Come
Ye all
I must feed
My gall with bile
As a narcissist
Enthroned as populist
To efface you in your face
Constantly relentlessly there
Everywhere and wherever you look
With pills to relieve your suffering ills
With no jobs or money to pay the bills
With calls that you will be better soon
Despite inflation price rises
Despite the job cut losses
Despite hurting our friends
Which you label worse
Than enemies
You befriend
For deals
Done
Ruffling the feathers
Of your expectations.
Rilke to the left.
The portrait of Alf
The back of my left ear.
What unconscionable theives,
These Time Czars,
Where we live with the scars,
As joy bounces on the crevices.
I see you in the dark in some cave.
Let me be your bombastic populist.
The Strong Arm of the Soul.
Play in the light of least resistance.
My garden grows in the garden of your heart.
My every breathe is your eternal existence.
Bite the doughnut.
Press for hugs.
If you can't beat him, indict him
If he goes up in the polls, convict him
If he is more popular than ever, imprison him
If he will win by a giant landslide, murder him
If he lives on through his populist movement, smear him
If his movement takes over the world, you always loved him.
He was born with a gold mine in his head
He was raised seeking the lead
He grew up wielding the arrow
Chasing promises of tomorrow
He was praised for his liberal views
And his courage made the news
In his crave to mum the voice of his critics
He rose to cradle of politics
He braved the left wing of persecution
To rouse the cause of his liberation
His finger-run sign became a beat
That made his name a hit
Some say he's a fascist
Some say he's a populist
But his bid that truth would set his people free
Helped him capture the presidency
He pledged to curb corruption
And did it with utmost dedication
His great deeds made him a winner
And his namesakes raised his banner
But like other great figures
There were dire outcomes for his gestures
The winner president found himself in a dungeon
Being pitted to a hungry lion
As thirty-eighth Brazilian president Messias served,
As a far-sighted and populist his name he preserved;
A vocal opponent of same-sex marriage, abortion,
He stood for family worth and affirmative action...!
Don't the passerines for protection of chicks their lives spend?
Isn't shielding people's rights the task of a president?
Crises of the economy nationwide he confronted,
Unity in diversity of the globe he wanted...!
"The truth will set you free" - was his own personal motto,
Betwixt the voice of liberty, has been a vibrato;
Assaulted, stabbed, and attempted to be killed he ever stood firm,
He fulfilled his love for his citizens throughout his term...!
Could the wisdom of the world fathom, yet, his true being?
Have his works been done, as showpieces just for their seeing?
His life is for his living, and not for others to judge,
Neither their praises he must fudge; nor their hate he must grudge...!!!
16 May 2023
I hear he's a winner Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joe Maverick
What if he passes away at the age of forty?
The servant who was the backbone of society
Female self-esteem protector
He interacted with the people and listened to their joys and sorrows.
The populist leader
The societal servant
The owner of life for the sake of the lives of the poor
That face that was not buried until the very last day
A worshipper who is fueled by devotion
The people's prayer
Always on the path of truth
The best social worker the society has ever seen
YOU HATE THE CANDIDATE!
You hate the candidate!
He is a populist demagogue –
dangerous, deranged and despicable!
You did it to yourselves! You developed
a “southern strategy”, reduced your once-proud
neighbors from citizens with a mission to whiny
tapped-out taxpayers, impatient and paranoid,
intransigent and scared! Sure of moral high ground,
you launched your religion into your neighbors’
bedrooms, their genetic histories, their public school
curriculums; made compromise a sin, shut down our
government only to re-open it with calls for a theocratic
state, dragging your god through the fear-funded
excrement of political campaigns, bad radio talk,
planned parenthood vigils, your vaunted Christianity
a department of corrections on a national scale
So, you hate the candidate! A man of anger and intolerance!
But you did it to yourselves, and like the petulant child
whose unforgivable negligence let the fire get out
of hand, you did it to the rest of us too!
Pointedly poignant points portend pointillism.
Pontiffs pontificate pointless pointers ponderously.
