Judy, Judy, Judy

Thoughts of – thinking, I have to wonder ?

 

Time is slowly slipping – empty of – away.

Turning moments, lost – into hours- many a day.

 

Lost forever – only thoughts of what might be, stay

with this one, who had – once upon a time – only to pray

 

for all that he desired and desired to see

become part of what he wanted – wanted to be.

 

A cool wind of enlightenment, blows from a silent mouth.

No warm breeze will I come to know, from the south.

 

For the barrenness of silence is all that I get to hear

as I wait for a sign, a word, feelings that I fear

 

are not meant to come my way – for me to be had.

All these thoughts, questions, feelings do make me sad.

 

I should know better, no fool – they say – like an old fool.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

May 13^th 2005

Possibilities

 

Another gorgeous B. C. day – a walk – no driving

in an age, - consciousness of – that has been arriving.

On this fine day, on my rounds – the bowling alley,

I came upon, a lady I know – well not really –

 

I first met her at our local drug store – postal worker, her position.

A year later, on a Sunday stroll, I met her on Shaughnessy Street.

After our conversation, this PYT ( pretty young thing ) I did meet,

a smart ass, who gives me a wuz up ?, well sweetie, my supposition

 

is this, the sky, the clouds, the moon, the stars,

numerous solar systems, planets, happy humans and Mars

- who inhabit this universe – that’s wuz up my dear.

A perception from our point of view, I fear.

 

For - beyond the quicksand, the crust, the quagmire,

the mantel and the core, lays our spirit, set on fire

by all that hovers beneath, under, below wuz up,

that also becomes, wuz down my little butter cup.

 

B. J. “A” 2

May 1^st 2005

Sun Bathing

 

There is this brilliant gem hanging on high,

radiating down upon me from a clear blue sky.

It takes me back and into a time

when laying in fields, on river banks was sublime.

 

On a spit I sit, going around, browning under the sun.

Not a care, a worry, no obligations – there are none

as I read history, of the future and contemplate,

what is it that Nostradamus, predicts as our fate ?

 

Being showered upon by shades of soft, pink flakes,

flowered blossoms light as spring air, no mistakes

by Mother Nature, on her journey – brought down

by springs cool breezes that keep blowing around,

 

kissing, glistening, crystal spheres, upon a body browned

by the noon hour sun, making the hour feel so good

as all of life’s moments, upon this plane, should.

I lay here, absorbing the waves of musical sound.

 

Music has been, is, and will always be my companion

until a time when we become a part of the All, to champion

that which lays among the essence of another plane

that will carry us beyond all of our todays pain .

 

That plane, the beginning and never ending sojourn

that takes us around and around, our souls to turn

into a part of the whole, a place we will never yearn

to depart from, never again needing to know concern.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

April 26^th 2005

Thursdays that disappoint !

A sadness reigns .

 

Some Thursdays come, most by, do  go.

Why everyone does not flow ?, I do not know.

A lube job for you, an oil change for me.

No consistency, why ?, this I can not see.

Now taking two hours, sometimes more

When it used to be twenty minutes to my door.

 

Slipping the head of the family into the crevice.

Sliding effortlessly into that moist, dark cave.

Penetrating, feeling, touching walls that gave

shelter – for a time – to little solders on the run.

In search for that nest of eggs, now only for fun.

For the years have taken, as did a medical device.

 

Knowledge of, know full well that this cave is barren.

Representing only a portion of its former self.

The rest placed upon some medical shelf.

Gone is the time of productivity, into space, staren.

In search of, becomes the joy, the adventure,

the desire and the pleasures, during a time.

 

Times of closeness, not always, are they mine.

That is alright, I guess, with this families head.

Not alight are the excuses, the reasons I am fed

for the loss, the denial of Thursday night,

the searches, resurrecting of the hunt I might

continue - in that beautiful cave – searching.

 

Trying to find the right door, reaching.

Searching for those none existent eggs, to ply

the pleasures found in the hunt – denied, why?

One has to wonder, what was your game.

To know all the others, to know their name,

would not comfort, would not make things the same.

 

No !, and should the hunt come to an end ?,

know, that no matter what, I will still be a friend.

