When we first met you’d smoke cigarettes as we laughed at sunrise. Working on what you promised of a dream.
You were living in a sober house, cracked walls, leaking ceiling.
Yet you felt like home.
I knew you had your nightmares everyone does.
You manipulated me, there were so many warning signs.
I don’t know how I stayed for so long or how I survived. All I know is I watched you almost die too many times.
Your choice is heroine. My choice used to be you.
But now I’ve called a lawyer and started smoking the cigarettes you hated the most too.

Can you feel the seismic rift.
Shift your weight. Keep your balance.
Hold steady.
The ground is moving beneath.
We've been waiting, expecting this to happen.
It's Mesopotamian.
Hordes will be swallowed up.
Legions will burn,
We will be punished,
But there will come calm.
Our will be done.
Until the debris stops falling,
Look down, cover up.
Look up.

You gaze in my direction
A look void of affection
From your eyes the hatred does pour
I’d rather be facing, the barrel of a 12 bore
Armed, dangerous and primed at the trigger
This target that I am couldn’t get any bigger
I’ll take no chances
Ignore all, of your ungratified glances

The enemy
Is all I can be
It’s all you can see
That is why
I am not free
Ever since I had
No more love to decree

It is but a sad ending
It was always our cause
That I was defending
But the messages you were sending
Had my heart breaking
My mind twisting and bending
A love like this
I’ll not be recommending

So keep your stare
Your look of contempt
For my eyes see no more
Of the barrage that does not relent
Submission not on the cards
Victory in defeat never a concern
But you have rearranged,  altered and destroyed
Every piece of love I ever employed
So look no more in my direction
And keep your abundance of afflicted affection

This place is a wasteland
Wasted potential
Food
Opportunity
Wasted at the bar, looking at your hands
“how could you do this to me?”
What happened to beauty?
And who will be the bad guys in the movie?

If a fascist takes a **** on the floor, will it land in 1984?
We’re at war
We’re at war
If you’re not rich you’re poor

We’re not the ones keeping score.

I am Canadian. We are considered polite.
I will remain so here.
We are a socialist democracy.
You, a capitalist democracy.
Our Prime Minister makes mistakes.
He's comparatively young. He takes good council.
He speaks of what he knows,
And knows when not to speak.
He can be mean (depending), but never cruel.
He has great wealth, but neither flaunts nor hides it.
When he equivocates or lies, he knows it.

We have all the amenities of a capitalistic society,
With the security and comfort of our social pluralism.
Our youth enrol in a free and fine education.
We have no rich or poor school districts.
We have no security guards or metal detectors.

We are not an economic super power.
We do not influence worldly affairs with an itch or a sniffle.

Our Senate is powerless (enough said).
Authority and power lie in the multi-party system;
Each chooses its leader.
We don't vote for the Prime Minister,
But every four years (and many times less) we can vote one out.
And get this: sometimes the party changes horses midstream to rein in getaways.
A coup d'état is almost impossible,
Unless we get invaded for our fresh water.
We're not nuclear armed,  but when called, the Forces are tenacious.
We're not war mongers. We really do prefer peace.
Our former P.M. won a Nobel for coming up with the idea of a U.N. Peacekeeping Force. That's a real one.

We have serious problems like you. At times, the innocent and the guilty get hurt; that's never good.  And believe me, we support most of your political initiatives, domestic and foreign, and your peaceful demonstrations. We know pain too.

I know you love your country. And you have **** good reasons.
Most Canadians love you too, and we are very worried about our southern neighbours who treat us so well when we visit west of the St. Clair River.
We've helped you when you were in need; when your country was under attack. We are your good neighbours with good fences. We will always be there for you and whatever Democracy you choose.
Please, choose wisely.

Bless America

your words are a pampered art; combination of an italian riviera tide along with french reverie aura

black, like the sound of silence.
heavy, like the emptiness of your absence.
salty, like guilt.
impervious, like the road to reach you.
long, like the echo of your memory.
every single night,
colorless.

i'm not hungry, i'm just
empty
and now i'm just
sorry i expected you to know the difference

if my stories don't leave you raw
then let me take off your sweater slow enough to feel the goosebumps
before i kiss your skin away

for my tongue tells stories
far louder than i can scream