Difference

These voices speak beliefs – “ their – can be no compromise ! ”.

We do not fill this plane, the air or flash across the skies

for what you are, you are and I will remain I.

These differences, you see, will remain with us until we die,

and so you see nothing changing within you and me, and why ?,

I wonder ?,do you see life so static – won’t finger the pie

and taste it’s essence, even if what you see, seems motionless,

immovable, carved in granite, stuck in earth, laid to rest.

 

 B. J. “A ” 2

October 25^th 2002

My universe revolves

Relaxation – meditation - Reflection

I have thought- in the throes of perception,

as I lay in the soothing arms of meditation –

travelling through spaces of, and in reflection

 as I drift in and out, submerged in the waters of relaxation,

Mother Natures, life giving, crystal clear ooze of creation.

 Maybe it is not, as I have – in my mind’s eye – seen.

Maybe it is not, as I have - in my heart – believed I have been.

For this day has brought to me, another view, a new scene.

One in which the above is more like a liquid tomb

where I lay myself – for hours – in the gloom

of my very dark, steaming room.

In this watery grave – a black hole cave -,

Where, in the darkness, I try and stave

off all that hunts, all that light, made

of the experiences - staid ?, -

flashing through my mind

before I silently slip into the blackness and find

that I have been locked into a past that

drowns the present – kills the future, in fact !

As the porcelain walls, embryonic fluid, grave become

the moist pages of this man’s history, the sum

of his biographical, autobiographical tale, none

will dry, as their essence continues, and drips

these experiences from my past, into the cup one sips

from – in the present – that stagnates the lips,

 lips that speak not of colouring the water one spits

out to nourish life, nourish the future where lies 

hope and dreams – that within me just dies

an inglorious, agonizing, frivolous death,

taking in one more, hopeful breath

before the end, before them and I are laid to rest

 never knowing, if past or failed life’s test.

Is this a prelude to killing hopes and dreams ?.

of all I have done, of all I do, what never comes it seems.

Insight

 With eyes, one sees, what it is that one perceives,

yet, does one truly perceive ?, that which he thinks he sees

as being a perception seen through another’s eyes,

and that it all might be nothing more than lies

perpetrated upon man to keep all in disguise,

– our heritage, life upon this planet – brought from the skies

 

Hopi, First Nations, just one of many peoples, spoke of the Sky People ?

 

Hiding

I see your constant, verbal rambling

as a means to avoid, a means of scrambling.

I believe them to be nothing more

than a skilled masonry protector

who is constantly building walls,

brick after brick, protecting yourself from any falls.

Falls from the past that are enfolded by the present.

You are the spade that digs, – that is meant

to ever widen, ever deepen that moat

that will keep out all that did smote -

to keep out the future, this chasm you built

to keep you safe, keep out possibilities, life to stilt.

B. J. “A ” 2

 October 27^th 2002