Long Next time around Poems
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Next time around I want fifteen fingers and twenty toes
What I would do with them, only is known by me and my nose.
I would have two nostrils and six eyes of royal sky blue.
Some could call me a monster; it would be long overdue.
My body would be corpulent, Rubenesque, Hilda-cartoon like.
My hips too large to fit in a car; they would crush a motor bike.
I would be carried on a royal stretcher, taken place to place.
In spite of this development, I would have a pretty face.
She is the queen! The call would go up, as in a battle cry!
I would be feared and revered, until I chose to fade and die.
Next time around I want hair that curls up, and touches the sky.
Fifteen fingers, twenty toes, you cannot imagine why.
Mother Earth
An ancient, elegant – once jolly – old Lady,
deserving of so, very much more then
the rape and pillage, the destruction and pollution,
the chemical alterations – poisons,
the theft of, the abuse of
all her innocent, naked, natural beauty.
This old Lady, who has been – who will again –
as self-destructive as any of her daughters –
of man kind – and without the help of man kind’s
selfish, inconsiderate, thoughtless greed.
Will She, ?, will we ?, survive the turbulent throes
of an uncertain, an unpredictable, veiled future -
even if we ( as capable human inhabitants ),
even if she ( the energy, mother of us all ), -
are able ?, to curb our insatiable appetites,
are able ?, to thwart what may be inevitable -
change and a world, - her life time of changes.
Is her ?, is our ?, relationship to this universe
a foretold tale of unavoidable doom.
Is our evolution ?, life ?, destiny ?, our development ?,
upon the breasts of Mother Earth,
to come to an end in a daze, a haze of gloom ?,
as we all ( Mother Earth, Life, human kind )
are destined to become ( once again ) cosmic dust
blowing in the winds of memories hoard, of time –
passing into - becoming spirituality adrift on cosmic winds
– ghostly souls, spirits - once again sailing, searching,
seeking solidity, - once again - of visible form
to walk upon the surface of a much better plane,
better then what has become of what we are now !
Next time around, will thoughtfulness ?, be the tought !
It has been thought of more that opened the door,
that – if we do not, soon change - will be closed –
Forevermore !
B. J. “A” 2
May 23rd 2008
So many forks on Opportunity Road
She turned back quickly the first time
Settling for a life she never wanted
But it was incredibly easy
And dreams can be adjusted
Sad about her settling, she tried again
This time it was much more difficult
For she had children, and a husband, two cats, a dog or two
But she thought she could do it
She began anew, readjusting, and finally changing her dream
Life happened, and she slid all the way back to the ground floor
It took twenty-five years, and eighteen colleges to get her close
She was excited about it, but no one wanted to hire a forty-four year old
She did not get an interview, so she turned down a fork in Almost Road
Almost Road was better than nothing, right?
The next time around, she plans to do better
Her best advice to her grandchildren is be you, don't stop.
Travel down Dream Road, collecting stars and diamonds along the way.
I need an act of heroism
To defeat the terrorism
That's been in my world and soul
I've been broken, never whole
Torn to shreds by horrid lies
Handed to me by sly guys
Each one took another slice
I willingly fave for a price
A high cost that I have paid
Lesson learned, I will not trade
My hearts affections anymore
I need to even up the score
Letting my heart win for once
I was stupid and a dunce
Smarter the next time around
My heart starts to wind around
Sweet smiles or smooth maneuvers
By love lusted evil doers
I'll look for signs that have been
Problematic way back when
Passing by love criminals
Waiting till my soul reveals
The sign I've been looking for
Shaking me right to the core
With alarms, whistles, and bells
Flowing in my mind to tell
My heart its safe to say hello
Green light love ready to grow
Chairman Xi Jinping you seek a new geo-strategical order
Sick of the blame game burden and fake foreign news
Like viruses internet hacking sanctions and accusations
Spew a fault line of tsunamis and earth shattering quakes
Pacific surfers’ paradise and floods of Confucian proportions
‘The envious man grows lean at the success of his neighbour’
Unless you are ignorant of razor sharp obvious double edged swords
Dragons assert to be peaceful creatures or aggressive tormenters
Paradigms shift under the influence of stark power and retaliation
Who threw the first stone anyway and was it a gem or merely a pebble
We all bleed the same red blood when we sigh our ultimate breath
Rise to challenge before everything goes up into terminal smoke
‘Before you embark on a journey of revenge dig two graves’
Its the year of the Zodiac Rat that symbolizes current affairs
Inquisitive shrewd and resourceful and of dualistic acclaim
Yin and Yang cosmic energy and universal chaos contained
In one symbol of unity and the harmony of opposite claims
A fortune cookie of crossed chopsticks wishbones and ashes
‘We should feel sorrow but not sink under its oppression’
Manifestos ideologies belligerent strides’ clashing culture
Where right turns wrong opposition becomes commitment
An eye for a blind eye slap on the cheek a take on the chin
As the red sun sets over the Blue Chinese Sea it remains to
Be seen whether defense or aggression descends into void
‘Our greatest glory is not in ever falling but in rising every time’
Maybe Humpty Dumpty needs a stepladder next time around
Chairmen Xi are you the rampart or full of nuclear con-fusion
Please stand up to my challenge and listen to my riddle and verse
11th May 2020
The lines in quotation are words attributed to Confucius
There are no truly blue flowers.
