being hassled by the local drug dealers

and downtown shows- ***** fights

from drunken bozo’s

escape never no never escape

escape from downtown at night

people go crazy

I go crazy in a midnight bar with

others that surround me

I feel like throwing the chair at the window

the beer is not working

bars and clubs and people and city’s and buildings

take em’ all down

we don’t need them

we need quiet and peace sometimes

some never get quiet and peace until death comes over

I feel for them

there are always lies flying around the place

how did we all become so jealous?

how did we become so nervous?


he is jealous of him and then he becomes jealous of you.

it’s the vicious circle of life that brings us humans down

he does better but inside the other knows he is better

so you are going to pay.


we attack each other and it becomes uncontrollable

like unexpected heartburn

he is sad

the other is sappy

the other burns inside

the other goes to the bathroom and pukes his heart out

the other throws his tools at the wall

the other makes himself late and causes a stir

the other is high on something and it’s slowing his ability to work

cracking the knuckles

and the sound of the lion horde appears,

cracking the back and feeling warm.


I can’t sleep tonight,

it seems sleep doesn’t need me,

and I feel sad or warmth.

only the sadness reaches deeply inside

at night and that the lion horde

sounds in the head disappear.


waking up with a sick stomach,

waking up with heartburn,

a ****** dry nose.

coughing the black out the lungs.


I can’t see.

Numb babies touch me,

oh heaven where are you?

As the morning rises
And the good people
Wake up and eat their
fine breakfast
I ***** old dinner and beer
With the sun.
And I can hear the people
drive by with work in them,
I lie in bed.
Half naked and hardly living.

While scratching my chest hairs
with my pocket knife.
I was on my stained bed,
with tiny crumbs, with stains
of blood from my cut finger
from the other night.

I scratch softly,
The boredom amuses me,
kills me.

The funeral March plays softly on
the stereo.
I started liking beer,
it’s taking over the wine.
I drink,
I smoke,
well, what else is there to do on a Wednesday night?
**** myself?
But then I’ll have to get out of bed and right now,
this bed is my heaven and my muse at the moment.

London ON has it’s crazies,
the one, well… Well he was a good guy.
I was drunk and sad and waiting for the bus.
The old crazy comes out of the corner
like some ****** greaser.
He mumbles everything and looks sad as well.

We both got on the bus, and we talk, no…
Mostly he talks (mumbles),
and he shows me his buss pass.
It is from 1986, and for reasons unknown,
has not gotten a new one.

I don’t know how it still has its use,
and I don’t know why, it feels, they
always come and talk to me.
they just can’t leave me alone.

but again he was a good guy,
a wise old ****,
We both got off the same stop,
I give him three bucks for a drink,
and head off to the bar.

the bar was empty and so was I
and getting filled up on coke and wh
isky.

The head of Caesar,
with drops of rain,
and drops of defeat.

my head hurts,
I feel sick, and
I’m starting to get a bad
coarse cough.

As I walked out the door,
it was like a scene from a movie.
A 1950’s french new wave film.

There she was, out of nowhere,
a beautiful brunette with a
cigarette in her mouth and
she stands there right in from of me wearing
a purple dress.
why don’t more woman wear dresses?
those skinny legs.
The sexiness lied in the way she lit that cigarette.
The head goes slightly down and she lights up and walks off.
I’m a fast walker, so I pass her, and as I pass her
I think.
-*******, whoever is getting that tonight
is one lucky *******.

I felt good and was smiling,
smiling at the people,
mostly the girls.

you know the pretty ones.

when you feel good,

you don’t want to hide from the pretty ones,

you look at their bombing blue eyes and smile and say hey.


smiling at the people who I
usually can’t stand,
i don’t like them and I don’t
want them around.

I felt good, not beating myself up
over nothing.
the mind was finally at its edge of peace.
The craziness has faded out of my heart
and now maybe I can love again.

In the news,
a man beats a dog with a hammer,
and it seems the rapes and the killings
didn’t make the deadline and
were cut out for that day.

