“ Stop The World ” – I want to get off – revisited –

IMG_0803

                                                            Listen to audio

“ Stop The World ”

            – I want to get off –

Stop the world,

I want to get off,

Its lethal whirl

I’ve had enough,

Held toxic while

Man efforts cure,

To anew beguile

Alters not lure,

Of endless excess

Or denied blame,

Nor will it redress

Its damage insane,

Man culls confess

Of liable fed game,

To play you along

Be without shame,

Of what suits best

For his world cast,

That yet but infests

So increasingly fast,

And gives not a rest

Despite beg antics daft,

With now barely time left!

                                           Ode to voices of empty rhetoric

                                                                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                                                         July 10, 2020

             Music – Stravinsky’s, The Rite of Spring

 

 

“ My Bibliotheca ” – from old scribes, to new books –

images-1

                                                                     Listen to audio

Picture, Benedictine Monastery library founded in 1074.

Music, Book The Rental With It, by Rage

“ My Bibliotheca ”

                  – from old scribes,

                                to new books –

I’ve a library

Overflows,

With books

I’ve read,

While some

Want doze,

Tho be tale

Old that flows,

To ones soul

And so wait,

For old eyes

To be fed,

A said read

Afore avid dies…

 

I’ve books

In my veins,

That beg

Till it pains,

To be written

In stead,

Of poems

I’ve bled,

Would imbue

Near all said,

Tells it true

Of held books,

Be page anew

From birth,

Reaching out

Fated to end,

In man’s final berth!

             ode per se, to books held in one’s library…

                                           © Jean-Jacques Fournier

“ A Thought ” ~ I beg hold ~

On my mind

Be a thought

I beg hold,

Plead ought

Despite told,

Stated recall

Running cold,

As age’s gift

Aims uphold,

Its fated way

To so define,

A wary play

For its time,

Be a thought

In grey mind,

Slipping away

Denied bind,

Despite sway

Means to find,

Its abject guide,

That it may stay

As thought of worth ,

To indulge fading days!

                        © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ Finding One’s Legs ” ~ for walking you have left ~

You’d expect legs,

Knowing they be

More than we see

Do what one begs,

From beyond when

You knew not then,

Legs meant to carry

Shortly thereafter

We had been born,

Till body falters

Without we’d known

Legs made of bone,

Rust in wearing flesh

Yet hold their own,

Destined to walk

Or stand alone,

In just such stead,

Save loosing legs

Least not till we be dead,

Thus find no reason

To lament or beg,

Save fate chose compose

You won’t last the load,

Tho you want them back

Means to find one’s legs,

Be now cane, stick or peg

For the walking you have left!

                                                            ode to the pleasures of aging,

                                                                   and the friends who’ve arrived.