The New Year

Another troubled year has rang its gong

In all we read, all we saw, something was wrong.

Dirges, sadness, the essence of so many a song,

that we heard from the voices of so many a throng

During the evolution of this coming New Year.

What ?, from these troubled voices will we hear.

Will it be of peace, harmony and good cheer?

Or will it be like so many past?, filled with fear!

Created in the likeness of the gods, is this why some bring?,

 such horrors, such atrocities to life, so that man can only sing

of what the lives of so many souls, knowing not compassion,

are forced into living!, living a life of repression and suppression.

B.  J. “ A ”  2

December 31^st 2016

One’s Time

Upon this little blue planet

--------------------------------------------------

One’s time could be as beautiful as a sunset !

One’s time could be as desolate as a desert !

One’s time could be as colourful as a rainbow !

One’s time could be as bleak as storm clouds !

One’s time could be as warm as spring rain !

One’s time could be as scary as a roller-coaster !

One’s time could be as much fun as a carnival !

One’s time could be as boring as a merry-go-round !

One’s time could be as exciting as white water rafting !

One’s time could be as light as a kite upon the wind !

One’s time could be as petrifying as the unknown !

One’s time could be as comforting as mother’s breast !

One’s time could be as uncertain as the weather !

One’s time could be as positive as the spirit of love !

One’s time could be as putrefying as spoiled food !

One’s time could be as nourishing as great cuisine !

One’s time could be as empty and dark as a great void !

One’s time could be as full as our evolving universe !

One’s time could be as moments we jump into with both feet !

One’s time could be as a whole, by sucking the life out of them !

One’s time could be as much, or as little as the choices we make !

One’s time could be as a great adventure !, if only time, we’d take !

B. J. “A” 2

November 10^th 2016

The Ghost Dance

The spirit of hopeful salvation.

A shirt of impenetrable protection.

White man’s bullets, deep penetration,

killing hundreds with insatiable aggression.

Wounded Knee, becoming a place for destruction

of spirt, of body, of women and children, compunction

never to become a part of white man’s conscious compassion

as he steals, plunders, rapes, pillages, kills with self-satisfaction

Today, hundreds of years later, First Nations battle white man’s gratification

for the lands left the Land Owners, who were just care givers, never their possession.

B. J. “A” 2

November 2^nd 2016

A journey

What a troubled ride

we will take.

When the chauffer is pride

… make no mistake.

B. J. “A” 2

October 28^th, 2016

All that remains, for some of us,

Are but moments to cherish and live.

For that is all that our life has to give.

All that remains, the rest,

we should savour, take the best

out of all that has been stored

in the halls of our memories hoard.

All else, acknowledged, let go of.

Propelled aloft on the wings of a dove.

With this love, in our heart,

easy to rise above ... a new start

that will take us past our history,

allowing us to create a better story

to be told, to those we leave behind,

as we move on to a new plane and find

out, that sometimes we were not so kind.

Will this haunt theirs ?, or just our mind ?

B. J. “A” 2

October 28^th, 2016

Possible Futures

For some of us, what was to be our future?,

now lies upon the decomposing pages of our past.

We have let it slip through our fingers,

like sand slipping through the neck of an hour glass.

The only reminder, dust clinging to its inside walls.

Hazy, delusional images of what could have, should have been.

Unfortunately !!!, never to be lived, never to be seen,

upon the undulating waves, the mirrored image of this plane.

And so we walk through this life waiting to come around again,

knowing what now exists for us are but moments to live.

This being all that we, life, karma, fate, the universe has to give

us, us who have left our dreams, our future in the hands of destiny.

B. J. “ A ” 2

October 19^th 2016

Discerning Eyes

So beautiful are many a woman’s derrière.

Perfectly shaped, full, round and oh so fair.

A sculpture worthy of the masters, beyond compare.

The sight of, brings men’s minds, his eyes to stare

 at such wonder, the beauty of Mother Natures design

and the desire of oh so many, wishing it were mine

to pat, to caress, to admire, to compliment, to define.

But alas, never to touch, unless the lady be so kind.

