If your own shadow can't stop your heart, surely you, they will bind,
They will make it, so you cover your windows with bullet proof blinds.

Take courage you are not alone, here or anywhere.

They want your thoughts to become theirs, to say what is on their minds,
When the reflection in a pane of glass makes you do a check behind.

Have faith hold on to the rocky cleft, with both hands and heart.

They hunger to monger your fear, it is food for them to feed, like a crispy pork rind,
If you are losing hope and all seems lost, they have done the job and off to a to find,
the next victim.

If peace is your shield you will not yield, to the Spirit of Fear.

They will put in words, what your heart and eyes should never see, else you go blind,
The common doubt is everywhere, to make a stir they take a poll and see where each is aligned.

Cover your ears, close your eyes, watch who you make friends with, the world cries!  

It is late and morning comes and I fear I might sleep late,
too late for me did you see me say... but alas
I will get up and fight again tomorrow, have no fear, I'm the bait!

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

late at night sit before your window,
                                  staring out,
                                caring not,
no curtains,
no blinds,
to hide the sights before your eyes,
to hide your eyes from the outside,

leave a light on behind you,
your reflection...will remind you,

take your time,
to study,
the face and eyes across
the distance,

the pane is glass,
nothing more,
loath not what you see,
reach to touch, not with hate,
the image will reciprocate,

yet the glassy image harbours no warmth,
and as for the flesh,
and as for the flesh,

there is beauty, beyond what is seen,
there is brilliance, it is in the gene,
there is a conundrum,
though life is humdrum,
or is lost in the thrum,
                                    of mindless technology,

only you can stare
in that window,
and to be fair,
see,
what lies within,
what lies beyond,
if you are honest, see?

If I write a poem about ***,
will you still have respect
for me in the morning?

If sext text, intersects,
a censorship quest, who
then sinks the relationship?

Image burned into your mind
pointed, yet you are not blind
and can you still see, the point
or are you seeing the last image
burnt?

Tiny spider scrabbling along white capped wall,
Flattened out low when something very small,
ran across the path and a leg.

Up sprang Tiny moving faster, not food driven but security,
Tiny the spider, wanted to make it to full female maturity,
alive to cause fear, not perish, naturally.

The  Tiny garden spider was far from the spot where she found herself,
among last nights feast, as the Sun rose in the East warming the shelf,
now gone way West her cold blooded body craved to eat again and again.

She would wait, she would rest, she would not sleep,
the night life was
beginning to move, she could see very well in the deep
shadow of her corner perch.

you would think that growing up you could leave somethings behind,
but each day, by this one or another and even family, you get carried
back,
back,
and back,
to a time when defending yourself meant you were outnumbered,
your memories tell you they never stopped and you knew you were
not the only one, but they always made time for you,
down,
down,
and down,
so you became the clown, fast with your words, not with your feet,
you know how many times sitting down I somehow missed my seat,
you know how many times with my books, I played hide and seek,
and that was elementary school,
stares,
after stare,
while stars,
closed the night overhead and your pillow on your head and you
would dream that dream that tomorrow would be better and they
would see the good in you and make up for lost time and call you friend,
but,
but you,
would wake up,
to being the **** of the jokes as you got older the stakes got higher,
now you had to fight or be called as well a quitter, a crier, the higher
the grade the more they played with you like a worn out soccer ball,
deflated,
patches worn,
once they beat you down, you were left in a field of your own misery,
as your tears poured like rain, your own storm of the pain, that inside
of you was shaping castle walls, armour plate, look you in the eye,
and there
was steel,
no feeling, give them no fuel to feed the fire of their desire was a thought, but
you were no longer reeling, you were tired, just wanted it to end, you knew how,
you knew they would talk about you, when you were gone but they would
move on to someone else, so you stuck around, drove a banner into the ground,
saying
no more,
not me,
no more,
not one other,
we all now see,
"how weak and sick and twisted your life is, look in the mirror do you like what you see,
the ugly, every word and name you ever called me and everyone else is written on your
face, permanent ink, what a disgrace" threw my broken geometry case between two, while the third one, dropped my books from an open second story window.

