Why do we blame the world ?

Mother Earth, ( this poor old world ) gets such a bad rap.

Mankind lays all his flaws, short comings, tragedies, his crap

upon her back, blames her, it is her fault we are torn apart,

our souls, our spirits, our psyches, our words start

with “ this mean old world ”, “ this cruel world ”,

if the world only cared ” never do we unfurl,

admit that it is man, the creator, not the world,

creating all the problems for mankind.

Blame the world, hide behind, remain blind.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

March 31^st 2014

Linda

The skies on high may be gray.
Do not let the rain get in your way,
as all of those, and us, do pray
that this – your mid century – birthday
is one, filled with lots of sunshine,
full of wonderful memories – sublime –
of family, friends and a glorious time.
This wish for your fiftieth – from me and mine.

 Just remember,
this September,
that turning fifty
can be kind of nifty,
for an old Broad.

B. J. “A ”2

September 8th 2002

 Love

Bill, and Melanie .

Melanie, my Dear Child .

I am sorry Melanie, oh so sorry that this early morning

has brought strife, such a nightmare into our home, our life.

Your life, my Dear, is far too important, far too precious

to place it in danger, put in harm’s way, throw it away

over anyone, any person, any boy or man.

There is not a person on this planet, in this universe

that is worthy or worth one drop of your precious blood

let alone your beauty, your essence, your life’s force.

I know that you blame me my Child, Daughter of mine.

That breaks my heart, it tears it apart, but not nearly

as much as you threatening to take your own life

over such a worthless cause, this no ware man / boy.

After all the pain, all the heart ache, all the disappointments

you have suffered during these passing months, this past year,

I can understand your need to strike out, lash out at me,

cause as much pain and heart ache to this one who loves you,

as the pain and heartache you have suffered at the hands

of the one you feel you love with all your heart and soul.

Understanding my Dear, I can ( although I wish I did not have to )

live with all this, what is unacceptable and I cannot live with

Melanie, is your desire to terminate, wanting to take, give up

your young life to all the pain and heartache, for all that pain,

hat heartache, because of all that pain and all that heartache.

 Melanie ?, this child in a man’s body, this user,

this abuser of my beautiful Daughter, this manipulator,

controller, who takes and take and gives nothing - but psychological,

emotional, verbal and physical abuse to you and everyone,

his spouse, his children, his parents, his so called friends.

He has taken everyone for a ride, lives with his parents,

has had them evicted from a half dozen residences

- during your involvement with him an – because of him.

All I can say Melanie, is love hurts and who do you hurt ?,

the one’s who love you, for they are easy, they are convenient

they are accepting, do no strike back in kind, do not abandon

and stupid in so many ways, is not stupid, for he knows this,

even if he knows nothing else and that is why he continues on his path,

to steel, to pawn, to sell, to use and abuse everyone who cares.

I pray Melanie, at this early hour – four AM, before the dawning,

the dawning of a new day ?, I pray – that you are letting go of all

your hostility, giving up on all your anger, your fears and tears

and get back to that woman who shared  with me, yesterday

and the few days that proceeded it, when understanding prevailed.

Be Melanie, Melanie, not all the pieces of another – others.

                                     Love
                                       Dad

B. J. “A” 2

August 27^th 2002

 

 

Statements

With hesitation, trepidation, caution, I dance softly

to the music, the sounds of interrelationships, step lightly

upon the dance floor of  relationships, of commitment,

- that dance of souls to different drummers that doth rent –

as we try to absorb the beat, slowly moving our feet

across that swinging suspension bridge, minds to meet

as we traverse the gorges, the canyons, the abyss

before loves door, hoping, moments never to miss,

as one and one, two, become one, as we walk together,

- tossed into life by tsunami waves and stormy weather -,

arm in arm onto the rocky lands of life’s shifting shores,

shores upon which life’s oceans send, spread, open doors

to places beyond that which each, separately, has endured,

those waves that ship wreaked dreams, dreams never cured,

set free the soul, let the spirit fly, soar above all the debris

that has become the essence, the heart of you and me

left to litter the innocence of those glistening, glimmering,

white beaches polluted, no longer to know the shimmering

soul - scarred are each fragile grain of sand until a murky pool

emerges, a distorted refractions, reflections of an old fool.

Man Opposed

 Is one man’s love  ?, another’s hate ?

Is one man’s Experiences ?, another’s envies ?

Is one man’s good deeds ?, another’s jealousies ?

Is one man’s choices ?, another’s folly ?

Is one man’s songs ?, another’s dirges ?

Is one man’s listening ?, another’s deafness ?

Is one man’s insight ?, another’s blindness ?

Is one man’s words ?, another’s sword ?

Is one man’s expressions ?, another’s silences ?

Is one man’s living ?, another’s death ?

Is one man’s thoughts ?, another’s fears ?

