Journeys

Moments, they will come, moments, they will go.

With their journey, what will one come to know?

Moments, they come, when they go, it rearranges

one’s perception, one’s perspective it changes.

Will the changes become a world of infinite wisdom,

or a lifetime of limited ?, or limitless ?, freedom.

Some say, the gods, will provide, will guide .

Within each cult, each religion they hide.

Men have taken their philosophies and deride.

Filling men’s minds with fears, false prides.

B. J. “ A ” 2

May 4^th2017

Nowhere Men

Roads have been long ones, for many an old man

who traversed every path, without having a plan.

Always flying, vicariously, by the seat of our pants.

Fighting many a battle, never in states of rants.

We just bears it, and carry on with the good fight

as our days, on gossamer wings, take flight

into accepting that journey, into that good night

as we wonder, ponder all that laid before our sight.

B. J. “A” 2

April 26^th 2017

The Light

When the lights of this reality,

this dimension, this plane, dim.

Will they be bright on the other side

or just ghostly shadows, gray and grim?

Which will light up your journey?

Freedom that comes with letting go

or a prisoner of this plan ?, by hanging on

to what transpired, that grounded your soul.

B. J. “ A ” 2

April 15^th 2017

A Journey

 

Upon many a rough and rocky street

have walked these tired, blistered, old feet.

 

Down many a dark alley they doth roam

towards that dimension, soon to be home.

 

So many tell a story of what lies ahead,

fill our brains, where our lives will be lead.

Some believe that dead is dead.

Others believe what books have said.

 

Will we ???, in the end, come to meet

and that last dance, be a delicious treat ?

 

B. J. “A ” 2

April 6^th 2017

Pink

Pink, is the blessed colour of Love.

Pink, from one’s knee, the heaven above.

OH !, to French kiss those sweet pink lips.

One eyeing those shapely, gorgeous hips.

On that journey one takes to heavenly bliss.

No woman, in the pink, should ever miss.

B. J. “A ” 2

April 2^nd 2017

A Mother ???

Nothing more than a name, a biological mother.

You would not find, you could not be the other.

You have, with hostility, with anger, left this plane.

Seeming to have lived your life hanging on to the pain.

You chose to throw, all those who loved you, away.

using the hostile, angry games you chose to play,

against the only son you acknowledge, you cared for.

The only Grandchild who cared, you kicked out the door.

One is forced to question ???, why all these wasted years

trying to kill the love, loved one’s gave, creating rivers of tears.

Mae, the ghosts you have harbored, give them release.

Mae, this, your last journey, become one of peace

B. J. “ A ” 2

March 14^th 2017

Essondale, the Riverview

 

Was designed to be a place of mental wellness, a safe haven,

where hospital patients could sit under a tree and watch a raven

 

at play, never having to think of what the First Nations lost,

nor just how much the toll, to their healing grounds, it cost.

 

This healing place, once dealt out such horror, untold abuse.

Not the design of the visionaries, not meant to be its use.

 

The government shut it down for so many a wasted year.

Thousands of patients, put out on the streets, living in fear

 

as drug pushers fill their veins with poisons of the day.

Our governments indifference, leaves them no place to stay.

 

Now the government wants to sell off two thirds of the land

leaving one third of what remains in mental health’s hand

 

Cities, groups, citizens voices, the government does not hear.

As time approaches, were money in their greedy hand is near.

 

B. J. “ A ” 2

March 1st 2017