Giving ecstasy to every man’s desirous mind.

Allowing him to define, in order to refine

his insatiable taste

without any haste.

B. J. “A” 2

October 3^rd 2016

Karma

That is life

Times have informed me, “ you will reap what you sow ”.

Times passing – these words, deep – I have come to know.

Throughout the years, many moments have come to show,

throughout time, my progenies’ tears, they come and they go

throwing life’s rivers into raging torrents as it doth flow

towards unknown planes, new dimension that doth glow,

in their darkness, as spirits, as souls begin a journey to grow

until we all come back to that place which we once did know

B. J. “A ” 2

October 3^rd 2016

Journeys

My journeys, my adventures through time

have come to you on the wings of many a rhyme.

There are delightful blisses, heart breaking sorrows,

from the past, in the here and now, in my tomorrows.

Tomorrows, being the future we may not know.

Tomorrows, promised to no one, we may not go

into that space , that place in futures time,

except for psychics, writers of prose and rhyme.

The essence of my checkered past, my history,

have come to you through many a sad story.

Ninety two volumes, in honest detail, do tell

of this foolish man, seventy three, who fell

from the walls, onto the wrong side of life’s glory,

to live out a life of ???,  this be a part of my story.

The many adventures, journeys coming to an end

as I slowly saunters upon a path to the next bend.

B. J. “A ” 2

September 28^th 2016

The fallacies in the lives of disabled’s

A torrential downpour of tears, profusely flowed

upon seeing / hearing what a blind, autistic boy showed

of a world, we know not, beneath the surface lies,

behind the sightlessness of these worldly eyes

A world beyond any possible comprehension.

A world to which we offer our compassion.

What a universe, within, for us to see

as they put themselves on display, set free

all that lies within their physical disability,

to give us glimpses of their hidden ability.

Every so often, one excels, shows what is inside,

where so many others live, and from us hide.

B. J. “ A ” 2

September 21^st 2016

Riverview

A River of psyche’s hope, of shattered dreams.

A view, lost in darkness, disturbed minds it seems.

Rivers of confused visions and emotions.

Views, buried within turbulent commotions.

A River that meanders through the trees.

A view of tranquility, distressed minds it frees.

Riverview, soon to become government / developers fare

Riverview, its essence, government / developers do not care.

Rivers of government / developers insatiable greed.

Views of coffers overflowing, deep pockets to feed.

B. J. “A ” 2

September 7^th 2016

Melanie, where is she ???

My patience has reached a ceiling.

Much too heavy is this feeling

I get when I get no consideration.

Your total lack of appreciation

breaks my troubled heart

with each and every new start

I become in evolved in.

These journeys, what sin.

I feel that I have reached an end.

Your attitudes, I no longer care to defend,

justify as a product of your drug addiction.

This must be my sad and final conviction.

You, my Dear, have made your choices.

I have had enough of these drug induced voices.

I do not want to believe that this is you,

yet, you come out, in word, in all you do,

that doth convince me that you are

- once beautiful -, now a  falling star.

My wish is, that Creekside offers hope

for us all, that you clean up, get off the dope.

Love

A sad Dad  

 B . J . “ A ” 2

September 2^nd 2016

Bridges burning

Hanging onto the fragile ridge

of your life, under a bridge.

Seeing this, cuts deep like a knife,

filling our hearts with such strife.

Our souls constantly in fear,

our eyes well up in tear.

Watching you fade away

makes us all want to pray

for inner strength,

a vision, at length,

to show you a future,

where you may mature

and leave behind

your world so unkind.

This world of drug abuse

a world that has no use

but to chase down a fix.

For some, to turn tricks.

All in all self-destruction.

No longer able to function

is all that will remain,

for you cannot refrain.

For me, it seems,

dead are your dreams

 as you gather junk, to hoard,

sitting among it, being bored

waiting for someone to steel it

 and then to have another fit

over what you have lost.

This life, not worth the cost.

Light and hope on the horizon.

 I see your spirit free of the prison.

 B. J . “ A ” 2

July 21^st 2016

China Fading

Hours are many, have become so full.

