Calm… relax… pressure easing down
A new sensation I have found
I see now it was my subconscious thoughts
but I pushed through the anxiety and fought
I took back control of my body and mind
released the fear I had left behind
I overcame it, I broke the chain
stopped stress from running through my veins
Don’t become a victim to the subconscious mind
It can take over if you leave it behind
Its effects can feel so real in time
Like shadows pretending to be the mind
not truth, not healing, not what is real
Just thoughts that try to bend what you feel
So choose your peace and hold it tight
and you can win the inner fight
her eyes on the moon
or a twirled moustache
upside-down questions
never before asked
violins play a solo
alongside quiet pain
that is spoken of only
within poetic refrain
thought bubbles bounce
collide with stars
a self never spoke of
disguised in rhyming memoirs
mazes and teeth in riddles unravelled
as the subconscious mind
becomes more well-travelled
layers of thought
covered with layers of feeling
all brought into the light
with a little free-wheeling
though dots may join up
there is no conclusion
for a poetess is always
part fantasy
part illusion
venn diagram discoveries
made without knowing
sharing of ideas
with the seeds they are sowing
exiting time when feeling off-kilter
to observe all askew -
a true angle tilter
we scribble in darkness
scribble in light
scribble for solace
and for our life
I
Since I left you I found the world so new
‘Left’ meaning that as I got older and grew
I realized every apology you ever construed
was a strand in an intricate web of your lies
where is the full explanation?
A spiraling maze of emotional abuse under the guise
of a man living the American dream
so, it seemed you were an idea more than a person
I almost wish you weren’t there at all
because every time we see each other thoughts resurface
from somewhere deep within my subconscious mind perhaps?
traumatic memories spring like the flowers in April
contrasting imagery in the last line of text I’m certain
but confusion is what it feels like
I’m trapped in your dark world like it’s Tim Burton
the snake is dead and yet it writhes
demons in dreams spawned by ego
as subconscious mind is dissolved
poised in stillness we just let go
nonchalance takes pole position
the gunas three loosen their hold
both within form and the vast void
light of Self is all we behold
My thoughts ebb.
I lie still under the sod of sleep.
Is it my soul
or subconscious mind that wakes up?
This is a voyage through the fjord
in the dream-light.
I’m free,
and as light as a water strider.
This landscape is beyond
what a man believes real.
I was sipping warm tea on a rock
before the dark women plucking green leaves.
Even when the elephants chased me,
I felt a horrible thrill.
Transforming through time,
my midlife dreams are marvelous.
Never pooped,
I travel pop-eyed.
I sometimes see the same place
I had seen in my dream.
Where will I be taken tomorrow?
I long for that traveling delight.
First published in The Literary Hatchet.
Outside the trees are called
by the Autumn’s breeze.
The door isn’t perfectly shut
as the leaves seep through
the uneven cracks.
The whistling tune from
Nature’s broken karaoke
machine finds its way under
the door. Slowly the shadows
become dimmer as the morning
sun sets in and the birds begin
to chirp as the crickets causes
a ruckus enough to wake
the subconscious mind from
sleeping internally.
The couch as always hard
as a stone bruising my arms
and legs as I flail finding rest,
but consistently remains
courteous as my only true
companion who knows
me and my heart, becoming
a good friend. The bells
chime, the cars honk,
the sounds of the people
marching to and from
their next destination.
As I step outside with
my messy hair, bad breath,
blurry vision, I take a glance
and the air greets me,
another daybreak awaits.
as yet haunted by dream images
anchoring consciousness in the mundane
in the waking state we dwell in heart
to vanquish our subconscious mind insane
empty of concepts, attention internalised
silence our default orientation
nonchalant to ripples that rise and subside
we are poised in all time meditation
In the foreground of a dream, you stood before me, confessing your singular misstep.
Behind you, were two images. As only my subconscious mind could decipher, then conveyed to me.
Only the words lingered. They toppled down from your careless mouth, falling towards the ground beneath your unsteady gait, as you paced to and fro; much like a cornered animal.
For months I revisited that dream. Still, I found no answer to the question I asked of you.