Money drains too quickly,
and why do the bad things
in life attach to me?
the drinks drain quickly,
but I’m the only one
draining them.
After my fifth ****
in my broken down bathroom.
I look in the mirror and feel
good and scared and *****.

the floor has  a bright **** stain
circle in the semi middle.
and the toilet never flushes
properly.

my sister is dead,
and that hit me hard.
my baby sister is dead
and that got to me.

I ached for death too when it
happened.
got depressed.
Wrote poems that would’ve
put me in a psych ward.

No angels tonight in heaven.
No heaven at all.
just the night sky,
the night and I alone tonight.

I could never stand the snow,
it’s nice to see sometimes,
but it’s never good to feel.

Winter becomes a dark sad time,
and the people get fat.
The snow adds more work
into my life, and I never want to
work, I rather sit on the couch
and then jump up quickly, walking
quickly to my room to write
another mighty bad poem.

Quickly I type it before it leaves my head,
when it leaves it never comes back.
The one week in the dead winter cold. I had a poem in my head,
and I had nothing to write with.
I was going crazy, ahhhhh…
but I FOUND ONE!
and I ripped a blank page
from the book I was reading.
finally letting it out,
finally relaxed.

the road was closed
and there was an accident.
a bad ****** accident.
where blood was hanging on their faces.

Sadly I didn’t feel anything
someone’s family was dead
and I was listening to the radio, bored, ******.
thinking about how this
accident happened.,
and the road closed.

but we got through an hour later.
life returned to normal

I was mad,
I grabbed her door and shook it hard.
I was ******.
Cherie came rushing at me,
screaming
"GET OUT.”
ohh I’ll be out soon darling.
I got to my room, still ******,
and then the bad sorrowful feelings came.

I felt sick and I felt bad,
I couldn’t call her.
never call a woman when she is out of her place,
leave them be.
the next day you will hear from them.

but this was mostly my fault
I didn’t know what to do.
I always think-I  know the answer,
but really I know nothing.

I was trying to write 200 poems in one day.
I hadn’t slept and I felt like I was
going insane.
what to write,
there is everything to write about,
and this poem will do now, and I
don’t even know why I was
trying to write 200 poems.
Nobody has heard of me,
and these won’t get me a pay check.
a big pay check to survive alone
and live.
I couldn’t stop
and I was asking myself?

what the hell was the point?
don’t give up though.
"don’t try" like the old bull said.
what to do.
what to do.

the casino taunts me and
I always want to go,
well most days…
I like to gamble but
the gambling takes time.
learn to win.
learn to lose.
I could never win big,
who knows in the future what may hold me.
but I am ready,
the winnings will come;
big winnings hopefully will come soon,
sooner than I hope.
I hate money but always want it.
money taunts me, and I spend it
on poison.
good poison that makes me feel good.

Now today the people
are afraid to grow old.

I fear my mother still seems to act like a 20 yr old.

she is 40.
doomed for sure I am some day.

love yourself
love yourself
love yourself.

and don’t be afraid of that light sometimes.
trust me it doesn’t ****.

Goodbye.
Goodnight.

My pinky was bleeding furiously and soon the bus came

to pick me up.

the bus was crowded, I fell at the seat right in front of me,

deciding to sit beside a cute blonde rich girl talking to her friends.

The finger blood had dried, so I asked the Blonde.

"Hey, you got a bandage or anything? I’m bleeding to death."

"what?"

"Said, you got a band-aid, anything, my finger is trying to **** me."

"no, haha, sorry."

As I turned my head, some old snail was giving me some stare.

I gave her my own stare as well.

The bus smelled like raw cheese.

Cheese that wasn’t made for human consumption.

Too many know Sandy Hook
but they don’t know about
the stabbings of the little ones
in China that happened on the same day.


