Wednesday, January 29, 2014


A Vision
 
A beautiful Lady, strolls along a beach, all alone.
Within her vivid imagination, I find what is in store.
A beautiful image emerges, it’s essence in a stone
lying upon the sandy edge of the oceans shore.
 
Mother hoods gorgeous door, seeing heaven, doth moan
under waves lapping, caressing hands touching ever more,
all that woman means to this expanding universe.
Ecstasy felt, passion expressed in every poetic verse
 
as waves mount, a crescendo reaching its peak,
then those hands, that brought ecstasy, seek
out the meaning of true and passionate love
from universal consciousness - the heavens above
 
From the above, might we understand woman ?
From her soul, will we get to understand man ?
From her position, this vision she doth know !
From her mouth, this vision, to me, she did show.

 B. J. “A ” 2
January 28th 2014

Monday, January 20, 2014


This day is Bright !
Thoughts take Flight .

Music – the companion of my soul !
Books – the confidants to my mind !
Daughters – the reasons for life to know
more than experience has allowed me to find
in a life where todays existence
is little more than yesterday’s experience
brought to the surface – from time to time –
in thought, in memory of what was sublime
living, knowing, movements written in rhyme
unfettered by strings, shackles and chains
that tie, bind, weigh down so nothing remains
of the life that once was embraced with enthusiasm,
– kissed passionately !, the mouths of opportunism –
all its expressions, hugged its passing with gratitude
for all that this poor old soul was allowed to include
in its brightness, as it burned holes through the black
fabric of times passed, leaving scares, no longer visible
yet still felt in the waning light, but not looking back
at the passing or being passed, no matter how credible
it gives cause for one to wonder, what was truly of value ?,
being passed on, what light did I shed to guide ?
it seems as though, nothing did I provide
to warm and comfort, each troubled soul
these Daughters of my dreams I do not know.

Forces
Inspirations, the force in talent that leads on,
lives on while the unsure, insecure follow, drift, or gone,
carried away by murky waters in roadside ditches,
until it’s all gone, left by the wayside, life with bitches

 Father, Daughter Dilemma
Ships passing in the night
 Daughter, Father – two cosmic souls – alone,
who are on the run, empty ships, made of stone.
Stripped clean, rudderless, floundering in life’s seas.
Slipping through fog laden blackness of night, sees
not, but lack of freedom, because of lack of sight,
unable to discern the truth, or know what is right.
Each heard by the other, their sad notes sent into the mist
as they cry out for each other – reach out in need and missed.
They blast out their warning, “ not to close ”, for danger
lies in contact – opening up, setting free ? – be a stranger,
the essence of their distorted shadows, shadows that barely touch
in the night, during sun light, in their flight, and such
is the journey as they skim the cold waters of life’s surface,
– even though, as one from out of the cosmic gene pool –
 seldom see, seldom come together – come face to face,
realizing, in the fray, that each is being but a fool
as they touch, for a brief moment, in cosmic space,
space shrouded in misty clouds, clouds of fog,
 and then, as strangers in the night, pass in silence.
Ripples, echoes, permeate, the only trace
that shows the distance from whence they came,
upon turbulent wakes created by each passing place
on their journey, lending credence to the distance
of where it stands ?, in all likelihood, antipodal is its name.

The Soul
Living beings essence, their source of energy,
that which brings them to being a part of the whole.
That place, that space within which I often write
has now been brought down into a conscious state.
A state nothing more than the shallowness of a pizza pie,
satisfying ones enormous, gastronomic gluttony
that has our glorious souls relegated to, I see,
I hear, in the commercialism of every TV.

I mourn the loss of energy, of the essence of our souls.
Computers, TVs, games, a strange world of words, of images,
the meanings of which we are now living with, living in
this illusory state of virtual reality are so many,
yet, no more so than in times, thousands of years ago, when,
 man took facts, twisted them to suite his beliefs, his need to hide
reality, from reality so that he could manipulate, control,
live out his days with some sense of meaning, of purpose.

B. J. “A” 2

June 8th 2002
 

Friday, January 17, 2014


Into my life


Out of a smoke laden, fuzzy, hazy night
 into my liquid, libation, blindness – sight
has come to me, as you fill my eyes to overflowing.
That is just alright, for what lay before me, is for knowing,
even when you pull the curtain in order to keep from showing
the essence of what is, that does not feel, alright for life’s growing.
 
Into my seclusion, my hermitage you come at will.
Will I accept ?, of coarse I will !, for I am as easy as still,
crystal waters, as easy as warm, lazy, summer breezes that fill
a slow Sunday afternoon, caressing a beauty who lies uninhibited,
comfortably upon the sands of timeless time, exhibited
in the eyes scanning some beach for her exotic beauty.
 
Every man’s desire !, every virile man’s duty!,
to be gazing at her beauty, radiating towards  heaven,
it’s bright blue iris, with pleasure, with delight even
as it’s golden, flaming heart radiates down,
all around, upon this beauty laying on the ground,
radiating her beauty for all, never uttering a sound.
 
