It’s always been this way
But now it’s plain for all to see,
Crazy not only draws crazy to it
Like a moth to flame, it also is contagious,
A flame now uncontained, blowing in the wind,
Spreading to the susceptible.
Like the corruption of minors
The insanity of our time
Grows while we passively absorb
In schools and entertainment,
In daily news and inner dreams
What was never meant to be consumed,
What never intended to be contained.
9/5/26)
Automobiles and dwellers, both got a life.
Easy and haughty from the glimpse of sight.
Cars greet one another apprehending a horn Wading through the motion of life.
This is what one say an eye for an eye.
I, the oldest, bristled With the tales.
With ardour in each other full of faith.
Countenance on vehicles and dwellers prevails.
Awful the situation is to exhale.
Tears from the sky, Dawn from the sun.
Cry for the reaproachful Situation at burn.
Shoddy lives ,those susceptible To the nature.I feed in the glance of dreariness of the life.
I know for certain that memory’s a virus
We’re susceptible to in varying degrees
Infecting some, randomly chosen, like us
Memory drifts in on a gentle breeze
I’m switched to the channels of subtle perception
It’s due to the memory my life carries on
I flick through most precious of my recollections
They’ve been given to me until I shall be gone
Then I’ll be removed to the isle of the dead
There I’ll meet you, thanks to our memories
Something will be missing, though it must be like that
After long separations and many calls missed
But I reckon, subconsciously we’ll reconcile
With the loss of those lovely details, for we managed
To save some of them in our favorite style
Aren’t we also the details that time couldn’t damage?
Remember we gazed upon the green hills
From your bedroom window with breathtaking view
In our case they’ve been grinding too fast, those fab mills
So we’re not that exceedingly small to come through
Many trials and hindrances, daily calamities
All those stormy Mondays and Sundays alone
Here we’re bound to wait now, among the tall cypresses
For the ferry to moor, to deliver us home.
EVERYTHING IN EXTREMIS -:-
unbridled
featured
feelings
unpredictable
genius
in CULTURED CIRCLES
confront
susceptible
concerns
sympathetically
supposed
in OVERT ALLEGIANCES
evoking
sublime
precedents
equivocably
redolent9
Howdy Modi was just a myth,
Rowdy Modi, to show my teeth,
No more than a fig leaf
My tariff’s no tariff,
And rowdy, to have a row with,
Why? He came in my way
Of Nobel, and must pay,
You know not how deep I’m beneath!
___________________________
Happenings | 40.08.2025 | USA, humour
Note: It is no state secret that Trump loves being flattered and buttered up. Occasionally he’s good at buttering up as well. He did that to Modi with ‘howdy Modi’ when he wanted Indian votes in his first go at presidency. Pakistan did it, as also Israel’s Bibi before it. India refused when he wanted credit (and undeservedly so) for Indo-Pak ceasefire. All are susceptible to praise, genuine or false, but Trump seems ravenous for false praise-- somewhat of the type Goldsmith hinted:
Full well they laugh’d with counterfeited glee
At his jokes for many a joke had he.
who is he who looks through our eyes
fuelling thoughts that glow in mind
consciousness which as our heart sighs
this is the source we need to find
the source is in heart detected
subtle and imperceptible
we are all interconnected
each to each is susceptible
as a spark entwined with the whole
we have a duty to perform
to illumine space is our goal
conjuring in it a bliss storm
Vulnerable
endangered unprotected
exsposed, unsafe, in peril
well protected resilient immune to
ungauarded prey susceptible
opened attacked
Invulnerable
12/19/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024© from anthology "COGNISANT”
#Blue_ticked
Feel like I have been locked out from heavens gates, the screaming so internally bloating, my veins turns green, could I be internally bleeding?
