Memories of L B  - 1

Could love have ever blossomed ?

 

 

Sacrificing one’s family – ones potential life.

Sacrificing my all – for a love that could never be.

Sacrificing – in hindsight – for love, that, from

the beginning was a lost cause – doomed – because,

any love that might have existed was lost

a long time ago, lost in all that life – parents –

laid upon her fragile little soul, her head.

Cemented it into her youthful, impressionable mind,

all that in the end – from the beginning and throughout –

would kill any love she had to give or could have lived,

– a love that I might have known or any of the others

as they moved into and out of her troubled life. –

if the ghosts, from her past, she was a victim of,

did not haunt every moment of her life, her nights.

I do wonder ?, from time to time, about the potential,

for her love to spread its wings and take flight.

I do wonder ?, if the love I once felt – gave -  died,

and now lives in the hollowness of deaths domain,

forever and ever, or is it asleep ?, in a deathless sleep,

just waiting for that moment when a Princesses, kiss

– of love, true love, unbagaged, unbounded love –

is not but free flowing, uninhibited, devoted love

that could light a fire, the flames of which carry

its essence, its ability to renew, to regenerate,

to resurrect love lost, to raise loves death to new heights.

Loves losses, – love lost – that we have suffered through

become the losses we create for ourselves as we dance

the dance of aloneness, of aloofness, of fear.

Wanting no more pain, we dance our last steps

on feet that fade into the shadows, become dust on the wind,

winds blowing away all that life could have been,

if not for what life truly was – the experiences of.

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I sometimes have thoughts of my brown haired,

hippy chick, and wonder ?, what my beauty has done

with her life, since we last met each other’s eyes,

there, in Toronto, during late spring, nineteen eighty nine.

Some nineteen years, without any contact, of separation

since our relationship – our beautiful, but brief affair -

that cost me dearly and took me six months to learn why.

I wonder where we would be today ?, had I been aware then,

of all that I know now - what drove her and drove me –

that had me send her packing for her act of infidelity

 

B. J. “A” 2

January 8th 2004

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L B  - 1

Today, lives alone in Northern Ontario.

A life with a wonderful scenario.

A life content, ingrained in her heritage,

as she has turned many a page

to touch spirituality and Mother Nature,

with all her heart and soul, a positive future

 

B. J. “A” 2

June 16th 2014 

For Years !!!

 

Four years have been on the run, on the wane

and yet, I still feel your beauty, still feel the pain

that came with – an end – the end you made me aware,

of, we, will no longer be, from then on, I’ve lived in despair,

missing your Asian Beauty, your Oriental Charm,

that did, once upon a time, hang tightly onto my arm.

 

Now it is all gone, fading upon the pages of history.

The joys, the pleasures, the closeness are but a story

of a love that may not have been more than an illusion

of my blind desire, I was willing to accept the delusion,

live within the mystery of your dark and beautiful eyes,

accept the reality, of seeing you create, so many blue skies.

 

Four years have been on the run, on the wane,

all that I know, is, being your friend, I will gain

– every once in a while – an opportunity to spend

a little time with you, bask in the light of my dream,

a dream I have watched, into outer space, you send,

as I sit on the edge of it and watch it float downstream.

 

Yet this old man cannot seem to let go of his desire

to have you rekindle the flame, setting his heart a fire

with all that beauty, beauty that he came to know

as he touched, tasted, experienced what you did and did not show.

This I do know !, I love you still, and it seems that I always will.

It was too short, never had a chance to matured, I never got my fill.

 

Four years have been on the run, on the wane,

and my heart still bleeds, pouring down like rain.

All that remains, are the visions I see in my head !

This fills my heart, my soul - my spirit, it has not fed.

I live with the knowledge, nothing I will be, but your friend.

This, I will carry to my grave, for me, you will never end.

 

I still see you coming in ecstatic waves, upon my black sea,

knowing, consciously, that with you again, I will never be.

This, within, is a deep sadness that is hard to overcome, for me,

yet I should know ?, as every time we are together, soon you flee,

leaving me behind, and all that remains or traces of your shadow,

a shadow that lingers behind, etched upon the pain of my window.

