blame the crows
perched in rows
of branches
black suit for a foggy mourning,
the mist so thick it holds in the "caw!",
and they all answer the echo,
but they work at breaking branches
down to twigs, to carry away to their
nest, it is the best
investment in their home.

Yet they drop and leave a few and these land
just past the sidewalk
where the edge is lava rock,
catching twigs in the rusty red colour that
is more rust then red in the fog, these hold
down all sorts of rejects, cigarette but and bits
of paper, those twigs from trees, worked by crows
and silken threads with drops of misty dew.

What a fine thread,
for a fine woven web,
there and there and there
my they are every where,
what kind of spider or
arachnid, weaves a home,
a spider web
without a lid or cover,
with twigs, lava rock
all around, surrounded by other junk,
I would get, I could get,
close to have a peek,
but what if a spider
were to bound from
beneath the web, and lava rock brandishing a sharp twig?



©DWE102013

I walk my dog a lot, you see
twice a day, long walks with me
she likes her breaks to stop and ***,
on every other place that bears a mark
could be every thing in any green space,
or park, roadside grass, curb sign post;
thirty times or more a most.

But she is more special than that,
she pulls with the heart of a champion at
the leash or harness, she as one gear forward fast,
her four paws calloused, brace like a storm
is in her face, she is game like, that is the norm,
her shoulders lean in and her chest opens up
she is ten years old and behaves like a 22 pound pup,

That is my dog.
that is my girl.

Most days of the year we have no white stuff on the ground,
Truth be told rain by the bucket will be readily found,
Spring rains, lead to summer showers, autumn falls
both leaves and drops of water, winter moves and the call
is the same, what a shame more rain, with out any snow
we can't go and purchase a sled so in the end
that is, me in tow behind; this man's best friend,
my dog.

MUSH!

There is something about a fresh spring rain, wind chilling bare arms,
It moves in subtle and fast a temporary pain, come and go no harm,
Go indoors or throw a coat on, put your hood up, no need for alarm.

Then in the same breath there are the single cell clouds large and towering,
They are moved slow and sure, their energy charging up and empowering,
Tall as a mountain with darkness blots out the sun, thunder and lightning.

One bolt, one resounding boom, echoes like the atmosphere is an empty room,
Then the rain releases and floats the cloud mountain higher, no more kaboom,
Cotton-puff piled high leaving behind blue sky and sunshine, the day to resume.

Charged particles lift higher and change,
rain evaporates in the electric air or drains,
broken peaceful blue sky again a clear refrain.

©DWE042013

In the cold of my car I shivered,
as the engine ran,
                     I sat still hoping to
dispense with the chill,
                 but my will said, 'accept it you are a wimp and an old cold one at that"
I was wearing my hat and my coat with light gloves,
                                                                ­        I loves to wear, they separate my fingers
            from the cold,
knitted grey and bold,
        they let me hold,
objects of metal like keys to hearts,  objects of stone like me very own heart,
                    objects of desire, that I keep secret until something transpires
                                                      ­               which warms better than fires,
on a dark and lonely night under the stars bright, wait was that my tire?
Oh where did I wonder off too,
                              as I was in thought, now lost,
   my wit, not sharp as the nail in my tire, the cost,
on a dark night in November, as six speeding police cars swoop past me,
on an urgent mission to stop a crime, their sirens wail as I am a
counterintuitive pantomime against the noise that assails me while
I am changing
a tire but remain the same,
metal tire rod tool in my hand, stone cold heart beating, against my ribs,
as I labor in disbelief that where I live is across from where I stand,
and with all technology you have to get on your hands and knees to
change a tire, I sneeze, I am not sure which is worse,
                                         my situation or these verse,
which decorate the night, not like stars,
as when spoken aloud every other word is profane,
while two homeless push there wares by me and laugh
                                                           ­     with disdain.
For in these transactions they have more street cred than I,
  and I would give them a bitcoin of my thoughts, but they
are two and I am one, alone and without a cell phone, and
this poem rolling around like lug nuts in a hubcap, as frost
creeps closer than the creeps who wish to reap of my misfortune.

Of which I now have some, that I can mix with theirs and then
I notice their bloodthirsty stares, so I begin to recite this poetry
and expound on the woe in me and send them packing covering their
ears with out attacking my hapless now three wheeled car.

When I was done I was nuttier than those lugs,
"good news" it was too cold for bugs,
and with good conscience you, from this, can unplug.


©DWE112013

Wheels turning 'round, asphalt below,
Wings a flappin' up and down, in blows
Wind as a friendly fowl plaything ... Fly!

Wander the streets, on feet, restless, seek...
Ways to strengthen the heart, lungs deep,
Breathing, an exchange of fresh for stale...Air!

Water pulled and pushed, streamlined, the mind,
Wanting to believe, what body won't accept, finding
Joy, in going beyond what the senses signals send...Stimuli!

