As I stood in the car,
Traveling from the airport to Oulu,
I could hear the radio,
Where the speaker
Was speaking in finnish;
I could not but notice that foreign accent,
And those repetitive sounds,
In every two syllabuses
Of «tt»
And «kk»
It is needless to say,
That I could not understand one word;
It is in that moment though,
That I was seeing the language
In its essence;
Seeing the language for what it is;
A set of sounds
That are not connected to anything or anyone;
words
once they are spoken
they can only be
forgiven
never
be
for
go
tt
n
The water's flowing
I need a cup
so that I may drink
Drink up
No longer am I thirsty
Jesus
Jesus
Jesus
Provides for me Him and His Father
All of my needs I have no worries
tT need my hands raised up, raised up
so that I may be endowed blessed from on high
I lift my praise to Him
I lift my praise to Him
I lift my praise to Him
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus
Amen
11/17/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
meaningless
electrons
infect this text
â?? â? â?? â¤? â?¬ â?½ ǽ Èȸ â?? â?¥ â?£
meaningless
photons
radiate from
this text
È â?£È¸ â?¥â?¬ â??â?½ ǽâ?? â¤?â?? â?
meaningless
memes
inspire this
text
È â?¥ â?½â??ǽâ?£â??â?¬ â¤? â?? ȸ â?
if you
stare at it
long enough
it will beg
for your
interpretation
you may
simply
respond:
i?nshlal£âs
r?¸½¤mou gr¤ ¸sn cÈ Èmt?£ st tiÈ???yittâe sioep
¤Çefâ
xn?Èr me ln
?rteeer
dr âyâii t
tf n
½â ½
m
?g sigoiiâe?âdÇpa¥ nei?aanl?r leset e a?it
m?â?
t?gnh?
t¥âsia
ââw?pâ ixele¬gn½uo? s
eio¬ ât½it o o£ludâ âa?eey âto:?uâ?oâa ?a
?
?rgh¥âcn?no
tt½ml?bes
?ren
¸tn
hrit¬f
ix
p?y?sâ
y
ns sss?onmfhe mâ?â?âÇÈee?tâ
p
Èââ?
o? s
why do we not hate our self more
a nudge of a beaker taken out of the fridge
its a big red button
we call it switch
Styles with a twit
ch
here before and still to follow
my train - of-thinks
all us trying to be someone else
i'm just trying not to be me
join the chorus
Putin has
only got one
bawl and cry
for your imaginary
friend
grab your money tight
it will burn quicker
in the suns might
every billion
could be split
a million ways
children dying everywhere
anywhere is too close
Politicians dancing while its people die
some starting fights
with their brothers
and don't get me started
my arm still hurts from disinfectant shot
Aliens are checking to see if we have died yet
Anywhys i waz talking about apathy
so i think i will suddenly sto
i dnot car
e about wher e I pu tmy le--------ers
----------------------------------- ---tt
or your humanity
i'm just trying to get away
The Apocalypse is done
just stand outside
in the forever
nearing sun
The Bushy’s crew brewed lots of beer
But TT is cancelled this year
Please give Martin a ring
Four great beers he will bring
To doorsteps to give you good cheer
Two pints cost you only four quid
So do as my husband just did
Call four nine four three nine three
Delivery has no fee ...
They’re only too pleased to get rid!
Poem and U tube clip posted with full permission from Martin Brunnschweiler owner of Bushy's Brewery
22nd April 2020
Zombie
Emerald Ireland looks great.
I want to go.
Syria was once beautiful before the war.
Racing bikes are as cool as jet fighters.
Look at the Isle of Man TT and Le Mans 24hr endurance bike races.
Breathtaking like any air show flying display.
Goodbye wobbly wisdom tooth, you fakin cant!
You broke by roast spud; caught between 2 teeth.
Off to the tooth butcher.
£48 rip off again.
