Eyeless Thought


I can’t see it.

Can’t see my future.

I try and nothing.

Cannot go beyond the moment…

It always ends in the blurry Now.
What do I even Want?

I can’t feel it.

Try and nothing.

Cannot go beyond this moment…

Only to Want it to end.

(C) The Voice of the Wounded Soul

Bottom Bed

Here I am.

Feeling I’m at the bottom again.

Can’t get any lower than this bed; where I lay.

Where all the crumbs and dust and debree sink to

Where all the neglect clumps up until I become one of them

And then I find where I belong.

The murky depths where creation calls for me.

Where my voice has been gurgling and drowning in all the things I’ve put between it and me.

And then I fall down only to fall closer to my VOICE.

Calling me home to rest in my bed where I will wake up anew and fresh from all the waters…

Where I escape from… but end up exactly where I run from…

(C) The Voice of the Wounded Soul

Soul Karma

When that NEED of love arises, you know it’s not yours;

When that FEELING of emptiness catches your attention, it’s not yours;

A karmic desire that ties a stone to your feet.

Oh, what we want and think we own;

So many wants we think we desire,

So little to realize in a baggage of stress;

Baggages disguised as Money.

We aim our vitality for money only to get stuffed into the duffel bag; and empties out the soul.

For the Soul Karma is the weight we thought we wanted….

The karmic choice that ties a stone to your feet.

(C) Jennifer Lee, The Voice of the Wounded Soul

Anvil-shaped Heart

Getting up, going against the white waters.

Getting food, going against the waterfall.

Going against life..

But I can’t go with the flow.. I’ll be washed into the homeless lands

My flow is different than yours.

If I let go, I won’t get up to eat.

If I stop trying, I’ll lay in bed all day forgetting I have a stomach to feed.

But if I keep trying, fighting to live, I suffer.

I don’t even fight to live anymore.

That part of me doesn’t exist/ doesn’t care.

I stopped trying.

I float in this world like a …?

Why should I get a job? Couldn’t I just lay here until I parish in my room? I’m not even worried… I can’t even feel it.

How many times I get a job only to be released a year or less later?

I can’t even do my job right. I lose motivation so quickly because everything’s so corrupted; who in their right minds would stay and kiss up?

What’s the point?

I’m not getting anywhere.

Might as well work a part-time job somewhere in some store.

Do I even want to?

Who cares if I was in sales?

How can an unmotivated person be in sales? I can’t anymore.

All those years of sales experience goes down the drain.

What’s my meaning of life? So far trying to survive. How can that be a purpose for me? Who cares..?

Too many questions, never an answer…

You’re not here.

Stop making me go through this shit. It’s making me want to kill myself.

Order’s Riddle

All of these problems and the inner struggle… When will it be over???

One after another…

People forming their own covenants and punishing new members.

Why separate ?

Why demote the ones that you didn’t accept into your society? 

Am I supposed to FALL to advance in this world?

Cause it seems the ones keeping their corruption strong are the ones making money…

Soul GPS

I want to let my desires become expressed..Yet here comes the labeling again.
Between sky and land, there’s a hidden realm .
Accusations and categorizations of what people believe I am, or where I belong..
Yet when they keep refusing to see the 3rd land, they’re stuck in the right and wrong.
There can be no progress in runarounds of polarity until the Perspective is transcended to the ethereal.
I remember now, I am of the Order of the Heart, and whatever lies between Core and Blackhole does not change my inner essence… My inner map.

Dropped Baggage

Rising to the clouds make me forget the purpose of my feet.

Too high and too neglecting of my parts… The origin where humbleness goes extinct.

The good life was never up there , so everyone thought.

Bend down closer to the bottom of death where everything dropped

All the lost talent covered in dust.

We were best friends thrown away from your fear of being hindered.. 

Irony of your judgement to protect..

Your protection that became the wall that sabotaged your own success.

Clean me up.. I’m still part of you.


Visions of my ancestors have tried to pull be back.

They try to talk to me into living their methods.. the ones that are bringing their extinction.

They live close together colored in poverty and sludge.

They have no ears for renovation or evolution.. and no desire to be helped.

Only knowing of parasitic strategies, aggression, and control.

Like a long stick with an over-sized head; they brood over their righteousness..

They spiral slowly into the black hole, arguing.. and arguing…. yet no one is listening.

(c) Jennifer Lee, The Voice Of The Wounded Soul
*You may share as long as all proper credit is given to the creator, thank you.

The Promise From A Metal Mind

From the stolen hopes of captured souls;
From a tongue weaved of dead matter..

The promise of a wealth spoken in golden sound..

From a land created of battery-powered fixtures…

And the metal establishment designed to fit you in their suffering..

Illuminates the free youths hungry for a new vision..
..For a new world.

Long due is the tyrant , lost in the head,
whose extended lifetime is sustained by other people’s life-force .. for a look at its own condition.

Speak and die
Or silence and long-suffering..

Shouldn’t the answer be clear enough?

When so tangled in the machine’s wires,
When will it be enough for us to evolve from a sheep?

We are the ones that actually hold the real flame; the true light.
We are the ones with the power to burn the old.

…When will we let ourselves die?
..die in the old?

The Death that is the end of suffering…


Eyes closing..
faded to dark.. towards my inner sanctuary.

Upon this transient marbled floor; awake and aware, my alternate form.

Pale indigo air breathes into me, my softened gossamer skin..

Gently crescendoing omnivorously.. hearing the hymn.

Facing the ocean in this muted station,
Endless depth before me brushed by the wind’s creation.

Of this permanent dawn, the electrical rhythm advanced far beyond..

the magnetic desires of the ashen world
For critical mass redemption was lost in the hurl.

I was reborn the moment I let myself die.
And the moment I realized there was no need to lie.

Couldn’t hold back the urge to transform
All I thought which had been forlorn.

Under the dome temple of my own eyes,
Swirls of particles like bowties

Merge into me, as the difference between environment and my body quickly become undistinguishable from each other..

(C) Jennifer Lee, The Voice Of The Wounded Soul
*you may share as long as all proper credit is given to the creator.