Short Dissecting Poems

Dissecting the worms

finely with a nib of  pen

creeping long in mind...

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Bridges connecting lines and dots on roads where people pass
Edges and rims dissecting flaps and humps, cones and tones that rap
Clamps and bolts, braces and thongs, hashtags and pegs, anchor holds...

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heartless 

small and mean
dissecting a heart

peer into it closely
unfurl its soft red petals

poke and prod
with promises, then betrayals

it will last just long enough.
until you are bored....

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dissecting the virtues
of the green sea
we lie entwined
in
the scorching sun
melaninising oiled
in the yellow sand
upside down
arguing crying
laughing and
meditating
reuniting
the sun was
circling around
the earth
then...

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I’m something like Superman
you know, one of a kind
the way I write
wielding my pen
dissecting all my rhymes

Flowing through the stanzas, verses
riding waves of rhythmic lines

Sorting through my abstract thoughts
weathering my mind...

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The chainsaws are roaring
this Friday morning
dissecting the tree
that meant so much to me.

I counted the rings,
amidst broken things,
over four hundred years,
I count through my tears.

I try to let go,
not let my pain show,
I struggle to sleep
as the great Oak weeps....

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A sharpened blade
Slicing a sordid song
Dissecting angelic silence
A sanguine paragon
Mottled screams
Dripping down a steel shaft
Staining implacable fingers
Gripped by a demonic draft
A detached soul
Twisted by humanity’s bane
Heaven has but one perversion
And Hell is its domain...

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Love of the heart;
Love of the mind,
Oceans apart
Never to rhyme

The heart,
While shadowing function
As fast as eruption,
Gives back for consumption

The mind,
So selfish and needy,
Brings Hell to the leaving.
Babes, helpless and teething

Love of the heart;
Or of the mind?
One needn't a chart
The other is blind...

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be you
free and breezy
like a flower dancing
why do you fear
she was dissecting
stimulus of pain
in receptors of hidden love
overlapping signatures
of past granulations
whom do you fear
break the shackles
she was caressing
the strings of my broken heart
dynamic energy  released
open vast space content...

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To everything..
Turn, turn, turn
Standing upon this ledges edge
Uncovered as peering amid
The city lights below
Biopsies water colours..
Moments splashed about
This vestige of neons
Dissecting organisms hues called life ?
Time, seeking purlieu sorties
Reasons incised..
Lifted from the palette
Of brushed; their rhyme....

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Bobbing 
Head and beek
Bobbing up and down the sidewalk 
Drops the dissected insect 
Bobbing up and down
Head and beek
Chirping Robin
dissecting repeatedly droppings
Yummy ?? insect and worm
 Picking up and dropping 
Chirp yummy-yum
 Robin eating the worm



8/18/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020...

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Taken captive by the present
Stuck in the in between 
Shedding the unpleasant
Just to add a mean regime

Contemplating the before
Anticipating the end result
Dissecting what’s in store
While the reward becomes occult 

Fickle ways won’t pay
Temptations mustn’t thrive
There will surly come a day
I’ll reach the other side...

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Dusting a rose
dissecting a heart. There was wilder-
ness in the woods.

I cannot touch you
O, wood sage
you were so ephemeral.

Your hands were
knitting a bright wound in the air.
Where was the moon ?

Not a kiss, 
the prodigal sun
wants a death wish of a canary.

The snow on the
eyes. I wished I had
met you earlier.


Satish Verma...

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Every night this body
becomes a dissecting knife

a crime scene of blood
and unstrung flesh,

the lamb spreads the wool
for a deadly charge of skull plate

with a gift of mathematics
a moon cutout in sky

before the shadow of myth in the depth
of tortured chemistry :

the endless nothing will kiss the darkness
my blindness becomes a diet.



SATISH VERMA...

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Every night this body
becomes a dissecting knife

a crime scene of blood
and unstrung flesh,

the lamb spreads the wool
for a deadly charge of skull plate

with a gift of mathematics
a moon cutout in sky

before the shadow of myth in the depth
of tortured chemistry :

the endless nothing will kiss the darkness
my blindness becomes a diet.



