Music

Thouhts of you Shirley

Sounds so melancholy – flakes of Snow, falling

filling the air today - to me, they were calling

as her voice moved on, upon pillows of air,

drifting on, long forgotten, melodic waves

of despair, bringing my thoughts to a time, where

– bouncing off walls, echoing in the darkened caves

of my memory, where all is stored

in the files of my memories hoard –

the tickling, of black and white ivory, took me

to a past, long passed away, where I could see

all that we once played, a time we once shared,

a time when we used to know, a time we cared.

B. J. “A ” 2

March 6^th 2004

Ineptness / Ineptitude

 

The pen has become the tongue from which I speak.

Ink, the saliva, the driving force behind my words.

 
Paper, the wings upon which they take flight,

uplifting my thoughts, elevating my ideas.

 

Thoughts and ideas that might not have

– ever come out of my mouth – seen the light of day.

 

Grounded !, nothing taking wing, a voice that does not sing,

never expressing a thing, with any kind of proficiency,

 

clarity, depth of understanding, enlightenment of meaning,

as I stand before ?, choke up !, all coming to a screeching halt

 

– my train of thought, my boxcar of words end with the caboose.

All gets lost, before the moment lives, my death !!!

 

The death of all I set out to accomplish, but never doing.

This, my tribunal ???:
 

B. J. “A” 2

February 25^th 2004

My Boys

Your mother, I am, forever and always !

I love you both forever and in all ways !

 

I have been, both mother and father !

I have been there, to nurse your wounds,

both physical and psychological !

I have been there, in your times of sorrow,

to kiss away all the pain you were feeling.

I have kept a roof over your heads !,

long after you should have left the nest.

I have kept food in your stomachs.

I have, long after you should have been self-sufficient,

paid for your entertainment ( phones, cable, internet ).

I have ended up paying for your cars, car insurance !

As men who should be taking responsibility for yourselves,

I should no longer have to sacrifice my financial freedom,

in order to help you as I have – financing your businesses,

paying off the debts you incurred doing business.

After they failed, I lost my financial security,

and to this day !, I have never been able to recover !

The list goes on and on my dear sons and so, where do we go ?

 

As men, it is time to let go of my apron strings !

As a woman, with grown children, it is time !,

time for me to stand up and take off the apron

no matter ( for all of us ) how much it stings.

It seems to me, you, as middle aged men,

I am still being a slave to motherhood !

It is time for us to let go of past expectations

and move on and look after our own needs !!!

Your Mother !!!

B. J. “A” 2
June 27^th, 2014
   

True Colours !!!

 

Time being the greatest artist of all, – in its passing –

sketching and painting ones essence, upon a canvas,

the canvas of life, with the truest, purest of colours,

colours that come through, colours that enlighten,

colours that open one’s eye to the subconscious,

- that all knowing third eye that the conscious mind

is blinded to, - the eye that saw,  - a long time ago –

from the beginning, a way to move with insight.

 

Some hang on, willing to stay, – with hope – partake of the fight.

Unfortunately - in the end – both will climb aboard, take flight,

searching the nooks and crannies, dreaming, hoping to see the light .

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 Silent Voices

 My voice remains silent, within life’s harmony,

for a tune, it cannot carry, even with the cords

that vibrate, that grate, that irritate, out of sync.

For they – as I – are tone deaf, sing out of tune.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

February 6^th 2004

Solstice of life !!!

At what point ?, in the journey of one’s life,

does one consider, that they have reached their solstice.

Realizing that the rest of their adventure is not, but downhill,

wondering ?, does it come on the heels of, waning of the physical ?,

 

all the losses suffered ?, exhaustion of the psyche ?,

being uses  ?, the disappointments of  ?, having nothing ?,

 

but your life !, your health, your spirituality to carry through,

all the empty hours, the hours you fill with questionable activities.

 

Waning - from solstice onward - leaves one hanging onto dreams,

dreams no longer viable as one no longer handles the psychological,

 

aspects of the journey, the adventurous, left far behind, along with

all that youthful spirit that carried one through, all the youthful thinking

 

that, at one time, brought into ones heart, the energy of living,

the heart, the soul and the energy, the pure essence of giving.

 B. J. “A ” 2

June 19^th 2014

Moods of Change

 

I have sensed, I feel, I have seen, growing impressions

imprinted upon the walls, inside my skull, impressions

 

that hang heavy within my D.N.A, like ghostly shadows

streaking across the empty spaces of my minds windows

 

as my days and nights – closing in on me – seem to be

slipping away, – being dragged ever onward – into a sea

 

of black holes,– with such gravitational force - you’ll find me

being sucked in, along with those leaving the last ray

 

of their life’s light, always fighting all that comes our way,

hanging on tightly to the fragile edges of what remains to day

 

of a reality, that has long since, gone to memory,

gone to dust, blown away by winds telling a story

 

of lives lived, experiences had and of life decaying

as we walk this plane, for a better future, we are praying

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Drift Wood

 There is this used less appendage

that once – maybe – during the course

of a passing month, rises, falls, becomes the useless,

 

meaningless, remnant of the past, a standing protrusion,

that does little more then lay idle,

even at times, when it gets revved up,

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Paths

 

As we come to the end of that long road,

it becomes much harder to carry the load,

find a path that our psyche legs can climb

as they take us from a journey, once sublime

and into the past that has come in rhyme.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

January 28^th 2004

Choices

There are times when I wonder about the choices ?

Why they come to light in dark hours, to speak ?, their voices

 

making them as hollow and empty as barren bottle of champagne,

ticking away expectations – dissipating - as they complain.

 

Bubbles bursting, as they touch the air of realization,

become flat and as meaningless, when in contemplation,

 

of, why ?, all the empty hours, between then and when,

are as stagnant as still waters and some men.

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Inner Voices

Is my love, like a Cockatoo, captured, kept in a cage ?

Never to escape its gilded bars, living in rage,

as it’s spirit – enfolded - dying, decaying,

may never know - may never stop crying -

what freedom is, for its captured soul,

just pieces of what once was a whole.

 

The cage will never let go.

The heartless will never show.

The Cockatoo, will never unfold its wings.

Its voice, not to be heard, what it sings.

Never to know flight, once more

is its fate, behind a closed door.

 

Never to see the light.

To never know flight.

In dream, reaches out,

voice, raised in a shout,

takes hold of the wind, fly’s,

high up into heavenly blue sky’s.

 

upon compassionate winds, flying free,

towards you, whoever you may be,

where ever you are

no matter which star.

B. J. “A” 2

January 26^th 2004

Hidden Pain

Molestation of anyone, is the abomination

of a depraved, sick and warped mankind,

festering within the abyss of a distorted mind,

perceiving experiences of life as a creation

– by these perpetrators of one’s hidden pain –

beyond themselves, and most, we will never find

or be able to bring them to prosecution.

 

That allows them freedom to do it again and again !

I wonder what ?, besides a life time of  tears, that rain

down upon every man who knows not, and has no solution

for all that he does not understand, and never will, know,

why there is death of what could have been a beautiful soul

who, herself, does not know, why truth and love doesn’t show

or why she is always destroying, when one comes to a conclusion.

B. J. “A ” 2

January 23^rd 2004