No Title

In my hubris, youth – I knew then

as much as I think I  know now.

Only then I did not know when,

or where, or why, or how

 

it would all come together

nor would I know whether

I had what it would take

my world, my life to make

 

of what I think I know

or what shape or form it’d show ?

Does this mystic shadow of wisdom ?,

from long lost, past lives, come ?

 

There is this black, angry, cloud.

Upon eth my head, it doth shroud.

Could it be cosmic karma ?,

born of my delinquent ma, ma,

 

that biological creature, that female being

- birthing, wanting, never, me – incapable of seeing.

A speck of dust riding on the wind.

To her – I have known – I have sinned.

 

Has she been the distorted mold ?,

for every girl, every woman I hold

in the depths of my memories hoard

who have walked out my door, left me floored,

 

never to be an intimate part any more.

Should that make me angry, make me sore ?,

as I sit, lie, absorb in my room

just as I once did in the womb.

 

An innocent, confined and naked,

today, it is how I try and make it.

As then – all wrapped up, yet all alone

are my days and nights – on my own .

B. J. “A ” 2

August 15^th 2004