The media so graphic
to memories,
I hid behind
A terrible truth.
The suffering,
of innocents
not terrorists,
needing
to be fed.
Is just the red
of Jewish punishment
They are seeding
as bad as the Nazis,
and their terrible deeds.
Suffering of children,
not seen as people
innocence of women
and we allow this
god-forsaken inhumanity?
Next time,
take a better shot at Trump,
and I'll rhyme
and his daughter
un-comfortably
in his hands
on a moter-bike,
a princess too liked
at a young age
and a 13 year old girl
in the Epstein files,
He won't give a whirl......
And will it ever hail?
I too am a monster
but at least,
it wasn't like this.
I never raped or molested,
and have a conscious.
I verbally abused
is my terrible truth
and the scared
of a deer
I held dear
is my penance here.
Manipulation
black mail,
I can't sleep
but I'm trying
for that aiming
to be a shooting
of good star
here.
Changing
the bare
of perspective
and of a demon's
vile heresy.
My exorcism
will be
complete
as I fight this.
There are terms humanity uses, phrases words appear."
To communicate emotions, in aim of clarity, or to help
Verbally in communicating our anxiety, or sense of honour
Even anger, love or fear.' Some terms are formed generically.' Yet others are forged and planned.' To strike
At the spirit, heart and souls of 'right thinking women and
Man' the word ( elites ) is being used to describe indeed
The dregs..' its as dis-informative in the context and concept
Indeed its correction ' must get now on its legs' to
Highlight those of repulsive ways..Who glorify abuse who
Plan nightmares today.' Who facilitate urusry murder and
Greed, who co-opt and co-erce for the basest of needs who
To be validated are willing to do the vilest' the dirtiest things.)
Scum could do.' I find no word low enough.! No term that
Will match.' To the acts of these lunatics and the sick dreams they hatch.' (They call wicked for good) remember
My friend; (2020?) and just extrapolate' then and only things will
Get on the mend!
I am a decrepit, I'll tell you why
Even though telling you will make me cry
My world has been turned around, upside down
And I've developed an eternal frown.
I've tried to be helpful all of my life
Now, sadly I have to think more than twice
I've been backstabbed and I'm truly forlorn
If only I could have been told, for-warned.
My life means nothing to me anymore
Happiness and joy has flown from my door
I won’t help anyone else, as before
Only my hubby, the one I adore.
Here I sit wondering how to go on
Will I be disliked now, by everyone
Can one's joy of living ever come back
After they have been verbally attacked.
The hurt I feel is driving me insane
It will never happen ever again
I'll hide away, keeping me to myself
I hope the backstabber's proud of herself.
* * *
WOMEN ARE LIKE FLOWERS THAT DECORATE MEN'S LIVES AND BRING US HAPPINESS.
THEY COME IN BEAUTIFUL SHAPES AND SIZES, INTOXICATING SMELLS AND A VARIETY OF COLORS.
LIKE EVERY FLOWER, WOMEN NEED TO BE NURTURED AND SPOILED AND GIVEN THE RIGHT AMOUNT OF ATTENTION, BUT DO NOT OVERWATER THEM WITH JEALOUSY OR SMOTHER THEM BECAUSE JUST LIKE A FLOWER, A WOMAN WILL SUFFOCATE AND DROWN EMOTIONALLY.
SOME WOMEN HAVE BEEN MISTREATED EMOTIONALLY, PHYSICALLY, AND VERBALLY, AND THOSE ARE THE ONES THAT NEED SPECIAL ATTENTION.
JUST INJECT THAT TENDER LOVING CARE AND PATIENTLY WAIT, AND BEFORE YOU KNOW IT YOUR FLOWER WILL BLOSSOM TO A BEAUTIFUL LOYAL GIRLFRIEND, WIFE, AND BEST FRIEND....
I'M STILL HERE
IT ALL STARTED WHEN I WAS 10 YEARS OLD
I WAS MOLESTEDFOR 5 YEARS FROM MY DAD
AND RAPED BY MY BROTHER
BUT I"M STILL HERE
I HAVE BEEN BEATENWITH A TOW CHAIN
AND MY HOUSE WAS SET ON FIRE WITH ME IN IT
BUT I"M STILL HERE
I HAVE BEEN BEATENAND THROWEN THREW A BIG PICTURE WINDOW
AND WAS RIPED FROM ALL MY CLOTHES OFF
BUT I"M STILL HERE
I WAS RAPED ON SEVERAL ACCOUNTSBY MY MOM'S
BOYFRIEND AND HIS SON
BUT I'M STILL HERE
I HAVE HAD OVER 11 SURGERIES PLATES AND SCREWS
ALL DOWN MY RIGHT HAND SIDE
BUT I'M STILL HERE
I WAS SLIPPED DOWNERS IN MY DRINKS
AND ALMOST DIED
BUT I'M STILL HERE
I WAS BEATEN SO BAD BY MY HUSBAND THAT WHEN THE OFFICERS
TOOK ME TO WHERE MY BROTHER AND SISTERS CAMPSITE
THEY DIDN'T EVEN RECONGIZE I WAS
BUT I'M STILL HERE
I WAS VERBALLY ABUSEDON SEVERAL ACCOUNTS
AND SOMETIMES I THINK IT"S WORSE
BUT IM STILL HERE
THE REASON FOR THIS POEM IS NEVER GIVE UP
CAUSE IM STILL HERE
It is such a grotesque situation
I can’t verbally match how I feel
Seems I’m staled in a dissociation
I can’t say what I want to reveal
If I could get some help, I’d be glad
But there isn’t a sign, so I’m worried
Cause it looks like I’m back from the dead
And I’m living again the whole story
As the time passes by, I remember
What seemed vague and disjointed, comes clear
Like your voice of familiar timbre
From the messenger record I hear
The plot goes like we’ve known it before
Where and when, matters less, my sweet angel
In the most recent life we showed more,
Much more than if I were a stranger.
