the ditch is always rejecting things
spitting them high up onto the river’s banks
last week he spit up a rusty knife and a hammer
Today he spit up something that was moving
Was it a tiny kitten? A dirty bunny?
A mechanical toy of some sort or another?
It was a mud brownie, and he was furious.
I was rejected by so many, he said, but never a ditch!
We left him alone, because he was angry.
Grumbling and mumbling, irritated about this.
Would he go to the river and clean up?
None of us had any guesses. Never saw a brownie before.
He swallowed vanity whole,
spit up rhododendrons,
gasped at greasepaint fingerprints—
his own—
finally saw himself:
Clown.
If you are squeamish
you may not be ready to be a mother
babies are messy and smelly
their odors are horrible
they spit up and squirt out
your clothes will never be the same
toddlers eat dirt, sand and bugs.
there is no time to be finicky or prissy
the average person consumes eight spiders a year
in their sleep,
knowing this might make motherhood easier.
"Then their child running a while why misplacement noticed ran into grandma coffee table forecast both ashtray in the race better run and bite that tongue ??
Steve chillin in the refrigerator eating all the sweet potatoes Billy's on the chair in the cookie jar while Kathy still in the bathroom doing her hair in the race with discipline some of y'all ain't right so you better run and bite that tongue
Linda got a mouth on her makes others feel uncomfortable she trashed her trash mouth her vulgar words she do spew out some of the words she cannot spell she rips and runs she speaks death not life oh well this is the chosen free will You Better Run and bite that tongue
So don't get to relax don't feel like it grown don't speak to anyone uncouth stay polite when you belong because one day someone's going to tug or pull out your righteous tongue before then you spit out spit up stand up be righteous because in your disobedience
Whale and will call be still don't fall
you better run and bite that tongue"
6/17/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
Venomous eloquence,
so polite and yet cold;
Pleasantries are plastic
tone sometimes mistaken;
Quiet not dramatic;
Venomous eloquence,
answer’s already known;
Words are a figurehead;
Each one is meaningless,
your heart infiltrated;
Venomous eloquence
it leaves your throat sticky;
Esophagus left trashed,
innards being spit up;
Poisonous and polished.
To hunt with a full stomach
To bite into the neck of the smaller
Without hunger
Fangs clamped to the back of her neck
Her face
Devoured crumpled paper
Spit up
Re-smoothed to creases
Eyes nose mouth map
Her splintered village
Smoldering
Over her shoulder
Shreds of scarves blouses skirts
Blown to the astonished charred limbs
Of her bare front yard tree
As if the widow should believe
The willow was filled with colorful songbirds
She is lifted by Ukrainian neighbors
To an evacuation bus
The stare in her eyes
To you camera Master
That of a lame animal
About to be put down
She has but two items
After a century
The wheelchair she was locked in
And the orange and white cat
That sat in her lap
Meowing
To the crowd
With a name that escapes us all.
I
Our universe, if investigated a little bit
Will amaze us, and build faith past limit
II
The universe may be expanding now
It was smaller before the Big Bang (as it were)
It has contracted & expanded since U know
It may just be the birth & death cycles
Has repeated as in death & birth of stars
S. Hawking said, So long as there is gravity
The Universe can rebirth itself ( re-create itself)
Most of the stars in our universe has been or
Or occupy some spit up on the giant "sky canvas"
Only 5 percent of syats will be born in the years
Or time that we measure ... Time humans expect to see in future
Amazing science truths and speculations: modifying the Phoenix rising from Ashes myth
’Twas Jonah the Lord God did teach,
When orders he opted to breach.
God’s porpoise not thwarted,
Escape was aborted,
With Jonah spit up on the beach.
If the fish had refused God right then,
Having tasted the flavor of men,
An immoral cetacean
That fell from creation,
Or a case of Original Fin?