The grade twelve teacher arrived to muffled laughter, all eyes on me, tears rolling from eyes, no control, in the blur I did despise every one in the class, he said to me "What is your problem?" I left room running and slammed the door, cracking it from hinge to hinge to floor.

I was never again bullied, no more, no more...
However, choose a path of peaceful resolution,
these three became, no not friends, but they did
respect my throwing arm.


©DWE122013

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...

piles of paper over my head
cover the box I lay in,
to do not, is to cause dread,
become the administative burden,
to carry around,
but never get carried away,
trundle, then bundle cellulose
fibre in a fundle,
measuring the fundal height of...


the pregnant pause, each time I am
supposed to pick up the phone,
can't go it alone, standing up for
  somebody else, who is unable
                        actually disabled,
"Just Like Someone Without Mental
Illness Only More So"  

drawers of receipts climbing over
one another to be fed to the
                           shredder,
unfiled file folders, holding older
paper dreams, paper woes,
Origami folds, of the forgotten projects,
cranes, phone receivers, and say
isn't that a heart...my heart,
clumsy feet, clumsy fingers,
cluttered mind, to much paper to bind,
up and hold together, the edges of the
paper cuts, that bleed the last of the free
dreams, the nice dreams, the two week
vacations dreams, buried under reams,
of aging paper,
                        no point to be a paper chaser,
                         set the phaser on ****,
                          and send it with the will,
                            or ... send in the clowns, there has to be clowns,
                              maybe I'll get around to it next year.

walk a route familiar you can close your eyes,
circular routes are better there are less surprises,
some say "life is circular",
some say "spend it perpendicular,
as once your horizontal, your dead."

Now what was this about,
you ask yourself, "no doubt?"
Doubt, no, more like certainty,
the dog walks the route and
knows each sign post, bush and
tree root.

She just stops to freshen them,
walks it dark of night or before
the light of day, and she never
gets lost, she nose the route
with a hand at the end
of a three foot leash.

The quirks she has about her
self-imposed back scratches,
the way she puts her paws on
two legs as if to say,with a wink
"I have a joke to tell, it is kinda
of doggy humour, I'll tell you
when we
get OUTSIDE."

she rests heavier these days, must be fall
and limps from time to time, from hard play
she is getting old too fast, but you don't see
it in her pace or
in her bright eyes
or her furry face.

She not a dog to sound the alarm,
will bark for the door bell,
at twenty two pounds
she will not take down an attacker,
there is heart,
there is spirit,
if there was a
fight, with an
outsider, inside
her home, I know
she would join the
fray,
as she knows no quit.


©DWE102013

brown mousy hair
shapeless smile
there are only vacancies
all the enamel is long since gone and
hardened her skin, yet she smiles all the while she shops
                                              she eyes her gains and stops
                                              happy noises and she dances
                                              like a little girl
childrens' bike
adult one too, part of this trip
nice pair brown capris,
other shopping bags litter at her feet
while she finds bargains at her
favourite big box outlet - Dumpsters
where she shops.


©DWE082013

this is short and sweet,
things have soured,
was in the ocean,
found and trusted a raft,
was I daft,
now been cut adrift,
raft is rotten top to bottom
to the core of the heartwood.
there is a rift in
my naive trust
of circling sharks
of pirate people
who disarm you
with kind words
then throw nets
trap the free
flight our birded wing.

She flies no more.
Broken wings,
can't be restored,
Bullies sometimes
dress in suits and ties
and where brotherly
and sisterly disguises.