SATISH VERMA...

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black path of structure
dissecting the dark spring
green sun glow yellow lines
dividing the road to heaven
artificial lights flashing guiding
in the natural sun 
i am perspiring
erect and tired the roar of 
the machine in the empty minds
we are accelerating velocity
is directed acceleration i remember
we climb at the end of the visible land
orgasmic frozen tundra...

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Though small its size it offers no resistance,
No matter it's diameter at given hour of day.
And should division come at your insistence,
A speck just gets smaller, never going away.

No matter its division, its start it retains,
Though diminishing beyond ability to see.
A remnant of that speck always remains,
If you don't behold it, can it no longer be?...

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Daring Detectives delight me
Dreaming dastardly dilemmas
Deliberating discerning dialogues
Discovering delectable dramas
Diligently dissecting diaries
Dutifully documenting details
Discreetly digging
Dutifully dialoguing
Dividing distressed details
During division of documents
Dendrites dancing delightfully
As I decipher dynamics of dramas
Depicted by distinguished detectives...

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How the shadows fall back bowing;
prostrating themselves 
before the noon day sun.
Genuflecting as their wooden, vegetative father’s can not.
Performing dance movements of mimicry
the boughs above initiate.

How the shadows fall daringly, dauntless;
dissecting the bleached winter grass,
making perplexing puzzles of mossy patches
creating mystical arteries upon 
the breast of Mother Earth....

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I sit and observe your face
me watching you
you watching the world
How new it all must be

Seeing your eyes light up
You smile at a joke you've heard 
for the first time
One ive heard long ago

I hear you converse about
what I say
dissecting what you hear
what you think I meant
when I said it

Oh to be 8 years old again
with no worries
Learning what it is to be
a boy of 8
while I watch you watching me...

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Knowing you
Makes me see what
Earth borrowed from you
And hides

Body of my woman
Hills and valleys
Replicate your lustre 
And I lost myself
In your tranquility

Probing eyes
Proclaiming lustful ownership 
Smearing you
With filthy parables
Sharp tongues
Dissecting your flight

To peel your tattoos
In despair
I murder a scarecrow
Who swallowed the key
To sorcery of hypocrites
And I am left
With nothing 
But spells of sadness...

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========================================

To everything turn, turn, turn ~

Standing upon the ledges edge; uncovered

As peering about her city lights below?!

Gathering in biopsies water colours

Moments splashed atop their vestige be neons

Dissecting organisms called life; time

Seeking purlieu sorties reasons incised!?

Lifted, from his palette of brushed; this rhyme....

========================================

.."SwitchBlade" *...

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========================================

To everything turn, turn, turn ~

Standing upon this ledges edge; uncovered

As peering amid the city lights below?!

Gathering in biopsies water colours....

Moments splashed upon the vestige of neons

Dissecting organisms called life; time

Seeking purlieu sorties reasons incised!?

Lifted from the palette of brushed; this rhyme....

========================================

...."SwitchBlade" ~...

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A movie about horror
Characters playing with mirror
Reflecting images of furor
Dissecting with knives of terror

Villains of phantasm
Heels of sarcasm
Viewers of spasm
Breaking apart like chasm

Stories of apparition
Product of man's illusion
Overshadowing people's intuition
Instinct over perception

Curtains of cinema, wide open and free
Watchers of stigma, cold hands on knee

Lesson of the story, mind over body
Shadows of mystery, glimpse of artistry...

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Sassoon and Owens?
The learned men spend much time in libraries 
to find about their private life,
dissecting poems to find the banal truth
about two men, “as no men love for long.”
I have read some of their work and my Scandinavian
soul find them a bit “over the top” perhaps feminine
In their endless longing lurking under the surface
Of the excellent verses.
They wrote famous lines. Therefore, they are celebrated.
Their gayness or not is too prosaic to mention....

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