Get a tat for that price saying:
I DON'T WANNA BE FECKIN RIPPED OFF!
How can I learn to love this danger town of mine?
When you crucify yourself you use a magic hammer to get the last nail in.
The T.T's off
Sorry Jan
Sorry I.O.M
I feel so proud when I see our national flag raised
and sing our Anthem ‘Oh land of our birth’
This island is not the place where I was born
but there’s no place on earth I’d rather be
with mountains and hills, a patchwork of fields
and the ocean which caresses our shores
I love eating Manx kippers, see cats with no tails
view the famous TT races, and ride horse trams on rails
We do not bow down to ’the Adjacent Isle’
that’s how England is known to the Manx
Our Tynwald parliament's made laws for over 600 years
Elizabeth’s our Sovereign and long may she reign
I’m not Manx but the Island’s my forever home
and my final resting place overlooks the blue sea
Whitman-Inspired Uplifting Poetry, old or new Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
1/6/20
Their was once a boy by the name of et
He had an encyclopedia bt
He sat on a fence
Fall in a trench
And cry for his tt
This January, I was in the tenth grade,
when our Head informed
that we couldn't contribute to sports meet next year,
and we all did our best this year.
I volunteered for two,
signing up for badminton and long jump
then they asked me to have a go at TT too.
I didn't know anything about table tennis
But I said yes anyway.
I went for badminton,
(I was reserve)
I floated above the sand pit,
But stopped right there,
not reaching the top three.
What about my Table Tennis?
Please don't ask:
I was so bad that I couldn't get my serve through,
and my opponent donated me some marks.
("TT is like badminton" - you liar!)
So that was how I played all my sports,
but I couldn't do anymore.
I had keep the big day free,
to play my trumpet - and also to stand straight until the whole thing ends.
* based on how I contributed to the sportsmeet this year. I didn't gain any placement or certificate, but I'm happy because our house turned out to be the first, and I felt proud when I played the fanfare as a player in our brassband.
note: almost everything in this is consisting of true incidents.
Lucky escape
Our time ran short,
But quite enough,
You put me through,
Unforgivable stuff.
Hindsight is wonderful,
But comes too late,
I wasnt in time,
To save my fate.
It cut me deep,
Right to the core,
My battered heart,
Could take no more.
I had to leave,
To save my life,
To escape the pain,
The mysery and strife.
Its left me strong
But bitter and cold,
Tt will haunt me til',
Im grey and old.
But ill count my stars,
Every single day,
That i was lucky enough,
To get away.
I’m ogling fit blokes dressed in leather
They’ll wear it whatever the weather
Phwoarrh these blokes are so butch
I can look but can’t touch -
My hubby keeps me on a tether!
Some biker chicks wear low cut tops
My hubbie’s jaw instantly flops
He stands there and gawps
His eyes on two stalks
I’m glaring, therefore his ardour drops
We have around. 40,000 bikers descend on our little island over the next two weeks for the TT races. Fun fiction poem
5/27/18
it hangs over her bed
s
w
i
n
g
i
n
g
with sinister smile, a
r
e
d
lipstick—smeared
m
a
r
i
o
n
e
tt
e
with awful strings
it is despicable in the dark
she’s not scared of it
it’s not frightened at all
b u t i am
i can’t lay my finger on it
nor can i pinpoint it
that c l o w n i s h grin
it’s e y e s follow me
i pull the c o v e r s over my head
and peek from time t o time —
— at it, as the clock whittles sharply
at
the
h
o
u
r
s
11/26/2017
IT Contest
John lawless - Sponsor
If I were an
~~ te
nl
ae
hp
ph
ea
ln
et ~~
I hope that
if swallowed by a boa constrictor
people would see behind the disguise
and do not mistake me for a
~~ hh
aa
tt ~~
If I were whoever I am
it would be nice to be seen
for whom I am and not
for what I seem to
be when I am...
An elephant and not a ~ tah ~
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