Live
In
The
Moment

No monuments, never be found standing still,
Unless the time to collect and assemble what
It takes, to shake the foundation, to make a plan,

For
Peace
For
Acceptance

Of who, you are, ...of
Who will, you become! So free.

Do you learn,
how do you earn,
if you did not burn
what you do into gray
matter memory.

Memorize by rote,
                   by rote,
                         rote,
a reducing game,
I'll call it stacking,
to maximize your
gain of what you
know, I mean know
for certain,
repeated physical
and mental actions
over and over,
over and over,
and over and over,
like a martial artist, doing a kata,
till he is caught doing it in his sleep,
or his nerves are always there
ahead, waiting for him to arrive,

but do we know for certain,
anything?,
photo shopping,
auto correcting,
foolish sexting,
conspiracy theorem,
bring me to life
   AWAY
with boredom just a drop of inspiration,
AWAY
with tedium just some time and some space
   A WAY
and I can and will learn it all,
with peace as my covering,
         peace as my covering,
                    as my covering,
                        my covering,
                               covering.

Honest learning is that which is
involved in dwelling, some times
easily and at others it is a crime,
and a torturous process but in this,
                      
"Finally, brethren, whatever is true,
whatever is honorable, whatever is
right, whatever is pure, whatever is
lovely, whatever is of good repute,
if there is any excellence and if
anything worthy of praise,
dwell on these things. "
         *

That would be
what honest learning
could be,
where do I start,
memorizing by heart,
when my is heart turning
to stone, hardening,
not fertile and not prepared
for gardening and the
planting of good seed,
use a funny voice,
if you need to memorize,
tape to a mirror in front of
your eyes, your face,
where you do spend allot of time I might add.

but before you go forward,
        I will be forward and
remind you there are better
things, on which to dwell.



©DWE082013

She was walking with her summer tank top
     sailor blue stripes, dark  brown hair swaying
       same as her hips.

White purse on her shoulder, sound flowing
   to her ears, shaded warm sidewalk, solid
        beneath her feet.

She moved to the beat.

That is when he saw her, he knew what
  he wanted to do, no, had to do,
quickly left his guy friends' side.

Running quickening his stride,
crew cropped head bent low and picked
   out
a
   single  flower
     from the thorny ground cover.

Wild eh?

He wasn't done.
He spun.
Three long strides.
He was there.
Tattooed arm reaching,
out with care,
Gave her the flower
bloom and her heart
went boom. (pitterpatter)

Words stopped in her throat.
His mouth moved,
she is still not sure,
what he said,
before he ran again
to be with his guy friend.

Of course she turned and looked,
she was young and he was older,
his kindness made her bolder,
than she was ever, ever before,
she kept walking and looked once
more.

With a toss of that dark brown hair,
she made a place for the flower there.

The trees must have got in the way
                         as I am unable to say
if their eyes met only once or more,
    lesson learned
people make up this heartless city
   I adore.

Just another view
from the second floor.


©DWE082013

I recognize your work,
                                          it is not my call on your worth.
You thought you sought glory,
                                                          ­bought into the lies,
                                                           ­                                     now it is a different story.

There are no adjectives, no adverbs for what was done.
Fool(s), you think you have won?
But it is not about winning, is it?
                                                             If you could digest what you did, YOU did.
                                                            ­ Human, You would ***** your insides out.
Selfish actions will spawn
                                     a hellish reward.
If you have not trained,
                                             your marathon has just begun,
                                             you won't get my pity or prayers,
                                                        ­                                                      I've already turned you
over to God.
                       You lost that battle by the molten lake, do you remember that you did
forsake?

It has been many years since, twisted
                                                          you are and how you act,
                                           human vessels are easy to attract.

Evil is as evil does,
                                   you will not change,
                                                         ­                 because you already lost.


©DWE042013

all things green are not created equal,
what brings mean hearts a revival,
the green that some die for,
the green the mint strives for,

there are no green initiatives, only a green economy
there is no interest, that will starve the old, their bank
cupboards bare, soon they will eat their own flesh.

they ayes may have it everywhere so be aware, watch your step there
the green that binds our hands,
binds our feet, binds our minds,
bind us together in defeat.

this may sound like a call but really it is one voice with a bad echo,
bouncing off the walls of misappropriation and missed understandings

stewardship is taking care of what was given, (not earned)
he who made stewards of us is going to call (out our names)
to find what we did with the Terra entrusted with us (what a rush)

embracing the wrong green blinds us as it binds us to a rocky
spire, that double edge blade hacking at the legs of God's footstool.
the light talk about saving a planet, ****** Janet, what fool's
we have been, we blame colour blindness for corporate greed,
oh the
green that bind us
to every wrong to which we own,
will now cost us the best spot closest to the throne.