I said; I'm fine not immune to pain, please come closer, look clearly, the ruins you have created, my emotions in bruises, maybe I'm susceptible to pain, blame me not for being human
Remove the red tapes, allow me to be, to say and to show. Stop expecting, I'm me not they, don't blue tick me, confront me, force me to break, my body has reached its brim of pretending, of manning up, of being strong, please don't just blue tick,
It's my grave you digging, I'm not ready to die, as of yet, not like the rest, I'm not the rest but me,
Open your heart, listen up, come a little closer, look my direction, I'm here not going anywhere, not going to be silenced, hear the ticking emotional bomb beeping inside me, I'm about to detonate any minute,
please stop blue ticking, just stop forcing to add me to statistics, I'm me not they, I'm I not the rest
Just stop blue ticking me
#Poetic_Ink
We all have a story to tell
mines just deeper than a well
and painful than a birth
of a new born baby.
Anxiety and fear almost
caused my own demise
making me more susceptible
and vulnerable to
dangerous thoughts of
self destruction.
As the burden of life
held me down in a chokehold
I laid helpless and relentless
unable to escape its wrath.
And each time I try
to catch a break things
start to go left again
as if it was by designed
or may be my causes had caught
up with it’s effects.
As I hold on to resilience
and resilience hold on
to me, my strength shall renew
like a phoenix in the end.
*
The truth is not always beautiful
or beautiful words from sugared lips, the truth.
The Trojan Horse delivered to the door, comes in disguise.
Sturdy in design of wood, but empty as a trickster
who plies her trade amongst unwary
and the inevitable susceptible naïveté akin to the Greeks’ quaint
love for the common old garden grasshopper of all colours —
a Greek tragedy in the making, rivalling that of Sophocles.
My truths are more complicated than the above:
an exposé wrapped in the variable
old clichés of devotion and eternal love of the other.
Keeping the secrets of others is a burden to be
suffered in silence until a beautiful
death do us part – then rendezvous in eternity.
Young plant is fragile
Susceptible to danger
Need care and support.
I would much rather be a member of the minority capable of critical thinking,
as opposed to a member of the majority susceptible to easy influencing.
He came in human flesh,
So He would see someone like me,
He wore the robes of pain, grief and struggles,
So He could relate to my emotions.
He took the fall,
So He could understand why I stumble,
He left his lofty throne to walk down the streets of mortals,
To show them the path to immortality,
Desirous that they would listen.
He took on the body that was susceptible to time,
So that He would conquer its recalcitrant hold,
He came in our similitude,
Bound by the elements of nature,
Bound by His creations,
So that He would return in
the volume of all that was written about Him.
He was chauffeured by dawn,
Called to slumber by the night,
Until He had opened the door for us out of darkness,
Until time laid under His feet.
May 8, 2024.
Seasons like emotions fade away.
Where poisonous rain once
blistered susceptible surfaces,
now sapphire skies showcase the saffron sun,
silently soothing somber scars.
Yesterday was a vacant colouring book.
Today is a kaleidoscopic canvas of colours,
illuminating every blank page.
Rainbow rivers stream through my veins,
as eyes paint in positive portraits.
Pen flows like exotic fruit juices,
blending sweet smoothies.
Essence of fruit salad zest,
liberates from a coconut mind.
Psychedelic pineapple heart,
nurtures my mango soul's serenity.
Sentimental sun rays embrace,
soaking warmth deep inside.
Happiness is tranquil like a
pleasant fresh ocean breeze.
Not trying to be analytical
Caught up by all the political
Being so suspected misdirected
Calling it out on a limb,
saw down the tree falling
The water acronym aquatic prophetic
Sitting on high places
Looking down onto the ground humanities graces
Now I'm susceptible,
To be misdirectional
I come to yet still confused
I'm uploaded like EI recluse
I stand alone in the skies embraced
Disgrace physically but spiritually I arise analytical
So in the secession, I feel the recession
Been disrespected, yet I am reflected
I am a mirror shining bright lemonade flavor I am the light
Everything's falling in the place
I've been embraced by the grace
Setting up high in the sky
Looking down at the able
Sitting across from the Creator at His table
Humanity yet Miss crowded and appointed asking those questions why
We reign as we rain down energy I am as I am soar fly
1/23/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr ©2024
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