 

Four years have been on the run, on the wane.

Like it was yesterday, I still I feel you, but such a strain

upon the eye, the door that opens into the heart of my soul.

A soul that lived a life time of heart ache, heart ache it doth know

only to well, as memories of a checkered past, weigh, like lead

upon my hours, upon my days and like you, constantly fill my head.

 

In my mind’s eye, I see you often, so many reflections

drift across the mirrored surface of my recollections.

Is that mirror, in a carnival fun house ?, depicting distortion ?,

where all the images I perceive, are not but, states of contortion.

I often wonder ?, why an old man hangs on, so tightly, to a young dream,

long after the actress has played her last scene upon the big screen.

 

Four years have been on the run, on the wane,

and I do know, I will never know your beauty again,

except in the deep dark recesses of my memory’s hoard

where all the adventures, the moments we shared are stored.

Can it be ?, a hopeless, helpless romantic am I.

Have I been out of my element ?, trying to reach for the sky.
 

 

B. J. “A” 2

July 13^th 2014

 

Daydreams – A day in the life

I awake to a cornucopia of routines,

a lunch basket - of useless habits

carrying me into the realm of, dreamland

a carnival midway full of mirrored visions

that have become imbedded in the sands of, time

representing images of wooden horses,

the essence of a carousel going round and round,

going up and down in my subconscious mind,

night after night, the same themes permeate

my nightly ride in the world of dreams, day or night.

Dreams or reality ?, I am always standing on the outside

fighting for my rights, my perceived place in the universe,

not just to be looking in on, but to be on inside

where I know I once was – yes, on that ride

in the fast lane, were I was in control of the game,

that now is dead for this man, where nothing is the same.

Now, from inside my dreams, I am standing on the outside,

looking in, watching my life pass me by, wondering why

I see others at the helm, at the controls, in control !!!,

making decisions that affect, infect, direct my fate

during the dark hours of night, where it is late,

where I contemplate, wonder why this is my fate ?

Is this the way my life is ?, is this where I let go ?,

where I let it all go ?, I cannot say, I just do not know

if a pawn, in the game of life, is what my dreams show

and that  my dreams are telling me, is, so

that I may see a reality, an undeniable truth

that tells of my wasted years, my wasted youth

and the paths, down which I have gone.

Upon which, no glorious light has shone,

just shadowy, dim light in dark corners

where, in the end, stand no mourners,

not even I, as thought tears fill this eye

and life passes me by, hanging me out to dry,

then, like dust in the wind, to be no more, just a sigh

upon the breath of time, and memories passing by.

 

B. J. “A ” 2

December 9^th 2003

The Dark Hours

L. B.

 

A piercing cold has crept into my bones  – today !

A numbing chill has penetrated my soul – today !

A thick, chocking lump grows in my throat – today !

A pressure began to swell in my sinuses – today !

A breaking of trust could be felt in my heart – today !

A crashing down of my world could be heard – today !

All came on the “ hush ” to one in the back ground – today !

 

B. J. “A” 2

December 8^th 2003

My Dear, Sweet, lost Child ?

Daughter of my wasted youth !

A confession

I am truly sorry Gail, for all that I was 

- that selfish, inconsiderate, thoughtless man -

I am truly sorry Gail, for all that I was not !,

- a responsible, considerate, good father -  

as I left behind, in the wake of my life, a beautiful girl child,

a child who, by her own strength, came to a stage,

just one of many, - as I recall – in her life,

that have plagued her, with so many questions,

so much insecurity, such deep doubt about what she is ?,

who she is ?, how she got to be ?, what it will take to be free ?

 

What I see !, is a beautiful young woman, who has found the answers,

who has the strength, the courage, the wisdom to move beyond

all of her life’s adversities, moved beyond all that has troubled her,

- filled her mind for so many, long and wasted years –

to find and live a life few can only hope to achieve.

She has left her troubled soul behind, stepped out of the limitations

her creators instilled, - limitations her creators are trapped in -,

walked past, and far beyond the worst and best they could be,

to be a much better person then they and in her own right.