grasses brown up nice,
this time of year, Sun slices,
through the spaces of
branches and the love-
ly leaves, shadow seekers,
and sun bathers wait on,
the changing dark shape,
to place their bodies and at
by the end of the day
such justifies the means,
while buckets of water
empty and fill and liquid
pill fertilizer, is a miser
of plant health, wealth
and chaotic growth,
you can't control your
eating or time,
so why should a ****,
heed the call to stop,
why should a plant,
slow down instead,
cant toward the Sun
you worship or hide
your hide from, and
your dog or cat, just
lays about the place,
licks your nose or face,
serve wine over ice and
take a couple of ice cubes
from a heart, that there
is never a chance of thaw,
at the temperature of dry
ice and dry eyes that will
not shed tears, will not
shuck fears, like oysters,
on the life that is a beach,
shoals,
rip tides,
confide and confounded,
leave the corpse in the sand
until the waves have pounded
knowledge of gardening and
gardens of life, go on live
beyond the strife, soften the
take on ****(s).

The last raindrop that hangs onto a branch, a twig
"droplet
let go, or evaporate", which one is the thing,
filter
fall down into the ground or fall up into the air,
                                              steamy but
water always finds the lowest point,
the water table quickly absorbs the fallen,
the sun so hot, sky lifts water up towards the heavens
in sheets
oh,... So looking forward to the last teardrop, eyes
                                                                                   too be
                                                                                     dry,
                                                                                  even for a little while.

I would sit in a cave if, I could sit,
I would stand into the wind if, I could stand,
I would lie beside you if, I had you.

My logic is so, so pitiful,
I place expectation upon expectation upon demand,
My illogical answer is, I don't even know you.

If I could dance it would be for joy
If I could fly it would be into the sky so very high,
Then so low along the nap of the Earth.

See?
This how I try to impress thee,
For I am not joyful, therefore I cannot dance,
I am unable to fly so I don't stand a chance.

But these words, an intimate dialog, 'tween ye
And me, I take the time and chronologically
Realize already I am the one unhealthy...

Wait, don't go, let me start again, and when,
wait, why are you crying, I am unhealthy not dying,
I am unhealthy for us...

I will take you this one time to places where,
where are you going, how will we be together,
if you leave, I think your telling me I failed the test

That okay
that is alright,
I will wait till your
outasight
then move
onto my next
conquest.

When your frenemies speak their minds
Trust the wrong people, you go blind,
Do not listen to what word they say
Turn them away at the doorway.

When the dark gathers closely in,
Dark voices condemn, you, your sin,  
Do not stop, take the time to pray
Turn them away at the doorway.

An innocent holds out their hand,
It's a call, that's all, no demand,
See that chaos, embrace it go play,
Run now with them through the doorway.

Those distractions abound, constant,
Get to your own place of balance
Let your stare, your silence have it's say
Turn them away at the doorway

Have I missed any or many?
I name cities and countries,
while somebody somewhere
loads a magazine,
not an e-zine
but a holder of those things with peoples names on them,
not city names
not country names
people
people people
real people
who may or may not have fame
who may or may not be famous
they are like your uncle or your dad,
they are like your aunt or your mom
they are your brother and your sister
from the blood stained shirt tail relations
you never had a chance to meet.

you never had a chance to see their beauty,
        never had a chance to laugh with them,
                   had a glimpse of their genius ripped away before it was discovered,
                           a momentary embrace and see whose tears ran down the face faster as you said goodbye
                           a moment is all it took to be in the wrong place at a time that was beyond their control
                              moments knowing or not knowing just screaming hoping it was helping
                                               know this, they were innocents
                                                       ­   this they did not wish to happen,
                                                         ­         they did not wish to go without saying goodbye,
                                                        ­                   did not know if injured they would live

to those that lived, you are loved
to those that died, you are loved and will be missed
to those who knew them more than any of us, courage, empathy have mine, all of it I just need
to know how to get it out of my heart and my head and some address to send it to, in a tear
                                                            ­                                                                 ­ stained package,

to those who cannot stop crying and need the lights on to sleep or cannot sleep alone without
touching someone,
                                I stand under a moonlit sky I don't believe in magic or the magical
                                                         ­          I am praying for the miraculous or a miracle,
                                                        ­            but none of the words are more than a whisper
                                                         ­           I lift my hands and breath them to the clouds.
                                                         ­           Find the jet stream, much comfort is needed,
                                                         ­           swiftly fly
                                                             ­       softly land
                                                            ­        sure to comfort
                                                         ­           Spirit of God.

