Wake up and start it over again
The scratching I can do with my pen.
The task always seems to be undone.
There remain so many miles to run.
I have the stone to push up the hill
I have lands that wait for the till.
Every day tasks start over again
When we wake up and then
We see where we are
And we try to go far.
But it’s back at the bottom of the mountain
It’s back to searching for a fountain.
With waters we can’t know, that taste of highest gold.
Waters that burn golden yellow, waters that are always cold.
Fill up your cup, have a drink with me.
The waters are no longer stopped up. Even if I might Sisyphus be.
It’s my stone and it’s easy for me to push.
Once you’re used to it, the job seems cush.
It starts over again when I wake up with my pen.
My hand was empty when I fell asleep, so what’s this then?
As soon as the cold bold lights start streaming in
Waking me up, making my morning begin.
I find that I couldn’t stop my mind
Even sleeping there are things to unbind.
And that’s why I write as I write
From morning til noon, til deep in the night.
I wake up and it starts over again.
I need to hear the scratching of my pen.
Human sparkle spirit runs the shine chasing you
We are poor yet we want penny for your thoughts
You bring war I stand here with raised hands and an olive branch
The clowns red nose strikes a pose stopped up congested
Aura color spectrum forget Me Not
~
Wishing wells hoping to be filled all the way through
Concrete grass stains on a basement condominium just bought
Embracing running together via a chance dance
Off the deep end tip of the tongue invested
Dead bodies melt-disintegrate physically rot
So that I am instilled installed compassion
Within my vision I'm blinded in rose colored glasses
Humanity viewed
11/27/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr ©
Morning Weather
By: Miracle Man
11-7-2019
I awoke this morning,
To the sound of heavy rain.
Leaves are now matted,
And yards a stopped up drain.
This morning the air is chilled,
So near the fireplace I huddle.
Then upon peeking outside,
I view just one big puddle.
From a northwest direction,
I hear the chilling wind whistle.
Which on the back of my neck,
Hair is caused to just bristle.
So this tells me that today,
Will be spent mostly inside.
But whatever God gives me,
I’ll be content to abide.
Late at night i sit
on the edge of my bed
my ears stopped up with medical rubber
pressing the diaphragm of the stethescope against
my chest. Listening
for a sign.
stopped up
knotted
but not afraid
look where I’ve landed
in this short
charade
sidesteps
widesteps
and
serenades
I’ve been
depending upon
promises
that were
never made
moving up
slowing down
tired of wearing
this heavy
crown
what’s that you’re
saying
is that a
question
or a
lifeless sound
limp
lost and
longing
for a way
to be seen
wondering if this
time around
has meant
much of
anything
wondering how I
got here
have forgotten
the road
lost the
boyancy
neath this
heavy load
wanting
what was never
wanted of me
giving
what was never
given to
me
the answer’s
round the
corner
but I couldn’t
see
street signs
were uprooted
by a future
that wouldn’t
be
replaced
by strokes
of paint by number
dreams
hewn in the
quarry
of monotone
reality.
Stopped up
I hit a wall
I think I know you
Your just another trap
You make me mad
Stop shutting me out
I see you again
Your so much friendlier than your flat friend
Lean on me
I will hold you up
A rattta tat tat
You call me a cab
Its hard to leave you
I will be back
How do I hate thee? Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breath and height
my plunger can reach, when reaching out of sight.
to the ends of a stopped-up toilet bowl.
I hate thee to the level of everyday’s.
most disgusting need, by sun and candle-light.
I hate thee freely, as no other men would want thee.
I hate thee purely, as thy years have taken their toll.
I hate thee because thy brain appears too loose.
Good grief, thou art a woman no man would choose.
I hate thee as much as crap from a goose.
With coke up thy nose, and smell of whiskey on thy breath,
it appears since thy birth, thou were destined to lose.
I shall but hate thee even after thy death.
Sonnet 43 (How do I love Thee, let me count the ways)
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
My Compassion's mute by her bedside
My bodies a host, a stopped up drain
She sucks for emancipation
And yet there is no air, no pillow light enough to
bring sleep or dreams
Hours n' hours a night I lay
Shaky awake to her needs
I fluff, I prop, I smile to soothe
Counting my silence less I scream.
Poor neighbors dog
poor neighbors dog.
Neighbor comes out
of his house
wonders whats wrong
face concerned.
For his
dog paces
back and forth
lowers his rear
closer and closer
to the ground
and....
unsuccessful.
Over and over he tried again.
Poor neighbors dog.
Cheddar cheese
at the crime scene
neighbor finds
to his surprise.
Cleans it up.
Walks away
happy its been resolved.
Never again will his dog be stopped up.
Two weeks later:
dog pacing his cage
trying and trying
but to his owners dismay...
unsuccessful.
Again.
An older man
found sneaking away
with a sweet smile on his face
in the early dawn,
half running, half limping away.
Chunks of cheese falling out of his pocket...
Jumps up the porch
runs in the door:
"Dad, where were you at so early?"
my saddest christmas ever
has'nt came to be
but in a very few days
it will happen to me
the presents i thought of
will never be bought
the gifts and decorations
have all come to naught
the love i wished to happen
won't happen this christmas day
because the one i loved the most
has sadly passed away
so i have yet to greive
on that wonderful occasion
no one will love me
with such dedication
my heart has need to give
that special kind of love
but with no one to give it to
my heart it seems stopped up
i can only imagin
the fun we would have shared
exchanging our silly presents
showing how much we cared
going out shopping
will be a lonely task
there won't be anyone there
for me to share romance
but still i'll spend this christmas
with her on my mind
i wish she were here
we would have had a good time
so this will surely be
my saddest christmas ever
will my saddness ever leave
my heart keeps saying never
What stops us from being human?
When we are not able to feel
unable to see beyond selfish needs
ears are stopped up so that cries are unheard
What stops us from being human?
When we fail to help another in need
selfish desires become life's center
The God hole within you and me is worth more
Than silver or gold, that can only be filled by God.
No instant gratification and fleeting pleasures of this
World, can sustain, fulfill, and satisfy us within.
Make no mistake the God of the universe designed us
That way, the same road that leads us astray will bring us back
Home again some day. No pit too deep, no road too wide,
Make no excuses, so be it, you may run, but you cannot hide.
The God hole never decreases, can’t be stopped up with
Angriness, bitterness, and strife, the God hole set apart
Only to be filled by God alone. As bee gives honey, and
The clouds open to rain, the God hole in every human being
Can only be filled by the sovereign God who lives and reigns.
Love obscured and vague
What is it?
Is it like an Icon sitting in the corner
of a computer screen,
waiting to be clicked on?.....
What is it?
This love needed so much...
Is it like a leaky faucet,
needing to be stopped up?,
What is it?
Is it even attainable?,
Is it even real?,
This love need so much...
What is it?
Is it heard in it's own words
Is it sung in a song?
Millions have been devoted to it you know..
What is it?
This love needed so much....
Irresolute, unsolved, undefinable,
Causing grief to the masses,
Half in it, and the other half out of it,
Those wanting are needing, and those needing, are wanting...
What is it?
This love needed so much......
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