So sad

I'd turn myself inside out if it would make me happier,
but that might hurt.
I'd walk 800 kilometres if I thought it would bring me peace,
but it would only bring me blisters.
I'd write words on a keyboard,
for you only to keep and hoard,
not because they maybe pretty,
please find me not that petty,
I just wanted to say the things,
to make you smile like joy brings,
You see we really have not met yet
And when we do, and we will, I'll bet,
I won't take back what I gave,
We'll have tea and then wave,

Goodbye,  ; - }
each of us stronger,
I could go on longer,
if you did not guess,
I have to,
own what I don't possess.

jets sound like thunder as they float and lumber in for the asphalt by the sea,
their wake, vibrates the hydro lines, with only a gentle shake and shimmy,
not heard over the traffic that speeds up and down the boulevard lanes,
cars, oblivious to the aircraft overhead, and they go north and south again,
i sit on my balcony to see lights that show the shape of wing, nose and tail
i watch the wires silhouette high above, needy to feel their dance of pain,
and the millions of volts will brighten up this awfully gloomy tale.


©DWE102013

Time will compress,
Maybe even your spine,
Counting and taking discs
Like they were poker chips,
A gamble,
A game
A gout,
For adversity,
Are you all in?
Time is not waiting,
Life is passing you by,
Money is falling about the place,
While your, deer in the head lights, face,
Just grows older,
Life will end shortly,
Money will live on without you,
So what, do you surrender as legal tender,
With your last breath,
Surrender your relationships for a short while,
Surrender your love and loves, for a large vessel of agape
Surrender with arms wide open, to receive an Embrace!
...shortly...

Twas three witches,
oh but Hallowe'en is past,
Twas three leaves left on the tree,
one was should,
one was could
and the other, would.

Should said he should fall, and
could fall, first, if would and could got out of the way.

Could said he could fall first if should would
shut up (so he could hear himself think) if would
would move then he, could, fall to the ground and
get out of the way.

Would said he would fall first as he was closest to the
ground, but could, then should, be last as could was next,
only if could would not land on would, which should
leave the way clear for should.

As the leaves of this story would have it, could you believe
it is true every word, why should I lie?

Ask should, could and would, they are among they other leaves
on the ground, fallen ...


©DWE112013

sleep is knocking softly on the door,
my feet, my feet glide across the floor,
I move with ease and with grace,
something is wrong and out of place
even with two left feet it seems
one can dance, even in ones dreams.

small child crying in the street,
who is there to greet and show love,
out of the midday sun
old couple holding hands as they have
more years behind
than they do months ahead,
as the sun sets and they sit on a bench,
lonely ******* a street corner, watched
by her ****, she shivers as men in machines
race by,
just left their warm beds and wives before
the suns rise
to greet the day,
significance,
each moment,
each breath,
each sight,
each person
defines the significance,
you are.

Purpose

On a Tapestry,
I did ride beside others,
sisters and brothers.

Before Bed

Nestled quietly
away, pink tongue to clean light
curls of white chest fur.

Language

Black bird aloud did,
crow, "mine all mine,  go away"
sounded like  "CAW, CAW!"

Distortion (a reprise plus of a 10W from Mar 17)

A portion of truth,
a bucket full of tears ,
to dilute, add noise.

Awe and Wonder (previously done Mar 10 2013)

Deep blue sky reaching
horizon to horizon,
chill, crisp clear air, breathe!

Eco-destruct

Weeping willows were
cut down to make room, for you
highway, will you weep?

You meet need
         not greed,
You meet
shameless want,
You see eyes
that haunt,
Stand clear of
the purpose driven,
You barely notice
the ones given up on livin'
Then there are the innocent,
                                to feed.

you know who I mean,
words so powerful words so lean,
                                            strung together
                                  with a keen, clean lines of spoken verse.
what is the worse that could happen, bordering on the perverse,
that I could decide, with selfish pride to
end this ride and do no more poetry, 'cuz
I can't do it like that, that I did not have a childhood
set of memories that
taught me values, that I can remember,
see?,
that
way I have an excuse instead of saying EXCUSE ME,
and then not have the dignity to say to him in all humility,
thank you for what you do, for it makes me know I can
write poetry to, to right the ships
so lives will float on the surface, as words to raise the anchors then
and only then sail with the winds of hope,
and the right amount of ballast from the sands of time.
Thank you for doing it different and
teaching me I can do it different too.

