Moods of Change

 

I have sensed, I feel, I have seen, growing impressions

imprinted upon the walls, inside my skull, impressions

 

that hang heavy within my D.N.A, like ghostly shadows

streaking across the empty spaces of my minds windows

 

as my days and nights – closing in on me – seem to be

slipping away, – being dragged ever onward – into a sea

 

of black holes,– with such gravitational force - you’ll find me

being sucked in, along with those leaving the last ray

 

of their life’s light, always fighting all that comes our way,

hanging on tightly to the fragile edges of what remains to day

 

of a reality, that has long since, gone to memory,

gone to dust, blown away by winds telling a story

 

of lives lived, experiences had and of life decaying

as we walk this plane, for a better future, we are praying

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Drift Wood

 There is this used less appendage

that once – maybe – during the course

of a passing month, rises, falls, becomes the useless,

 

meaningless, remnant of the past, a standing protrusion,

that does little more then lay idle,

even at times, when it gets revved up,

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Paths

 

As we come to the end of that long road,

it becomes much harder to carry the load,

find a path that our psyche legs can climb

as they take us from a journey, once sublime

and into the past that has come in rhyme.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

January 28^th 2004