There In My Woods



There in my woods stood a wondrous sight
Were my eyes deceiving me, I asked quietly
In awe, I approached slowly, and reverently
She stood as a statue amidst the winter wood
The haze of midday and the humidity blinded
Any clear sights watching this solemn angel
Vaguely interpreted all hidden truthful sights
And why was she there, I can’t answer that
I wanted to believe that she was only for me
But, I don’t know, she never glanced, you see
I stayed as long as I could silently stoop
Trying not to breath loudly as to disturb 
After hours of gazing, i fell fast asleep 
Upon awakening, the angel had departed

Castanets and Patchouli

Image From Pinterest
Image From Pinterest

Hidden between glances

Silencing a cacophony of doubts

Entering a place reverently

Peaceful and in tune with the beat

Vibrational magnets conjoin

Even across a room

Finding the mellow one

Untroubled and appreciative of much

Harmonious strings are magical

Baroque gypsies fancy bravato

A passacaglia minuet to begin

A teething rose and Bolero

Tapping toes and castanets

Candles and torches blazing

A fugue in D Minor and such

Moonlight sonatas and patchouli 

An image of Zeta watches 

And there’s Tadhg whom I adore

The Samba and Bossa Nova

The night takes an exotic twist

Fantastic is the swirling passion

The drum beats stirring lust

Sweltering rhythms and riffs

Take me away  to a distant place

And there is Zeta watching me

The night dissolves then

And I return home

Zeta I can’t resist


And the late Jose Feliciano on Youtube

My favorite guitarist

Such a gypsy

I still love you the best…..🌹

We Were Children Once Upon A Time







Imaginations of a girl

Dragons, bubbles and blonde curls

Creating a magical place

All her own

Her angel watches waiting

Motivating the child’s talents sown



In bubbles and butterflies and green moss

The smell of dirt’s mushrooming gorse

The dragon suddenly comes alive

The wave of her finger

Her angel smiles

Gifting the child’s natural endowments



A seer, a writer, a fairy princess

Must always keep her reason for existence

Sadly time and reality erase her magic

Once and artist

Her angel idly waits

Queuing patiently the child’s imaginations




©2017 BJ



the feast-of-bacchus-Gerard-de-Lairesse-painting



Laws that govern the protection of hospitals

Penal codes that govern the laws of (USA) men

And what about the laws that govern the truth

There’s a tide that is honest and leads when

Laws protecting this and that fail written by a pen

Having to step out of the Torahs way, every now and then

Deciding a destiny, costing more than gold, one aspires

A judgement of convictions, rising above sentencing

The choices sitting before you are costly fires

Codes of ethics, standards of practice, oh the law tires

Hurting and hindering more than protecting innocent life

Having to make verdicts and to be the judge

Stepping off-limits defining integrity relevant per

The voice within though pushed won’t fudge

And the jury that can’t hear, ultimately will misjudge

But HIPAA won, the penal code vanished

And the man slit the throat of his dogs

The neighbors children are next

It doesn’t matter for the HIPAA Law gods

Silence fell because the determinate kills dialogues



©2016 BJ

I Dreamed Last Night

I dreamed a prophet dream early this morning (CST USA). I have been having some health issues that have been escalating over the past couple of years.But, my health is not what this story is about, you just need to know a little and where and why this dream came to me last night or early morning.

First of all, I’m nearly deaf and the second condition, I could loose my eye sight in my dominant eye. So, I’ve been worried as it will effect my working ability, my art, and most importantly my writing.

I believe that my superior being was speaking to me and giving me all the reasons why this could happen and should it occur, then know the purpose. There is a powerful reason for this to happen.

My dream: (Part One) Taunting me; were two bullies. They were males. I knew them and recognized them Apparently they disliked me for similar reasons. They accused me of not being perfect, and this and that… The accusations are personal, and not important to write about. Somethings are best left unsaid. However, one had bangs like a woman, like he did in real life, and the other was tall, skinny and had glasses that were thick like coke bottles. They accused me of all the things that in life, I’ve accused myself. Laughing at me, putting me down, they seemed to follow me and gang up on me.  And that is when I decided to confront them in a loving manner, and that is when they changed their tunes.

