The world of old men

Kissing

Sun has set on many a man’s passion for kissing.

Caressing beautiful, soft lips, we all are missing.

Electricity, once generated, on longer the song.

This, the fate of many old agers is so very wrong

when men, when women still have a burning desire.

The flesh may be weak, even if the spirit is on fire.

 B. J. “A ” 2

August 28^th, 2019

One’s ??? Seeds

Where planted, years ago, in troubled soil,

A Garden, overwhelmed by such turmoil.

Two Roses, sprouted from these flawed seeds.

The Garden, was unable to nourish their needs.

One Rose, plagued by phobias, anxiety and fears.

The other, a victim of life's weeds, a world of tears.

This appointed Gardner, has tried to do his best.

Time has left him feeling elapsed, laid to rest.

No longer thought of as a family member ???

History, no longer taking time to remember.

The winds of time blowing the soil away.

No ground upon which to stand and pray.

How does One, cope ???

When there seems little hope.

B. J. “A ” 2

August 27^th, 2019

Life Down Under

Sounds of Silence !

Where did it all go wrong ?

What brought on this Silence ?

Bitter is the taste of cold, gray winds of silence.

A formidable force that harbours shadows.

Shadows fragment, splinter, dissipate with times passing.

Time becoming the purveyor of so many questions.

Questions that receive no answers from the wind,

receive no answers from the unlit halls of silence.

Silence, enslaver of the story that could be told.

A story Silence has deemed to never set free,

remaining buried deep within its sarcophagus.

No birth realized from that prevailing, cold wind.

Still born is the essence, the heart of the story.

Yesterday, now flying upon the wings of history.

Those yesterdays will, it seems, never metamorphose

into a future, not any kind of actively shared future

as the story rides bareback upon the cold winds of Silence.

I am truly unable to fathom the essence, of this silence,

the depth of thought, of experience that gave it birth.

I know not the currents that drove all upon the jagged edge.

B. J. “A ” 2

March 25^th 2019

My friend Rae

On 13^th, day, 3^rd, month, 1973, I lost Rae.

I was 30 years old on that sad, fateful day.

30 years later, on a river, I relived that time.

On a bolder, I told him to let go, in a rhyme,

it was time to depart, let go of the pain.

Spirit wondering here, nothing to gain.

Forty six years have now past, I pray

his Soul, in this dimension , did not stay.

That he is no longer wandering the river, Grand.

That he is at peace, among the angles he doth stand.

B. J. “A ” 2

March 13^th, 2019

What a walk !!!, brought .

One’s Life Journey ???

One’s Life Journey comes on waves of reflection,

as one’s adventures come to their end days.

Days, that were but a stage upon which one plays

out experiences, sometimes they eluded detection.

Experiences remembered, sometimes shattered

into a million pieces, splinters of a broken mirror

reflecting moments upon those shards, scattered

throughout ones universe, a movie of horror,

of delight, of pleasures, of spiritual treasures,

of a life lived without a plan, a nowhere man

who has walked this plane, leaving behind pain

for some, for others, did not know what was to come.

All was left behind, an act that was so unkind

to many, a daunting revelation for this old mind.

Life's Journey comes on waves of reflection,

experiences, sometimes they eluded detection

as one hides among the darkest of shadows

where only the truths of, he seldom knows.

B. J. “A ” 2

January 23^rd, 2019