where no hyena ever laughs
and not one lion roars
but liquor’s in the cabinet
and horsemen come in fours
the Norsemen grabbed the oars
and made a mighty heave
they said they went to sea that day
having booked the leave
oh where did they go
and what did they do
why didn’t they know
what they thought that they knew
why couldn’t they see
what they thought that they saw
when the policy statement
was binding on law
blasted
blinded
never mind, you signed it.
are they in their right mind?
Their paradigm is slipping
I believe they fail to see the point
you know it could be tipping
I was hit with sacrifice
Shuddering sacrifice
Not once
Twice
Blammo…
“Get more ammo!”
yelled the sarge
“please excuse me if I barge”
excuse me
recluse me
resume-peruse me
happenstance
circumdance
turning on a dime
meglo day-glo
caught me in my prime
steel glistened
no one listened
but by the glint of a sun
I saw that
The whole is greater
Then all the parts in sum
The moral
A plural
Cosmic arrangement
Explains
To some extent
Reality’s estrangement
This is a song now and as soon as I get the link, I’ll add here. My friend Valerie put the tune together…
http://www.garageband.com/artist/everlee
As Lola moved from one bed to another
I had a dream of nightmarish proportion
A phantom stood
Mottled and grey
My reflection I’d say
Go away
Go away
“oh right” he sighed and obliged
And lazily left
While the music
My golden ring
Remained tantalizingly too far away
Initially afraid to sleep
Though now somehow
I rejoice
Finally finding voice
And means
Rehearsing scenes
And rainbow scented jelly beans
Friends,
It turns out that anything posted to the internet is usually not eligible for publication. I have a few poems that I’m going to submit places so I won’t put them here until…
… I’ve been rejected.
sniff
Not to worry, I’ll just up my creatine ante!
I did do something silly and here it is;
Twitter tube
I’m tweeting when I twitter
Because I waddle with my feet
I google on my browser
When I want something to eat
I’m lost without my GPS
I’ve got to stay connected
My USB’s malicious
Now my hard drive is infected
I fear the nano probe
So I’m shy when I disrobe
I thought I was well wired
But I’m just a techno-phobe
My friends are all on facebook
And I just got a blog
I finally got a hit today
I think its from my dog
please add your comments if you are so inclined, I hope you enjoy my work or that it evokes.
regards
Giving
Loving
Singing
Laughing
Let’s take it on the town.
Dig for it.
Deep if you have to.
It used to be easy and new and exciting and you took it for granted but one day you went from blasé to blah having no idea how to conjure up the zest one more time and you wish so sorely you could and suddenly and angrily you admonish yourself for being tricked into thinking you can’t and letting all that time slip away like moonlit tide.
Slipping with your fading strength and memory and vision, seduced into believing youth was the package, the package of health and oceans and novelty that came together in a harmony with moments that can never come again.
Well yeah.
How foolish I was.
How foolish I am.
How foolish I will be.
Had I only known.
Have I the means?
Dig for it.
Deep if you have to.
Wisdom’s over-rated.
Ignorance is bliss.
I’m not too good at either.
It’s harder now,
But much more real.
So much braver I must be
Standing before humanity
Uttering no falsehood
Claiming no victory
And pleading for courage
(Oh God give me courage)
To see it as it is
So I can dig for it
Deep if I have to
And buried somewhere on the surface
Staring me right in the face
A thousand times ignored
The light just hitting it so
That it’s sparkles and catches my eye
Treasure of a moment
Pleasure of a lifetime
Spanning my experience
And raining softly
Upon that good earth
And breathing its warm wind
Like a baby’s first breath
That stops me in my tracks
And suddenly I’m free
For singing
Laughing
Loving
Giving
Man, that’s what I call living.
this i find outragous…
I think I’m going to perform this at the next Tree Poetry in ottawa, and if I’m not too hungover, at Dusty Owl. Tree meets the first and forth tuesday of every month and Dusty Owl meets the first and third sunday, but look it up if you want to go in case I’m wrong, it happens and I wouldn’t want to dissappoint anyone
Honour killing
What’s up with that?
You want to kill your daughter?
You lead her down the bridal path
Alternatively slaughter.
She crossed you up
She disobeyed
To top it off
Regularly prayed
How could she be so arrogant?
I own you.
And you have your duty.
In these truths, there’s surely beauty.
After all for generations
This way’s worked the best,
Now suddenly, intuitively
You think it fails the test.
So now you’re morally inflamed
And publicly, we’re so ashamed.
How can we live this down?
