If California may hear
In between eyes clerical
and Justices Repeal
Both names
Have been titled
Titled as an altered code
and violation of building standard
Becomes currency
Contempt of Congressional Ledger
Perhaps suffices
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This is a law
Poverty law
Poverty of dwelling on a matter
A matter of worth
Creating a slaves hide
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Wes Moore
Bernie Sanders
Elizabeth Warren
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As written to Tim Kaine of Virginia
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Email verification of transmission between The Supreme Court
And myself
As I rise,
The moon falls
The wind settles
The lake follows
The sand shimmers
The earth softens
The stars dampen and
The buildings brighten,
A tree houses
A bird swooshes
A flower opens
A fish swims
A weed dances
A squirrel eats and
A duck dips,
A man hurries to work
A woman runs on the boardwalk
A grandfather grabs the paper
A boy hides from me
A girl giggles on the swings
A bell ushers kids away and\
A bike lane grows heavy,
This place,
So full with life
Racks the minutes, hours, days, years,
Peacefully, quietly, beautifully--
Existing with incredible happenings;
Splendors and revelations,
Dark funerals and ‘happy birthdays’,
Joyous jubilations and lonely mornings,
Yellow hellos and red goodbyes,
Tired people and busy minds.
Perpetual, like that grandfather clock in the apartment with the too-thin walls;
As unchanging as the oak tree outside of the tiny bungalow on the corner street by the beach.
And as I set and rise everyday to do the same 24-hour shift,
I do not complain about the similar views, or the boring minutes,
I do not crave the hours in darkness,
I accept the unthanked labor—
I watch.
I listen.
I exist.
His beefy heartiness is a cheerful note,
but one that cannot be sustained for too long,
the one he greets
is pummeled into a certain shape
by his concrete perception.
He squirrels you away behind
his blindfolded mind.
What he sees as you
is not the person you are, and so
you are forced to live among the squirrels,
made to peer at his comings and goings
from a secret dray in your head,
until his blustering hullabaloo
is quite done for the day.
Then you can playfully throw
invisible nuts
at his calcified brain.
Love meets us where we are
and sees through
Our disguises
Our guises
Our performances
Our nuances
Our expectations
Our innovations
Our convictions
Our contradictions
Our excellencies
Our inconsistencies
Love greets us where we are
Sees right through us
and does not run away
There is a soul that He doth see
It lies buried deep within
Who can see through my sullen eyes
The fatigue, the fear, the deception.
I held it close for fear of those
Seeing raw, obvious truth
For once can I let it go? No…
I might try, but trust now needs to flow.
His eyes pierced through my aching cell
I exchange my truth for His
Fear all at once leaves my heart, oh!
What joy I feel, “‘tis well with my soul!”
he doesn’t need to see the world
to understand it
the rhythm of the streets
tells him everything he needs to know
he feels the sun
not through his eyes
but in the warmth on his skin
the way the morning air shifts
when the day begins
his fingers dance across the keys
or the strings or the frets
like he’s tracing the face of something familiar
something he’s always known
music is his sight
his way of painting the world
without ever seeing it
people watch him play
some with pity, some with awe
but he doesn’t care for their looks
because when he plays
he is free
floating somewhere beyond
what sight could ever give him
he listens to the rain
like it’s whispering a melody
he hears the laughter of strangers
like a song waiting to be written
he doesn’t need eyes
when he has music
and music has always seen him
Another World Sees
It is good to live together two lives
Two lives are one, and one is two
The gate is open in the cemetery
Mirror life, patinated monochrome
The other side, without putrefaction
Calling now the gate, step is time
Runs the past life, comes silver kind
This life is cold but cool clear life
Feel and live in the dead cleared
past. Yes, the alien world chose us
Change time, change the past lives
Into the new cool atmosphere’s life
Here is the time
To go to a new life
Gate is open
Enter
This is the new life
I am magnetized
wherever
&
whenever
he or she happens to be
in whatever
he or she happens to see
orimagine
then
is
compelled
to create
Note: an Edgar Allan Poe tribute form : as it is inspired by a sililoqy in this format in the conclusion of his essay Poetic Principle.
Sometimes, you don't see you're beautiful
Until you see yourself from someone's eyes
Who truly see your true worth and value
Who loves you without seeing your weaknesses
Blind love is never underestimate
You may see that its vulnerability
You may mistaken it as crazy fool
Might you conclude them as prone to abuse
They may not use their thinking as you see
But they have plenty of caring part
Where even the spite and maligning
They ignore and continue smiling for good
Sacrificing the body as perusal of guilt
Conscience is veiled to release compassion
Exemplifying that love can endure mocking
For the heart persist for the sake of happiness.
My father would hurl words at me as if I didn’t matter,
He felt I was on a train that led nowhere,
“Step off that train and find your path,” he would say.
“You better do something about your nonexistence status,” he would continue.
Oh, some days I felt worthless,
Oh, some days I couldn’t find hope’s embrace,
It was as if I should hide in the night,
Or get lost somewhere in its shadows.
Although I was striving,
My father felt I wasn’t climbing,
He said I had stayed too long at the base,
That I had been too nonchalant while my peers ran ahead of me.
Sometimes at night, my father would call me to sit with him on the porch,
He would tell me stories about his journeys and struggles,
Then I would later become the topic of discussion,
He would say that his heart bleeds whenever he thinks about me.
“Oh, Father, if only you would be patient with me,” I would think.
“Oh, Father, if only you would accept the path I have chosen,” I would think further.
My father still hasn’t seen through me,
And I have learned to shield myself whenever he throws his arrows.
November 24, 2024.
She saw a chicken on a motorbike,
and spat at snakes that were about to strike,
she sees a lot of things she doesn't like:
once, it was Hitler standing in the room,
a monkey paragliding to its doom,
a glowing spectre creeping from a tomb,
an ugly man who turned and dropped his pants,
a horse and camel ate up all the plants,
a legless cat and tortoise couldn't dance,
a crocodile who smirked and smoked a pipe,
a skinny dog in glasses tried to type -
and now a row of butts that need a wipe
and queen Victoria has come to tea!
...but on the best of days she knows I'm me...
The corpse of this world has been easy to find
it has followed my footstep,
and yet,
beauty is here to astound
its glory confounds.
A bell in a towering light
knell's as it weds death to life -
the hideous to the beautiful.
The loathsome spins its exquisite webs,
The world nurtures both nectar and venom,
perceptions sleight of hand
mocks and bedazzles. One beholding eye
always opening, one always closing,
while my beggar's bowl is emptied
and washed
again, and again.
Understand deeply
Our service to Him; true love
Sees it all throughout.
in her vison sees
natures anointing eyes sees
visualize features
~
the sun rises soars
moon set new day view dawns bliss
vison dark to light
6/14/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
an empty room
and I stare at the ceiling
blank eyes and a blanker slate,
my poker face
arms spread over my head
all I can see are
whirring blades blurring into
creamy paint and
the small cracks in between
the shadows in my chest,
mahogany
branching out their needles,
ebony
one pricks my eye
red ink taints crisp alabaster
damps it slow, slow, slow
I exhale shaky, shaky, shaky
heavy lids droop to a close
and no one sees
no one can.
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