Tuesday, March 14, 2017
A Mother ???
Nothing more than a name, a biological mother.
You would not find, you could not be the other.
You have, with hostility, with anger, left this plane.
Seeming to have lived your life hanging on to the pain.
You chose to throw, all those who loved you, away.
using the hostile, angry games you chose to play,
against the only son you acknowledge, you cared for.
The only Grandchild who cared, you kicked out the door.
One is forced to question ???, why all these wasted years
trying to kill the love, loved one’s gave, creating rivers of tears.
Mae, the ghosts you have harbored, give them release.
Mae, this, your last journey, become one of peace
B. J. “ A ” 2
March 14th 2017
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Essondale, the Riverview
Was designed to be a place of mental wellness, a safe haven,
where hospital patients could sit under a tree and watch a raven
at play, never having to think of what the First Nations lost,
nor just how much the toll, to their healing grounds, it cost.
This healing place, once dealt out such horror, untold abuse.
Not the design of the visionaries, not meant to be its use.
The government shut it down for so many a wasted year.
Thousands of patients, put out on the streets, living in fear
as drug pushers fill their veins with poisons of the day.
Our governments indifference, leaves them no place to stay.
Now the government wants to sell off two thirds of the land
leaving one third of what remains in mental health’s hand
Cities, groups, citizens voices, the government does not hear.
As time approaches, were money in their greedy hand is near.
B. J. “ A ” 2
March 1st 2017
Thursday, February 23, 2017
All the random acts one lives.
Are they what the universe gives?
Do they come from one’s heart beat?,
or do they come from the soul’s seat?
Does one’s life’s experiences come from the hands of fate?,
or are they reflections ?, refractions the psyche doth state?
Could karma be the force, the energy that guides one home?,
or is one’s life’s adventures, journeys to be spent alone.
Being the essence of a billion star’s dust,
light beams, sound waves undulating, we must
have, out of star dust come to be
everything we know, everything we see.
Out of the either, a zodiac sign,
is this who we be ?, what we find?,
what we truly are,
fragments of a star
B. J. “A ” 2
February 23rd 2017
Monday, January 16, 2017
September 2nd, 2016
Melanie, found herself !!!
Twenty plus years !!!, in a fog.
Many drugs, drug induced stupors
made up most hours of her life !!!
The loss of an appendage
became a door opening,
letting in the long lost light.
My belief is in these words she writes,
“ new life, new hair, back to being me! ”
This, this parent cannot wait to see.
Will she stand tall and strong ???, be free
of all in her life that brought her to be
a drug addict, making wrong choices !!!
Wrong males to become involved with.
Listening to theirs and the drugs voices.
I cannot wait for these voices to dim !!!
To become inaudible whispers upon the wind,
a wind that will carry these destructive voices,
males, drugs, inner, out into a silent universe.
B. J. “ A ” 2
January 16th 2017
Saturday, December 31, 2016
The New Year
Another troubled year has rang its gong
In all we read, all we saw, something was wrong.
Dirges, sadness, the essence of so many a song,
that we heard from the voices of so many a throng
During the evolution of this coming New Year.
What ?, from these troubled voices will we hear.
Will it be of peace, harmony and good cheer?
Or will it be like so many past?, filled with fear!
Created in the likeness of the gods, is this why some bring?,
such horrors, such atrocities to life, so that man can only sing
of what the lives of so many souls, knowing not compassion,
are forced into living!, living a life of repression and suppression.
B. J. “ A ” 2
December 31st 2016
Thursday, November 10, 2016
Upon this little blue planet
One’s time could be as beautiful as a sunset !
One’s time could be as desolate as a desert !
One’s time could be as colourful as a rainbow !
One’s time could be as bleak as storm clouds !
One’s time could be as warm as spring rain !
One’s time could be as scary as a roller-coaster !
One’s time could be as much fun as a carnival !
One’s time could be as boring as a merry-go-round !
One’s time could be as exciting as white water rafting !
One’s time could be as light as a kite upon the wind !
One’s time could be as petrifying as the unknown !
One’s time could be as comforting as mother’s breast !
One’s time could be as uncertain as the weather !
One’s time could be as positive as the spirit of love !
One’s time could be as putrefying as spoiled food !
One’s time could be as nourishing as great cuisine !
One’s time could be as empty and dark as a great void !
One’s time could be as full as our evolving universe !
One’s time could be as moments we jump into with both feet !
One’s time could be as a whole, by sucking the life out of them !
One’s time could be as much, or as little as the choices we make !
One’s time could be as a great adventure !, if only time, we’d take !
B. J. “A” 2
November 10th 2016
Wednesday, November 2, 2016
The Ghost Dance
The spirit of hopeful salvation.
A shirt of impenetrable protection.
White man’s bullets, deep penetration,
killing hundreds with insatiable aggression.
Wounded Knee, becoming a place for destruction
of spirt, of body, of women and children, compunction
never to become a part of white man’s conscious compassion
as he steals, plunders, rapes, pillages, kills with self-satisfaction
Today, hundreds of years later, First Nations battle white man’s gratification
for the lands left the Land Owners, who were just care givers, never their possession.
B. J. “A” 2
November 2nd 2016