The muck I made
        stuck to me boots
water and soil, I grow roots,
enough to stay put in one place,
look me in the eye, and stare me in the face,
dare to go where your dare takes you, a disgrace,
the lies,
the gossip,
takes hyssop,
                          to cleanse this vessel soiled,
                                          by those who toil,
with evil in their hearts,
sparks that start,
let them believe they are actually alive,
it is sad,
it is me that has to break it to them,
it is they who have died to the truth,
it is the circle they surround themselves
that has drowned them
it is the honest life that has left them behind;
                                            bereft without hope...
they will fall away,
they have gone astray,
from what it is to be human.
Drama drama everywhere, only salty tears to drink.
Don't treat me like the animal, you have become.
It is a misadventure.

Part I
Bullets
Of Death,
Target innocents,
Lost Lives, emptied
Last breath,
Expired.

Part II
Drops
Of Dew,
Morning fresh,
Overnight, air
Renewed
Again.


D W Elverum April 2012

Farm life was hard,
when your the twelfth,
in line, most of the older
ones have gotten bolder,
to make there own way,
away from the family place.

Your hair was platinum white,
kids were kids and joked in spite,
of how nice you were or not.

When number thirteen was about to be,
the baby took your mother away, see?
your dad then go sick with TB,
once he could no longer take care,
you went to be with family, who cared.

You went to work stocking shoes,
dropout of school to pay your dues,
so much lost and so much to lose.

You moved away and married a man,
had a couple of boys who grew to men
and worked,
moved again and again west then south,
and worked
as the retail demands,
cashiering and training manager
types, till you retired... when they
closed the store, without much
attention and with not much of
a pension.  Lost much in the divorce.

From a prairie rose to fill those roles
as a cashier,
as trainer,
as a mother,
cherished,
you balanced,
books, career and life
as well,
thanks from me and my brother, as well.
  
  To any readers,
There more to the story and I will fill
in the blanks, but here is the ending
so you will say thanks that it will not
be nagging as you sleep.

I had a 750 Suzuki Katana, gray machine
learned like a young man 350, then 650 then that 750cc of course
in the mid eighties, paid cash but then my mom expected the worst,
I was in the army, I said Army, military single man
I could handle the motorbike well enough,
I knew my limits,
too slow one day
on a sharp parking lot turn
and I earned a
cracked signal light casing,
too early in the
season an April Easter trek
home, turned
around in Manning Park,
near that summit,
snow and ice made it dicey
and the police wanted me to prove I had
chains and snow tires for this late season
fall of snow is
all, so I turned and went back to the base,
too much competitive spirit one day
and I thread the needle between a moving
car and a parked car, well how to say this,
with the driver's door opened wide,
in that instant I passed by at thirty miles an hour
my Life Cycle almost stopped,
my thoughts were driven to,
maybe I should go back to
bicycles, instead...
but I won the race
back to the base
and both the admiration
and admonition of my peers
whom I beat.


©DWE102013

Look at a toe,
your own toe, look pick one and stare,
Your toe is nice,
your toe is neat, they make the foot complete
But each toe,
has his or her own personality,
a poem about toes beyond banality,
times  ten
toe jewelry,
toe jam, toe spacers,
pointed toed shoes
without laces, to which
your toes
make faces,
a grimace here, a corn there,
and blistering anger comes to a head,
nail polish, and remover,
a different colour every other day
to sooth her,
toes trap sock lint,
but whatever your toe state is,
whatever you dress them in
or how often
you walk them undressed
(your toes I mean)
I must admit all of your
toes are much prettier
much more handsome,
more idyllic
than mine,
I am the owner
of the ugly toes.


©DWE092013

Rest easy, read these heavy words of slumber,
tap your chest to the beat of your heart,
empty out breath even from the deepest parts
the void, will fill itself, with sleep, I hope for your sake.

Scrunch those toes to close, then let them relax and let go,
Half close those toes and let them loose, shake them once and again,
Tense those calves, feet pointed at the ceiling, if you are willing,
Go half way and shake the tension away, from you,
Quads and hamstrings, next remember in pretext, full and halfway,
shake the tension away,,
gluteus maximus
then abdominals
and lower back
and in their turn
chest, those pecs to reflex and relax
latissimus dorsi, my oh my you got your back
shoulders,
hands of fingers, just like the toes,
pretty soon you might doze,
forearms, biceps and triceps too,
neck and face shrug and scrunch,
you don't have the answer,
so pucker your face,
eyes are the last close them once,
eyes are the last close them half,
eyes are the last,

I hope you never read this far,
unless you are awake, after a
night of rest fullness, so if it does
not work, know this, I will sit by
your side so you can unwind,
I have a good year for listening,
on pillow soft words, for you to put
your sleepy heavy head.


Good...night...yawn

Years ago When I Was A Child, a fragrance of
summer was on the hot air and winters white,
frosty and snowy hid the toes of your boots when you slid.
I was studious and sedate, except at play
when I became a wild,
part of a dog pile,
                            of other wild kids at play.

Limbs tangled and the weight of friendship,
was worth more than the ore and gold pulled
from the mine, then purified by smelting.
  
