Weightless love, purified and perfect seek out your place
Floating into the unknowing darkness, in your face
Carry off this lowered head of shame and sin
Bring it out of the blinding damp dark fog harbouring within
Raise it up into the splendour of Your ineffable light
Into the everlasting beauty of Your eternity, without night
Weightless perfect love lift this soul from its depths
Like counterpoint rising in melody ascending in simple steps
On staffs of hymns written to the praise of Your Glories
Sweeping away dissonances of disturbed minds and horror stories
Arrive within the hidden harmony of Your sublime height
Within the mysteries of Your creative genius and might
Weightless purified perfect love, imprinted on everything You’ve made
Shine through the shadows of blinded reason and senses unsaved
On the day the angels came
To the island of the dead
There was nothing more to do
And all had been already said
The waters black with time
Circled round the rocks of lime
The trees had turned to stone
And the sky had long gone home
On the day the angels came
To the island of the dead
There was no air for breathing
Nor room for wings to spread
All light had fled the caves
All souls were left unsaved
And the buildings of the past
Came tumbling down at last
On the day the angels came
To the island of the dead
They gave one fleeting glance behind
But moved swiftly on ahead
I sit with pen in hand this downcast morn;
and search the Muses for more enraptured songs;
songs of great cheer, of memories heartworn,
to banish the spirits of inflicted wrongs;
before, no songs could quell the ruthless onslaughts
of life; so abject, I was comfortless;
unsaved but for them hovering in my thoughts,
wooing me with lines that eased the hopelessness.
So, wherefore am I life's steel lightning rod;
a man, and lone soul, whose quiet defense
the world longs to disrupt—invade? (So awed
am I, that viciously it takes offense.)
From such place, the Muses grant their rare escape;
where, in peace, poets can safely take their shape.
What if Jesus were in your skin?
What would that make Him a sinner?
What if He were in your very being ?
Would that make Him an unsaved one??
9/21/21
Written by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
OH! We are truly surrounded by a cloud of heavenly witness.
Looking over the portals of heaven down upon us. 'Cause we
All are the specially redeemed earthly saints of our Lord Jesus
Christ. It is all because we accepted His free gift of everlasting life!
OH! Aren't we surrounded by a cloud of heavenly angelic witness?
Watching over us and looking down from their lofty heavenly
Heights upon all of us children of the Most High and Holy God,
Jesus Christ. He is the author and our source of everlasting life!
OH! We are really surrounded by a cloud of heavenly saints witness.
All of their salvation prayers they made while still alive on earth, will
Be faithfully answered by their beloved Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
That they made about all of their remaining unsaved loved ones!
OH! We are truly are being protected by a three fold force of Divine
Witness. We are protected by God, our Heavenly Father, God our
Heavenly Son and by God, our Heavenly Holy Spirit. The three in
One Blessed Trinity! Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Praise be the Lord! A-Men!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
March 10, 2021
kwanini afe
why she died
history says all sinners saved and unsaved
physically must go away
Kwanini afe
all humans Humanity must end physically
I am not the one
spiritually Lord God He wanted me to be
I agree for the passing of her heart
that no longer breeze
she left me
I am but a broken dream
Wandering, wondering why
You're gone why she died
Kwanini afe
hopelessness eats away
but yet still broken fields skies
of a dream love lost gone
Been so long, so long
My Oh, my
over bearing but I am still here why she die
Kwanini afe
2/27/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
I’m turning in eternity
For a pair of comfortable shoes
And a nice hot cuppa tea
I’m turning in my grave
For a black suit, top hat and cane
To join the dance of the unsaved
I’m turning in my tomb
For a room with a view
And breakfast in bed for the dead
I’m turning in my mind
For reasons there to find
To make sense of this rhyme…
I’m turning in my brain
To find out if I’m mad
For all that is insane
I’m turning in my dreams
Of butterflies and moon beams
To see all that seams
I’m turning in my right to die
To go with what’s left of my life
To experience the ride
I’m turning in my dancing
For what chance may be
A flight of fancy
I’m turning in my badge and gun now
I don’t want to play sheriff anymore
For this one-horse town
I’m turning in this rhyme
That haunts me from time to time
Maybe I’ll get two bits for it or a dime
Poemless pandemic
vanished from PoetrySoup
hard to explain why
enough people read?
