the opprobrium of humanity at times
has a sweetness to it that sours nature
time leaves it in shambles
on an unforgivable foundation
let his death be upon our children and us
fade into burning crosses
where in the dying embers
stand in shadows of the gallows
where hatred had triumphed
and the stark realism
the flood did not remove the vermin
the lioness will devour the lamb
doves will scatter in the church bells
and as the world turns
the bats are free of the belfry
Oregon 8/26/26
Nature is beautiful,
Makes you feel welcome.
Out of all the things in life,
We feel the nature's grace,
We welcome it like the wind.
Flying through the sky.
Nature is all we need,
Love is a part of nature
We respect it
Our ancestors did before us too
The sky is blue, filled with most beautiful nature
It sours through the wind like a bird
Makes it seem good
I love it
Natures grace helped me with life
Now I repay my mother of life
My dear people know nature's grace
I know too
Love is the key to the door
Until we open it, we will not be able
To access the room of wonders.
Waiting patiently.
In the mind’s dim clearing
a single seed takes root~
small, harmless, almost tender,
a question you never meant
to water.
But doubt grows quickly.
It learns the shape of your fears,
drinks from every hesitation,
spreads its shadowed branches
over your brightest thoughts.
Its fruit is bitter knowing,
the kind that sours the tongue~
what if, what if, what if...
hanging heavy like overripe plums
you’re afraid to touch.
And here is the lesson:
the tree is not the forest.
Step back, breathe,
let sunlight find the leaves
you thought were closing in.
For even the Tree of Doubt
cannot survive long
when you choose to stand
in the clearing
and name it.
Peace all my life,
then it soured.
Just went away.
Sours slowly,
ignore it.
Fool, it conquers
like cancer.
Fool, it wins,
like death.
I realize it's too late.
Can psychiatry work?
Too expensive.
Relax and listen to soft music
till night comes.
We make believe,
go through the motions of love
but I'm dead.
Worst of all:
I cannot pray.
I can only
Look at heaven.
And hope.
Maybe I’ll find peace again.
All the kids are dressed in black
The heavens gaze down in anguish
The man lays down, vanquished
He had much more to do
But he made a deal with you
And the devil asked his due
The angel is scarred
No holds were barred
God let down his guard
Or so says the bard
The woman cries and weeps
The man lies and sleeps
The bird flies and peeps
The body dies and keeps
The soul strides and leaps
Send all of your powers
In lieu of flowers
So he can have the hours
To sweeten his sours
But nonetheless
I digress
He’ll be just fine suppressed
Go on to eat
Go on to meet
Six feet is not that deep
Sleepness dawns but i cannot wake
Bitterness sours and i cannot shake
Needeless feelings but love still fails
Heartbeat dies but love still prevails
Thirst beckons but i cannit drink
Loss of soul but concious still sink
Aimless walking bit still no gate
Lonliness visions are the final fate
Starliight falls beyond the shadow reach
Oceans of time and lust yearns for a beach
Rivers of knowledge but not a second to teach
Happiness fails to a scorn of the mind
Darkness of doubt and I pay in kind
Grasp of hand but the warmth flees
I beg to differ on shattered cold knees
Pain is welcome as cries soon adrift
Windless sails mighty for a hearts sunken ship
spring buds bloom on every bough
green life wakes within the now
dark mold creeps across the wall
rotting fruit/ sours it all.
Andrew ordered a stripogram, Kay
To visit him on his birthday
When he opened the door
Sixteen copper’s he saw
They cuffed him, then took him away
After questioning for many hours
In the police car oh how he cowers
There’s one thing I’ll bet
He’s been covered in sweat
His birthday bash pizza night sours!
The Epstein files are in the press
Now Andrew’s life is such a mess
As his recent arrest
Surely made Andrew stressed
He’s guilty, but he won’t confess
I’m hoping royal succession can
Be removed from this vile man
I’m “Throne out,” he will moan
“The loo’s my only throne”
All royal titles flushed down the pan!
The apple falls in the forest to waste and rot.
The milk sours and spoils if the calf wants not.
The leaves take the wind and find the earth.
And the warmth of the day is stolen by clouds’ birth.
in every shadow
breath and beat work silently
and light shines brighter.
Autumn butterfly
Fluttering by
Adorning silent skies
Beautiful the body, the wings
Succulent savory flowers
Eating nectar never sours
Alas, do even beautiful butterfly sings
9/27/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
Is
Unwriting lend
Trample undered doubt
Nill grace, staggered taunt
Farthings tormented delays
Whispered daughter on hilt
Aphrodite sours the lengths rend
Milkened ponds
Battles fetch, torn and bent
To no hearthed bends hallow he crawls
The clock gnaws marrow from the bone,
Its hands are wolves in a quiet room.
I pace the halls of books like a penitent,
Collecting alphabets, equations, broken hymns—
Each one a splinter of fire to brand my palms.
Learning is a lantern, I tell myself,
But it burns both the pupil and the page.
Still, I drink the poison of knowledge,
Measure each drop with trembling fingers,
Because power without mercy is a blade in the dark.
Let the evil ones be caught in their own traps,
Sealed in jars, their whispers locked
Like moths in a museum drawer.
The good should hammer the lid shut—
And yet the shadows leak, they stain the air.
I scavenge disciplines the way crows hoard silver:
Philosophy, astronomy, anatomy,
A perpetual ladder built skyward, rung by rung.
The body sours, but the mind must not sleep,
Not while questions are hissing in the grass.
Don’t hate the players, hate the game—
But I see the board stained with red squares,
Pawns split open, queens reduced to ash.
Still, I move my piece forward.
Still, I mouth the rules until they cut my tongue.
Why are our lives so short?
Because the brain is a storm,
And storms cannot be persuaded to last.
Sir? Do you Love the Money,
Or, Do you Love the Power?
"The Power is the Honey,"
"But, the Money is the Power!"
Then, how to use the Money?
Will it Flourish? Will it Sour?
"Money never Sours...Honey,"
"It just Grows STRONGER by the HOUR!"
It enters like an old friend
Too familiar to knock
Slipping in quietly
When joy is about to speak.
It frowns at others’ laughter
Shudders at joined hands
Sours even the sweetest moments
Like a worm in ripe fruit.
A plague, it spreads
Changing faces and shifting names
Hard to name and harder to cure
It hides behind our smiles.
It festers and grows into hate
A hollow in the heart we feed
Not with love but with longing
To be anything but ourselves.
Envy is the devil in disguise
Polite and persuasive
The root of quiet wars
And loud silences in the soul.
Pensile clouds of a new Truth loom.
With them are selected versions of
Extinct grief.
Looking through the yellowness of a
Dog’s eyes, this aura of Truth, pervasive,
Sours my palate.
What say the bulletins and tabloids
In their speech potency?
Have they recoiled on the sudden encroachment
Of stale seas
Or have they rolled out drums for Haley’s ROOTS?
Between Kamby Bolongo of watery essence
And the forested, warm plains of Juffure, ROOTS!
And drums fashion themselves out for Kinte,
Who must tap gently the face of the drum
For earthly summons.
From sinuous, valleysome frontiers backward,
We yodel loud,
Fronting bands of ROOTS.
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