Yearning

This place, in mind, is

a wild place full of life and laughter. I would see

heaven in it, where a lake spreads

sun-rich waves and tides to shore; I would see

spider webs suspending fallen leaves and holding

them up like mannequin strings. I would see

the sunrise and sunset; and the robin and goose flying

over all of my petty worries. Once, I believed that strife would be

met and could be conquered here. Nature was

not strong enough! Life outside this pretty world, in mind, is

not a place of truth speaking to the powerful and corruptible.

My soul traces boundaries of freedom; my heart yearns

for a simple place to help me be simple, where yellowing leaves may

fall freely without being pulled off. I would not see

Mother Nature ache as She does. Her heart beats

ever faintly… Our touch does this, and what I would see

is almost gone. What I love is dying an undeserved, untimely death.

I can only feign see Nature wander in my mind.

J.H. Lee (original c. 1987; edit 2017)

Wings

I trap my feelings,

hold tightly

in sad embraces.

I fall into cold waters

of impatience, impermanence.

There’s solitude,

a brainwash from substance

and matter.

Tongues of a thousand

leaves shake

in scorn at me.

I wither under hard glass

and fold my emotions

in these twilight hours.

I hide fast wings

under my breast

and can’t release

them to the sky.

Where’s a healthy rope

to draw myself out,

climb over the wall between me

and the light? Time.

Smile for me, life!

Smile and see me grow.

I’m young in your eyes.

Help me unhide my wings,

to raise them up

and let me shine.

As Long as Angels

Sorry if my actions made you feel somehow flawed.

It was no failing of yours.

If you needed more than I wanted to give,

and you had to make do—

If your plans involved me and I didn’t show—

If all you wanted was a little affection and reassurance,

and I was too “preoccupied” to pick up on the cue—

My reasons don’t suffice, I know,

Can’t possibly qualify,

Aren’t even remotely acceptable.

The worst ring out a hurtful cacophony:

“I’m busy right now.”

“It’s a waste of money.”

“I don’t have that kind of time.”

“That’s silly.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

And, of course, later meant never.

I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Say yes.

Can I make it up to you?

If I can’t get through now, it can wait. It can wait a while.

If you’re not ready, tell me when you are.

But please don’t forget—tell me, okay?

And don’t take as long as angels. We’re mere mortals.

Chances are always fleeting, I’ve learned.

And lifetimes don’t come with guarantees,

and regrets last forever.

(Draft #2: June 19, 2016 – Juneteenth)

Puppy-dog Tails and Everything Nice

We were all going to be rich someday, we thought.

And gorgeous women would sniff us out.

Maybe some turned out to be genuine; most were not.

Naturally, they knew we were wannabes

barely past our Mommas’ scolding

with unkempt hair only yesterday and hand-me-downs

just a few seasons ago,

now putting on airs as if those boyish,

snotty-nosed days were somehow long gone,

trying to convince some attractive young ladies

who had only yesterday been out of pigtails themselves,

thinking naively they could bait and control

a gentleman of means.

That knowing look on all our faces—

as if we were calling out “trick or treat,”

not ready for ugly, for sure,

still playing games we thought we knew how to play,

but along the way, had changed.

So, this was growing up.

We didn’t see it coming on so fast;

we didn’t notice the lessons smile and pass.

(Draft #1: Sept. 24, 2011;

Draft #3: July 20, 2016)

You know the type

You know the type

Wears dark eye makeup

That would scare away blackbirds

Prude, bitch—needs a lesson in manners

Punk-ass rebel without a cause

She was stolen by…

Who the fuck knows

She was read to as a child

Came from a good family

Daddy loved her dearly

Then she lost herself

Had no sense of direction

Just wanted to have fun all the time

Snubbed her nose at common values and decency

Garbage and rage spouting out of her speakers

Even the sweet roses were manufactured, made in China

She wouldn’t recognize a true emotion

If it sideswiped her at 80 miles per hour

Guess she had it with authority

Even before authority had much of a role

She was conforming to her brand of nonconformity

So what was there to respect?

