Validating – an aging mind –

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 Validating 
            - an aging mind - 

 From apropos 
 to ye ought know,
 would that we find
 the how to slow,
 an aging mind... 

 Yet far from reign
 these gods that play,
 our heads in game 
 be mindless way,
 need feign shame
 from apropos,
 to ye ought know
 afore ‘tis time,
 Too soon will show!     

                       A mindful raison d’être...
            © Jean-Jacques Fournier    
                                                                    
 Audio recital – by the author...
 Music - Almost Blue, by Chet Baker...
 Imagery – Private & Public ...
  
                           written in Sweetsburg    
                                      February 25, 2021 

                       

                                  

“ Where The Lost Abound ” – desperate to be whole –

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“ Where The Lost Abound ”

                      – desperate to be whole –

In small cafes,

I sat around

Watching arrays

Of lost abound,

There but to play

Said morose lives,

That slip away

With wary anguish…





I linger here

To write of life,

That so abounds

In abysmal strife,

Till muse absconds

Urge to describe,

Their sad parade

In a despondency

That blurs its find,

Yet when about

To write the line,

Their faces fade                                                                                      

 As tho I’m blind…





So as I glimpse

This pot-pourri,

A mere semblance

Of the reality I see,

In a poor writ play

Of wretched beings,  

Moving mindlessly

Looking for a soul,                      

As they move round, 

Desperate to be whole

Thru that turbulent sea,                                                                                     

Where the lost abound!

                                             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music, Lazy Sunday- by Smooth Jazz

Pictures , MD and private collection


“ Dream Merchants ” – be ne’er what they seem –

images-12

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“ Dream Merchants ”

            – be ne’er what they seem –

The merchants of dream

Be ne’er what they seem,

Hence I caution beware

If you chance let them in,

Apathetic be a risky dare

For they’ll exploit within,

As dream merchants play

Thus to get neath the skin,

That will trap you to stay…

 

Of their dreams be alert

Tho you might judge fair,

They’ll distort and divert

As you indulge their spin,

What’s at stake be aware

You may find but chagrin,

As the pawn for their fare…

 

Ye soon find be soul bare

The while merchants grin,

From their deviant affair

Best not chance ye begin,

With dreams fated unfair,

Held by narcissistic strings…

 

Dream merchants shroud

That which flogs palaver,

Fake fine weather clouds

And what gullibles bear,

Their dreams of effusion

Suggest wouldst be real,

Tho but empty illusions

With an unfulfilled zeal,

When too late ye discover

Soul they managed to steal,

Cause of true dreams, to disappear!

 

                                                   © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                   Ode to Dreamers

                           of dedication to vivid imagination,

                                    and in search of honesty…

 

Music, excerpt of Around Midnight, by Chet Baker

Art work, from Dream World images…

 

“ Beginnings ” – goal not forever –

images

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“ 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   

        

 

“ I Am The Colour ” – of human disorder –

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“ I Am The Colour ”            

                    – of human disorder –

I am the colour

Of human disorder,

That shades the stay

Of man made suffer,

While held at bay

Be cause of such pallor,

In ominous way

With spurious cover,

Feigning fair play

To thus be so coloured,

With doubtful recover

For fated mankind,

Bears not colour’s assign…

 

I an the colour,

Of human disorder!

 

             © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music, Dark Cloud…

 

“ I The Bumblebee ” – in bombinate flights – revisited

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                                     Music, Flight Of The Bumblebee – Rimsky-Korsakov

“ I The Bumblebee ”

              – in bombinate flights – revisited

 I am the bumblebee

Said happily plump,

Bumbling with glee

In my furry rump,

Among the flowers

Find devotee’s play,

Thus as to pollinate

On a summery day,

To alert I bombilate

In gentle fellow way,

In black and yellow

Nature fixed to stay,

Pick pollen aplenty

Kissing the flowers,

No matter the many,

While time be mellow

Hence too spread life,

Ne’er destined hollow

In bombinate flights,

Be so the bumblebee

As the gods fated my plight!

                                      ode to the ever diminishing bumblebees,

                                                      be cause of man’s pollution gift to nature…

              © Jean-Jacques Fournier

A Gathering Storm ~ out of rain ~

‘Tis gathering storm

Of man said human,

Rendered deformed

By duplicitous demon,

Though given be life

As a privileged plus,

Man soon found ways

To turn planet to dust,

Where child eventual

May survive only just,

Thus so but the telling

He’d bow to fate’s say,

Fixed by man’s doing

In orchestrated play,

Distorting life journey

In a world gone astray,

Held to flee or to stand

On a predestined bane,

Of his narcissistic plan

In a gathering storm,

That has run out of rain!

                                                       begs find contradiction in time…!

“ Perchance ” ~ magnanimous ~

In an effort

To be bold

I may’ve lost

The whole,

For now but feel

The cold,

And suddenly

I cogitate on old,

As tho too soon

Death perchance

Is trying to take hold…

 

Whilst we’ve to pay

Life’s wage to play,

Albeit times more

Than bargained for

The risk we take,

That fate may grant,

To suffer fools

Or bold lost souls,

If memory serves

Said fate per se

Magnanimous,

Be not its chosen way!


             

“ The Child In Me ” ~ tho but a shade ~

It matters not,

Be but a shade

Of used to be,

He does exist

The child in me…

Many will say

It can’t be he,

For what we see

Is but a hint

Of said once be,

I play their game

Knowing full well

He’s still the same…

 

Yet more claim

I am for naught,

The child is gone

Tho I think not,

For we remain 

One and the same…

 

I know the child

Yet lives in me,

As so he must

From birth

Until meant day

One turns to dust!