a hush holds its quiet determination;
a spark slips in as fascination;
a breath gathers slow observation;
a thread forms a soft combination;
a glance offers brief examination.
Vigilantes heavy handed with their mouth
Their eyes are crying , they hear the tears
Nourishment flees from their heart
Starvation trolls the diminished dark
Speakings "truths" means a lot
8/28/26
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2026
"no matter how far - a journey cannot begin - without the first step" Old Chinese Proverb
although so brilliant
even genuine diamonds
need light to sparkle
so every painting
begins with the first brushstroke
masterpiece or not
Clean away all dirt
For a whole life time then die
Get dirt thrown on you
SYNONYMOUS TRUTHS
renouncing
facile
antidote
by
mere
imitation
to
hail
&advocated
artistic
flowering
of
possibilities
in
contradictory
yearnings
utterly
unattainable
impetuous
individual
outpourings
claim
&
emphasise
perhaps
succeed
aspirations
in
simultaneous
outlines
of
asserted
honoured
detail
OF TRUTHS AND FALSEHOODS
Truth is the real thing
Fabrications are falsehoods:
Both challenge the mind:-
untamed and deranged
romantic thoughts of
the circus
lead to questions
which in time
reveal certain truths:
the tamed lions and
the high-wire act
are illusions from
an overactive ego,
and the infinitely
sad clown cries
tears of wine
and the parallels
to my own life
“as both this form and boundless space cravings of ego negated awake,
vibrant yet nonchalant bliss drenched heart remains elated”
~ Unseeking Seeker
Once stripped of hubris and inhibitions,
our stygian streams will glimmer with light,
releasing us from tethered traditions
to gleam like bright stars each nebulous night.
Vibrant becomes the mind with truths in life,
once uncloaked from sorrow's dark mourning shrouds.
We're fulfilled, no vacant voids, stress or strife.
Blissful beneath skies without nimbus clouds.
Unmasked, we're drawn as a somatic sketch,
and mindful of our spiritual needs.
No motley abstract conceived as a wretch,
our hearts will exult as wheat among weeds.
Once unbound, we'll dance with terpsichore, *
as Aurora applauds our liberty.
*Terpsichore is pronounced. Terp sic o ree'
Greek Muse of lyric poetry and dance,
as a noun it means a series of rhythmical steps
No matter what Life’s ups and downs give you
The relative truth is
At least you are still alive to experience it all
For better or worse,
And it could always be better or worse.
Which brings up the absolute truth
That it is what it is.
There is no perfect world with a perfect you
Somewhere other than here,
Which means the here and now
Is as good as it gets
Here and now.
(4/2/26)
A life is a river, twisting slow.
Love, a sudden storm, can overflow.
Grief, a stone, held in the heart's deep hold.
Memory, a map, both new and old.
Hope, a fragile bird, taking sudden flight.
Despair, a heavy cloak, blotting out the light.
Words, the seeds we scatter on the breeze,
Some blooming bright, some lost among the trees.
Time, a patient sculptor, shaping bone.
And silence, sometimes, is the truest tone.
An effulgent light dawns
Dispelling all darkness
Shattering veils of doubt
Illuming hidden truths
And bestowing wisdom.
The pendulum screams as it slices the air,
A blurred arc of frantic, kinetic despair.
From the pole of delight to the pole of regret,
We pay down the interest on spiritual debt.
Hot bleeds to cold, and the day bleeds to night,
A binary flicker of shadow and light.
But watch for the apex, the top of the swing,
Where gravity pauses and loses its sting.
The zero-point field where the current goes dead,
Before the next thought can infect the head.
Here is the silence that deafens the ghost,
The guest uninvited who becomes the host.
The ego is hungry, a mechanism of steel,
Grinding the grist in the turn of the wheel.
It hunts for a future, it mourns for a past,
But the gap is the anchor that holds the soul fast.
In the breach of the circuit, the spark is set free,
Not what you are, but what you will be.
We hang in the balance, unmade and unbound,
Safe from the trap, where we cannot be found.
Deep Convictions — do not shout —
They blossom in the Mind —
A silent Orchard, born of Frost,
Whose Petals brave the Wind.
To do what’s Right — is seldom loud —
It need not beg the Day —
Its Footsteps leave a candor’s trace
On unassuming Clay.
Educated — is the Soul
That listens, before Speech —
For Competence is not a Crown
But what our Choices teach.
Communication — pure — refined —
Is but the Steady Rain
That carves a Canyon out of doubt
And ushers in the Plain.
So let the World — in Tempest — rage,
Let Rumor strike its Gongs —
Conviction dwells where Quiet lives,
And Truth completes her Songs.
That Love — when full — may fade —
As Blossoms do — from June —
Its Petal — pressed upon the Mind —
Its Fragrance — gone too soon —
That Death — is not a Stranger —
But Patient — at the Door —
Who waits — with Kindly Certainty —
We cannot long ignore —
That Hope — though clad in Silver —
Will tarnish — if delayed —
The longest Vigil — wears the Soul —
Whose Prayer — is not repaid —
That Truth — is rarely Gentle —
She cuts — to show the Core —
And leaves us bleeding — yet more Pure —
Than we had been before —
That Self — once lost — is seldom found —
In quite the same attire —
The Ash — remembers being Flame —
But not the former Fire —
shining light upon a naked void ~ will always reveal more darkness
just as the peeping Tom went blind ~ after exposing only starkness
By
David Kavanagh hms!
Nightmare Truths
She hides the truth in nightmare screams,
Refusing to voice fevered dreams,
As moon bent shadows climb the wall,
To bring more demons to her hall.
Those who know her will see no tears,
She locks them away—shows no fears,
Fights her scars in silence alone,
Growing harder her heart of stone.
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