The Face

     – in inure place –

by Boris Grigoriev

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The Face

– in inure place –

I see the face,
Now as in life
In inured place,
Eased of strife 
To rid of waste,
As dubious rife
In rawest sense,
Like stiletto knife
Inflicts offence,
To callous tense…


As face reflects
A raced journey,
Creates an image 
To fixate markedly, 
Begs want end travel 
Of memories passing,
Finds scold bold arrival 
Of phantoms trespassing, 
As tho one’s fate be trivial
In the face of an inured place,
The gods rendered us negligible! 

                                                                      © Jean-Jacques Fournier

Imagery – Wikimedia Commons

Music – Wikimedia Commons, Rainy Jazz & Rain Sounds

Audio – Jean-Jacques Fournier, April 3, 2022

                                                                          ov written in Montréal
                                                                              February 8, 2002
						                            

People

      – in last resort –

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People

      – in last resort –

It’s about space
As tho one’s life,
Be without waste 
Nor cause of strife, 
Wants but embrace
Fate’s meagre slice,
For disparaged people
Of need more than twice,
Found arrive in last resort
Assume realize its paradise,
Tho to find not be meant retort
But for people with a pair of dice,
Do for good or bad, end in last resort!


Image - Source -Wikimedia Commons …
Music - Chet Baker – excerpt, of Alone Together…
Audio - Jean-Jacques Fournier…
                                              © Jean-Jacques Fournier

                                                                         written in Sweetsburg
                                                                              February 18, 2022

“ Solitude ” – be coexistence –

DSCN9758  Listen to audio

Solitude

               – be coexistence –

Moot be strife

In solitude,

A carve of life

That negates

Platitudes,

Be coexistence

With oneself,

A quiet distance

Gives credence,

To relinquishing

A social imitate,

Finding release

From conformity,

For a timely taste

Of anonymity,

Said tranquil pace

Of held composure,

Be worth reaching

Without disclosure,

Tho cause to choose

A further exposure,

Save less so bemused,

One opts to visit solitude!

© Jean-Jacques Fournier

Music – In My Solitude, by Duke Ellington’s

“ In Whom We Trust ” – a pledge unyielding –

We’ll spend much of our life

Believing we’ve support,

Even who be cause of strife

And others who purport,

Want offer pledge unyielding

Yet fail recognize distort,

Despite discernable unfeeling

Considers ‘tis of import,

With a pledge ne’er fulfillable

Bidden by beguiling sort,

For if be trust ill affordable

Best one accepts negate,

That faux devotees find hide

In a dark they generate,

Till they detect credulous side

Of dim trust to postulate,

Would ne’er need don disguise

As sad side of man’s make,

Be ample cover for shady side…

 

Alas what trust you had,

Bore soon be brushed aside

Save be for those at ease,

With deceitful vow devised

May for a time succeed,

As a perceived guile denies

The false of it bares rust,

For held karma take a stand

On sham assured commit,

Yet ‘tis far from wonderland

Pledge adamant be must,

Tho man ne’er understands

Yet deigns find a love lost,

In a pledge but second hand

While one must learn to trust!

 

                                                 © Jean-Jacques Fournier

 

 

 

“ Life ” ~ be but a minute ~

As journey’s impart

Finds  compose,

A life held chart

Of  fading echoes,

Images seek focus

On a wistful past,

As recall delves

In dormant baggage,

Where marks a start

Of minute’s living,

Which is to be our life…

 

As life be but a minute

I’ve no time left to waste,

So overlook my rancour

If you crowd my space,

Or find ye be  anchor

In my short-lived race,

Tho I sound rather terse

I’m not without candour,

So empathize my strife

For with so little time,

I’ve reason to make haste…

 

I might have shown fear

Or shed a meagre tear,

To decelerate the process

That fixed  fall’s arrival,

In the wake of all that dies

As will a prized September,

Thus with all it finds allied

Seek peace with December,

For soon you’re gone to rest

To lie neath earthen blanket,

Should minute’s life end next!

 

                                                                                    © Jean-Jacques Fournier