“ A Hyphenated World ” – held fitting guise –

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“ A Hyphenated World ”

                   – held fitting guise –

‘Tis a fitting guise

A hyphenated world,

Of hyphenated people

Barely joined together,

By shortest of lines

Save in desperate times,

If but to stay alive

Until next apprise,

Holds indefinite man

If he is to survive,

Until discord subsides

Tho wanting to encage

He’ll once more fractionize,

By manipulating stage…





In a language to divide

That largely means create

A hyphenated bide,

Trusted so to populate

Heedless of unwise,

Words fixed to engage

By language brigade,

Who spreads confusion

Among the lesser wise,

Maximize demand

To maintain disguise,

Of the hyphenated men

Who power world divides!

                                               © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Photos – by Marianne D. & private collection –
Music – exerpt from Leaving, by Chet Baker –

“ Beginnings ” – goal not forever –

images

                                                 Listen to audio

“ Beginnings ”

            – goal not forever –

 

In the beginning

Declared be alive,

Tho not forever

We’re to survive,

Save a few clever

Perhaps the wiser,

Saw worth persist

Held more aware,

Said of beginnings

As life finds decide,

What be goal’s fare

If one bids to abide…

 

So be of mans mind

To begin with sway,

With resolve to find

Aims fashion to play,

Seeks incite revision

In road of life’s way,

Want alter its vision

Holds be a short stay,

The while not eternal

And goals not forever,

Would sidestep its end

As man aches to suspend!

 

                         an ode to man’s ludicrous dream…

                 © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music, Stranger by Aerocity   

        

 

“ A Boy ” ~ face down ~

A boy floating on a rug,

May have better chance

Than with mother’s hug,

Who wants effort enhance

Survival on a perilous tug,

Fleeing seditious advance

Save errant boat capsized,

In a bid to flee the conflict

Where peace be said alive,

But its refuge not explicit

As bureaucracy deprives,

In silence to the desperate

A boy’s fate is compromised,

To be sadly found face down

On a rocky surf too helpless,

As man wallows in indifference…

 

How to save a drowning child

From a country war torn toll,

In spite of civil servants’ bile

Held wanting a declare untold,

For said bureaucrat’s dusty file

Ignores a child’s reaching hold,

Finds fellowman fail, to go the mile!

 

                                            in memory of a boy called Alan Kurdi,

                                                   and all war-torn children sacrificed,

                                                           thru man’s warring need for greed!

                                         © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ Ordinary People ” ~ keep planet alive ~

If we’re to survive

Thus on this earth,

In a world less alive

Has need of rebirth,

Be ordinary people

With zeal of worth,

That renders viable

A means to unearth,

Find rescue remains

Save suffer the worst,

Holds be not in vain

Or deride mans thirst,

To keep planet alive…

 

So forego do-gooders

Along with currency

For self aggrandizers,

A claimer’s summery

Of deceitful attribute,

To overlook history

Of evil distribute,

Destroying the many

A concern uninhibited,

Held by people of plenty…

 

Alas look for people

Of coordinate kind,

Be ordinary people

With a planet in mind!

 

“ While I’m Alive ” ~ teach me now ~

Teach me now

While I’m alive,

To not forget,

When I arrive

At regret’s bide,

And must endure

Spent recollect

Of someone near,

Plus fail to hear

Suffered upset,

While I now limbo

In the unclear,

Of telling ways

By one so dear

Who loved me when,

Wouldst hold until

I am no longer,

And even then!

        

“ Looking For Place ” ~ to hide ~

 

Looking for place

To hide,

One that’s as long

As wide,

A place for feelings

Yet rigidly raw,

In state that needs

A while to thaw,

As one so pleads

No longer can bear

Made hide ones fare…

 

So to survive

We have to find

A mind alive,

Who has little time

Left to realize

We’re near empty

On a road scarce alive,

So choked and dried

Be hard to find place,

We no longer need hide!

 

 

“ The Lane ” ~ dead men stalk ~

 

The lane I walk

In dead man’s land,

Is one that bands

The forlorn souls

That dead men stock,

They who trudge

Hoping to find

What’s left of time,

And so survive

Their soul gone blind,

Unsure they be alive…

 

Thus as I walk

In this non world,

And watch in vain

The suffered pain

Those souls do feel,

Who try to taste

What once was real,

That man laid waste

With insane zeal,

Yet nil a peep

From alleged sheep

To save remains,

For they but follow

Big Brother’s lane,

Who need not walk

In dead man’s land,

Where dead men stalk!

                                                                          ode to Edgar Allan Poe