Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Sounds that Echo

I have heard the deafening sounds of this raging River.
In her silence, echoes a voice that did make me quiver.

For, the essence of her diatribes at me, did deliver
a message so cruel, so cold, it made my spirit shiver

to think that all I gave, unappreciated was this giver.
From her heart, the depth of her soul, not a sliver

of compassion, of understanding, of acceptance.
She never even gave this silly old fool a chance

at the joys, the pleasures of a slow dance,
nor the intimacies, the passions of romance.
B. J. “A ” 2
May 17th 2017

Tuesday, May 9, 2017


Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!

Could love bring them back from the brink of emotional extinction?
Give them back some of the innocence they, at onetime, knew?

When one thinks of the genocide of our First Nations People,
Think of the genocide of their spirit, those remaining souls.

Could it be possible for love to heal the troubled, the wounded?
All those damaged souls, who’s ghosts haunt their every hour!

When one thinks of the genocide of a child’s psyche, hers or his.
One has to wonder what part love plays in this destructive game

man plays as he molests, sexually abuses, emotionally, mentally,
verbally strips naked, to the very marrow, the essence of a child,

of Nations, of the first Peoples residing upon this little blue planet,
past, present and future. Will love give them a glimpse of a future?

B. J. “A ” 2
May 9th 2017

Friday, May 5, 2017


Moments, they will come, moments, they will go.
With their journey, what will one come to know?

Moments, they come, when they go, it rearranges
one’s perception, one’s perspective it changes.

Will the changes become a world of infinite wisdom,
or a lifetime of limited ?, or limitless ?, freedom.

Some say, the gods, will provide, will guide .
Within each cult, each religion they hide.

Men have taken their philosophies and deride.
Filling men’s minds with fears, false prides.
B. J. “ A ” 2
May 4th2017

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Nowhere Men

Roads have been long ones, for many an old man
who traversed every path, without having a plan.

Always flying, vicariously, by the seat of our pants.
Fighting many a battle, never in states of rants.

We just bears it, and carry on with the good fight
as our days, on gossamer wings, take flight

into accepting that journey, into that good night
as we wonder, ponder all that laid before our sight.

B. J. “A” 2
April 26th 2017

Saturday, April 15, 2017

The Light

When the lights of this reality,
this dimension, this plane, dim.

Will they be bright on the other side
or just ghostly shadows, gray and grim?

Which will light up your journey?
Freedom that comes with letting go

or a prisoner of this plan ?, by hanging on
to what transpired, that grounded your soul.

B. J. “ A ” 2
April 15th 2017

Friday, April 7, 2017

A Journey
Upon many a rough and rocky street
have walked these tired, blistered, old feet.
Down many a dark alley they doth roam
towards that dimension, soon to be home.
So many tell a story of what lies ahead,
fill our brains, where our lives will be lead.
Some believe that dead is dead.
Others believe what books have said.
Will we ???, in the end, come to meet
and that last dance, be a delicious treat ?
B. J. “A ” 2
April 6th 2017

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Pink, is the blessed colour of Love.
Pink, from one’s knee, the heaven above.

OH !, to French kiss those sweet pink lips.
One eyeing those shapely, gorgeous hips.

On that journey one takes to heavenly bliss.
No woman, in the pink, should ever miss.

B. J. “A ” 2
April 2nd 2017