What she didn’t realize was she'd have to work with it

As much as it sucked

Doesn’t help to work against it for no good reason

Pitiful attempts seem to feel good only for a time

Too bad we’ve all gotta toe the line

(Draft #2, July 19, 2016)

Exporing Finitude

Lust and nothing more, you’d say—

The way you moved your hips? Tossed your hair just so?

Like waves in woodblock prints we saw at the gallery.

Your touch no longer makes me shudder—(I lie).

You must have known as well—Don’t lie.

You were just as tired of going through the motions,

wondering how much more you could take.

Think how our niceties stole years away from each of us.

Time for another? Or too late?

Should I say it first? Or can I not live without you?

No, it’s you who can’t live without me—(I snicker).

You don’t want me to leave you—(I pray).

You don’t want me leaving you—(not now, please).

So, what was I trying to say…?

Don’t go...

Regifting

Regifting

Seems you’ve forgotten everything you said you’d learned

You were going to change, remember? You said

You’d try to be a better person

Then sure enough—

What bad influences!

Let sway you

Or were you confused because of your footing?

But that’s just growing pains, Dear

You apparently forgot

Others had placed

Great faith in you

Yes, the pressure can be unbearable—suffocating at times

But do you think you’re the only one who’s been through the wringer? And already?

So, did you forget? Was it apathy, instead? Was it deliberate?

Maybe you chose not to look ahead at the grief you could cause

Perhaps others’ disappointments meant little

And your own? Somewhat more? But really less

Maybe you hadn’t heard enough

Just didn’t want to hear anymore

Because you were tired of it

Or weren’t ready yet

You wanted to listen to the Beatles, again

But it was in fact what they’d read—to convince themselves first

Through some ambiguity to, then, make people stop and think that

“the love you make is equal to the love you take”

So, it wasn’t that you didn’t know, completely

You’re smarter than that

You had no way, no good and ready tools to help

You couldn’t merely borrow someone else’s

You needed to learn how to use your own each passing day

And when you scream, “Enough already!!”

People everywhere do

You simply lose sight of what’s outside

And those you hurt so much

And don’t know they hurt, like you hurt—or worse

That’s why you have to be gentle

Because you do care after all

But the secret is, caring when caring seems impossible

And you have to force it out

And it literally makes you sick

Embracing when the embraced resists

Shutting up when the world, it seems, accuses you falsely

Don’t you know?

True courage doesn’t strike back

It takes the blows one after the other

And does more than tolerate pain

It even forgives

You’ve heard that the world is full of malice and wickedness

That heroes are nowhere to be found

That real criminals go unpunished

Not all true—It was selective hearing

It was the news focusing on the sensational

Truth is, heroes are born every day in the everyday

You’re just as capable as anyone else

You just have to empathize and then act

And that boy you say you hate

Even after giving him a halfhearted sorry

You weren’t thinking about his feelings, his pains

The frustrations and hardships he faces

At home with his family in tatters

With his friends who don’t understand what’s really important

Because they too have problems of their own

Yet, you know about pride

Do you know it’s not at all a virtue?

Who asks to be a victim and does nothing?

The desire for retribution is natural, often overwhelming,

As human as laughter and tears

But do you know that justification and justice

Are two very different things?

How terribly, terribly sad to see you go when

You don’t see what you do

Mostly to yourself

Opportunities you squander

Griefs you pile up and onto—so much useless baggage

Hopelessness you turn into cancer

Did no one ever tell you?

Some types of suffering are worse than death

Fear is worse than humiliation

Only the twisted dare say otherwise

It’s the “when,” and anybody can

There’s actual beauty in all the muck

You’ll see it if you try

And if you listen

And you recognize that love is the only

Four-letter word worth shouting, whispering

Then maybe, yes, maybe!

Because life throws boulders and walls in your way to test you

And, oddly enough, tragedy to help you learn all the better

You can see the goodness everywhere

Even in you

Draft #3 (7/17/2016)

Draft #2 (9/24/2011)