Differences – you say !

I – me Lass – brave Helios, rides his golden chariot,

drawn by fiery Steeds, into the vastness of this universe.

These mighty Titans, dispatched – brilliant, glowing -

 ruled, controlled the blueness of this planet, the heavens.

Our bright Sun, sprinkles life giving particles, waves,

out in all directions – into the endless firmament.

Then there is the cold souled, silver shield that traverses

that moth eaten, dark cloth, that hangs like lead

in that dead laden space, blackness the place

you choose to ride – your life to hide.

Oh !, if only we would climb down from the edge of fences.

Oh !, if only we would leave behind, walk away from defenses.

Oh !, for us to, but if we only could, reach our dreams

Oh !, for us to, not have all those things, it seems,

 that get in the way – life’s experiences, what it means,

from time to time, - that should be left behind – long ago,

that hang on so tightly, from fears that you won’t let go.

Oh !, for us to, to find the door, to see, understand, to know.

Oh !, for us to, for us to realize, that after the end, the winds will blow

 it all away, into waves of rainbow colours that will show

it all to have been a necessary, but unnecessary way to go.

No matter what is said and done, it all is the universes flow.

A straight line, towards your destination, is the obvious choice.

Unfortunately, a jumble of thoughts, experiences, become the voice.

A trip – full of baggage – and around the world we go.

A carrousel ride, on each and every horse, the story doth show

A very dizzying ride it is, the point, to get to know

is a journey, of many directions, on winds that blow  

Live and let live the life one so chooses.

Seldom is it necessary if one wins or one loses,

not much concerned for – or where or why.

For in the end, it is all in the beholders eye.

Much too much involved !, much to obsessive,

with others and the lives they made a mess – ive.

I can only wonder ?, make an educated guess, live

with my analysis and know, from the heart you give.

I cannot carry the weight of your life into today,

for all that was, all that is, need not words to say,

for nothing will change, not before, nor after, it’s your way,

no matter what one chooses, or not, to express, it’s the game you play.

All has come into, become a part of, is constantly shared

with, and no matter how it affects, it’s no longer cared

for, for it all distracts, disrupts, disturbs the air

that we are inhabiting - and not – it is unfair

I know that it is part and parcel of the lady fair.

If only to the point, but you never seem to get there.

Hours and hours go by, I cannot help but cry

as I listen and listen, understand, I do try.

Actions, activities, motion, play are the order of the day,

board games to win, games to lose, but they cannot be had,

for it is not in the cards – alone – one can have a say,

only but for two, does it come though, to share and that’s not bad.

Vocalizing, expressing, gossiping, complaining are your way.

Hours to exercise the body, the soul, the mind, it is so sad,

for it leaves so little to share, so little time for making hay.

Not such a bad way to connect, what a great fad !

Just some of the differences that have come to be

what is between you and me, yet there is much more to see

that could come into you and me as we ride this rough sea

of life, that at times you find joy in this old boy, so free.

Happy am I when you come near, when you are here.

A little hollow, a little empty, in the end, harbour fear

that the sunshine will fade, be covered, will disappear.

Which way ?, - our ships passing in the night - will we steer.

A Mole

 Will the Mole, leave her underground, black hole ?,

to – with eagles fly – reach out and touch the sky ?

will this night hawk, this owl, venture into day light,

play in sight of shadows, created by a sun so bright

and warm, where day creatures know the storm

that rages throughout and within, who shout

with voices searing, with knowledge clearing,

with understanding of choices made by rending,

choices made for, and by them, behind a closed door.

Living a life that has been over flowing with strife.

There is much to know, about what was laid upon her soul.

Some can, some cannot let go, why ?, I do not know.

Can the bound, the nocturnal, the frightened ?,

find freedom, find in the diurnal, find in fearlessness,

a soul mate to travel with, upon day light roads, opened.

A soul mate to take into the darkness, the coldness.

Can they be blended, one into the other, if the story be told.

Differences – are they few or are there so many ?

Are we able to live with them ?, or without any ?

There we are – two old birds on the wing,

with different voices, different songs to sing

of any or all, to the table, want to bring.

Shed light, and let show, what is our thing

which at times has put us into the ring.

Sparing in defense of our particular notions,

beliefs, as we express – in animated motions,

a light, who we truly are in the heat of the moment.

Yet the hurt, the pain created by wards, was not meant.

Yet they have lent a truth, some truth was sent

out from the heart, the soul, life ancient

that dictates - in the moment – what’s fates sentiment.

 PS

 And what are the differences you see ?

What are they ?, what is between you and me ?

B. J. “A ” 2

March 15^th   2003

Where to go ?