 

 

 Upon  this  earth, in  this  plane

or  in  one’s  mind ?

Has one man made a difference in another’s life ?,

and has that life changed ?, and made changes ?,

to some of the lives of his fellow man ?

We men and women are on our own.

Both at birth and in death, do we live life alone ?

Not always, not all of us anyway - in spirit, never,

or in the spiritual world -, only as devastated man

do we walk this earth, – alone –. In walking this land,

is one man a ghostly shadow ?, a shallow, stagnant pond ?,

while another is ocean deep, vast as our expanding universe ?

Of coarse !!!, for we all look, we all seek, for we are all, and all

searching for that which lies in the shadows and shallows,

that which light can blind us to or take us into the depths

of what we make of life and take from life, give to life.

B. J. “A ” 2

July 16^th 2002

The Dreams of L. B.

I do know !, my Dear, you ‘d like me to be a part of your life’s plan

but I know not ?, – I am uncertain that I could be your man ?

I do know my Dear, that you have wonderful dreams

but I know not ?, - uncertain to me, it seems,

that I can live up to the vision, be the man you see,

the man you think I am, the man you want me to be.

That man who can be all, in your desirous dreams,

that man who can walk on rainbows and light beams.

 I have been, far to many, long years – fifteen in all –

on this cracked and broken path I’ve walked since the fall.

I have become quite comfortably numb – content

with what fate - my state – and life have meant

for me to be, - it seems – to experience.

Even if ?, for you and for me, it makes no sense.

It seems to me, that I cannot decide, which side of the fence.

There is this black hole, there is this hesitance.

 

I do believe that my dreams are much like yours.

Unlike me, I pray “ you not close the doors ”

for there will come a day when your dreams walk the shores

of realization, where all you dream, you will explore

and life’s experiences leave you wanting nothing more

as you climb those steps, past me, and rise far above

your dreams and desires and truly find one to love

as you take wing, soar on high with the dove. 

 

B. J. “A ” 2

July 11^th 2002

Lost in history’s places

That was then, when, and now is now.

The point now, need not – somehow –

come from way back when, for then,

for if it does ?, there is no point, the point

becomes lost when you go back – try the join

then – when all to be, became, and all that should have been

became lost, at a cost to all who became involved and have seen,

who have been a part of what is, instead of what should be.

Then is but circles without beginning, without end, no exit to see,

that can take then out of  now, and how can that be

the path to the point ?, the point now – the answers for me

must come from here and now, not yesterday and come straight,

not at the end of some long, long, long winding freight

train that has stopped many – far too many times, to take on life’s baggage.

So much baggage, so much confusion, so many circles throughout the age

of so many winding roads, twists and turns towards the point, never to reach

the answers to straight forward, simple questions that I did beseech.

Laughter

 Nervous sounds abound, they ring out

their experiences, their life, they want to shout.

They want to be set free, fly from your nervous mouth

so they, that hear, that listen, can have no doubt

what you, your sounds, your being is all about.

To know, to see, what is buried beneath all those

nervous sounds, sounds that dance upon the wings

of all those sounds your voice, hesitatingly, sings.

Songs of sad tales, of a troubled life with all its woes.

And which of us ?, is he, or she, that truly knows.

 

Life’s withering soul

My beautiful Daughter, – Child of mine,

this fragile rose bud- will bloom in time !, ?

Sadness do I feel – the experience sublime ?,

not in any reflection, not in this rhyme,

for I see not but a severed broken stem

and nothing I might do, nothing that I am

will bring life’s forces from the roots

to nourish, to give hope, to heal the shoots,

feed this unrealized Rose, in bud, ready to bloom,

whom I seldom see, talk with less, who hides in her room.

I now see this unfulfilled Rose, withering on the thorny

stem of her life, cut off by the selfish hand of this horny

old man – a so called man – The reasons my life is so stormy.

At times, the reasons – I do believe – for my troubled Child,

are emotions, hormones, beliefs, desires and needs running wild,

and from time to time, run me over, slap my face, knock me down.

Nothing I say, nothing I do stops this cycle from going round

and round with such force and energy, it knocks me to the ground

as pain / anger, uncertainty / anger. frustration / anger become the sound

that rings in piercing tones, from time to time, shattering my ear.

It is so overwhelming at times, it is all that I seem to be able to hear.

So the pain and heartache, I try to keep at bay, along with all my fear,

as I wonder what will come, become ?, and fill the spaces of each year,

for this Child, of my ancient seed, this Daughter, to me, so dear.

My Blood, I would like to know, her soul I would like to be more near

than a passing moment on the fly- pleasantries indicated, in passing by

like scattered clouds- out of reach and vaporous –high in an uncertain sky

as I watch – wondering why ? –, eyes filled with tears, trying not to cry.

Praying that one day – before long – changes come, come before I die.

B. J. “A” 2

July 9^th 2002