Nov 13, 2022Liked by augmented man

Hi Aug thanks for liking my poem happy to be part of the upcoming publication.

It’s Meant to be a Heartache

I miss you

but I will never tell you

because there’s no us

Your smile on my mind

I play it in rewind

The things I wish could be

Would you hear my plea?

Your voice in my sleep

takes me to the deep

The things I’ll do to you

Something I can’t pursue

I like you

but I can never tell you

or perhaps I just did

Expand full comment

I miss her touch her face that glow’s like a dream it was real

Her silky blonde hair that blows through the air like an ocean breeze on the beach

I’ve been in dark places for many a years and pulled into places where I’d rather not have been

I dream of the day I can hug my family and friends

I love you son

I miss the beach walking bare feet and the waves continue to cool my heart

Walk with me please

Expand full comment
Nov 13, 2022Liked by augmented man


I met the greatest poet in the world -

Who masquerades behind his persona

A man within a man, who lifts words -

As a bodybuilder strains to raise

The last new ounce. He had no smile.

The last time we met it was explosive -

Two smoking guns, wavering faint light

Signals across a horizon. Shells fell.

At times: words can kill you. Heaviness.

Stones on the graves left by relationships.

2020 rosalind.j.lee

Expand full comment

Writing Myself Back Alive

I look to the cracks of a crescent moon

for reassurance, for an unadulterated

comfort that will break the plate of

guilt that has formed itself around my

soul. I can fix the gaudy chips with a

stern ire and rocket-fuelled fire that

propels me into the molten core of

truth. I will not waver for droogs

or the ruth…less. I will stand strong

in the face of those who do me wrong.

Writing myself back alive is my kind

of revenge—a dish best served wordy.

I am a firecracker. I am a hurricane

with an all-seeing eye cloaked in a

bog of smoke. Feel my wrath like an

ulcer taking refuge in your throat.

You will not shoot me down. You

will not give me a crown and expect

me not to wear it. I will write myself back

alive, and your knife will take a nosedive.

Expand full comment