Aside from that
men who cannot get out of the fire
and who cannot be tamed
are true animals

I hurt.
myself and others,
while the lions break free.
I am a little bird dying
in its nest,
and giving up.
A bird trying to fly,
and hiding from the
other birds.
I am a tough bird
who doesn’t show much,
but I don’t understand
how they see the sadness in my face,
how do they see it?
I gave up once trying
while the lions broke free.
The male birds sing in their
heads at night while
the lions can actually sleep.

if you are good with words you are bad with numbers

if you are good with numbers you are bad with words

the pork is hot
with hell spices burning the tongue
I live with a country guy who loves his beer
but it feels I live with myself
well I am always on my own
the old love doesn’t want to see me
and I care too much

’d rather be sleeping than seeing you

I’d rather be sleeping than seeing my friends

I’d rather be sleeping than be dead

I’d rather be sleeping than being in a crowd

I’d rather be sleeping than talking to people

because the people I seem to only talk to are dumb and

never have a clue what they are saying

I’d rather be sleeping than being around you

even though we are together most of the time

and that time is well spent

I’d rather be sleeping

I’d rather be sleeping because

I’d rather be sleeping without you

I’d rather be sleeping with you

I’d rather be sleeping because

there is no point of being up

I never get anything done

I’d rather be sleeping

because I get to

dream

I’d rather be sleeping because sleep

seems to be the only thing that

keeps me going

Sleep you are good to me

but the problem is

I can never sleep

She had Egyptian eyes and I loved looking at them,
her eyes were my favorite thing about her.
That body that was always against me. I miss that touch.
She was the definition of beauty.

There’s this old piano from my great grandparents in my parents living room.
Half the keys don’t work
And it’s out of tune.
Doesn’t mean i don’t play it
But I’m no Chopin
And I have never learned how to play the piano
But whatever I play
It is always pleasant to my ears.

and that there are as many lonely people out there

like you and me

some think they are different but there are many others who think they are different too

don’t be ashamed to think about  suicide

because i think about suicide

just like a million other people

and you can see I’m still here

and you are too.

It was too **** hot to be working in a factory.

Outside it was probably 25 degrees Celsius,

but inside it gets 5x hotter than it should be.

I’m always bending down, and the sweat takes over,

the sweat falling down on my face, wiping it every second.

I take off the “necessary” safety glasses

which I’d never wear anyway.

They would get fogged up and

I had enough of it.

The higher up people have said

they don’t need a break,

they just shove water in our face.

I chugged the whole bottle down and soon got cramps.

and no breaks were coming,

but the cars kept coming.

Elizabeth

Last Year you were five

and now in four years

you will be ten.

and still in the ground

you will be.

and the only way to see your

face is with the only framed

baby picture on  the wall.

the music is playing loud in the bathroom.

Cherie’s roommate is always blaring,

music that isn’t pleasurable to my ears.

she also likes to blare her mouth off too.

she is the perfect example of daddies little girl,

she can’t fend for herself really,

and can’t seem to do anything right.

she leaves a mess in the kitchen,

telling Cherie.

"I’ll clean it soon."

two days later

Cherie is cleaning the Kitchen.

"Why the hell do you clean up for her? She’s a BIG GIRL, ****, I don’t understand."

"Well if I don’t do it, it will never get done."

Cherie likes to do her own thing

i can’t stop her

and really there’s no point too it either.

The way I see the world

Little parts I’ve lived in and visited

Too many people in trouble

Too many people with a goal that leads to nowhere

Some smile with so tiny effort

Cause they already gave their soul away

To the country

They seem to love

The people my age

don’t have a clue on how to live

some go down under the edge

and eat their life apart

some try so hard to make it

that they throw the chance of living away

and when they finally have that chance

they crash and burn

when nothing on this earth has made me cry,

but on a Friday night, 3 AM,

maybe i feel like sobbing.

but it never happens

all those tears have flown down

through my liver and  have turned to ****.

after my long ****,

I enter my dark room,

the worst part knowing that you’re a couple blocks away.

13 dollars it costs to see you, but i never have the money.

i wait for the sun to come up,

it’s finally warm outside,

it’s all coming back alive.

Where days go on and on, you feel the dirtiness reach into your eyes.

Some days are so *****, the gods and saints of London

lets the city rain **** for our punishment.

They watch laughing without any care

Cops rather chase the dope freaks,

instead of stopping the pill sellers right in every corner downtown.

cops who eat their **** for breakfast,

then go spouting it all over the innocent ones.