We could run, explore and hide
on our favourite mountainside,
change alliances,
pick teams,
fun was the factor
winning was the dream,
with some rivalry,
we did not need to
worry,
or hurry, it wasn't
about
car bombs in our markets, temples and churches,
we did not need to look alone through the rubble
that was once our humble home,
we needed to watch out
for poison ivy, poison oak and rusty nails
we did not need to look out
for mines that no one mapped,
in a war which neither side
cared for those
               whose future they have changed irrevocably.
                                                   And not for the better.

At night a train might disturb my sleep,
not a poorly dropped bomb intended for
the enemy camp, not on the edge of a village,
where the hole swallowed dreams and futures and spit out death,
we played kick the can, hide and go seek
where running, not hopping on one foot,
was the deal,
where seeing, was important with both
eyes, in the dark.

We did not blow out our ankle, unless we tripped
on a curb, unlike some children, blow off a lower
limb at the knee, because they tripped a wire, which
tripped a switch, of a metal canister in the dirt
which once was a playground, before became
a forgotten battlefield.  And a playground once again,
                                       after it was for a time a cemetery.
A mass grave.

This was supposed to be about play,
Play, what if every child who could play
stopped until all children were able.

You can pray for peace,
you can play for peace,
but can you play to stop wars.
Adults play at making peace,
as long as their interests (cha-ching)
are met, again and again,
then maybe the children's children's
children can play, if they remember how,
thank God
children
are resilient
and play is a
natural consequence of fun.
So run along children and
play
stay safe
and away from where your brothers... play no more.




©DWE102013

Seren-dip-me-pity,               (she was self-accepting failure,  bad luck wannabe, wears black and sniffles)
the ardent opposite
of Seren-dip-i-ty,       (she was an accidental discovery, no recovery needed, awe, found objects, in the     
                                                                                    moment)
they are part of the
seven sisters Seren,

wherein lies the rub
Saran-wrap, was third           (caught up on herself, clean and air tight, fresh as the day, tough like teflon)
in line, (changed the spelling of the family name - to be sooner alphabetically)
Seren-ate,                         (she sings she dances, she eats, she sings some more, she waits for applause)
does not speak or gesticulate
unless she performs in song.
Seren-ade, used to sing well           (jealous, performance orientated, sometime for love, lately for money)
as well but when the other came
along and did it better she got bitter
and moved in to retail sales        (lemonADE, pomADE, calvacADE of arcADEs, you get it,                                                                  ­                                                      everything ­became a parADE)
And as for the twins who
are always fighting Seren-ity    (lacks calmness, lacks peace, wants a piece of you, uneven temper)
Seren-e                                         (more easy to be obscene, like evening air with a heavy chill, not bright).

The seven sisters of Seren,
who were always preparing
for a fight to the right to
the next beau to knock
on the door, but soon they
all stopped calling,
they were
no longer falling,
over one another,
as the Seren-ities
were now old biddies,
no longer remained a
worth-while dowry, befitting
sitting silently as the seven
sisters of Seren squabbled
soiling the solitude of the soul.

Lazy sunny summer afternoon,
in the hilltop meadow, clouds and balloons,
                                                       ­                              floating while
bees milking flowers for dusty blonde pollen,
butterflies joust with dragonflies for honour fallen,
Children run while those balloons trail nonchalant
                                                      ­                              with invisible string,
Air so fresh, there is no stress, all very Utopian,
Why has it been so long since, I dreamed this quixotic?

I am sorry to announce that due to intermittent
thick cloud cover,
(I am so a lover
of meteor showers) our viewing is cancelled,
no wait is that
a clearing in the sky the deep blue colour and
are those stars
not near but afar, nope, just some plane, making
for Bellingham or Blaine, might
as well be Spain.

Shower me with flowers. (no thorns please)
Shower me with (dark)chocolate.
Shower me with meteors.
                                           No not me personally.
What lights their tales
What makes their beards
  Flame...to warm my heart
I know the physics, astro-too
Does it affect me, like it affects you
Just one hour of a meteor shower
I'll be good for another year of power,
like one super hero (or ONE with a super lot of zeroes, after)
We can hold an after meteor party at my place and
your all invited and I will put your names on the
guest list, now we can't now we won't there is no
shower here this night
clouds shield my sight
they are like a blight
on the fruit
that I toiled
for a year,
readied my
sleep cycle,
pruned back
tree tops to
see the horizon,
set up lines
of sight to
track their
paths this night
across the heavens
but now I will
go to bed,
if you show
up to a dark
house, I am
sorry in advance
as I said sadly at
the start the
show is cancelled
and for my part
I will try again
tomorrow night!

walking through, a rain shower,
that hangs in the air,
refreshing wash in waves power
past the umbrella
held overhead, trapping droplets
about the head and face
dampness that chases
any warmth from
your clothes and skin
and now the fabric
soaks it in
holds fast
past your shoulders
to those knees
        and feet
while you become
a single celled life
form which holds
water like a sponge.
Sponge.


