The Camera Man
Depression
Depression clouds the lens, throwing it out of focus.
Distorting the images before it, altering perceived reality.
Depression hovers above like an ominous, menacing black bird,
hanging onto the winds of times passed, over its pray,
ready to swoop down with furry upon its victim with vengeance,
with razor sharp talons ready to pierce this fragile spirit’s soul.
Dragging it over shards of broken glass, slivers of glass reflecting,
refracting moments, experiences, stories that shed some light
before dropping it all into a black hole, from which seems no escape.
Times passing has deflected, yet the mirror still holds sway to the past.
The past, not but an evil land, a prison with tarnished, rusted, rotting cages
wherein lies skewed images, much like Salvador Dali’s surrealistic paintings.
The Camera Man – Depression, will either find serenity, a beautiful lake, still.
Its surface calm, un-rippled by life’s journey, reflecting not but blue skies .
B. J. “A ” 2
January 21st, 2026
Life is not a journey but a time-lapse of merry/many destinations.
You start with smashed peas and carrots by a deflected spoon.
And end with flowers and thorns crested on you.
Problems are met with solutions.
Hoping and hopping on the milestones below.
Awareness = being mindful and forcing a look at your darky shadow below.
Acceptance = being open to change by surrendering and/or letting go.
Accountability = being responsible to take inner and outer measures.
Aligned action = being intentional in using your intuition to apply inspired action.
Appreciation = being grateful for solving the problem(s) and gaining growth (knowing + doing better).
They called it stone.
We called it signal.
The Great Pyramid—
not a tomb,
but a beacon,
wired into the pulse of the cosmos.
It stands at Portal 1313,
its apex aligned with the 13th galaxy beyond Andromeda,
where star councils whisper in light.
Its limestone breathes geometry.
Its shadow measures eternity.
Our pineal gland,
once unclouded,
was the antenna—
we spoke to Sirius,
we dreamed with Orion,
we danced across Saturn’s rings
before birth had a name.
The Pyramid was our firewall—
it deflected psychic viruses
from ancient wars in other galaxies.
It shielded Gaia’s mind
like Jupiter catches falling knives
meant for Earth.
You call it dead stone,
but it listens still.
It sings to those who sit in silence.
Its resonance vibrates
with codes only the soul deciphers.
Now, in sleep,
you see flashes.
You dream languages
never taught.
The Wi-Fi still hums,
but only those who fast in spirit,
who breathe in stillness,
can log in.
Yes—
the Pyramid protects,
projects,
connects.
In the Age of Awakening,
it will power us again.
What we hear
What we say
What we remember in our way
What goes in?
What comes out?
What we show when we are in doubt
What we think
What we feel
What is fake from what is real?
What we smell
What we touch
What tells the body it has had too much?
What we swallow
What we know
What helps or stops things that might grow?
What we inhale
What we expel
What is deflected and repelled?
What is soiled?
What is clean?
What is the spectrum that is seen?
What is open?
What is closed?
What gets stopped when we let things go?
What is caught?
What is released?
What channels seal our inner peace?
What is discussed?
What is believed?
What gets through to let us breathe?
It was a strong opponent,
it fought against us very well.
Many of us were slaughtered
before it finally went down.
Again and again it tried to run,
but we chased it down each time.
We will never give up the hunt.
We will always persevere.
But this one had surprised us;
it flashed its hardened steel.
It cut down many of the pack
and deflected our attacks.
Eventually we brought it down.
We got in behind and hamstrung it.
Then when it fell to its knees
we leapt for its throat.
We did not revel in victory however,
too many of the pack had died this night.
Instead we lamented our dead
by howling at the moon.
Tonight, the hunt went wrong.
Tonight, we lost our kin.
But tomorrow will bring a new hunt.
We will never give it up.
memory revisits the erased past
who does it address: ego or our soul
let this not become the ego’s repast
lest we are deflected from our life’s goal
which is rekindling light scriptures extol
simply present in thought rested silence
our soul’s shielded from thought borne violence
.
thuh bul'it
stopped
az the cartoon
front mine
the cut'lass
too
az comical
her brotherz
father
even her priest
deflected
off mine
their
'tiz hern
powerful love
az solomon'z
shield
favor'n
my
How longs it been?
How longs it been since she was truely seen?
Was it that year?
No she think that was fear!
She could leave it right here, she could stop out of fear of what you all thought.
But alas she thinks it her task to share the views of the measly outcast.
She's tired
Tired of the ignorant view that she knows just what to do.
What not to do you mean, to rile up the few that are happy to behave the way that you do.
