Persuasive musings who excite
Glowing, figures freely strolling
Gesturing to the roaring night
Old followers need consoling
Persuasive musings who excite
Flowing, a silhouette, dancing
Persuasive musings who excite
Where ever she goes the cameras loom.
They're on to the scent of her perfume.
She sucks the oxygen from the room..
Forever in the public eye, all daily movements scrutinized.
She must dot all x's and circle her y's
Transparent as a bronze gold fish.
Isolated, observed, on a petri dish,
craving for some privacy, a daily wish..
She pulls up her quilt and sleeps until noon,
aware of the face she'll be wearing soon.
She sucks the oxygen from the room.
Sometimes you cruise through life
with blinders on
Completely unawares of those damned
slippery bananas
At every turn and corner they lurk
like a lion on the savanna
and you, in this scenario; a gazelle
Hopping and skipping along
Sipping your Starbucks,
playing among us on your phone
And that not so benevolent banana
Sees right through you
It whimsically pierces your deepest depths
Every secret in your heart
It knows..
IT KNOWS.
And just when you least expect it
You'll find yourself staring up at the sky
Wondering what could have possibly
upturned your life so
The truth is
That banana had your ticket punched
Since at least that time you did
that one thing you never speak about
You're kind of lucky it took this long
Honestly.
So remember, all your deeds; good and bad
Are carefully scrutinized by
your local supermarket banana section
They have means, and departments
for this kind of thing
So mind your manners, and try to avoid
Encounters with those oh so benevolent creatures
that we so nonchalantly like to call
The banana.
MAYBE??? I'm lost
Maybe I'm found
DIRTY I Am
yet that's my vessels solid substance
maybe I'm sound???
laid on the floor
DIRTY
scrutinized and DENIED
yet WHOLESOME
AM I because
I was CREATED to FLOW
I rise I'm more than just the DIRT BENEATH my TOES
my THIGHS, TEARS I CRY those seeds in MIND HEART
Those joys that surface tween my EYES
Angelic visits dreamt revelations
AWAKENINGS
I am more than I AM I AM
I am for certain ROYALTY PRIESTHOOD
I am that I AM and that, that I AM IS God's
I AM that I AM I'm CHOSEN washed and birth and clothed in
The SKIN of the LAMB
Birth reborn cleasned born again in HIM
Who was is slaying on the cross ???
I am found I am not lost
I am !!! CHOSEN!
WASHED! In the blood of the ALL I AM JESUS
HALLELUJAH GLORY HONOR AND EVER PRAISE
HALLELUJAH
HALLELUJAH
HALLELUJAH
AMEN
4/1/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2023
There’s a charge against you
Though we can’t say what it is
In time, your list of crimes will be released
Pardon our procedures –
We consider grievances
We’ll clear your good name after you’re deceased
A labyrinth of halls and secret tunnels
In a bureaucratic lair
The ambiguity of nightmares
Is the only business there
This deviant behavior
Must be addressed at once
Our agents will turn up who you really are
The whole investigation
Could take a couple months
Please be on-call, and don’t wander too far
A labyrinth of halls and secret tunnels
In a bureaucratic lair
The ambiguity of nightmares
Is the only business there
Nothing makes sense
When it’s Kafkaesque
In a language spewing jargon,
Behind coercing eyes,
Our Grand Inquisitor will take his turn
One half-expects a pardon
When one’s past is scrutinized
Lest one is subjected to public shame and then burned
Nothing makes sense
When it’s Kafkaesque
In a dream of bare, I awoke
In the blared walls, it misspoke
The winds of Auria eluded in the cascading windows which then provoked
Envisions of Auria descended through the glistening saint
Without a flair, I discerned a haint
Auria wandered in a stage of fright,
Meanwhile, invading my dreams of spite
Her nebulous words echoed in my mind
‘What a faint creature, so misled by fracture’
They mellowed as it prospected my perceptions
As she posited her hand on my exceptions
Envisions of Auria repulsed its regressions
She was my fate of progression
She rehashed my reflections
A memory of infliction
She wandered off into a glistening spade
Relinquishing her jades
I scrutinized her windows of glade
I lingered against her pallid hair
Then, woke up in tedious wear
‘Auria, a lady of fate, yet dart of spade’
Such assimilation wandered in the glistering gape
My thoughts were so heavy, yet so light, though seemed rather bright
They were my reminiscences of Auria”
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