We know somehow you’ve been blinded
Seduced into this bloody-minded
Way of being
Not seeing
That our way is of devotion
Supplanted now with your emotion
And thinking for yourself
As though our god intended
In his likeness, us to reason!
Abominations like this are
Tantamount to family treason.
And so you leave me without choice,
Our honour only has one voice,
As I place my hands around your neck,
Or shoot you in the back,
Or drug you before drowning,
See my eyes you see I‘m frowning,
Obviously they tell
the pain I feel in sending
my first daughter off to hell…
in angel
and in criminal
we’re lost and found
we’re all around
we advertise subliminal
we confiscate what we feel
thinking no one understands
thinking others are like tourists
who come from other lands
clutching wallets grasping purses
hoping to escape the curses
of the downtown ragged
and unkempt
walking targets there to tempt.
I wonder if we’re more alike
than maybe we’ve been guessing
If maybe we’d let down our guard
I know, I know, that would be hard
And see how others see
Then I’d see you
And you’d see me
In a new light differently
and maybe something’s there to find
a spot from which we had been blind
we’re so delicate there you know
in that place we fear to go
but maybe, just maybe,
if we were a little brave
we see a tunnel,
not a cave,
and find us friends
and helping hands
to guide us to that brighter day
bathed in this simple blessing
where we look around and say
I wonder if we’re more alike
than maybe we’ve been guessing
A bit of the past, while I fast, tied to the mast, the Siren’s call, faint at first, swells soon to a SCREAM… at last!
Fashion play
Caraway seeds
Get stuck in teeth
Those fragrant little chunks
The gangs of fashion
Host crimes of passion
For flagrant little punks
But the laughing man what’s up with him?
How’s it all so funny
When Abraham
Wants ham on rye
But he’s short of money
He’s given cash
Presto, in a flash
That shouldn’t seem surprising
When models light the runway
The stock is quickly rising
And the town is all a-buzz
It’s a miracle declared
With thread and satin what he does
We all stood and stared
But Melanie, can never see
Blinded by what makes her free
She so captivating
A strutting perfect specimen
Alfalfa diet regimen
hors d’ouevres of the day
never eating anything
more digestible than hay
for that would be a waste
and leave a bitter aftertaste
But the laughing man, what’s up with him?
Why’s it all so funny?
When he’s destitute outside the door
Begging us for money.
Saturday mornings there are lots of these;
Infomercial
Look at us all happy and fit
Our lives are perfect in every bit
Twisted and transformed
We’re specimens conformed
To the formula of success
That’s driven by excess
Smiling so ridiculous
Standing perpendiculous
On the greatest invention ever
Designed by a team of scientists
(If not enlightened, at least clever)
And hear the man or woman say
What can be accomplished
In just minutes a day
Look at them, lean and hard
hoisted on their own petard.
‘And If you act now
It is my onus
To offer up a one-time bonus
Five easy payments, turns to four
And that’s not all
There’s so much more
There’s also this full-colour booklet
About a miracle diet
Keep it as our gift to you’
(That ought to keep you quiet)
Soon I’m Tarzan
Soon you’re Jane
Made of steel
And without pain
Proudly down the beach you strut
Showing off your sculpted butt
Monogrammed with our initial
And yeah, we know it’s superficial…
But we will make just restitution;
And appoint you as this sector’s agent
In charge of distribution!
Those who know me personally know that until the end of summer, I am extremely busy at work. As a result my urge to create suffers.
Fortunately, yet ironically, the arrival of fall signals the end of a long and rather tedious period and a rebirth of my personal energy.
Ironic, since most people are inspired by summer days, whereas my time to florish is in those darker and longer nights…
here is something I performed last year about this irony… the words are posted below;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chdWAIMIzto
Time’s at hand, my dearest friend
Eventually good things must end
Like shimmering leaves in summers day
now shriveled, brown, and blown away
asking is that all there is,
with skies so grey
so rinsed away
of colour and of contrast
once brightly dyed but fading fast,
so very far from fashion.,
And love in song,
A long time gone
to warmer lands its flown
leaving melody to sit alone
abandoned and forgotten.
Take heart
Take heart
A paradox lies in these downward slides
to frozen depths, they coincide,
with my delivery
from slavery,.
Set free
For I shine bright
in longer nights,
When shivering trees
Brought to their knees
lament that cold north wind.
I spread awakened poet-wings
Offered alike to fools or kings
So happy that my spirits lifted
And that the sands have finally shifted
And since my time is now at hand
This; ‘when the sun gets down’.
The ‘far south of the equator’ sound
Will make us dance, and make us laugh
Wholeheartedly and not by half
For me, I’ll be your liberator
Your seasonal affective savior
Only please, next spring return the favor.
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