Pompous poems populate Pompei pottery potently.
Porous *********** portrays Portuguese porta potties.
Poppies pop Popeye’s popular popcorn.
Populist populism pots ponies properly.
Blithering blather blots bloody bleeping blips.
Bloomberg blogs bleach bleating bloated blinks.
Bluebloods bloom black blackberry bloopers.
Bluetooth blizzards blame blurry blackboards.
Blithe blighted bladders blatantly block blades.
Blazing blasts bleed blooming blenders.
Fumbling fumes funerals fast.
Feuding fluid furniture flutters flaps.
Fighting flatulent flamingos flounder.
Floating flotillas flee flying flops.
Families foment future futile forms.
Freaky frozen French fries frighten frogs.
Outside perimeters
OUT SIDE THE BOX
outside the brutal bag box
I'm bored broken box
I'm alone surrounded
by the populist
OUT SIDE THE BOX
outside the brilliant litter box
outside the bright brown box
outside bloody blue box
OUT SIDE THE BOX
outside the bumpy Black Box
beautiful busy and box
outside the box
OUTSIDE THE BOX
4/14/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Written for project North Omaha Writers Group
(NOW)assignment March 10th 2020 Poetry assignment "Outside the Box"
Admiration turns to lust
A promise kit spoken out amongst
Sowing seeds a populist
No longer any reason to continue Trust
Slow down, settle down remember this
It's you who are responsible he must ...
be a better Witness
Do not enable
Fonicator
4/3/20
James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Blessed day
New Year
a year in which we haven't seen
And what Justice
Why must us be
Redeemed
Why the populist screams
Free me freedoms from my inadequacies
Why shall I be
Old imprisoned in these bones
While my spirit my mind and soul wanders
Wonders
Been given daily bread
Yet I haven't digested it yet
As I'm laid out of Temptation yet I run back in
Why shall I be old in prison in my bones while my spirit and mind and soul wonders wanders
I may not be the bless but I' blessed
Yes, and I still haven't digested it yet
For my new wonder wanders
1/1/2020
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
Melted plastic only 16 years
It was on concrete round under the sun
While I was shedding tears
What's the use Environmental substance abuse
Midnight see Amenia Marine
Midnight saxophone solo
Sea anemone amethyst
What's the use, Environmental substance abuse
Patina mist breezy
Royal jacaranda ultraviolet sneezes
Achoo bless you
Sinful articles man caretaker of Earth
Midnight seems so solar bright
Midnight saxophone solo
Drum roll Marco Polo
Down rainbows ends
BlackBerry puddle Timberwolves
Spirit Rock jacaranda
Temporal barracuda
7 * 70 16 years
Plastic bags and bottles
Never decomposed lasting for eternity
Pre-kindergarteners elderly grandmothers the populist and politicians say
What's the use environmental substance abuse
12/18/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr
It seems that in any democracy
there’s always a pinch of hypocrisy.
Imperfect of course,
but one can do worse —
in a populist state of "mobocrasy."
11/20/19
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr
Stained yellow teeth, decades of mistreatments;
Tattered worn hair, mustered stare...
Worn torn shoes just vagabond, dementia rusted mind;
Seems he's been here before, open spaces relics;
My yard is filled with junk; What's up--
Rusted rattled metal, such a waste dried up sores, rusted;
Out of date ragged clothes, ON THE FENCE
Decades of mistreatments, homeless surrounded by substance;
His environment anywhere, his life going nowhere;
If he dies right now will his organs be parted out;
Guts and organs sold he mutters and says I am a junk yard;
My mind scrap collected recycled discarded;
I'm dream his dreams of preoccupation;
Trapped in thoughts odiousness wrecked spirit;
The populist calls the me lay;
Homeless thoughts on his private injustice;
My the junk, my mind is trash Died
So people cried another thrown away soul;
Deposited...
thrown away as an ...Junkyard
10/5/19
For My Favorite Junkyard
Sponsored by: craig cornish
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