In these days, of blue eyes,

in these days, of black skies,

in these days, when the heart cries,

in these days, when time just flies.

What is there for a mans soul ?

What is there for him to know ?

Where is there for him to go ?

Where life takes him, what will it show ?

The play !!!, experiences will stow

in memories hoard, buried, denied, put away,

only to haunt, to destroy, another day.

Relief from – for those who – I will pray

B. J. “A ” 2

March 14^th  / 15^th   2003

Disillusioned / Disappointed

In your desperate attempt to find

a companion, a man who is of the right kind.

Possessed with qualities, one of a bright mind

who can give, who can set your free, with you he will live.

 In me, you seem to see the kind of man you want to be

with - in hours to live, in hours to kill, in hours to see

life as it is, as it should be, as you want it to be - free

from all the experiences taking us past the ability to give .

It is not for us, but to understand – not assign blame

for all that we are – have become in our world of shame

for all that we do to ourselves, to others in the name

of survival, self-preservation, in the throes of life’s game.

So my dear – in this life – we live the best we can give.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

March 14^th 2003

A toast to a Ghost

 On this 13^th day, of the 3rd month in the year of 2003.

At a time when 30 – 30 years ago, during the 3^rd

month, on the 13^th day in the year of our ghost 1973

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Gone, the dream, the body is cold.

Far away from now, the river is old.

The soul alive, free finally, the spirit bold

– home – free, if the truth, the story be told.

No longer tied, bound to this earth, has rolled

onto another place, another space, a different plain.

No longer to know, to drown, in all the hearts rain

as freedom dries up, and the souls flight it will gain

no longer chained, no longer wrapped up by the pain.

The day has come, my long lost friend, as I did pray,

for you to let go, give it up, take wing and fly away.

This – this day –I feel to be a new start for you, Rae.

It has come to pass - I do believe – you have left the fray

to journey beyond, and forever, into a brand new day

Gone, now you are, in my heart you will always stay.

A toast to this man, the ghost I did know,

who, now is gone, to the beyond, a freed soul.

You have let go, and it is time for me to let go

and so dear friend, my thoughts of you,

well, will be of that other, precious time.

There is nothing more I care to do,

but remember, remember times sublime

were we played, talked, walked the same line.

A toast to the ghost, my friend, of this rhyme.

Here’s to you !, and the joys with your new crew

that will help you to get passed, get through

all it was that you once hung onto, once knew

about those people – the now me, the then you.

Time quickly gets by us, and for some, friends are few.

Anyway, dear friend Rae, time for us to stare anew,

let the past boil away, in its black pot of stew,

vaporizing, crystalizing, becoming the mist, nourishing

Mother Earth with clean, clear drops of dew,  

creating an environment where all is flourishing.

B. J. “A” 2

3^rd Month 13^th Day 2003

The Date ,before that fateful day

- 3^rd Month, 13^th Day ,1973 –

so long ago, 30 years .

 Time, in its passing, has eroded life into grains of sand.

From its former, mountainous self, soon upon this land,

in a short while, those grains will become dust in the hand.

To be scattered to the four corners of this earth, then beyond,

to become cosmic particles, specks of light waves, here, there, gone.

A journey to penetrate, be absorbed, become an energy force that will

become the motion that moves life onward, into another journey, to fill,

from then to when, motivated by the past, long lost to one named Bill,

conscious of, yet seldom glimpsed in reflections of the present

or to become a positive, motivating force, into the future sent.

Yet, every day, in every way the forces do play – right or wrong,

destructive or creative good or bad, mistakes and all the song

that influences the moments, the motions, the movements  that dictate

the minutes in which we pass on, the past into the future and create.

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As these words have taken a life into fight, to flow,

from whence they came I cannot say, I do not know,

for I am not, but a shell, nothing more than a nowhere man,

who does believe, that he has done the best that he can,

yet, in the scheme of things, goes nowhere, has so little to show

for a life time of living on the grounds of his nowhere land,

yet he sees, but still judges life by another’s hand,

and upon this earth has nowhere to take a stand

among this world of the lost and the alone man.

Who the heck am I ?, to think that I might go.

Who the heck am I, I wonder ?, what do I know ?,

about life being lightning and thunder, and so ???

---------------------------------------------------------------

 Tomorrow is the thirteenth – thirty years

have slipped on by and the world is full of tears

for what the river holds, is it filled with the fears

of the unknown ?, is that what kept you hanging on ?,

to this plain, a place, a space that should long be gone

from this world we knew, you no longer know, can’t get beyond,

or is it just me ?, is it just feelings ?, just thought ?,

of a long lost friend I have no longer got,

whom, I hope, has taken that step, and peace sought.

 B. J. “A” 2

3^rd Month 12^th Day 2003