Hardly a minute, a second to breath.

Meaningful moments are so few.

Only memories of what was known, with you,

are all that remain, of a way of life

scattered among the flakes of winter days.

As China, fades upon the waning pages of History

exploring, knowing, experiencing, journeying

upon the waves of new avenues, new adventures.

In hands are the remnants of tear drops

crystalizing into myriads of  flakes,

flakes in all their memorable divergences.

B. J. “A ” 2

May 22^nd 2016

Missed moments

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wasted years of ?, one doth lament.

They lay heavy, like shoes of cement.

One, who walks through their days, in constant fret,

wonder what ?, tomorrow they will begin to regret.

One must forget all the above.

Walk through life full of love.

Love, one must, for oneself.

This will take them off the shelf.

A glorious journey will begin.

Adventures galore, to step within.

Jump right into every moment, with both feet.

Sucking all the life out of them, this is the feat.

Life is far too short a journey to take.

Live it to the fullest, for heaven’s sake.

B. J. “A ” 2

April 29^th 2016

A Place of Creation

--------------------------------------

Telephone City, Wayne Gretzky’s home town, the place of my birth.

Thirty three years, I played, worked and walked this piece of earth.

Given - by Sir Frederick Haldimand, “ Haldimand Proclamation, ” -

to the Iroquois, six miles, each side of the Grand River, the six Nation

Reserve, from its source to its mouth ( 950,000 acres ) 904,000 eradicated,

46,000 acres left for the Mohawk, Cayuga, Onondaga, the rest confiscated.

as the Oneida, Seneca and Tuscarora are left to share this land.

Most taken by many devious means at the white man’s hand.

This is the place I grew up, the place that educated me.

The mean Streets of Brantford, forty years I seldom see.

Three thousand miles, forty two years away.

Life has been, in many ways, lived within a fray.

Home is where the soul, the spirit, the heart is, anyway.

So out here in beautiful B. C., is where I will stay.

B. J. “A” 2

April 4^th 2016

Welcome to your new Home

History’s moments

Ghostly shadows, will-o'-the-wisp, St Elmo’s Fire

slip through the cracks of my memories desire

to hang on, they resurface, lying upon a funeral pyre.

For a brief moment, they light up today’s sky,

reflections upon the surface of my inner eye,

before they burnout, dust on the winds, fly.

Memories get bogged down in thoughts quagmire,

creating a stillness, discontinuing what today doth require

to take one past, reach for the stars, climb so much higher.

B. J. “A” 2

April 2^nd, 2016

Valentines

---------------------------------------------------------------------

There is such a beautiful grace,

I see, every time I look into your face.

I wish to be your Valentine’s, this to be my place,

deep within your heart, not to be, by Buddha’s grace.

This I must realize and accept, this I must face.

Know that within your heart, I have no place.

To know that my soul will never discern your grace,

in any deep manner, sadly, distorts my face

B. J. “A ” 2

March, 1st, 2016

No other way

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Materially - I live with the past, I see no other way.

Financially – I no longer live in the past, I see no other way.

Romantically - I no longer live in the past, I see no other way

for this helpless romantic, but to live with the past, I see no other way.

In my old age – I live my life, like I did in the past, , I see no other way.

On my final journey – like throughout the past, on my own, I see no other way.

B. J. “A ” 2

January 14^th 2016

Swan Song

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I have thought, said this before !!!

It is time to let go, close that door !!!

Reminisce no longer, think of Her no more !!!

All the evidence leads to one conclusion !!!

I have been living these years in an illusion !!!

Could it be ?, the evidence is just confusion !!!

I do not want to open my eyes,

wake up, have to accept, realize

I have been living in a world of lies

hoping, once again, she’d be my prize.

All my beautiful dreams seem to be jaded

pieces of a tapestry, who’s images have faded,

to undiscernible flakes of time before this eye,

as the years have imperceptibly drifted on by.

In the end, will my own words, I hear ?

Will I pay heed ?, let go without any fear

that my last great love will no longer be near ?

B. J. “A” 2
January 3^rd 2016