Jamaicans jamming the drums

i don’t know where to go?

Hamilton my old home,

still hasn’t wiped its *** in over fifty years.

but London here I come again,

another year with you.

It was last Saturday,

she said she was coming over soon and

I needed help to finish off the bottles.

She at least makes good company, but of course

she couldn’t make it.

So I decided to drink alone,

woke up at noon,

a rainy Sunday with a beautiful hangover.

There was blood stains on the carpet,

looking at my hand, cuts everywhere.                                                                            

“What the hell happened last night?” I look at the time and it’s already 3 PM.

finally getting out of bed,

I get in the kitchen,

i can’t think,

i can feel the saliva coming up my throat,

still i make eggs and toast,

i know I’m going to be sick.

I walk to the washroom, put my head right in the toilet

I finally throw up, clean up in the washroom.

the sickness is all gone, and

I can finally enjoy my cold meal.

It was the end of September

you in my bed,

you were still in a relationship

it felt wrong, your boyfriend at home was missing you

and now you were on top  a new guy

which was me.

for some reason i didn’t stop you,

  no other woman i had before ever wanted me so badly.

maybe there is a god.


the first night she pulled my pants right off,

fondling my ****** ****.


She kept playing with it, wouldn’t get hard, asked if I had a problem.

"No, it’s almost 5 in the morning and I’m too tired to get it up."

The night is always a good time for
Eating,
killing,
*******,
And other crimes.

Now living on my own, she wasn’t there beside me anymore.
Sometimes this was good, I slept better alone.
Why was it whenever I wanted to sleep,
the one that left me always got upset when I wanted my rest alone.
“Babe, I told you I sleep better by myself.”
“Yeah… I know.”
“don’t worry, tomorrow I’ll be a new man. Surprise me in the morning.”
The next day, the sun woke me up.
She wasn’t there, she didn’t show up.
I smiled, and went in the bathroom to take the greatest **** in the world.

I watch her sitting on the couch,
and she’s trying hard not to cry.
No baby by her side cause' the baby is upstairs.
maybe I wanna’ be upstairs too.

I watch her pop a few pills, two more in the afternoon,
maybe two more to fall asleep.
She never sleeps, but
she got better a few years after
when the baby turned four.

I wake up not in my house but hers and the coffee is made
I have almost everyday five cups of coffee
The bitter taste wakes me
I am reborn
I start my third cup and she says "stop drinking so much
No wonder you have headaches
You’re ******* dehydrated
Drink more water"
She drinks a liter of water a day
I drink a liter of coffee a day
and i love it. . . love it too much

Why am I always thinking about the times that I waste but does good.

How many people are ******* tonight?

How many people are shooting dope tonight?

How many dying on the streets with only a dime in their pocket?

Too many people are starving tonight.

Too many children died tonight.

How does the coffin maker feel when he makes graves
about the size of a human being that should be in a crib?
Still the days go on, and the mother hears cries but
she wakes up with no one beside her.

The day goes on and I’m still here and I’m doing fine thanks.
but when the night comes and you’re still alone,
do you pull the trigger? Or dig out of the hole?

there was never any greatest                                                                        

the bell is ringing                                                                                                            

the wall is torn down

people talking bore me to death                                                                          

models are ugly                                                                                                            

where are the real  girls in this city that know how to drink?

Drinking in lazy bars

I’m a soft man

the greatest

The ***** man is here to see you,
his eyes make you stumble, and
it makes you glow red.
laughing, what’s the matter?
The ***** man is back again,
he wants you so bad.
Your life is miserable already,
why not give him a hand.

love-made hooligans. Partied with drug influence parted minds.
I saw Nietzsche, drawn, blabbing, crying. Sage into madness.
Paintings done in Rome, JFK, blood bombs flee over ****** U.S.S.R.
Gone into discerning schools, racist pigs, beatings for the prime minister.
I waited in vain, woke up in Vain. Died on Golden Buddhas,
Caucasians shaving their heads.
2 am hanged from pleasure, hallucinated dogs in hallways, screamed the truth in barks of airwaves.
What will come for me after death?