©DWE082013

He can say it,
he can flaunt it,
he can live it,
he can walk it,
while talking it.

If his heart is changed, it will not beat different,
If he has become less arrogant and more diffident,
Time will tell.

I will not judge the change,
I will not think it strange,
if he found Jesus.

The other option is Hell.
Let that rest heavy on his brow,
how is his head hanging, can he
feel the heat of remorse?

Her friends are heroes in my books,
you had the courage it took.
To face him on her behalf,
She was there with you in court,
I think she helped you to do,
no I am wrong,
you were all strong,
and you saw an innocent perish,
that screamed of unfairness and death,
you all stood up for her,
it may not have seemed enough,
as she did die, did part of you go with her?
we cannot measure how much you
all cried, when doing and trying was not enough.

The best place for her would be with you, sigh,
some say she will always be watching over too.

I believe in eternal life for innocents like her.

we all need to laugh,
we all need to laugh more than we cry,
we all need to laugh till tears stream down our faces,
we all need to laugh

we all need to laugh
we all need to laugh till those tears fill up the empty places
we all need to laugh and our heart floats and lifts that vessel
we all need to laugh

we all need to laugh, at ourselves,
we all need to laugh, hope floats a boatload of troubles,
we all need to laugh, so others will get infected and laugh too,
we all need to laugh,

who is firts?

©DWE072013

where both left
and right
form the bowl,
appraising
pale cream or pink
seductive space
between,
a slight break in
a seamless join,
catch your teeth
on to break
resistance and
free the
shy but
meaty pearl,
exercise with
a muscular finesse,
salty taste,
kernel shape,
wanting more,
the
pistachio.

hands break pieces dark uneven
fingers squeeze the bottle red, into a freshly picked glass
plate holds ceremonial a desert dry

be careful what you read into what I write
and I will be careful into what I bite,
this was not an exchange of ideals

dark chocolate, pieces three, late with a plate with
two ginger bread soft snaps, my momma
makes, two together, microwave whether
you trust that machine, till a lift soft and a little warm

no harm to drink the wine with each sweet, spicy soft bite,
hold
for
a moment
in your mouth and taste, the Syrah deep inside the cookie,
as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, coating teeth,
beneath a moon the clouds want to hide, and all to me
is perfectly clear, just for now. Oh ginger SNAP! softly and quietly
it is late...

the people where work goes on,
have their faces strapped to their computers,
while the thumbs have texting down to a science,
gravity
speed of light
a thumb in motion tends to stay a thumb,
the people where the commute takes place,
get bus(ted), and are in the sky train(ing)
for hours every year while others have car(diac)
arrests for texting while driving or is it driving while
testing the limits of the laws of physics and hand eye
coordination a  n   d    d  i  d    y   o   u   s   ee  a   s  l  o  w    
down
in
the
reaction ...
................... crash,
the people that live in houses and so many paths
wear out the carpet, wear out the floor, hardwood
or laminate, but their thumbs never wear out,
they just grow new ones or more thumbs,

I saw a movie once recently about the end of the
world, and there were certain people who had no
thumbs,...before the world collapsed I am sure this
became the punishment for texting and operating
a vehicle stupidly.

crossing paths, crossing lives, each has at least one cross
to bear, it is bare, but all these lives, from a look,
from a lighted window, to a parked car, a man walking his dog,
to the person you meet in transit, on foot,
do you see their eyes,
is there pain in diguise?
do you even notice
or is it just another lotus
flower in the swamp
called life
called strife,
news said it was a knife,
cutting the strands attached
to each one of us,
not the fibre we are made of
but the life we weave with
all these fibres weft and warped
make society,
but all these unmarked footsteps,
tire tracks, electonic waves, invisible,
so when you wander,
make sure you wonder,
about all the people
on all these paths
and therefore sonder
in awe, go in peace



©DWE022014

four feeble pairs of wings
flapping, beaks preening
                                           imaginary things.

mom bird looking old
pop bird real bold
their four offspring
                                are being told

"avoid the black birds
the biggest and the blackest"

they perch on the rooftop
near the gutter, cheeping
                                          loudly all a flutter

even in the bird world
the squeakiest young'un
                                         gets the greasiest grub

diving, landing, more
feeding on demanding,
mom and pop bird are
in charge, "beware of wings
                                               size, LARGE"

finding a wet garden bed,
beaking the broken ground till
tiny pebbles and tiny insects
                                                feed the hunger digest the rest.