Taking care of baby
is life's truest joy, alright
Especially if your idea of fun
is staying up all night
One thing that you can count on
is running out of shirts
'Cos baby loves to 'spit up'
each bottle you insert
As for changing diapers
the part I like the best
is when you think you're finished
baby smiles and makes the rest
Then there's blessed naptime
when baby closes her eyes
That is, until you leave the room
and she lets out that piercing cry
Yes, taking care of baby
what marriage is all about
I only pray that I survive
~ in case my wife conks out
Once I had a little car,
I loved her oh so much,
But she was murdered by a man,
Who drove a big Dodge truck.
I looked around and finally found,
A car to take her place.
Who knew behind her pretty face,
The engine'd been laid waste.
She coughed and choked and gagged until,
She spit up chunks of carbon.
My husband bought her anyway,
He said that could be pardoned.
He said it was a minor thing,
He'd fix it right away.
It turned into a major bill,
That wouldn't go away.
It spent more time in the garage,
Than it did on the road,
And we were told to sell it soon,
For soon we'd need it towed.
Whoever'd worked under the hood,
For certain must be manic,
For from the looks of things in there,
He was no mechanic.
I felt so down, I'd spent so much,
This thing could not be worse.
I felt for sure that in this car,
I drove under some curse.
The ties broke as I drove it home.
I went right in the ditch.
I swear before we bought this car,
It was owned by a witch.
this friendship
it holds me
until i hold your hand
if or when i spit up butterflies
from being trapped
in your warm embrace
soaked by heavy rains
weighed down by my most prized possessions
Bone of my bones, flesh of my flesh: (Genesis 2:23)
A man leaves his mother and father
To cleave to his wife.
--No thoughts whatever of marital strife.
Then the children arrive,
Heralds of joy.
One is a girl; another a boy.
At first all is bliss
With the master and miss.
Then suddenly, THWACK,
The façade shows a crack.
Be it spit-up or colic,
Or just one sleepless night.
Both parents agree,
Something's not right.
The blame and the guilt,
The guilt and the blame:
Can any marriage survive
Such a cruel game?
Fast forward a bit
Past tears and accusations,
To late teen years
Of monetary machinations.
The fights and the shouting,
The wounds and the pouting;
The warnings and threats,
The mountains of debt...
And now that the darlings are married
And settled,
You're on call 24/7,
Constantly nettled.
But in hindsight it's worth it,
That much is clear.
So I'll end this bloody ode
On a note of good cheer:
Happy Valentine's Day, My Wife, My Love, My Dear!
(February 02 2018)
Mommy and Poppy are divorced
But he always CAESAR when he can
Their FRENCH hip is now somewhat strained
Since the custody, went to the man
So Mommy was gone when it happened
She didn't see it, but POPPY SEED it all
Brother was eatin' a sandwich of cheese
When he come a RUSSIAN down the hall
I don't know why it doe's it but
The CATALINA bit inside the door
Then when brother tripped on that cat
He fell and BLUECHEESE on the floor!
If I ever spit up my food
I'd sell my RANCH and live on the street
And if I ever trip over a cat
I'll bet a THOUSAND ISLAND on my feet!
my contst pom - compliant son!
Oh son, I pity you try but fail
In Biology, lizards, rats have tail
I told, mug up ,vomit words
You'll pass, you'll fly high as birds
In quiz, Madam said, you spit up a snail?!
12th October 2016
Perhaps a seed was dropped by a bird
Or by a gust of wind on a place full of dirt
That was long ago and all had forgotten
But the seed knew it would tear apart
First its own hard shell then the stone
And see the world when it sprouts out;
Passionately it was waiting for a season
When the days would bring drops of rain
And a wild breeze blow from the south
A pack of rays fall on its chest from the sun
The day came after long wait and it felt
A shake, a jerk and energy in severe pain
As if , someone was calling and asked in guilt
Wake up wonder baby , now it is your turn
Spit up all that may be soil, pebble or stone
Gone are the harsh days and the drought
Opportunity is at hand, be a lovely sprout;
First only two leaves it forcefully flung
Then third one, next the forth and so on
In no time it became a beautiful infant
In the morning the dew that fell upon
Helped it further to be full grown plant.
New shoots and buds began to appear
With petals long and strong it wore
The sweet fragrance and drank color
Felt an urge and bloomed into a flower.
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