The Why – of it all –

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The Why   

– of it all –

 Me, myself 
 And I,
 On the shelf
 Ye ask why,
 Of it all 
 Tho once shy,
 Not the lot
 Yet disguised,
 Or for naught
 Saves one aim, 
 To but hide
 Insecure,  
 Be underside 
 Awaits cure,
 To so bide
 Asks the why, 
 Of it all
 Has one cry,
 May find resolve! 
                                
              © Jean-Jacques Fournier 


    a simple aide-mémoire 
        to remember Conversations,
           save not of the kind to be mistaken 
              with that of Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem line, 
                “Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die”
                                                        ...    
            written in Sweetsburg                                            
                 December 31, 2020

 Pictures - private and unknown ...
 Music – excerpt of  Alone Together, by Chet Baker ... 

“ Inadvertency ” – a lapse of memory –

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“ Inadvertency ”

– a lapse of memory –

 Mindful, be unforeseen
 That memories will fail,
 Hopeful not to extreme
 For fear of minds derail,
 In a posit made sombre
 Thus be forever fraught,
 From a lapse of memory
 Errant as to be brought,
 By its narrated stumble
 Be of words gone awash,
 Has one in a new bubble
 Giving notions to curse, 
 Aired not as a mumble
 Views now but adverse, 
 Left to exist in a jumble... 


 ‘Tis sad state of decline
 All the while you watch,
 Feel its thought melting
 As a reoccurred botch,
 That a word will mend
 Holds cause be reborn,
 Extant failure finds end 
 Tho ye suffer self scorn, 
 Despite held to append... 


 Whilst pained to so find
 An apprise of words lost,
 Tells of old fails conveyed  
 Wants inadvertency tossed! 


                       ode to over worked minds...

 

                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier
                                                                  
                           written in Sweetsburg   
                                        November 23, 2020  
  
 Pictures - Personal & Public Collection...
 Music - Stone, by Hara Noda    


“ We The Homeless ” – not by choice – revisited

DSCN8461

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“ We The Homeless ”

       – not by choice – revisited

It’s not by choice,

We’ve but the street

For our new host,

In this life gone bleak

It be thus a last resort,

Begs we’d not seek

Wanting as consort,

Held so to speak

Apt be a gritty ghost,

Led we live incomplete

Having lost one’s voice,

Mindful of our fate

Now being without choice,

In a discombobulated state

That be life on the street,

The while this last resort

Be until we are too weak,

To drag our bones to port

In a life of empty options,

That be for we the homeless,

Held fixed to muted notions

Reduced we be to nameless,

Drifting in crowded sad seclusion

We’ve to live as shadows on the street…

 

Suffer alas said we the homeless

In a populous fashioned by human apathy,

Offered in overwhelming abundance

To a growing number of ignored failed voices…

 

We the homeless, not by choice!

 

                                     © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                         Photography, by Marianne Dessis –

                                                              Music, by Kai Engel –

 

“ If Only ” – ‘twas wishful thinking –

DSCN6839  Listen to audio

If only

‘Twas wishful thinking,

Of probable reality

Evidenced an inkling,

Mightn’t so endorse

That of every wish,

Be credible of course

Save the odd amiss,

Held dreamers

Of likely myths,

Be dubious design

Confounded as a gift,

Questions waste of time…

 

If only

Suffered wanting,

Said ‘twas wishful thinking

Be thus understood,

One may not be bidding

For mind games’ likelihood!

 

                                        o.v. written in Grasse

                                                       © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

“ We The Homeless ” – not by choice –

It’s not by choice,

We’ve but the street

For our new host,

In this life gone bleak

It be thus a last resort,

Begs we’d not seek

Wanting as consort,

Held so to speak

Apt be a gritty ghost,

Led we live incomplete

Having lost one’s voice,

Mindful of our fate

Now being without choice,

In a discombobulated state

That be life on the street,

The while this last resort

Be until we are too weak,

To drag our bones to port

In a life of empty options,

That be for we the homeless,

Held fixed to muted notions

Reduced we be to nameless,

Drifting in crowded sad seclusion

We’ve to live as shadows on the street…

 

Suffer alas said we the homeless

In a populous fashioned by human apathy,

Offered in overwhelming abundance

To a growing number of ignored failed voices…

 

We the homeless, not by choice!

 

                                                          © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

 

“ Don’t Stop ” – for egoist thought –

There’s a part of us

That will not stop,

Tugged by the other

With egoist thought,

On all that matters

Of living life sought,

As an ultimate factor

Would dissertate not,

What the other fosters

Said vantage together,

For what soul bought

And so found garner,

As life’s integral state

Should now discover,

Be of dubious grace

Soul can but borrow,

Of ones meagre space

Held bogus of equity,

Amounting to nought

Put aside the self-pity,

With brief time’s allot

For extent it shall hold,

That may ne’er realize,

Dream of eon time bold

In life borrowed implied…

 

Yet want part of don’t stop

From newborn to grow old

Hence want reaching till dust!

 

                                                       © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

“ Freedom ” ~ requires not assertion ~

Why do they speak

Of freedom,

As  to dispense

Be of their province,

By what measure

Need expense

Falsely imply,

Want approbate

Fashions certainty,

Of inferred liberty…  

 

Who, so presumes,

Can rule we’re free,

Or they’ve a right

To author a decree, 

On any moral stake

Officiate so declare,

Such be their dictate…

 

They, paltry thespians

Speak of freedom,

As though in some play

Autonomy be their say,

Or self-determination

Wouldst be in doubt…

 

Why do they postulate

With such hypocrisy,

As if their fallacies

Ought give me liberty,

Whilst I’m already free,

Requiring not assertion

Thus my freedom be!