Chance / Change
Chance, that translucent shadow that creates change.
Change opened doors, opened windows outwards
into the deep, dark, recesses of inner space –
space, the dialectic – dilating the synapse –
giving birth to the possibility of dreams, of hope.
Chance, that opaque shadow that created change.
Change closed the doors, closed the windows inwards,
shutting off access to the light, of inner space,
slaughtering all the hopes and dreams
born from the mating of chance and change.
Change the light, of hope- a black cloaked, Grim Reaper.
A Beautiful Drug
This Drug, became a habit,
the habit became sorrow,
the sorrow became a nightmare,
the nightmare became change and loss
the loss of – what beauty was imagined,
has come to an acceptance, of a reality,
a reality that existed from the beginning.
Change, will not go easily into that black night.
Chance, will not give up easily, not without a fight !
This grape, will not a raisin, become !
This ivy refuses to metamorphose into a chameleon !
The shadow, the door, the window, the drug remain alive,
The life in them does not want to be shut out, shut down.
The feeling though – is – it all dies on a vine !
The feeling is, in that inner space, it all - remains ?,
the burial ground for change, for the future,
the end of hope and dreams never seen.
The essence of change, sometimes is a force so mean !
B. J. “A” 2
Will – ful – ness
Deep down, in the recesses of the hidden, the mysterious,
lies the will to hang on, to hang in, to live, – in spite of –
even in the grip of winter’s icy strangle hold,
forcing change to renew, rejuvenate, resurrect,
from deaths hands, an neonate, to journey
into another future, it seeks not, wants not !
The reluctant grape, the loathe ivy,
can not see that they will become food
to nourish our neonate, on it’s sojourn
into the wavering light of the mysterious.
Oh how I love the mystery !, why I love this mystery ?,
is a mystery to me and is a mystery to her - ( the drug ).
B. J. “A” 2
March 18th 2008