Can I not but be most grateful, thankful, and appreciative
for the warmth showered upon this old, cold, soul ?

B. J. “A ” 2
June 6th 2002

Sunday, January 12, 2014


My Daughter

My beautiful Daughter, walks life’s paths alone,
She does so, by design – not of hers – on her own.
She travels heavily !, from place to empty space,
from space to vacant place – in what kind of race?
A race towards where ?, towards what I do not know,
for, to me – an  age and place beyond – she does not show
where it is, - where she wants her future  to go
if ?, going anywhere – accomplishing - is a guiding
force in her life, seeking out, chasing after lightening.

There are times, when I hear, in my words
the sounds of need, – empty in their experience –
looking for some of what has been offered.
What has been offered, I see, it is not meant for me.
 

The Need

I keep being dragged back into this nightmare,
a nightmare ?, so I am lead to believe, could it be ?
Within the stories, the tone, I hear, I perceive it to be
but have to wonder ?, is it ?, really but a dream
that can find no reality on this plane , never comes true,
therefore it truly is !, becomes the nightmare.
In the words that tell, I see, I hear, I feel
the sword that plunges deep, with which to defend,
to destroy the foe – the lover – a man not to know
yet not forgotten, not left alone, not let go of.
He - the nightmare – is always there, he doesn’t care,
he is a rotting residue in, a part of life’s moments.
He is your nightmare, in your dreams, in every waking hour!
These sad eyes see, these sensitive ears, in pain, hear the pain,
this old heart feels, but this useless blade, – a knife that hides
within my, closed mouth – seems not able to cut away at the ties
that bind you to life’s strife – to the nightmare.
Could it be unfulfilled desires ?, unrealized dreams ?
 

What has taken forty nine life times to create,
might be attributed to nature, nurturing or fate,
but may not be digested, accepted, understood or dissipated.
Regardless of the words, the meaning, what else can be stated ?
I know that in forty nine hour days, my thoughts my feeling
will never find a way to reach out and touch a solid ceiling
and so, in my many words, in my actions, I pray
that it all can be set aside, and all can be put away.

 
A walk from the dark side, into the darkness.


Little, to nothing could this impotent old man / dad offer
his Child, his oldest Daughter, in so much need.
Nothing could he bestow upon his Child, or his lover,
with her insecurities, doubts, his insatiable greed,
and so, escape not, she walks along with his need
as it has been something he has decreed.
Oh !, how remiss to leave them on their own, to agree
to their coarse, a course that could take them on
to complete the journey they started, then gone.
 

Time, enough !, distance is past
Time to stop !, turn around at last
and face what the outcome will be.
Open eyes, a new beginning to see.
May I leave sun set’s path, face the sun rise
coming through that black velvet screen before me
with it’s spattered, day-glow dots, all aglow
opening inner sanctum doors, allowing me to know.
 

Thoughts for me, alternative for them flash before my mind.
What will they do ?, am I being so unkind ?
Will one, the other or both be bussed back to Ontario ?
As I walk back to the room, I ponder the scenario ?
Will we ( all three ) carry on with our little adventure
into the canyons and gorges, the city of all nights lights
 – the city where angels never sleeps – I cannot be sure ?,
sure if they will end their – for my attention – fights.
Will we see the city ?, where one man built his fantasy,
walk among dreams brought to life, a fun reality
of cartoon characters, animated for the child in us
or in the end, to Ontario on a Greyhound bus ?
Will we see stars ?, stars on a walk, in the city of angels
At this juncture, what will be the story one tells ?
Will the Golden Gate carry us ?, will we ride the hills ?,
on their steel rails, tell tales of all our thrills ?
Will we end these moments in gods country ?,
the city of the British, the salmon run, a hollow tree,
mountains, bays, bears, a Princess, poetess gone to ash,
her rhyme, this forth cousin of mine, they did stash,
hidden from obvious view, in the woods of Stanley park,
where few knew, and for a hundred years, lay in the dark.
Many know not where Native, folk lore doth reside ?
In her books, hand in hand and side by side,
along with as many nationalities as there are nations.
In this place, women brought to life her creations.
 

Before I leave this bleak walk, in the arms of this black night,
My thoughts are, hope that all will come out all right,
when one of those day glow dots, in that black velvet sky,
all a glow, took off, streaked south, caught my eye
as it crossed the heavens, fast as the speed of light,
in the pattern of a Zed, then disappeared from sight.

( Strange !!!, this speck of star light, it’s unusual flight
as it star-ts out from nothing, speeds south on a
horizontal plane, pauses a split second, reverses direction,
drops down vertically, on an angle northward, towards a point
where it started out, again paused for a split second, then,
on a horizontal plan, zipped south before disappearing into star,
in the starry back drop from whence it took life, for a moment. )
 
This story, – twenty five years old – in rhyme, comes to life,
 for a brief moment, from a memories hoard, rife
with so many stories hidden from sight
coming from rhyme - into light.
B. J.“A ” 2
May 30th 2002