The outdoor art fair has displays
In canvas booths that zip.
When setting up for two days straight,
I guess it saves a trip.
I don’t know what security
Is there for overnight,
Though thieves could slice the canvas,
Even if it’s zippered tight.
The booths provide protection more
For rain-related times,
The artists likely worried
About damage more than crimes.
Today, the second of the fair,
Was raining from the start.
I walked past many zipped-up booths
And couldn’t see much art.
Predictions were for sunny weather
In the afternoon.
I'm sure for all the artists
Sunshine couldn’t come too soon.
I’m sure some picked up all their work
And didn’t stick around,
While others waited, hoping that
Their business might rebound.
Truth Escapes
Each day shorter
than the day
before
Each word
sharper
and meaning more
Time compressing
the past
implodes
Truth
escaping
— life’s final throes
********
The Enemy Within
Everyone lives
with a cancer
deep inside of
them
Waiting
like a panther
striking
from within
If not today
tomorrow
on that
you can depend
Setting up
a sneak attack
malignancy
— portends
********
Within The Lines
Verse
is my mistress
Poetry
my love
Every line
my beating heart
Rhyme
sent from above
Feelings
wrapped in verbiage
Passion
leads the way
Stopping time
within the lines
Couplets
— on display
********
Words Rebirth
The leading edge
of prescience
A doorway to
beyond
Walking through
the past adieu
As words rebirth
— in song
(The New Room: June, 2026)
I am thirty minutes early to my doctor’s appointment
a yearly welfare check to see if I am suicidal or whatever
Employees arrive along with me, carrying things here and there
Setting up their work stations for the day
Putting toilet paper in the bathrooms
Reminds me of a frenzied hill of frazzled ants
I keep my head down, writing feverishly
divine magnetism that enlivens our soul
cajoles presence to compose a bliss beat
in sublime sacred geometry that makes us whole
dancing to a rhythm radiating love’s heat
so simply by setting up a wave of pure intent
light strobes emanate as we follow the scent
The key to happiness is to stop looking for such key
Cause no such key unlocks the happiness you seek
Your “key” is to shuteye for a key
Make your key to your lock
To expect is to dream
And to dream is to expect
Setting up standards you don't need nor deserve
Because to expect less is to want less
To want less you receive more
Punished for nothing and sacrificed
For the sake of its murderers vanity
They victimized you to satisfy
Their own uplifting insanity
What was the subliminal god's reaction?
Seems he wasn’t too pleased with that
So quoting Mick Jagger, no satisfaction
Has appeared as a matter of fact
Mortal sins have exceeded all expectations
The worst get unlimited power
The wise have diluted in million variations
Their wisdom, to build more glass towers
The poor peaceful animal is unremembered
Under hassles and troubles of things
Kindness of the humble ones has been slandered
Evil thrive on the order it brings
What now, how about satisfaction
Where’s that god, is he not far around?
Pandora is setting up box production
And that scapegoat still falls on the ground.
Tricked by ego, troubled by desires, heart sank,
grieving, searching like a ghost, lost in darkness,
turning inwards, to softly slow such thought forms …
taming the tempest.
Doing nothing, poised in the void, we beseeched
powers that be, to hasten to our rescue,
that we may be bestowed with spherical sight …
before our exit.
Setting up thus childlike intent, soul softened,
gazing at the radiance surging outward
from our very core, a bliss mist enchanting …
exhuming all fears.
There are aberrations we wish to correct,
in this lucid dream of life to sets wrongs right
but since we know the law of cause and effect,
fulcrum of our actions must be from the light.
Setting up love’s intent wave, in the vast void,
essence of soul’s presence, pure and unalloyed,
co-creates thus with God, strobes of light divine,
designed to transform souls who choose to align.
Space flickered and our heart sighed,
since the heartbeat of God spied,
though cognised by soul’s eye chaste,
offered not agape love’s taste.
Formless presence free from thought,
ego reduced to a dot,
though at peace, feeling complete,
love bereft, faces defeat.
Trudging along heaven’s trail,
savage instincts yet prevail,
which is why, God draws not nigh,
for in our eye, grows lust’s sty.
We’re almost there but not quite,
bestowed not spherical sight,
though God’s bliss boon makes heart swoon,
whenever there’s a full moon.
We wait our turn as we burn,
within this mind-body urn,
setting up an intent wave,
whilst promising to behave.
Grazed by bliss, soul becomes pure
and childlike presence demure,
upon which, we feel a surge
and in God’s heart, gently merge.
the spiritual heart
conjoined with the physical
radiates a compelling silent hum
even as the head ovoid glistens in bliss
enlivened spine radiates cool heat
whilst over front the energy grid
anchors power at the navel
soles of feet and palms
act as outposts of the glow
all nodes in unison invoking grace
setting up an intent wave from the heart
in childlike playfulness by presence
as both the subject and object
creator and the recipient
Setting up my YouTube channel is a nightmare
As I’m techy challenged and want to swear
But you poetry soupers have inspired me
To grow and take strokes in social media sea
It’s pretty basic not much there but dreams
My dragon stew animation and a song I sing
Once it’s a bit more than bones to pick
I’ll write another poem and tell you about it
Arid-tanned leaves,
vigorously stripped
from their cages by
thick cold winds,
luring them to dance
like elegant swans,
swaying dangerously
naked to speeding
express, testing their fate.
I hear the roars and
dark clouds
setting up the stage.
You only hear nature's
voice through our pen.
Their pain, happiness,
memories and laughter.
our
favourite lover.
They preserve us,
and in turn,
we become their sip,
they eat
in nourishment.
In the end,
we all come back as Nature.
Not trying to be analytical
Caught up by all the political
Being so suspected misdirected
Calling it out on a limb,
saw down the tree falling
The water acronym aquatic prophetic
Sitting on high places
Looking down onto the ground humanities graces
Now I'm susceptible,
To be misdirectional
I come to yet still confused
I'm uploaded like EI recluse
I stand alone in the skies embraced
Disgrace physically but spiritually I arise analytical
So in the secession, I feel the recession
Been disrespected, yet I am reflected
I am a mirror shining bright lemonade flavor I am the light
Everything's falling in the place
I've been embraced by the grace
Setting up high in the sky
Looking down at the able
Sitting across from the Creator at His table
Humanity yet Miss crowded and appointed asking those questions why
We reign as we rain down energy I am as I am soar fly
1/23/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2024
colouration of intent displaying love’s hue
flowing gently in mode embrace and release
with no remote viewing of the past or the future
there being within soul no aspect that has a desire
save of course a burning yearning to entwine hearts
momentarily estranged owing to memory erasure
knowing not in active cognition truth of being
sentience numbed to pulsations of rapture
borne by bliss magnetism at play within
with this recognition called upon to act
we cheerfully go through all the motions
of gentle persuasion employing love alone
as the medium of music setting up a rhythm
in vibrant nonchalance forecasting no outcome
flowing moment to moment enacting life’s role
attempting to hush the blush of pessimism
being but ripples created by lower mind
spawned by apprehensions of the ego
If ever there was a time to dust off the recipe book,
For extra food to look,
And get a pen and paper out,
To make a list of all who are about,
Even those who you tend to doubt,
To promote your peaceful shout.
Time and time again,
There has been much to gain,
From setting up a spread,
Where talk of peace can be heard,
And trust can be earned,
Where prayer is mutually joined
Before the cutting of the joint.
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