We are the innocent ones who were verbally and
physically eviscerated by heathens who deemed us weak.
The evil ones punished our hearts, souls and minds
leaving us in an internal pool of blood.
We endured the ruthlessness and brutality from all whom
wrongly believed they were somehow above us.
There were so many of us children living in fear and
desperation, while countless turned a blind eye to us.
My hope for God’s meek ones is that their memory of the
inhumane persecution doesn’t cause them pain forever.
I’m writing this for all of God’s meek ones, who are
the chosen ones that our abusers failed in destroying.
My promise to God’s meek ones is that a divine light will
shine down guiding, protecting and leading them to Heaven.
Surely, as God’s meek ones, we will be looked upon as
His most precious and pure!
My heartfelt sincerest gratitude is for my beloved Aunt Flo, her
kindness helped me to feel worthy giving me back faith in God.
To all the Meek Ones trust that God will create a way through all
your pain and know that no one can stand against Him!
Fake reviews
In 1963, I ate lunch at Andrea’s café,
her food was wonderful
I advised mariners to go for a visit
and be welcomed by a true lady.
I now learned that unsolicited reviews
are no longer appreciated
My recommendation was delivered verbally
Andrea doesn’t know she is a grandmother and
One of her grandchildren runs the place
I once ran a café in Liverpool selling bacon butties
I could have done with the friendly review
From the people who worked at the small factories nearby
but when Margaret Thatcher
Came to power, they closed down
A young man from Pakistan bought my café
Changed its name to Morning Glory and sold
Curried chicken and shrimp
That, of course, was before the hatred of the foreigner was noticed
When Britain woke up 3 million people from
Syria and Iraq had entered they were not as friendly as the man from Pakistan.
Some of my written words tend to heal the nation.
My hand brings out a luminous emotion.
I am a poet.
Not only verbally and also physically
Working overtime healing emotionally and mentally.
Even during my sad days, I try to heal...
some of the broken hearts that have nothing to feel.
Preaching louder with lower noise
As I do what I am assigned to do because…
I am a poet.
Even when thunder strikes, I continue writing,
making a plan, trying to come up with something.
Something that helps heal lost souls.
Something that not everyone knows.
But I do because I am a poet.
I'm known as The Hulk in my community,
but you wouldn't assume that from looking at me.
For the most part I am very cordial and friendly.
I am just a little man you don't want to get angry.
Only then will one see The Hulk within me,
verbally, never violently.
I have a firm grip on anger management fortunately.
Today I was awakened by those of media,
Who loudly speak above all the rest.
Conveying thoughts that they were burdened,
By those who failed to pass their test.
They opined with a great volume,
With vocal passion to be heard.
As if theirs was the greatest truth,
And any others was just absurd.
These statements were rooted to sport,
Involving some history and their trade.
While some were viewed as foolhardy,
Though others were just simply made.
Yet through all the gossip and rhetoric,
The players involved are verbally maligned.
Where they needed a fresh new start,
Or they were weighted without anything kind.
This began the free-agency free-for-all,
When dollars exchange more than common sense.
As lives and families are uprooted and moving,
To new geographies, whether offense or defense.
I stumbled quietly into the land they gathered together in glee, Reasons.
They continuously slandered and sneered at me, Reasons.
Without ceasing, Reasons.
They pretended to want to be my friend only to obtain information to use
against me, and smudge my name, Reasons.
My identity was retrieved and for what purposes? Reasons.
Violated physically, mentally, and misunderstood verbally was it intentional?
Reasons.
Labeled and placed in someone else's boxes, Reasons?
On high alert, for these Reasons.
He caressed her cheek;
A warm breeze caressed her face;
A smooth soft wet gentle kiss;
Romantic
Caressing touching a shoulder,
Stroking her cheek;
Verbally telling her she’s sweet brushing;
Overhead often a loving touch;
What does caress mean to a girl?
What does it mean to caress someone?
Means to stroke it gently in a loving affectionate manner;
The caress can be either a verb or a noun,
Both of which us, refer primarily to the affectionate;
Engaging in petting or stroking of each other lovingly;
O’ so are we ever so affectionate!
1/10/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©
What if the mark of the beast was believing a lie
Not 666 that can be seen by the eye
When God makes it obvious and we see each a lie
The tools of the Devil to just get by
It’s well known who’s the father of lies
Yet not fearing God they give it wings to fly
Not fearing God swearing to believe the lie
Not fearing God verbally taking a side
It’s not a party with which they take pride
Where now a RINO becomes an accusation applied
They point a finger with three pointing back
The Mark on the head is what they think and hide
The Mark on the hand is when they act with pride
Never before we couldn’t see who we fight
But now God makes it obvious in which sin they delight
To have felt what i feel,
To have heard what i hear,
To have scars on the skin,
To have faced all your fears.
All things i now regret.
All things that no one ever understood.
Those words that melted my eyes wet,
Those words that always verbally shot me in the head.
One could have let them slide,
But my mind always held onto them tight and gave them a place to reside.
Blades feel like paper knives.
Blood feels like water,
My mind, so dark that it might become a physical slaughter.
All the times that i thought i could be fixed, Were all fake promises and tricks.
So this is what I've become now,
And I own upto it.
Because the one up there only made one of me,
But now, alas, there will be none of me.
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