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Personal Note:

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Poem

Thoughts about

The games in life, that one plays for his / her audience, are games perceived
- usually – by the recipient and sometimes by an observer, but to the player,
it is not a game at all, it is life’s essence needing to survive, to know.
I have no answer, nor am I the answer, I am just the lender of an ear,
to hear, a shoulder to lean on, to cry on - at least I think ?
all I have to offer is a helping hand, a willingness to listen.
Beyond that, you have the answers, you are the answer.

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Oh !!!, to once again touch some of the personalities
that walked into and out of,  leaving flacks, specks, stardust
upon my moments, became a part of my reality in days long ago.
Those life’s experiences that are not, but distant memories
drifting in and out of my memories hoard, past my minds eye

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Daydreams, revere and their dreams of, have become buried
beneath layers and layers of film, film that has been deposited
upon them as the years, once flowing freely, have become stagnant
pools, filled with life’s, death filled experiences, - doubts, self-doubts,
insecurities, fears – experiences that once allowed the poisonous
debris to harmlessly drift by - during those days of one’s past -,
not to get caught up in, become a part of the all that settles upon,
weighs down, dampens and distorts the light into and out from
so that these stagnant pools only reflect – like smoked mirrors –
ghostly apparitions that are but black and lifeless.

B. J. “A” 2
June 22nd 2002

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