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We met when you were small
a tiny white puffball
I placed a band blue
round your neck to
show you were my kitty

I knew so exactly
what you should be
good, kind, lovely, sweet
smart, fun, strong, complete
the package with loyal

and you were, so royal
without blemish or soil
upon your pure white fur
heart free of smudge or blur
your name was Snowbell

you grew to know it well
from birth to when you fell
crimson mottled splotch mess
stained your angelic dress
a broken vessel as am I

speaking of how you did die
your life story in my eye
tale of cuddles, head rubbed
rolling joyful in the mud
you spirit confined

by man’s wall defined
freedom’s what you pined
for ever gazing at door
shut stuck wanting outside

Petite Cherie, where now you reside
may sweet freedom fully abide
may you live without doors
fields of grass be your floors
enjoy them, please, it is your right

for this world which held tight
to be lost in pursuit
finally allowed to be you
I let go the band blue
but never my love for you

Petite Cherie, run, be free—
please wait patiently
for the time when we
both have naught but grass floor
no remnants of that shut door.
In memoriam of Snowbell (2005-2019)
She was the best feline companion this fellow has ever been blessed to have.
RequiesCAT In Pace, Petite Cherie
Is there anyone out there who still isn’t clear about what doing the Tinder Tango does to your emotional and mental well-being?

Okay, for the last last time...

Oh magic love guru box,
fulfiller of hookup dreams,
hope’s dope flocks
to your **** screen’s

ability to match
humanity’s what’s-left
for me with the right catch.

do you know I’m not bereft
of personality,
in lieu of a flawless selfie
of a perfect body
what I have is me;

hopeless romantic,
unabashed geek,
fantasy lunatic,
my D & D game’s sleek

as any bikini ***,
I’m your family size
deluxe dad *** god,
hope she’ll realize

I’m the right one,
in a world that’s left
her with no sun,
I hope she swipes right,
or there’s no hope left

matchfaker, matchfaker,
lose me a find, miss me a catch...

Tinder; it’s like putting a gun handed to you by a stranger into your mouth and pulling the trigger
Love is a disease
it starts with a carrier
unaffected by the pathogen
it knowingly spreads

Love is extremely contagious
so much as a single look
is often enough to infect

The carrier finds a victim
unaware of the danger
as eyes meet, hearts palpitate
spreading the venom quicker

Pheremones flood logic centers
neurotoxins inducing insanity
the jade wasp walks its prey
towards the regrettably chill flicks of net

That compel roaches to walk off cliffs
carrying flowers and chocolates
seeking a rainbow bridge of hope
finding no more than pretty-colored moisture

Nurturing parasitic demon babies that burst out of a scooped clean chest
a dine and dash leaving their guest
to pay the unsettled romance cheque
and the hotel room? left a wreck

Befouled by graffiti on room walls written
in what smells like Odin's *****

Roses come in more hues than red
Violets are violet not blue
There's more to romance than what's said
On some card conveying love to you
A poem written in a style influenced by the antipoetry movemement:

presented as part of a Dawkins’-meme based poetrycollection at the “Trash Talkin’” literary Conference at the University of Regina, in Regina, SK, Canada
I will have you know that you are in the mine-ority
If you don’t look at my pic and insta-click “like” on me
I thrive in this weblight, you subsist in ambig-you-ity
Mine is the looking glass of Aphrod-I-te
The un-My-ghty look on my aesthetic perfection and despair

I am the reason there is an earth
All was designed to usher in my triumphant birth
You are just hateful ab-you-sers and mis-you-sers

I am the oh-so-fleeting truth  
Present in a world obsessed with youth
I am only worth what others see in me

I embody the my-jority
My onscreen attention antics
Are the me-ssential components
Required to build a thriving Me-ocracy.
presented as part of a Dawkins’-meme based poetry collection at the 2019 “Trash Talkin’” literary Conference at the University of Regina, in Regina, SK, Canada
Oh Canada
You are one hundred and fifty years young
And across this great nation our many
Cultures are proclaimed as asset
Rather than liability
Or so the Head mouths
Until the Head attempts to ban its own niqab

How can We truly be free
When the Head proclaims:
“Smile, you’re on camera, oh patriot
You have nothing to fear if you but OBEY

If you allow our shears to slice
Your liberties free from you
A twisted plot device  
To put in motion
Taxes, taxes,
Bombings, bombings,
So We don’t fall down!”

The Mouth tells us:

“Your safety comes at a price,
Oh Canada
Safety is not a cheap commodity
Oh nation

We owe it to our southern Big Brother
To help enforce peace
It is time for us to pay the bank
What we are owed
Oh country

Like unto what Ginsberg once said;
‘It’s them Russians, them Russians,  
And them Chinamen.  
And the terrorist Boogeyman.’”

Head smiles approvingly at Mouth
As the Hands share Their gospel:

“Children, do not fret,
All is well so
Keep calm and carry on
we act to protect your safety
Feel the comfort of the
Flak jackets of the Watchmen
Strong and secure among us
Patrolling with tanks, guns, and teargas
All is well, little ones,
Let us tuck you in with a sweet THC sleep
we act as we do in your best interests.

The match which lit the state-approved ****
Snuffed out by the wind of the vox populi:

“We cry
Oh nation
Over the spilled blood
Of the unarmed soldier who died
Protecting the epitaph of the nameless
We mourn for the nation’s first
Whose land was unjustly taken
Their wealth pillaged
Distributed amongst *******
We weep for the babies  
Who cannot get into hospitals
Whose waiting rooms filled for hours
Because the doctors are too overworked
To deliver the children
Who will grow up to find
They have none of the skills
For any of the jobs

We cannot keep calm and carry on
Freedom is in peril
We must defend it with all our might
Protect what’s ours by right
The right to grow love
Not nuclear third arms
The right to be known as a people
Of bravery and longevity
Not platitudes and brevity
We have the duty to remember that we
Are the True North Strong AND FREE
Oh Canada
Your People Stand on Guard For THEE
* in response to Allen Ginsburg's "America". An idea conceived after the 2014 attack on Canadian Parliament, and perfected with  Canada's sesquicentennial in 2017 in mind
The Revolution will not be pay-per-view,
Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide,
The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR
Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve
The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized,
the Revolution will be patronized

Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes

The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for
CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram
The Revolution is more than digital trolling,
It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse

Do you have your passport for the Revolution?

The Revolution is unauthorized
Written for and by all the people
The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly
Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee,  
The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure
For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure

Revolution 99% Uploaded
Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action
NM 10/17/15
*After Gil Scott Heron's epic "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"
A smudge and gift of tobacco tie  
Given to me on the urban forest’s edge
Alive with spirits dancing with soles’
Muted drumbeat as the rhythm in their song

Lost sisters
Without their shoes

Lost sisters
Leave their markings

Velvet footprints
Next to Big Bear’s

Scarlet on  
Big Bear’s Path

Remembered Sisters
Dance with us again

Best friend
Included in Limited Edition Chapbook "They Sing to Us" (Ed. Brandt, Di, 2016, Radish Press). Unfortunately my surname was misspelled as "McKrith".

"They Sing to Us"  was inspired by the Walking With Our Sisters Exhibit that was hosted at Brandon University in March of 2016. The exhibition featured 108 moccasin vamps created to honor the lives of children whose lives were lost in the residential school system. The original Walking With Our Sisters exhibition features 1,808 vamps commemorating the 1200 + Indigenous women and girls who have gone missing in Canada since 1980.
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