You say you're having problems
With both family and friends
Let's see if we can boil this down
Now where do we begin

No sense in pussyfooting
If we're to get right to the truth
By my calculations
The common denominator is you

If it's you that is the problem
Then the solution is the same
So let's start working in that noggin
And come up with a plan

Perhaps a whole new attitude
A softening of heart
A loosening of the chains of blame
Would be the place to start

If you feel they're out to get you
Before you draw weapons to defend
Search first for the problem
Because it might come from within

in the song
cool of the breeze
in the words of a painting
in the sky
of a dawn

until
my sight sings
tree branches dance
being mind
and spirit

where in
all that beats my soul
rocks back and forth
as the world
spins

takes me
a minute to catch breaths
to run loose
join in the
dance

I remain
just a small
piece of torn
fabric

tattered
old, insignificant

I wonder what your eyes see
That mine don’t
What your mind thinks
That mine won’t

I wonder what your heart feels
That mine can’t
Who your love touches
That mine shan’t

I wonder what your dreams conceive
That mine wouldn’t                                                         ­ 
And what you will achieve
That I couldn’t                                                        
­
I wonder where your destiny lies
That mine isn't                                                            ­      
What your legacy will symbolize
That mine didn't
BOEMS BY JA 488

Even through his blue
He painted starry night
His favorite chair
His favorite pipe
And a sealed up bag containing
Hashish
He could not smoke the pain away

A missing ear becomes a symbol
Only the madness of knowing
Ear lobe
His love
The way no one else does
*****
No numb could take the pain away

Van Gogh
Died poor
And alone
In a field that was
His last expression
He died by his own hand
It wasn't even raining

It should have been

You open my door, you shelter me from harm
You line my path with petals, fragrant like silk
You hold my hand, you keep me nice and warm
You put cream in my coffee instead of milk.

You tell me nice things, just when I need to hear
You compliment me in every single way
You kissed  me on my lips at the start of the year
and keep your resolution up every breaking day.

You smile and it lights up my world it is so true
You came to me with promises which you keep
Cupid definitely shot the arrow the day I met you
you look after me when I'm awake and asleep.

In fact you never leave my side do you, not that I mind
You never judge me or step out of line.
You are thoughtful, though irritating but you are kind
I am not complaining however, you are my valentine.

As I was familiarizing the sulky start,
Seeking clues in my mindful halt,
I aboard my ride for another venture,
Holding my seat as script on censor,
Lost in retrospect of my past,
Heard a familiar tone at last,
He got me indulged with the queries of life,
Sharing his perspectives of life,
It seems like he has tapped into my mind,
After a chitchat, he seems to be one of my kind,
At last it was the time to say goodbye,
Leaving me reasons, for the next time to say “hi”

Chilly wind is providing a stinging sensation,
Seems like nature providing a beautiful presentation,
Getting high to the top of conscious, seems everything,
Playing their role without any hesitation,
A lovely figure sit beside me, just thinking,
How the mood is set by the surrounding,
At last want to thank the cupids for their labor,
Taking me on a tour to the kingdom of savior.

when the telephone rang
at six in the morning
four days before Christmas Eve
   I knew
things were not right

they told me
   my father had died
   at three in the morning
   and would I please come by
   arrange for the burial
   and collect his belongings
at the senior citizens home
where he had spent
the last four years
of his life

they had rested him nicely
he looked at peace
I kissed him on his forehead
   like I always had
   at the end of my visits
and cast a last long look at his figure
   before the body would be taken away

    and suddenly I noticed
       how big his hands were
    they’d never seemed so prominent before

as if in death they sent me a reminder
of how much he had loved his hands
   for work   for play  for sports
   for fight and for survival
   to point and to gesticulate
      they held me as a baby and
         some times
      slapped me as a child
   they repaired toys   split wood
   built sheds   drove cars and motor bikes
   were patient and precise
   caressed and soothed and loved

they were his life
they held his world

my father’s hands