 

Their right Gail, - your mothers and mine – was created by forces,

forces beyond the innocent, naiveté of our youthful experiences.

And so my Dear, sad to say, we are left to deal with all of life

- rainbows, black clouds, mirrored lakes, raging seas, open fields,

dark and mysterious caves, happiness, securities, doubts,

insecurities and a life time of sadness’s – yet most of us,

realize, ( to one degree or another ) that life goes on in spite

and perpetuates itself – for the good of mankind and this planet

we share ( from the infinitesimal atom to the mighty, majestic mountains

or the destruction of conscious humanity and our tiny inverse  -

for better or worse as we act out the characters our forefathers created.

 

I can not help but be deeply saddened – heart broken – by all

that troubles you, about me, about your mother,

but most of all – troubles you about yourself.

You know my Dear, there is positively nothing you can do,

think, feel, understand – no matter how much, I wish

I could take the hands of father time and turn them back –

that will take the hands of time, turn them to the time of youth

and change what I, and the past created for you.

 

Fear not my Dear, for you can ask ?, question ?, understand,

and with that knowledge, step aside, embrace the past

and with knowledge in hand, walk a different path

then those that came before knowing that the past

permeates the present with its essence, as it does the future,

but it is only you, who has the power to make the choice,

of whether or not the past controls you or you the past.

 

Ones actions – at a time when another’s needs, need be met –

does not necessarily mean what the other has thought and felt.

My actions, my choices Gail, where just that, my choices.

None of what I did or did not do had anything to do with you,

even though – in the end – it did, it affected you negatively.

My decision Gail, good or bad, selfish and thoughtless

where not meant to take anything away from you – but did –

except for my physical presence, for my love and concerns

where always in mind, where always with you, even if I wasn’t.

 

You know my Dear, - of course you don’t – I wish you had kept

all the correspondence from me, as I have done, from you,

so that we might go through them all and see, and know

if what I now perceive of myself these days, reflects a truth

of the man I think I was in those days. Was I the man then

I am now ?, is the man I am now, one of worth ?,

more worthy today then yesterday ?, I cannot say, I do not know

but what ever the case ?, I loved you as much then as I do now,

regardless, and in spite of all that may seem, and seemed uncertain.

 

I realize Gail, that certainty, memories, experiences are but illusions

in the mind, in the passing of time, what counts, is living the moment,

– at least for me – sucking the life out of it, without reservation,

for, within the moment, are carried the all, and all we are

at that precise moment when the twinkling of life’s eye

shows us the light, the colours, the knowledge, the wisdom

as they move on, on the wings of rainbows, that are moved

by the solar winds of our conscious / subconscious life.

The all we were, the all we are, the all we will ever be,

in this moment, all or fragments of, will live in the next moment.

How we direct our moments Gail, come on the wings

of who and what we were, who and what we are

and what previous moments added to the equation.

 

I wonder ?, have pondered ?, have analyzed the boxes,

the cages, the walls my little Girl, my young Woman,

finds herself packaged in, trapped in, stuck behind,

believing that they have come into being

– along with all the uncertainties, doubts and fears –

because of the constant “ You are to much like you dad ”.

If you are me ?, and I you ?, in you mothers eyes,

then we can see why all the pain, all the heat ache

I inflicted, by my actions, drove your mother to turn

all her hurt, her pain into anger, hostility, animosity,

malice, vengeance, a vendetta. All her mean spirited

words ponding through your youthful days and nights,

into your innocence was directed at me, meant for me,

– not you – unfortunately, this you had to endure.

For you where your mothers only outlet, only release valve

and in her naiveté, her blind rage, her need to strike out,

she did not know, did not understand, did not pay heed

to my words and so the words she was shooting at me,

struck at the very heart of you, how could they not kill

your spirit, destroy the very soul of one so little, so fragile,

when she was often said “ You are so much like your dad ”,

a picture she painted black, with angry, harsh brush strokes

of a dad that was not the dad you knew and understood.

That caused great damage to us and our relationship.