made enough of a difference?
that's what I figured
gave up will power
personal diagnosis:
severe mental block
worried what to write
hibernating -- surviving
too careful to post
most people wrote MORE
but I deleted; withdrew :O
"social distancing"
pages and pages
of my painstaking feelings
unsaved, unarchived
so out with the old
and yet, no in-with-the-new
let go of it all
as others revealed
I concealed, sharing nothing
time passed, un-described
missed Anthology:
my chance to publish a poem :(
maybe next time though? :)
relief, or regret? :(
I didn't save them... :O
except... Christmas one :)
it's like the starter --
to keep the process going,
like warm friendship bread :D
kneading the keyboard
baking up delicious words
passing on sweetness
can't get old poems back
the art of writing poems, though:
compulsion, hunger
can't live without this
starting from scratch, all over
tired of poemlessness
For forty days and nights, a tempest strange
blew in; the lost unsaved by fortresses.
One shelter only from those winds of change:
an ark that sailed to rainbow's promises.
Elijah, fleeing from his enemies,
protected from an earthquake, fire, and storm,
was fed by angels heeding God's decrees.
The Rock of ages kept him safe and warm.
The fishermen knew raging squalls and throes;
one maelstrom caused their courage to be thinned -
when Jesus tells the storm, "be still!", he shows
himself to be the Master of the wind.
On stormy seas, when troubling winds arise,
sail for the harbor where true safety lies.
Written 23 Nov 2020
I am the unsaved
The unwashed
The unsexed
The unknown
The less-than
The never-man
The 13th bead on a broken rosary
Dancing on the floor threshing room floor
I press my prayers into the run-out groove
If you play them backward
I’m born again
One life
One prayer
In the arrow of time
Tracking straight
In a circular orbit
Decaying
Moment by moment.
I have beads that pray for me
Every day I do 613 things is just the right way
Sometimes you need to sue the architect
When the building fails
Sometimes the windows, sometimes the walls
Sometimes a poor preparation of he land
Undisturbed soil is your best friend
The demons of the night have doubled
the unsaved are simply in terrible trouble
Moist mist, death, stinky rats and ash
Haunting malicious, they come in a blinding flash
Shadows of human beings as dark silhouettes
you're so close, I can smell your cigarette
A living nightmare or just ugly makeup
even the cat that slept on a velvet pillow wakes up
27.10.2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
8 Lines of Spooky Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
2nd place in the contest
God has said I send the Sonshine up;
Up, to surround the HORIZON;
To envoke and channel both North, East, South, West
your horizon to embellish and sparkle and shine bright;
in case the earth mourning noon day and yet sometimes at night;
Blossoming as it goes shines brilliance as a star;
Brilliant as it's shown;
My God sent his SON down;
To sunrise,
To save the souls the unsaved the meek from their demise;
As the SON rises so does it shine;
9/30/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2020
Torrid man has a hateful horrid heart
of unsacred unsaved unsecured sacrificial Stones Heart porm
Heart of Stone
Spirit of stone
5/2>/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
As I walk through this small Waters
My feet are dry
If I hear the angels crying
Tears in their eyes
Alone as I wander
I begin to wonder
The plight of the world
Those saved an unsaved
Those who choose and those that refuse
I asked in patents, I holla
Hallelujah baptized as I walk
If I walk through small Waters
5/25/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
BLACKNESS
No racism, we are all made of black
Like a bacon-eating balaclava-wearing bachelor Jack,
And even if you're white or Caucasian,
Can't run from black hair like typical Asian
Cos of creation we all had our fair share
And even if you're blonde or red at all,
Can't run away from black eyeball,
For sure, our full cup of character will always pour,
Even if you're hazel or blue eyes,
Can't run from black eyebrows or lashes
Even if you're completely shaved or albino,
For a spot or birthmark you can't say no,
Even if you're clean, fresh and pure
There'll always be that identification you can't cure
And can't run from a dark soul or dark side,
Whether saved or unsaved, you confide...
In the phenomenon called life
As if both of you were husband and wife
"You're still made of black" is the said slogan,
Whether circumcised, uncircumcised, Jew or pagan.
But if you evade all these notions
You're certainly of or in a dark world of vexations;
Darkness is always here to stay.
BUT LET YOUR LIGHT DO NOTHING BUT SLAY.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright©2019.
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