Young wings no longer frail,
flight and landings
                               dive and lift, glide
and swoop, and land alight
                                              on the edge of a solo flight
until the three birdboys and one birdgirl
                                                        ­            find a mate, each

(And give mombird and popbird a wel-deserved rest)

                                                          ­                             oh and as for the three bad birds
                                                           ­                            in all black tuxedos, they were chased
                                                          ­                             and they raced away from six fast
                                                            ­                           fearless finches

As the tables were filled when we came in the door,
could have went home, if we wanted space for sure,
we sat at the biggest table, with the noisy crew
moved the chairs,
staked our ground, after all what else could we do.

Go home?

Go home.

Go home!

And leave here because of the crowd,
were we too addicted to be loud'n proud?

But today would be a special day,
Sue a regular, senior street type,
was yelling at the world, with hype
and attitude, no Beatitude came out
of her mouth, as I watched her shout,
I knew I had to learn from her.

A new guy passed Sue on the sidewalk,
their gestures were not related or anticipated,
one talked about trees and yelled at the sky,
while the other walked by carried a Coke,
                                                     on his thigh.

He came in the door all sweaty and twitchy,
swear words were every second word that came
from his mouth every second it was open.

His eyes did not understand what they saw,
his mind'n  mouth hated it all, jutted his jaw,
Stuck the Coke in his pants went out the door,

at a run, streaming curses, from his lips
hung in the air, scary for some with kids,
at a run to London Drugs next door,
less than two minutes he was out,
                                                        runn­ing fast past the Burger King,
while Sue yelled profanities from the Boulevard
called King George, daring traffic, to drive close,
standing with one foot in a lane, the other foot... as well
where are the traffic police, when you need'em,

But what does Sue need, she is always around?
What about sweaty, angry guy, a new face in the
crowded traffic of my favorite coffee shop,
Bring them peace Lord, and a safe place to sleep, Lord,
and someone who has what they need, Lord,
to keep them out of the traffic, off the street.

Where my heart should be, there is an ache or a pain,
Yes that physical geography, I shrug with vague disdain,
I thought that had turned to stone oh so long ago.

My eyes well with tears, I feel emotions and I am glad,
But it is my fears, that want to stop the drumbeat so bad,
I had hoped for longer to get it right, or left, of centre.

Years became months and they turned to weeks, then days,
For excitement a walk amongst the freaks but the mundane won't go away,
Finally realizing I was the main attraction, the reason they showed up.

Busking my talent, to take risks, to make it rich, to feel alive,
What they threw was pennies, and insults, I barely survived,
But no one threw the one thing I needed most, something real.

An honest healthy heart, that beats a steady sound,
That is strong and fair and built to sincerely care, pound-pound,
Wires are getting crossed, on emotional waves I am tossed.

A short circuit in a bilge pump, thump sputter thump,
Water instead of blood finds a way through my rooted stump,
of a body full of remorse for the course my life has run.

There is no race for which I am fit, I plead no contest,
I would not pass any test, if I was allowed to write my best,
Down so low, found in the bottom of a heel print in the snow.

Yet, I have hope, I have a yearning to throw words down, and
with my voice lift their sounds to echo 'round, breathing air,
forcing sound to get my blood to break past clogs.

Yet, I will write, and live to write another day,
Whether it is by resuscitation, or heart-healthy habits stay
the course, spew the filth, to find a measure of peaceful treasure.

Writing in the moment.


©DWE022013

They are young, they have passion, we love'em out here,
they are on a tour, country wide, BC pride, their name,
Good For Grapes!  They are more than Indie, they are
the Sons and Daughter, Mumford never had, but they
did not lose out musically, they have their own unique identity,
they rock and they sing,
and even make shiny with some brass!  Did I say
their name already, Good For Grapes!

Musical future,
dissolving sutures,
to what music now
may hold for you,
Look for the "Man on the Page" and then
let yourself go! Listen! Enjoy...

IT exists, what twists,
then
raised fists, evil persists
what
then goes on behind the scenes
where
we won't find any on the media frenzy
like
in the deepest waters
in the deepest thinkers
in the deepest pockets
who is it that tinkers
with the root
of all the nerves of the rest of us,
real violence versus movie violence
you seen one you have seen them all
are you immune
                    and your compassion fall,
some one wrote how the "West failed Egypt,"
who did the East fail then, South Korea?
but again that is what we are led to believe
and allowed to see, really not the whole story,
take it to the Area 51 as IT is said by the CIA,
There is no place like home,
that has peace,
have we been fleeced,
free water from the ground sold for
billions all around, I did not sign up for this
let that nestle in your thoughts, in your nest,
C I A
C I B
C I see,
what is reality, do I really, even exist beyond
this moment or am I in the mist,
           or will I be missed, are they shooting at me yet and still
quick pass me the bottle of approved pills, mouth so dry I can't
spit or swill or swallow to wash down, all the garbage, "out there
beneath the pale moonlight,
Someone's thinking of me and loving me tonight
Somewhere out there someone's saying a prayer"    