In the end – unfortunately – my acts flooded your growth,

impacted your life with such negativity and uncertainty.

I am sorry that I let your mother leave, taking you with her

and for my leaving for distant lands, unknown worlds,

leaving you to your own and your mothers devices.

Unfortunately my Dear, being your fathers Daughter,

“ You are to much like you dad ”, you were forced to endure

all the abuse meant for me, – personally – after all,

how could you not ?, how could you escape the war ?,

especially when you became the battle field upon which

your mother waged her destructive war against me.

 

I look into the tapestry of our lives my Dear, and see it

tattered and torn, frayed at the edges of its heart, and see,

pieces of me being blown apart – as my world

( in your ears, in your eyes ) – crumbles before you,

comes tumbling down, scattered around uncertain ground

upon which to build your own world, rebuild your spirit,

your soul, your personality and climb out of your little coffin

and rise up from the broken, shattered remains, the ashes

of the man you called dad and walk out of the maze

of memories, of experiences, of the tales told,

that threw you into the fire, that mess of confusion,

the pain of uncertainty, by “ You are so much like your dad ”

and know that I think ( it was unintentional, I do believe )

that it was all intended for me and not you my Dear.

 

In the final analysis Gail, one can only conclude that the love

your mother and I had and have for you, got lost I the fray

– because we did not have the strength of character to overcome –

of our destructive needs and desires, the wants of our sicknesses.

Our fractured, tortured psyches Gail, drove us, and at your feet,

permeating your soul, upon the head of an undeserving little girl,

you have come to know – all that you never needed to know.

 

In time – be it already history or yet to be the future – I, -

as I am sure your mother - harbour many regrets and I hope

that you will find peace and forgiveness within that

shattered heart and soul of yours, if not for our sakes,

at least for yours, for not letting go, only hurts you

and you are the only one that matters, for all time.

 

I am oh so sorry Gail, for my immature, inconsiderate,

selfish life style and for all that being these things

has caused you to suffer through, you who did not

deserve to have any of this be a part of your life’s experience.

I am very proud of you my Dear, for no one but you,

brought you through to where you now are,

– that being far beyond us, in so many ways – leaving us, 

who did little or nothing to help you get to where you are,

to stand back and admire your fortitude in the face of adversity.

What is truly amazing my Dear, is the fact that you accomplished

all that you have, in spite of the heavy weight of all that baggage

– all those insecurities, doubts and fears dragging you down –

you carried over stumbling blocks ( sometimes mountains )

that your mother and me, laid on your path, to the here and now.

 

Anyway Gail, after all is said and done, history is the past

and the past has passed, it once was a reality, left its mark,

scares that influence ( the degree, is a matter of wise choices )

and certainly becomes a parts of the present and of the future,

no one is able to change that, whether it is hereditary, genetic,

nature, nurturing or psychological, it is all a part of the whole.

How we perceive the past, what we believe it to be, how we live it,

how much we let it have control or influence, will be determined

by our desire, our strengths and weaknesses, our understanding.

I do, truly understand Gail, your need for answers, I was there once,

got the answer - the time I took you to Chicago – from your grandma.

I too, lived with doubts and uncertainties, for over thirty years,

then that weekend in Chicago, the answer came, confirming my years

and years of a belief, - a subconscious knowledge that, unfortunately,

was hidden behind clouds of doubts, shrouded in uncertainty,

that the confirmation of opened the door, gave me freedom,

released me from being enfolded by the wings of uncertainty,

the cage of doubt about my ability to perceive reality

for what it truly was / is, and I believe, will always be.

I hope Gail, ?, that you may also find that same freedom.

Freedom that comes, with confidence gained, from the knowledge

that you truly did know the essence of the reality

you were not quite so sure of as this story has unfolded

before your beautiful, brown, troubled eyes.

 

Anyway my Love, your life is the sum total of you,

of that, there is nothing that we can do !,

so live life to the fullest and best that you can,

that to me, seems exactly what you are doing Gail,

so please leave behind, let go, set aside all the baggage,

keep flying towards the very best of you and life.

Love dad .

B. J. “A ” 2

November 22^nd 2003