Monday, April 9, 2018


His days are numbered

A journey, fate is determined to take my Dad.
Old age, ( 94 ), stage four cancer makes me sad.

This came across the wires on Friday’s phone call.
My thoughts, bring to this reality, this may be all.

His last words, three thousand miles away, I hear.
They now become the grit for my greatest fear.

His face, his humour, his spirit will not be around
for my grandsons wedding, when I am in town.

I pray that the coming of this July,
tears do not cloud, make for a blue sky.

Shroud the essence behind my third eye,
filling my hours with tears, as I cry,

for the loss of my Father,
rising to meet his Mother.

B. J. “A ”2
April 9th, 2018

Sunday, February 25, 2018


Shadows

As one sits, contemplates all of life’s shadows.
All their myriad shades of life lived on the edges.

A long and winding road, sometimes treacherous
it has been, as one comes to an end, envisioning.

Does one see their shadows in shades of gray
buried within the corridors of their subconscious.

Do their shadows dissipate with the light of day.
or live on in the darkness of their troubled nights.

Freedom from ones shadows come on the wings of insight
Denial, repression, anger, blame clip the wings, no flight

from the weight, the baggage one carries on their back.
Because of, friends, acquaintances, partners spirits crack,

souls split, the universe shifts and you are hung on a rack.
A funeral pyre will be your fate, ashes placed in a stack

until the winds of time blow them away, your voice silent
for evermore as the daemons nevermore dictate your journey.

B. J. “ A ” 2
February 25th 2018

Monday, January 29, 2018


Being a parent

You tried to be the best parent you were able.
Given the tools that life’s experience thought.

You attempted, on many occasion, to raise the bar.
Eighteen years, nine as two parents, ten as a Mr. Mom.

Then !!!, to endure the loss, the empty nest syndrome.
Both Daughters spread their wings, left the family home.

Nagging thoughts prevailed, three abortions, two Daughters
after eight years of extremely active, unprotected passion.

A movie, Chaos Theory, and the actions of two Daughters,
after some twenty and twelve years, opened the flood gates

to all these years of doubts, as infidelity was the modus operandi
on the roads, looking for love, beyond, in all the wrong places.

One has to question the actions of your two Daughters.
Is there an awareness of my doubts ??? or do they know ???

For all their years, they are !!!, even if they are not ???
The love, the journeys, the adventures, the good, the bad,

all have created the moments, the memories, the stories
of a Mr. Mom’s efforts to lift them above all that I and we,

their mother and me implanted in their mind, heart and soul.
Has this become answers to the questions ??? I do not know.

I only know, feel  their silence, them I never see
As their Mr. Mom, is this what is left for me ???

B. J. “ A ” 2
January 29th 2018

Saturday, January 20, 2018


                Life ???
 
A Baby cries, this life, takes its first breath.
From that moment, a journey towards death.
 
 Death, but an illusion, it’s all about change.
Energy transforming, molecules to rearrange.
 
 Birth, the death of an innate, untainted knowledge.
A knowledge lost with schooling, on its way to collage.
 
 Except, that is, for the very pure of soul, so very few,
who have retained, what they brought, what they knew.
 
From a dimension beyond our comprehension, from a far.
From a dimension giving life from the essence of some star.
 
All that wisdom lost to our subconscious, who we truly are.
All vanished on the funeral pyre of consciousness, not but char
 
to remind us of what we once were, as we journey through this life.
Hoping, praying that fate, karma or life guides us away from what’s rife.
B. J. “A ” 2
January 20th 2018

Friday, January 12, 2018


Number One, out of Three

Sadly, badly is the way I handled it.
Things were falling apart, nothing fit.

Leaving it all behind, I hit the road.
Neglecting responsibility and the load.

A hundred thousand miles upon wings,
Soaring all alone, a Thunderbird sings.

Slicing the air, a sphere hangs, a beautiful smile
looking at me, all the while leaving mile after mile

behind, ever distancing the shattered, broken heart.
No plan, this man raced towards the future, a new start.

All the while, with heaver heart, not seeing what is ahead,
((not looking back at the heartache I caused )) instead,

just kept on flying, speeding across this vase land
with nothing but moments, so many memories in hand.

Number One, out of Three, cares, in spite, is there for me.
Hind sight, what a nemesis to carry, then, a time to see

all the  fragments, the wreckage of a life you left behind.
Among the debris rose a flower so rear, so hard to find.

How does one reconcile ?, face that which goes around,
comes around as he traverses the last mile, above ground.

How does one find answers, find a melodic, cohesive sound
that brings Two out of Three, in line with The One, who found

forgiveness was the door through which, would guide her above
all the pain, uncertainty, anger and open up her heart to love.
B. J. “ A ” 2
January 12th, 2018


Wednesday, January 10, 2018


Two out of  Three

They have slipped silently from my sight!
What could be their reason for taking flight?
What is their reason for closing the door?
Could this mean ?, seeing them never more?

Special occasions have come, they have slipped by.
Not even a ghostly image, a shadow, caught my eye.
Thoughts of, dejected, only make me want to sigh.
Filling my heart with tears, while all I can do is cry!

Has my Youngest OD ?, has she slipped silently away?
Has my Middle concluded ?, I offended and must pay!,
for some slight imagined or real, that I have committed,
for which no words, no understanding can be submitted.

For my Middle’s deafening silence is what she has remitted.
Detachment, avoidance, muteness are all that I am permitted.
All this is what has been, is all this what is to be ?, left for me
to constantly contemplate ?, to be my fate ?, all I am left to see ?

All that remains of my Two out of Three, but memories.
Letters, cards emails, thousands of photos that tell stories
of all our adventures, of our journeys through time and space.
From all the evidence before me, it would appear I have no place

in the lives of my Two out of Three. This thought breaks my heart,
for time passes quickly and with it so many moments never to become
what makes up family, the ties that bind, any possibility for a new start
to overcome what once made up a fractured whole, to be that total sum.

B. J. “A” 2
January 10th, 2018