Memories

Memories of, come on the wings of shadowy, rainbow coloured experiences we hang on,

to the hands of Father Time, as he carries on, while all else – history – is long gone.

Memory ticks off each moment, sends them on their way into the darkness,

for some, into everlasting perpetuation of shear starkness .

 The face of  Father Time winks, he blinks and reflects with every turn

all that we once knew, or went through – maybe ?, still yearn

for, yet we ocassionally realize that the face of Old, Father Time,

is but a mirror, reflecting what – for some – was once so sublime.

 Memories guide some into what was surly a crime.

Memories for others, take them into the poetry of rhyme.

Memories for some, lock them up, will not let them be.

Memories for the rest, have always kept them free.

Memories, sometimes are willing to let you see

that one’s life has been a great sea

of many coloured experiences to cherish,

each moment of them to relish.

 

B. J. “A” 2

October 31st, 2012

LOVE SOMETIMES

The world of love can be blind, unkind and cruel.

The world of love, desire, heart on fire, not for an old fool.

The world of love,  flames of a funeral pyre.

The world of love, love duth it expire.

The world of love, insatiably hungry for connection.

The world of love, an unquenchable thirst for affection.

The world of love, a universe, the rhythms it doth know.

The world of love, for us, the beat – we must go with the flow.

The world of love, in the end, what do we truly know ?

 

B. J. “A” 2

October 31st, 2012

The regrets of a young man.

The foolish choices he made.

A beautiful little Soul, was torn, twisted and turned.
Her, free spirit would eventually crash and be burned.
Her, fragile heart would reach out, try to touch, it yearned
- for One, to show love, to show she truly did care –
- for the Other, who was ( in spirit ) but never there .

This beautiful little Soul, lived within the confines of rage,
pain and hate, while the foolish, free spirit turned another page
and wandered across this continent on the wings of his Bird.
Every day this little Soul, looked back from whence he came,
as her face - captured – stared at him, her voice he always heard.

The miles, the years slipped by, nothing would be the same!!!
The heartache, the pain, the rage fueled the name of a game
that left this little Soul, lost in a space, between two forces
she could not reconcile, could not find solace in the courses
that lay before her confused and troubled, young mind.

Two Poles, divergent, young and foolish, proved unkind,
to this little Soul, Her, essence they left for Her, alone to find.
Years of uncertainties, doubts did enfold her fragile soul.
Far to many years came between - before she came to know
what it was that lay buried deep, beneath what did show.

I am truly, so very sorry for not being there to help Her, grow,
to help Her, find her angelic voice and sing Her, life’s song.
I live with the blue of regret, the black for all I have done wrong,
yet, I have found solace in Her, angelic voice, singing Her, song,
knowing that there has come a connection and a resurrection.

My Lady, fair, when sings and dances, brings tears to my eyes.
With thoughts of what I have missed, my heart and soul cries.
I look into the face of this Woman, who’s soul fills the skies
with beauty that came from within, not me, and that is my sin,
a man who is but an empty, hollow shell beneath his skin.

 



B. J. “A” 2
September 25^th 2012

Where did my life go ?

 Oh, how I would like my life back !

It seems the fabric of time has developed a crack,

and through it, I seem to be falling.

Every day, work, work keeps on calling

and my days melt, one into the other,

no time to do all I must cover.

 

Hours are so few

For all I have to do.

Very little to remember of this one’s day

For they are all the same.

No longer a life, no time for play !

Work, work, work is the frame

of reference, routine of little variation

is my life, sometimes a little creation.

This is where my life has gone !

Work, work, work and nothing beyond.

It has penetrated, permeated my dreams.

Work, work, work, no escape it seems ?

 B. J. “A” 2

June 3^rd 2012

The Orient Express

THE ORIENT EXPRESS

 There is this Beautiful, Ghost, Train.

She, all the time, rides the rails into my brain !

Memories of Her, will not refrain

from creating so much strain

upon the hours of my day, of my night,

as the thoughts of, are forever in flight.

Vision of our moments, forever in my sight.

The moments, now, are heavy, never are they light.

A hunting whistle, in the foggy distance, will blow.

It echoes across this barren land

all we shared, all that I know,

no longer to touch your face or take your hand.

Oh Steam Engine, ( Orient Express ), history !,

You’ve, become, as must the engine of my story.

B. J. “A” 2

June 3rd, 2012

 

A WORLD OF IMAGINATION

Shell we reside in the world of perdition ?,

or will we know life ?, after death, through attrition.

Hell is not to be Dante’s, inferno ?,

the void ?, fires ?, the black hole we think we will go ?

Hell is the ever lasting pain we endure

as we walk alone, into the future.

Hades, created by man’s imagination.

From fear, it became his creation.

Hell is the pain - of our regret -,

caused to others, we will never forget.

Forgiveness of one’s self,

is the only way to put guilt upon a  shelf,

live out one’s life, free

to walk this plane and be

as one with this universe.

As I come to the end of this verse,

we will never see beyond the veil,

for there is no one who may tell the tale

of what the future will hold,

no one who knows the tale to be told.

Time is the keeper, of all we have come to know.

Time is the transporter, taking us to where we will go.

What ever is to be our destination ?,

it has been of our own creation.

B. J. “ A” 2

May 26^th 2012

????????

I often wonder what we have been,

to others, what have they seen ?

Have we been cruel ?, have we been mean ?

Is our soul calm, cool and serene ?

Questions ?, it does seem,

are all that is left for me

as we reach out to the sea

of subconscious knowledge,

walk the razors edge,

into the unknown,

will all be shown ?

B. J. "A" 2

May 13th 2012