You claimed to have committed the act only one time.
All my good senses tell me your heroes lived on death row
Mother’s are to blame for the role you played in the demise of so many.
Ink Blots was the foreground of this dream. Escaping me so obviously.
So now I must wait as they build a case.
What if silence too is a script we conjure,
tapping into subconscious mind, befooling
ourselves, as we sidestep the truth of what is …
bemused by ego?
Trapped in swamps of dark desires, bound by beliefs,
how else can we exit this matrix unless
thoughts cease, that thus grace invoked, our soul’s eye sees …
noumena within?
Thought streams manifesting dreams :
Daydreams illusive :
Dreams of ambition yearning for fulfilment !
Dreams of subconscious mind
rolling in unfamiliar zone
and even nightmare to scare .
Dreams within dreams stream flowing
on foams of creamy passion in fervent fervour
may touch desired goal or just evaporate.
Yet we can't help to survive drinking dreamy desires.
So many dreams within dreams rippling,
propagating dancing in ebb and tide,
sometimes shameful, need to hide !
sometimes sweet, soothing inspiring ,
again some may push you to abyss of Despondency.
Yet Desirable dreams are dreams of ambition
based on idealism
formulated by truth, honesty, devotion
along with righteousness.
Dream dreams of positivity till last breathe.
Dream your dreams come what may.
Never let doubts cloud your way.
Our subconscious mind,
lingers in between.
Life's unforgiving reality,
and what can't be seen.
Mark Twain wrote how Tom had Huck paint his fence
using reverse psychology on him.
Tom bamboozled Huck, yet in his defense,
Huckleberry Finn was known to be dim.
Tom baited Huck by acting possessive,
taking great pains to express his delight.
He made painting the fence seem impressive,
taunting that Huck could never get it right.
At first, Huck laughed; then, he begged for a chance
to whitewash the whole fence and prove Tom wrong.
Tom planned on tricking Huck well in advance:
bruising his pride, until Huck went along.
Such reverse psychology demonstrates
how the subconscious mind manipulates.
O'Elohim
smells in the air
crisp, clean, beautiful
Mine Elohim
Our subconscious mind
crisp clean, beautiful
Our Father's Heart beating in us
crisp clean beautiful
Silently awakened birds
sing tweeting praise
crisp and clean O' so beautiful
Blessed are we who awakened this new day we are filled with His Our Father's grace, peace love Thank you Father for awakening
--- crisp, clean and beautiful ????
8/2/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
After the party,
I’ve found myself on a tropical island
Just like how Gulliver was taken to the island, Lilliput.
I haven’t either heard or visited that island.
A fantasy world with
Fathomless valleys, lush green meadows
Transparent water bodies, hanging puffy clouds,
Glowing stars settled on the glossy mountain peaks
Animals roaming with no disparity of wild and domestic
Tramcars, boats and buses are not in use
No constraints of traffic rules and U-turns
Men are carried by white winged birds.
No wars, no leaders, no foes and no prophets
In no time people can call on their friends.
Fruits of all seasons available the way how Dr Faustus enjoyed
Meeting strange men the way how Alice met in the wonderland
It seems like the heaven of freedom.
Perhaps, the fantasy stories hidden in my subconscious mind
Might have led me into this tropical island
I am fascinated by the wonders of the tropical island.
But I want to go back because
I’ve missed the invisible emotional bond twined with my motherland.
Place : 4
SURREAL
When reality is not quite enough
And a tingle goes down the spine
The experience is like never before
Slightly anxious and no longer sure
When one steps just over the line
A sharp focus will battle with fluff
It is all about an odd state of mind
Reference points now are blurred
A strange thing that lifts the reality
And a close cousin of sheer fantasy
Like noises off, that one has heard
Or dazzling lights making one blind
It’s been expressed in modern art
Vivid colours, and no subtle shades
So bizarre, like a night time dream
Sanity can be islands in the stream
To dispel a sense of flashing blades
Cutting a subconscious mind apart
Determining what is real in actuality
Can be difficult in such a mental state
To know what is false and what is true
For an artist, the period might be blue
What inspirational sources may create
To challenge what is considered reality
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