I can’t sleep, it’s four in the morning, and my mind is pouring out
like water out my ear lobe.
passed out clocks,
dooming my
slumped eyes.

Shots of men, bursting into
laughter of fear, we’ll never
forget,
Heartless, this society we
live in, it ******* blows.

They take their bones to make homes,
take out their heart to keep warm,
cut off their legs to have something on
their dinner plate.

The firm workmen cheating on their lives,
mating with different wives, kissing the
vibrant shadows of the night.
dust in the mist, girl giving her pose
to death and the ghosts of endearment.
Make her a sullen figure of rage and scattered hope.

I am the electric sun, beating on my cyanide drum.
Putting the world in drastic sleep of dreams, where
we dance on the elevated hill, chanting songs
of the delicate anger and Joy

Feast your eyes on me my saint, for I,
the electric sun, praise everyone! I worry
and creep the eye of Neptune, I sit in my
slim bodied chair, watching the race
of the glorious flower child. She
flies away in the burst of the symbolic light.

I can be your sun king Lion, i have virtue and
I’m always hunting for my prey of mechanical power.
I just look into my blinding mirror, and see my glazed
eyes. My grey ***** chin hair growing into a pathway
for death.

Gasping, i am now one of the powerless,
beating my elder drum, chanting to the saints
of Petersburg. Laughing away while rushing
through that last breath.

I became weak. Who killed wisdom, when all he wanted
was for righteousness to make love to power, so they could
have a child called reality. Now our halcyon sun king can rest
with sympathy, joining with its true paradise.

2009

Come dazed in deception,
making idols of perfection,
****** crazed in inception.
Faded away into morality,
****** into a fixed reality,
doomed? not quite.

Her eyes washed away,
flowing away with her wings,
a slump attitude, lying naked with her.
florescent grumpy woman.

I couldn’t wish for a good girl,
a man with beauty, who is so wise.
Locks of hair make the men
blues.

Bash my Morocco joker card,
fold my ace card, make myself
lose my thousand dollar sweat.
Soon I’ll shave my Beethoven beard,
and bleed Mozart all over my long
face, coughing up some Chopin,
falling down hitting off that dazed
feeling that started this mess.

Back in the day,
when life was grey,
you see yourself all grown up.
You're pretty, you're ugly,
your **** stays the same.
Wake up.
The same girls are still pretty,
the drunks and druggies are dead,
they just love to play with your head.
You are a man now,
a dead man.

Myths and legends,
That’s what you’ll get in your dreams today.
Sleep on your broken glass floor,
scream! Scream!
Look at all the fake faces on the floor,
designed by your deep-tempted blood.

Slip onto the corner of 5th,
come lay on the grass from our divine god,
come drink the coffee of ethics,
let us peel your LSD skin,
***** the dishearten world,
look into our dispirit world,
do you belong? .

Go sleep with the drunks,
let them play with you,
lets relive all the hipster days,
when liquor was quicker,
gave us that heterogeneous slur in the chops.
We can smoke all the hale cigarettes
on this earth, but that’s just a myth.

While waiting, tired and sore, my eyes tremble in
awareness. Trying to wake up in a notorious dream.
Bronze statues of gay senators, tales of despair, and
maniacs. I think of Ginsberg and his reach to free
speech, to tell all the fakers to smoke a dinosaur,
to see the real world. I think of my sister, deceased,
rotting down below, people praying to their unreal God.

I dream of living in a narrow world, where the creeps judge
the freaks, and prey on the high school cheerleaders.

3 lights, 2 dead, 1 burning out.

I sit in my square bedroom,
bay side blue walls. My heroes are dead,
my only brother dead, paintings from my faded out great-grandmother hanging on the wall.
Cd’s of suicidal music,
stolen books from school,
MAD magazines, no not that kind of madness you schmuck!
Books filled with my ***** word poetry,
two alarm clocks, one for noise, and the other
for amusement. I sink, getting more tired, sinking in my box bed.
What will I dream tonight?
Sleep.
I wake up with Shakespeare written on my lips.



2009