I discovered they taunted me, because they wanted my attention so much, that negative attention was better than no attention. I never knew how much they longed for me just to be kind.That part ended with me holding them both in a motherly hug.

The morale of that part of the dream was sometimes the things, the negative actions of others and traumatic circumstances that come to us in life, are actually, blessings disguised in our fears. These negatives are meant to teach us a lesson and they won’t leave until we get it, and learn.

(Part Two) LOL… I’m having difficulty remembering part two… Oh, lets see… Okay, now I remember.

The two bullies began to cover my eyesight with a covering that made me blind. I had to trust my once enemies. So, I allowed them to place the cloth over my eyes. That is when I began to feel my world. I had to touch faces in order to recognize and understand. Still unable to hear a bird sing or whispers, and then to add the blindness, my world changed and I began to perceive life and they living in a new way. I could not judge by my eyesight any longer, but only had my hands to feel. I couldn’t judge the world by hearing, because I had to know and perceive the world intuitively. When I learned and discovered my world without hearing and sight, then I truly understood, the spiritual concepts that govern the entire universe.

Morale learned. We judge our space using hearing and sight, but take those gifts away, and we will truly see and know many new concepts.

Wow… I have peace and understanding now… 🌹


©2017 BJ






Wandering my streets of dreams 

Seeking the truth of love ❤️ 

Looking forward to your smile 

The day we say “hello”

I know you have always been there 
Please tell me your name 

And what thoroughfare you’re lost 

I’ll search for the place sent 

Just send me your coordinates 

I will find you know matter what 

Sacrificial love is ONLY When…



What is love?

Love of self is the first ingredient to true love.


Sacrificial love is ONLY when a person understands love and love of self.

That person is able to then, and only then say, I choose you over me….

And my friends, that is love…

That you first chose me (because you loved yourself first).

Happy Valentines!



Image from A Poets Haven


Conversations With Psychosis

Having had the often dramatic invitation to sit and talk with numerous if not hundreds of psychotic people have developed some poetry written just from their voice. Trying to hear, listen and engage with individuals who must deal daily with similar verbal intrusions, pray I’ve come close to their constant barrage of voices that often want to control them. And using my poetic expression ‘Conversations With Psychosis,’ these voices of unreason that are dangerous sometimes, I hope that I have written about a  fraction of the anarchies that are against those stolen human souls and minds.

The Mind, The Last Adventure… We can go to Saturn, Pluto and Jupiter, but we don’t know a humane treatment for psychosis..We have barely touched the tips of their states of minds.

To the schizophrenics, I dedicate this poetry series.



Conversations With Psychosis

Over The Valley and Through The Woods of Brain Matter
Often, I sit held captive to meandering thoughts about life
Questioning and answering these frivolous voices asking
This and that and hearing myself talk and the vocal vibrations
That seem wise and and silly, and they are my closest friends
They correct me, and hear me, answer me, and implore me
Annoy me with their constant asking beginning with, “why.”
We talk about God and children and the animal kingdom
The butterflies and bats and deciduous delicate opinions
Of others who seem to have all that I don’t possess, but yes
Must confess~ Thoughts are no more than human profess
And they wander in and out the dark places of my mind
Weaving to and fro and there they go to be replaced
By another question asking, “how does the world turn
Or isn’t it odd~ that is ~ the pale oval shape of The Moon
Beams that are brilliant and kept me awake~ last night
Fully lit my room, peeping through the window shades
And in the shadows always waiting to ask more questions
Like I know, keeping me alert on my brains tippy-toes
Voices of amusement, voices of wonder, voices voices
Psychosis often confused with man’s ditactic eternal gnosis
God I need hypnosis to rid me of allegorical brainey mitosis
Whimsical metaphors comparable to a quaint cathedral
Holding me captive hyperkinetic clairvoyant attractions
And you think that I don’t understand? I’m silent; but see.

©2017 BJ


Conversations With Psychosis (number 2)

Who are you? I asked the one hiding in the shadows.

