You sit on one side, I sit on the other
Between us a screen and many miles
We know each others thoughts
Yet have never seen each others smiles
Connected only by our words
Nothing more, nothing less
We share our thoughts and lives
With some, we open our hearts and confess
We will never know each others faces
Unlikely, we will ever meet
We have become invisible friends
Yet never knowing ….if we passed by each other in the street!
justice for someone,
I can't pretend
to be on the mend
of this conscious.
I hurt and I destroy
like a heat seeking
missile of no phony.
The mistakes are not mine,
it was the creation of I.
I woke up these demons
and I can't control them.
Excuses are blasphemy
I made on a whim.
How justice should fall
like a triggering
of games of dominoes.
I am happy to lose.
Least I could do....
I look in a mirror
and see the severing
and for once,
I see her suffering....
I'm running from pain
Standing on the platform waiting for
The train
I have got a ticket to nowhere im just
running from my pain
I have not planned my route and I have
No place to stay.
I'm just catching the fist train that pulls in
And I hope to fade away
They say don't run away away from it
Stay and face your fear
But the only way I can forget my pain is by using Drugs and beer.
I have all what I need packed into a
rucksack
I have told no-one where I am going
As I am not planning on coming back
Stay away from people that's how
It has to be
If no one knows where I am then the pain of the past cannot find me.
Beat beat beats
The Tom Tom of the drums
Tom yom Tom Tom Tom Tom
Sounding beats the drum
9/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
Beat beat beats
The Tom Tom of the drums
Tom yom Tom Tom Tom Tom
Sounding beats the drum
9/17/25
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2025
We are the sum, we are the whole,
A product twined by every soul.
We are the cast, we are the mold,
Defined by lies and truths we’ve told.
We are the plague, we are the cure,
Old minds corrupt and young hearts pure.
We are the wars, we are the peace,
We’re life’s first breath and death’s release.
We're every voice, we're every tongue
We are the rests in anthems sung.
The artist's brush, the sculptor's clay:
We are the canvas on display.
We’re rushing flood, we’re scorching drought,
Saint Peter’s faith, Saint Peter’s doubt.
We are the loaf, we are the crumb,
We are the whole, we are the sum.
One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness still sits upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.
What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.
My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.
I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.
Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.
Those
days are gone
When anything makes
You Angry or sad ,stressed
You just cry
some loves bout lost come go almost all sorts
motives remain true pure until find not
list least cain hope fewer no good reports
still life like love moves backing forth cold hot
back outing again own each such sigh wish
loss lasts long gone fast run use eye oui next
stuff split rough two there one bright here blue dish
but still be same unself self sans pretext
wait patient fourth floor first ready confess
one day then now was dreamed real life unfold
four most seven great death comes not success
some would telling kisses end life untold
try may believe yes if not near reverse
mind conceives lives another universe
There is no us in that—
in that you’re on your own.
Refusal to walk into your trap
where hate breeds like a disease unknown.
Your thoughts collapse, too slack, too thin,
to prove you ever weighed it all.
I cannot see where your mind has been,
prepared to twist and watch it fall.
You chose the crowd instead of thought,
traded your reason for their disguise.
You bury your hate in borrowed lies,
and march in step with a machine—
telling your heart this path is proud,
that every stride is patriotic ground.
But your path veers far from mine.
It runs against all I know.
Darkness shadows every track—
and I no longer want to know you.
What people say, what people do..
Is born from them, not born from you.
Their words reflect their inner skies..
Their thoughts, their fears, their hidden lies.
The world they see is theirs alone..
A mirror carved from flesh and bone.
When you take things to heart, you’ll find..
You let them rule your peace of mind.
But if you choose to stand apart..
You guard your soul, protect your heart.
For power lives in how you see..
Your thoughts, your truth, your dignity.
Let others walk their path, their way..
Their storms are not your skies of grey.
What’s real for them is not for you..
Just be yourself.. sincere and true.
So breathe, step back, let judgments fall..
They never really knew you at all.
The strength is yours, the choice is free..
Don’t take it on.. just let it be.
[Poet’s Note : this is a wry autobiographical memory written in traditional pirouette verse viz. 2 quintains, line 5 & 6 repeat, which is the toe turnaround. I wanted to write a narrative of a weird syncopated vignette, when I was knitting a pink mohair jersey at the time of my imprisonment. I reduced the narrative to a pirouette. When in prison, one of my interrogators was knitting the EXACT jersey in the exact colour & exact wool ! ie. in the final analysis, (in retrospect) everything in human life can be reduced to a pirouette, a turn-around dance ! ]
knitting a pink jersey
mohair with cables fine
to process flying thoughts
political activist
south africa turmoiled
south africa turmoiled
security police
came with casspirs and cuffs
interrogation chamber
police knit jersey pink
~~~~~~~~~
Vanilla victories over inner wars,
Sisyphean speeches to oneself.
Tarnished trophies shoved in drawers,
endless errands placed on the shelf.
Purposeless projects of predication,
purport prisms of pellucidity.
Fathoms of frailty, falter the foundation;
left with inconsolable invisibility.
You don't see me....
you don't see me....
walking through life like a ghost.
You won't see me....
you won't see me....
alone is how I like it most.
Languishing lies, laughingly polluting,
crowing at my own incompetency.
Draining desperation, directly diluting
concentration and all confidency.
You don't see me....
you don't see me....
I'm here but I'm transparent.
You won't see me....
no, you won't see me....
translucently inherent.
BLT
Her body tells a story.
A story all might not know.
Her lips and voice once used as a flirtatious weapon.
Hips once used to seduce.
She used to dress to impress.
Too flirtatious for her own good.
Now her lips are used to kiss boo-boos.
Her voice used to sing lullabies.
Her body used to take care of everyone else first.
Now she dresses without a care.
Somedays she doesn't recognize herself from who she used to be.
we came up same building,
same busted elevator, same rumors in the walls —
three girls stacked on top of each other
like secrets whispered through radiator pipes.
6S - she’s half rican, half black,
but don’t call her half - she all attitude,
dark skin glowing when she laughs too loud,
hips slick like she dancing with nobody’s permission.
5E - 5’1 and built like a threat,
she got a stare that’ll stop you mid-lie.
she hate surprises, so we never sneak up -
she come knocking first if you do her wrong.
then me - 7N, freckles spread like stars on light skin,
red-brown hair tied up, book in my lap,
content to stay inside while they chase block heat.
they pull me out anyway - stoop nights, corner gossip,
big dreams that don’t always fit our pockets.
we so different it make no sense -
three girls shaped like soft rebellion,
like hard lessons, like love
that never needed no permission slip.
puberty tried to twist us up,
boys tried to break us open,
life threw her worst
and we just leaned closer -
me, yaphia, tarita - same building girls,
same busted elevator,
still going up.
Specific Types of Identity Poems
Definition | What is Identity in Poetry?
Poems Related to Identity
status, name, character, identification, existence, integrity, personality, singleness, self, coherence, uniqueness, distinctiveness, oneness, singularity, particularity, circumstances, selfhood, ipseity, selfdom, selfness, unity, equality, similitude, accord, semblance, likeness, uniformity, unanimity, identicalness, equivalence, congruence, agreement, rapport, congruity, oneness, empathy, selfsameness, resemblance, sameness,