For peace
for mercy
for the children
who have only
seen, known
breathed air where
death erodes the hope
while we play at violence on
video games  - terminal disease,
PLLEASE, there are foundations
to help, as these countries don't have
leaders, they have bleeders; who take
the riches, while others spend it all
dying on the streets, of places they
used to call neighborhoods, are now markers
where martyrs
forgot to get out
of the way, no shouts
other then agony and misery
no friends to an honest living,
because
they are not
there to see the next days dawn,
chaos consumes even the sun
as black clouds rise and dust
is kicked about from the rubble
of exploded dreams
of trampled hope
of life that does not reflect love.
Who can talk about love at a time like this?
It will be all right it will okay,
it is not your Neighborhood,
well at least not today, witness
or
is
it?

take the darkest moments
look to the heavens
the rarest jewels, stars.

take the wettest of days
look to the heavens
the rarest jewels, tears of the sky

take the brightest of clear days
look to the heavens
the rarest of jewels, the sun

take the lowest of moments
look to the heavens,
the rarest of loves, you

All looking down on
this wreck of human flesh,
decay is okay as long as it won't stay
or stink, or turn black, the pink,
part that still has a pulse from the heart.

Roll back the cuff, cut it off if you must,
please tell me, you feel a pulse, touch me.

in the wild, there is nothing mild,
oh sure, there are sedate centipedes,
bobbing butterflies,  owl calls that
echo along forest walls, even the plants
can supplant your will to live,

but today

a different sort of experience,
they showed their teeth,
the puffed and snorted,
I didn't dare retort,
and did not make eye contact,

then on the streets,
some physically assault,
some slink in shadows,
take out hockey moms,
and eighty year women
with purses, curse these cowards,

but today,

surrounded in a confrontation zone,
my heart beat wildly in my chest,
my arms and legs felt heavy and tired,
I prayed for protection in this test,
of wills, they flex their muscled limbs and
are not alone, while I flew solo,
at ground level, staring bared teeth,
and territorial ownership at stake,
I was looking for two dumbbells to finish
my work out


©DWE012014

I will lose myself in time
to write
not right
to throw words on paper
when ideas like vapour
mist the eyes and simplicity
is beauty and independence
is not an open plain or a fence
but state of mind,
where there is no blindness
but awareness
awareness,
that you are part
               in heart
of something much larger
right when, and where your fingers
dance across my page and
on your keyboard,
I so much want to meet
you all
but that is my downfall,
the introvert in me
holds the extrovert at bay,
but it is no safe harbor,
from an ill wind or ill feelings
so I am left reeling
on how,
to meet my own kind.


©DWE112013

relentless, incremental,
running away,
play ...,
grains of sand measure
both the stars in the universe,
and the stars in the universe
measure descendants and...
all of this is weighed against, what?

some where today a man flew home,
some where today a woman will open this,
with intention to read, with soft eyes and
a warm heart, and more savvy than that word
knows it has, by definition.
some where  a man puts his hand in a river
and comes out with words, not water

there will be many babies
                              maybe born in zones of conflict,
than my country has people behind bars as convicts,
which some people would take as   a    good   thing,
                                                          ­                bring
peace to the conflict zone,
as for the convicts they are on their own, what current
wisdom would and just as quickly ask, but who is gonna pay,
for all this insanity;
no wars,
no jails,
next you'll tell us there is no shortage of whales,
                                                         ­                 but what of their song
why has a choir turned into three whale voices singing a quartet piece?
why do we measure space and dig into the earth, you know the Earth,
no I am not going to do the obvious thing and rhyme it with a birth,
settle lightly like falling leaves when you sleep,
don't keep your fingers texting to go deep,
into the technological pool of this age,
mock whale noises,
news cast without real news, what a blast,
stand real still and sense where the wind blows
stepping outside, your castle walls and open the windows,
is more productive than hitting the refresh button,
oh don't worry, I am no hurry to start a conspiracy with this,
I'm not in the know what is for show, a closet conspiracy theorist,
anything goes,
anything goes,
I can converse on any topic as long as you say the words, I'll move my lips,
and you make the sounds, it will be the result of a well oiled machine,
trying to save the planet from the very pinnacle of creation
that caused the fall
man...kind.

You say to me, it has to be this way,
" Cause you say it best when you say nothing at all"


©DWE102013

The little bird landed,
the little tan, brown feathers, and
feet hopped, and beaked head, pecked at specks,
under the outdoor chairs.

I spied with my eye,
the carefree chickadee bird dance,
it may have pranced, while it found food to feed,
outside my window seat.

My chickadee friend would,
move from fleck to chunk, head
turning, quickly with ***** and flit if need be
to find safety, outside the coffee shoppe.

The flock would leave this harvest,
in front of me to the tree branches not too far  
from the cars and coffee drinkers, who smoked and
ate the pastries and the breads, crumbs dropped here
and everywhere, just payment for the dance.