Know that consistency is the spice of life,

as is spontaneity and desire without strife.

Has life in the spice jar, been forever lost ?

Celibacy, indifference, aloneness the cost ?

 

B. J. “A ” 2

April 10^th 2005

No title

 

We may not have the power to change time,

but time is the power that is forever changing us !

 

The beauty of woman – to be caressed by eyes of man.

To know and feel passion – the tender touch of his hand.

 

What she really desires – insight into man’s mind.

to know that man is sincere – is honorable and kind.

 

Filling her hours, days with -- laughter, talk and joy.

In the end, to learn -- he is not just another little boy.

 

That she has not become – just another boy toy.

In his pursuit game – playing a part, being coy.

 

B. J. “A” 2

April 7^th 2005

G I A

 

Mothers – the force behind our choices.

Beauty – the illusions behind our dreams.

Searching – the engine behind our souls.

Drugs -- the doors behind our mirrors.

Innocence – the loss of - behind our pursuits.

Death -- the path behind our life’s journey.

Life -- the need to get behind our all,

that has influenced it, thorough it’s

many journeys, it’s many sojourns

to find the essence our spirit will give

to our fragile soul - departing in the end.

 

B. J. “A” 2

March 27^th 2005

The loss of a friend

- Kenny - 58 years.

 

 

May the blue skies

and your brown eyes

be filled not – with a tear,

only memories of everything dear !

 

The potential loss of another

- John -  48 years

 

It has been many a year,

John, since from you, I did hear.

And now, to learn, my man,

fate has played it’s pat hand.

Cruel as it is John, I guess it will stand.

I can only hope and pray John, that you

may get to play another hand or two.

 

 

B. J. “A” 2

March 9^th 2005

Dee and Me

The years have so quickly gotten by.

They have stepped in-between you and I

 

The years have slipped quietly away.

You, it seems, have drifted further than they.

 

There is nothing left of what once was,

and I wonder why ?, and this is because

 

there are our two Girls, who are in need

and deserve not, because of our creed.

 

Because of our wrongs and bad deeds,

these may have planted the wrong seeds

 

in the minds of our innocent Daughters,

who, - upon this plane- stumble, falters

 

upon the paths they have chosen to walk.

With me, it seems, they seldom / never talk

 

about what it is they are truly feeling

so that they may let it go – know the healing

 

that comes upon the heals of totally expressing

the secrets, all that they have been repressing.

 

I have, for years now, wondered ?, what is your deal,

what is with you ?, what is this fate ?, in which you seal

 

my destiny – forever it seems – to live,

no matter what – to yon, I did give

 

my all – from you, you have chosen to ignore

and behind us – me – you have closed the door.

 

From you, – it seems – nothing, this forevermore.

I wonder ?, what of our past do you remember.

 

On my Black Bird’s wings, on a Lincoln’s front fender,

above the mighty Grand, on top of mount Tamalpais.

 

Some of, all that was good my dear, but alas,

I fear, it is all gone to dust, lost forever.

 

Remembered ?, relished ?, I believe – never –

for animosity, harbouring to much ill will

drives what reason the reasons that kill

any memories of Hawaii, Florida, California,

 

Ontario, Ohio, Arizona, British Columbia,

all the good, that once was representative

 

of a life style I brought you into - to live.

Live beyond what once was, this I did give.

 

B .J. “A” 2

December 14^th 2004
 

Time Travel

 

From conception, into birth,

from childhood, into youth,

from youth, into a young adult

is but a short journey on a long pier

 

A time for learning / A time for doing

 

Adults usually go on in blind flurry, doing.

Middle age meanders along that – shorter – pier,

looking into the waters, seeing life passing by,

catching glimpses of, reflections gaily dancing,

and reflecting upon the pier walk, thus far

 

A time to acquire / A time for losses

 

Wisdom in old age, it becomes a slow and painful walk,

- off what has become - in time’s passing – a short pier –

that has taken all seven – not to heaven – on a long, arduous

journey through rough seas – old age sees the essence of  life,

time and space - yet throughout the journey, wonders ?,

what was it ?, what is it ?, that could be, have been his place.

 

B .J. “A” 2

November 25^th 2004