Do as you want she know its all front,
All front for the fact that you actually aren't better than that
And actually you will talk behind her back and form an attack
When all while youre covering her in smiles and lies about how happy you are with your home lives.
She's actually no fool and can see right through
That your vile attacks are actual infact are what fuel your "panic attacks"
Your own insecurities deflected on me,
So easy so free you will take my confidence from me.
not anymore, am I crying on floors
not anymore, are you slamming doors
Not anymore
Please no more.
The embodiment of the unique existence,
life is the construct of transient elements,
that align in the plethora of perishable patterns
within the mundane entity of body-mind duality.
Beneath the surface of opaque discernment,
mortal being builds the fragile framework of ego
on the denuded domain of brittle awareness,
that persists to thwart the flow of congeniality.
Deflected from the course of the divine compass,
I’m sucked into the whirlpool of self-centric storm,
that carries me on the course of the insightful flight
in the enlightened sky of astute consciousness.
Divinely designed being floats on concord cadence,
composing in all hearts the cosmic concert of love.
By one common harmonic cord we are all bound,
in one heavenly harp resonates the prime music of life.
Understanding now the true purpose of existence,
I wish I had traveled long ago on adoration pathway
to the consecrated spiritual sanctum of consciousness
to merge with the essence of the self-discerning souls.
Before breakfast, my dear, we perfected,
after years of affection, neglected,
fear and frustration detected—
our game.
After sense of ourselves, we protected,
while scrambling the omelet, suspected,
the eggs that we broke were infected,
with blame.
During luncheon, my dear, we dissected,
days of salad with care, roots subjected,
dressed in acid, as usual convected,
more flame.
Day nearly gone, now aspected,
like an omen, frustration reflected,
against walls made of fear, we erected—
this frame.
By dinner, my dear, we confected,
new marrow, from old bones resected—
the pangs of their hold are deflected,
now tame.
Finally, bedtime, we lie there complected,
our bodies at bellies connected,
fed by each other, repast corrected,
No shame.
responses measured
lose moments treasured
since spontaneity is caged
when heart’s by mind upstaged
and as for heart’s desires fickle
deflected by a mere tickle
it finds that it’s unable
to remain stable
our fall from grace
and sole cause of disgrace
is clearly then bondage to desire
of earthy objects we seek to acquire
save by dissolving our ego in the void
poised as awareness self-aware
we’ll continue to be decoyed
trapped in ego’s snare
One day later
My ego is protected
All the pain deflected
From the hurt you caused
An eye for an eye; zero pause
You cut my tongue; I take your eyes
Count and pray on my demise
Until I rise like an eagle
Up to heaven; the angel of evil
Hurting more
One week later
My eye bawls blood
Soaked my hands, skin scrub
But the mark will never fade
The sinner's brand; you claimed
Demons stalk me at midnight
Till dusk to dawn is a fight
Curses etched on my wall
The thorns start to crawl
Hurting more
One month later
Thorns crowning and piercing through
Penance; the karmic coup
No justice has been made
But baptised; in blood I bathed
New face; new name
Old sins; same game
The same inner war
Same man, hurting more
Hurting more
One year later
I'm soaked head to toe
Facing the red soaked path below
Towards a future clouded by guilt
From the monster I had built
Hurting more
Hurting forevermore
“Be happy in the moment that's enough. Each moment is all we need.”
Quote _ Mother Teresa
As time brings glee days,
As we sojourn on bloom ways,
Let’s treasure the clime,
For it's a fleeting sublime.
Life is a stage of variant entities,
They come in subtleties,
It’s a walk across meadows,
Nightfall brings the shadows.
Happiness is a choice,
A punctuating voice,
A light that can be reflected,
As gloom can be deflected.
Like a child on a swing,
Away from life's other wing,
We can walk oblivious of gloom,
Permuting our desired room.
May 24, 2023.
Writing Challenge - B Quotes - Poetry Contest,
Constance La France.
Courage
Glorious passage
Temptations deflected
Faith in solitude reflected
Soul above all tribulations and pains
Rock over multitude of grains
Living daylight that grows
Fortitude sows
A king
To feel variety, our heart flutters,
setting up the cause, which has an effect,
transformed as thought forms but who would suspect
that misaligned from source, our mind stutters.
Playful intent of soul, thus deflected,
hijacked by ego, we claim as our own,
soon becomes our destiny, we bemoan,
unless love inks thoughts, till they’re perfected.
Given this preamble, we can now see,
that once our erst fears and desires are shorn,
we dance to the rhythm of God’s supreme will,
signalling that with His laws we agree,
our false self dies and we’re here now reborn,
drenched in bliss mists, simply by being still.
03-April-2023
___________
I Died Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
HMS, Rhymezone
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