What do you want? I hear you and see you but you ~

Are not clear and you whisper to someone else. Those.

Disclose now! I tell you. What would you have of me?

Gleefully you beast you laugh, loose nothing, carefree

Taking advantage of a sick mind, you are lordly, unkind

Gripping minds, gossiping alluring beguiling with signs

Couriers, alerts, commands, urgings and announcements

So innocently requesting mandates and harsh judgements

Tell me again? What did you ask? To cut? So pungent

That voice sounds like God! Shh! Hush! Its Him calling

No misjudgments, yes, no repugnance, how often will ~

You visit me. It’s love; it’s hate, but you’re my only friend

You’re not evil or troubling; you’re an angel condemned

A godsend, yes, your voices, those friends~ I will defend

Hush now! They’re coming! Quiet! They’ll find you out.

My lips are sealed now, but you take over my mouth~

And say the most horrible things and I squat and crouch

Around the corner dressed in white, they come with needles

A team of them, they whom you fear, “I hate you!” Peoples

Think they live under steeples who rid you from mine ears

Letting you go again, but you’ll be back, I have no fears

What? You’re shaking from fright being torn from my body

As the drugs enter into my bloodstream, they embody

My soul, as bad as these voices, why can’t I be free daddy?

©2017 BJ


Poem 3

I started crying before I could finish this one….



Conversations With Psychosis

Drooling and drugged, my eyes glazed

Just a sip of water, please, don’t you understand?

My skin is grey from lack of oxygen

They won’t let me smoke

It’s bad for my sin

You who’ve judged and called me names

Laughed at my face and yelled, YOU’RE INSANE!

I guess that I am, after all, you told me so

Walking around my face flat as a board

No life in these eyes and having facial sores

Half naked my butt shows, you make me dress

What for? Who cares, I’m a disgrace

Angry that, I scream at you

Who stands at my bed eating a shoe

Though never offering juice nor brew

You’re scum. You sit hoping~ I’ll overcome

And then go home and leave me here

Dang it! Wont you bring me a beer!

What do you care if I like whiskey better

Than drugs and drooling and eating paper

Oh go home, you’re like all others

Never vindicated, you’re like my mother


AND DRUG ME~ why don’t you?

You son of my brother

I’m left again

Lost, lonely within

Hold my hand

It’s dark in here

These voices have drowned me

I’m overcomed by my tears

©2017 BJ



February Love Poems 🌹





Love ~ 🌹
This ocean called emotions of love and hate
On a journey, given time to navigate this place
Traveling ~ hoping to find a bliss, perhaps a myth
A soulmate, wandering, looking for their mate
The one true love measured by allotted faith
That Earth is always kind and lends us this gift
A season filled ~ with a long lingering bequeathed
Under the stars, under The Moon, under The Sun
Seeking true love while roaming the marketplace
Yet ~ never finding him face-to-face
So ~ I keep wandering the forest ~ Just in case
My eternal soul buds in an herb of his grace
Until that time when we tangle in embrace
I’ll keep meandering the hillside of the human race
Picking flowers whilst singing songs and hymns
Smiling gently for one day ~ you’ll be coming home



Bj The K of ♣️’s Feb © 2017 

I’ll leave the oil burning so you’ll find my way

February Love Poems 🌹

Editors are Mathematicians


My time line… the first 7 completed and only 10 more to go!


Ky Ellen Mason is almost there! Almost finished with the hardest part of any edit of any novel …. Line by line study of tenses, and verbs… First person or third… Right or wrong… The eyes become hazy… The thoughts focus on clarity of tenses and time…. Thank you my dear sister’s sister in law…
Believe it or not editing requires the skill of mathematics. The story line must match up because the author might not keep the time frame exact, but the reader will pick up a wrong time and question the efforts of the author to keep all little details lined up and squared perfectly. The reader sees such details that are not accurate such as apparel and the decade it was worn.
Take for example, in The South, Villager Dresses and Quigan Shoes were of the mid sixties, so keeping detail straight is part of a line by line editor.
What a job the editor has and the hours they spend sorting timelines, grammar and punctuation plus examining sentences and their structure is overwhelming.