Red Blood would Fight for this Land
All Native Rights would Disband
Pale White Treaties in the Sand
By a Godless Greedy Hand
No Longer will Rights Disband
The Hour of Judgement's at Hand
True Americans will Stand
Sentence the Godless to Sand
A soul's etched cartography
compasses spins a needle frantic
above a parchment of skin.
A map…
Each line a river I've drowned in,
blood I waded and divide
each faded scar
a language scarlet, unfound!
My soul no longer shapes
foreign land of waste annihilates
behind my eyes...!
I see nothing
deserts exhale silent sacred sands…
Hearts pulse with unheard drums
an archway to oblivion
weathered eons I haven't lived.
I drift towards a courtyard,
run riot in green eternally…
Where faces blur like old cars
my mind whispers, doom from afar
on winds that don't remember me.
Trace the contours of my lost continents
in this cartography of bone and shadow.
Forgotten by the wraiths of the moon…
that echo within my chambered heart.
A tarnished key lies heavy in my mind,
unlocking doors behind infinite walls… sublime!
The map unrolls, a skin of dust
where landmarks shift like whispers lost to a gust.
I trace a fracture, jagged, unfamiliar...
place where my phantom feet wandered, chillier
than memory allows. A tongue they spoke is lost...
A melody unheard of, at dearly paid cost
within the crumbling walls of an infernal keep...
A cracked, blackened mirror shows a face
though the eyes hold echoes of a storm!
The history etched strangely warm
borrowed grief, a second skin I wear
conceals scars, wounds I cannot bear.
A raven calls from a bleached white tree
a language older than time, the bones of me.
Its shadow stretches, long n out of place
across a sun-blackened, desolate place.
In this dreamscape, my essence fled.
A testament of words better unsaid, unread!
Foreign soil clings, stubborn, dark embrace
reflecting back lost a vacant face.
In stillness, a faint whisper sighs
you search mirrored eyes
meaning n memories...
A land you left behind
names you can't recall or hide...
A journey destined to fall...further inward
strangest sights reside as I…
Dissolve upon the burning tide.
If desert-lands of remorse can be crossed ahead, enough,
Cage deemed as open sky, if my wings can be spread, enough.
Yon, when the winking sky is found willing to welcome me,
If just half-closed window can be all-ajar made, enough.
To set foot-tracks on hills, for long remaining a pipe dream,
If just its tracks drawn on a map can I well tread, enough.
Rather than getting clogged on polluted past memories,
If with the breath of caprice my lungs can be fed, enough.
Not so fair to foul destiny’s fame, though found notorious,
If summons be sent to the ill choices I made, enough.
Who’s appellant and advocate? Who’s witness and the judge?
When curtains raised, if I can prove my acting grade, enough.
Impressing sky if I can just get my wings spread, enough,
Leaving hind all regrets if I can walk ahead, enough.
________________________________________
Ghazal |14.03.2025 |
Note: Inspired, a Gujarati poem by Dr Neelee Desai, no translation:
Gather children
family and friends
this is not What It Seems
~
know how it is
to be social part such
as the Gathering
group together by genetic code
Side hustle mighty and bold
~
Environmental left alone
hope and cast over
the Horizon rest laying down
on principal s standing on the Promises
Seed of Abraham
~
We foremost perfected caretaker
... of The Promise Land
What's yours, what's
mine we're caretakers of the Promise Land
Amen
4/10/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2024
A myriad of words could be written today
Ten thousand more tomorrow and onwards
I will never cease the art of writing
Cannot bear the notion of holding my tongue about:
The liminal spaces who cannot speak
The ancient lands longing to be felt and seen
Our earth mother who cares so much for all
Our innate everlasting worth that can at times feel depleted or small
I channel endless words and my senses express
I welcome the all encompassing
I honor the ebbs and flows
The metaphorical deaths that transform and morph
I witness my consciousness ponder
And hope to surround others in auric fields of love and light
In garish lands we pray our jingles
Full of pump and dump lyrics
And mistletoe romance.
And greet the new night
With freedom damn freedom
Kissing our showgirls... away from our wives.
Glass shattered honesty pickled with petrol
And dangling sympathy upended in misery
The tinsel and bribery packed away and forgotten.
A nod to the lenten ones, with sacrifice nibbling
At the ego-laced brains caught perpetually dealing.
This night, this tomorrow, this light, now extinguished.
I live among my very kind, equal in blood, but with a different mind. I always feel, I am alone, a tiny pebble in a pile of stone. Silent complaints and barren demands, I am a stranger in foreign lands.
Sleepless nights, wandering thoughts, entwined emotions of dreams I sought. Regions of sorrow and moments of pain, dark distant murmurs that drive me insane. Tearful eyes, and signs of fear, but in my nadir I must persevere.
On cold winter nights and in long summer days, I look for hope, in a praiseful phrase. Or a word of respect, once in a while, a cheerful laugh, or a comforting smile. A pat on the back, or a shake of the hand, signs of contentment that make me stand.
With a longing heart, I opened my eyes, and looked above, at the laden skies. I saw glimpses of memories, in a distant village, fading whispers and a shattered image. As clouds of emotions roamed high above, with the gusting wind I send home my love.
Saleh Ben Saleh
storm rain dripping
from the rooftop of
the old red barn
yet
lost in the
wilderness of the
Pierre Lands
lala land’s not Word
Job had his share of problems
emotions full blast
lost his kids, cattle, health…hence
his wife and friends made things worse
gratefulness is found in the midst of gorillas - hammering the chest
Abundant rain with nurturing love stores greenery and good life.
breeze whistles its praise
as foliage sway in grace…
stalks flail golden grains
Farmers watch their fields with smiles
Toil their land… rest once in awhile
Birds sing as they guard their nests
Trees spread arms for a welcoming goo harvest.
Barn owl lands on the soft grass
With a giant whump
Scaring away mice and chipmunks
They scatter in many directions
A garter snake was not as lucky
He gets carried off in giant talons
Lunch for owlets
Far away in the misty lands,
There lived a man admired.
He got away from city life,
It was his soul desire.
He built his hut on grassy land,
Near the river bed.
And only hunted what he can,
And never over fed.
He heated his house with burning wood,
That made the winter good.
No violence or killings too,
In his neighborhood.
The freshness of the morning spring,
With trees and daffodils;
Blue white skies amongst those things,
Was like those fairy tales.
Far away in the misty lands,
Is a life that some desire.
To get away from city life,
Amongst it’s stressful fires.
Wispy butterfly landed on the softest soul she could find.
Whether it be animal or mineral, she cared not.
The young fawn felt honored that he had earned her trust.
Allowing her to stay as long as she liked.
I have heard of a Stanford Warren,
Who chose to live in lands barren,
Self submitting to predicament;
It was simply not God’s Commandment.
Warren tags it Rich Self-Denial
And swears “Decision is final!”
By full choice “Rock of Gibraltar’
“You can’t me change from your altar!”
Was he after A Transformation:
Out testing some dropped information?
Former neighbor: multi-millionaire
Former best friend stinking billionaire
He’d tried a fact-finding questionnaire
The First had slept in a dust bin,
The Second long punished his skin…
And to Fifty-Year-Old Warren
His surest bet: lands badly barren!
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