Holographic

Pieces make

Up, what become pieces of ourselves,

that run in circles, like little elves,

 

playing with bits and pieces of others

as we incorporate parts- be they brothers

 

our sisters, our fathers our mothers

aunts and uncles - that in some cases smothers

 

the identity, the puzzle making up our psychic well.

Camouflaging the shades, the hues, the story one can tell

 

of how we arrived, how we lived, live and how we fell

from grace and into the abyss, a black bottomless pit

 

where one comes out smelling like a steaming pile of shit,

rather than a bouquet of roses – finding no place to sit

 

among the healing rays of a bright, light day

knowing that this is the cost, the price we pay

 

for a small place in the sun, a place on earth to stay,

rest our souls, reflect, contemplate, meditate and pray

 

for something better to show its face, come our way.

these are the hopes and dream - for another day

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Depressions Hole

 

Depression has draped her tapestries in vain.

Trying to shroud my shoulders with gray pain

and yet her oppression – I will not let gain

a foot hold or weaken this tired, feeble brain.

 

No teardrops - to flood – fall like rain.

No teardrops – no water marks – show a stain

that can tell a story of what will not remain

of the hours spent in depressions train.

 

For with wisdom, knowledge, will, I will refrain

from being drown with depression / oppressions rein.

For all who live, feel, who forlornly sing this sad refrain.

remember !!! it’s in your head, you can eject it from your brain,

 

those track upon which rides this runaway train.

So my dear friends, do not be afraid !!!, apply the brakes

know relief and the joy and the difference it makes.

It is not easy- as you well know – but an effort is what it takes

 

to see the waters clear and calm – no drowning in these lakes

for those who can see past their nose, for that is the way it goes

for the fighters, for the adventurous, for the one who knows

that in the end – talking, sharing, writing – it will show

 

the world – your world – that depression, feeling drowned,

feeling its oppression is but a marry-go-round, going around

and around, and if you do not jump off, it will be into the ground

for you, there will be no escape from deaths song - that aery sound

 

the grim reaper plays as he marches you

to the other side of life, where very few

have come back from, to tell what is new

for me, for you, in this light, who knew ?

 

( B. J. “A” 2 )

March 10^th 2006