No, not one.
Hydrangeas or tulips can be green,
an odd color for flowers, I think.
Brown ones are dead.
Brown and green are the colors of human eyes though,
and blue too, but that’s rare as eye color goes.
Almost everyone has two eyes, or at least one.
There are those whose eyes don’t work correctly,
and some unfortunate souls who have none at all.
Every pirate ever known had just one eye.
Yep, just one eye and a black patch.
(I may be wrong about this.)
There are cave creatures,
salamanders and roaches and fish,
that have no eyes at all, and live in total darkness;
evolution has done away with their eyes.
Why would they need eyes if there is no light,
not even that spectacular light from the sun
in fluorescent (which means “shining through”) ribbons
between clouds on stormy days?
There are other eyes too, on potatoes, certain fabrics, needles
(Each needle has one; there are no two-eyed needles that I know of.).
Personally, I have two eyes, both blue,
which see correctly only with assistance.
I often wish I had the third eye in the center of my forehead,
the one that symbolizes a state of
enlightenment, clairvoyance, out-of-body experiences.
However, I’m almost certain I won’t have one in this existence.
Perhaps I will in the next, assuming I’m not reincarnated as
a snake or, even worse, a dung beetle.
But then, I’ve been decent and reasonable most of this life,
so maybe I will have that third eye the next time around.
It’s worth thinking about.
Nature held a Beauty Pageant
Guess who was crowned a crest?
A flowery green meadow was the stage and rostrum
Watch who won the contest.
Well, the peacock from India was crowned beauty King
The bird of paradise from New Guinea became Beauty queen.
And last but not least was the Indian tiger, runner up
But care he for beauty that he might as well sup?
And what care any of them
for accolades, crown or cup?
Other contestants were the gorgeous leopards
and the flimsy beauteous butterflies
They'll be crowned
next time around.
For beauty tis rich in supplies.
But nature-lovers alone applauded the flamboyant winners
who gaily stood upon the flora
They did come out with 'flying colors'
Around them nature's beauty an aura.
Miss world bird of paradise yet unaware of her placing
The peacock endowed by God a crown
They might never know of this showcasing
At our staring, gawping, they might just frown!
Then there are those unsung unawarded yet perfect beauties
both among mortals and animals
who join no display contests nor pageants
yet are undeniably glamorous nonetheless
for beauty ain't exclusive
to önly beauty contestants.
There are so many people and events I miss.
I'd like to live it over - not just reminisce.
Could I make life better if the tape was rewound,
and I played in that movie the next time around.
But there are no dress rehearsals and no training,
No rainchecks or do overs for days it's raining,
It begins in the instant that your head has crowned.
You must accept, you don't get a next time around.
I miss Frisky, the beagle, my childhood pet -
stroking my best friend's fur, I just can't forget,
and playing tug o war with that rambunctious hound.
I'd take her on more walks, the next time around.
How I'd like to see my parents when they were young,
when into a life of raising four kids they were flung.
With the experience and understanding I've found,
would I be more forgiving the next time around?
How about the girl who launched my heart from earth -
Would I have treated her like the gem she was worth -
she, whose affection and warmth lifted me off the ground.
Would things be different the next time around?
To each and every parent, child, lover and friend,
more love and patience, would I extend?
I'd try to practice kindness, it's not so profound.
How would it be, if there was a next time around?
Life on the edge would certainly become a novel,
if I included all the chapters of my life’s journey
from that of an old soul, from pure consciousness
to egg and sperm colliding, to embryo, to fetus,
to that of a baby, a child, youth, a teenager,
a young adult, a middle aged man, this old man
who has walked the walk of the living and the dead
with ghostly shadows floating in night time forests
blanketed by sheets of blackness, permeated with flakes,
specks of light from distant planets, long lost stars,
forgotten lives, as the reflective moon, on high,
tries to shed light upon the nightly shadows,
brighten the edges of all the black clouds
that fill all the empty spaces above the tree tops.
Life on the edge – I have been tripping – have gotten up,
have fallen from grace, yet stands up to face adversity,
have been trapped, yet set myself free, been lost
yet have found my way back to myself.
Life on the edge – time reveals all, all the efforts,
all the accomplishments, all the failures, the defeats,
and all the losses become weightless in the light,
of an old man who sits alone, on his own locked up
in the cage of his own design, his own making
as nightmares continue to haunt - to the end of his journey.
Life on the edge – has been sharp, dull, keen without tears,
in spite of all that life, fate, karma, choice have lain upon
the experiences this old soul has suffered, endured, enjoyed
and yet the dreams of this child – before and after he became –
still linger on in the fading embers of his life’s journey
even if they are but ashes blown by cold cruel winds
putting out the raging fires that once lit up the skies
and wormed the heaven and the hearts of a few mortal women.
Life on the edge – of this plane, this dimension, this universe –
can it really be as we see it ?, is it karma ?, is it fate ?, is it design ?
Does history repeat itself ?, does it come back to haunt us ?,
in another time, in another place, in a different space.
Life on the edge – next time around – will be a prayer
to never, ever have to live on the edge again,
to know no more emotional pain, no poverty of heart, soul,
the stupidity and thoughtlessness of those in control,
those in the know, of the nature of this old man
who has shown – specks, flakes of light, light that has
burned so bright, has flickered, has long since taken flight.
B. J. “A” 2
March 10th 2004