Tapping is not touching
when it is a screen,
liking is an emotion,
social media dream,
what state you are in
to sate the needs you
feel, with out tech and
an electric eel to provide
the juice...so let's get to
that reveal... honest is as
honest does, is there
truth in who you say
you was the other night,
or is day and light
and dark and night
a fifty/fifty chance
of who you really are?

SO

so, spring getting you down,
so much rain, you thought you'd drown?
so there is sunshine above the clouds,
so butterflies will weave their way on
so invisible trackless trails, let it leave you
so much in awe.

IF

if, I had the time to do more than
if my way through the day, as
if I have the confidence to be permanently,
if not, forever thought of in the words,
if published, printed and read aloud,
if not then, in silence, now I write.

NOT

not in this moment, and
not, a waste of time
not, deserving just, persevering
not to be tied down,
not in this life time,
not unnoticed, just taken for granted.

WHAT

what was I thinking of
what, I was able to do with
what I was given, freely and
what have I done about or
what was expected of me, nothing?
what?

THEN

then, again, I failed
then I try try again but
then do or do not,
then think of you, dream
then wake, look beside me for
then I find you gone.

she was blonde but now brunette,
her guy in the States dumped her
  with force with a divorce,
he hopes to become a citizen of the USA,
being married to a Canadian girl got in the way
what an inconvenient truth and full of dismay,
something about a Presidential Pardon, for those
from a certain central america country,
the tears were real as she reeled in the wake
of his void promises to appear here,
you know love is just another word,
until you prove yourself worthy of her affections,
not a set of misdirection of your affectations,
that tells all,
with out a touch,
and at first blush,
your love was an
illusion, it was all a
trick, you
...
there was no
promise from
the land of liberty,
no love without
conditions, only admonitions
that it has to be about
you, and will you call
her back when it does
not go through?
With her age and her beauty,
I hope she grabs dignity and
feigns a hearing disorder,
and if you ever try to cross
the border...make sure your
headed south.


©DWE102013

Add to me what time takes away,

Subtract my ills, my will, my liver
Divide my brain, conquer the divide,

multiply my woes, let me use my
ugly toes, multiply to calculate,

where in the sky, the Heaven's we

will meet, but not collide.

Green grass on a gentle *****,
tree in the yard, swing of rope,
leaning back, pumping legs,
sun setting, the day has dregs,
the wind whips by the boy blur,
spinning until, the dark does spur,
running in, the day spent, no waste,
awash in the sun
                            rise to set, all day experience, life to taste,
                                                          ­                                      with a sprinkle of stars.


©DWE072013

You talk trash like a doorman,
who treats others like doormats,
thinking you have that right, cause,
you fired first!

did you get lost on your way to a poetry
slam, and so you have no where to compete?

as self appointed (shr)editor,
you stir the *** and leave the room,
leaving your P.I.E.D. in plain sight,
just waiting for it to go off.

do you unto others as you would have do unto you,
somehow you forgot it is true, and I am sorry,
but no worry, I have even liked some of your
real
poetry,

What Was I Thinking?,

Observe life and report in rhyme or prose,
But rhyme with hurtful slime, uglier than my
ugliest of toes, might be poetry but stirs woe in me,
dress it up in classic forms,
who let you create a standard of norms?

take us on fanciful journeys, tell us of loves lost
and loves won, but instead you
load your keyboard with angry
words, waiting for the sound you like,
the sound of your own voice, PULL!

to achieve release...

who died and left you in charge,
or are you sitting sad and alone,
on one of the google barges?

cute trick to hide in hash tags,
not very original, gotta hand it
to you,............................................... you are the best dressed word
bully around. linguistically pure,
of that I am sure, for no human,
would c\ut a/nother's .............................artistic creation
down, unless perfection was in the D.N.A.

what did the others word-
hunters go on vacation and
you got stuck taking turns?
What a way to waste a holiday?
So be a good gourmand, and
get back to excessive feasting,
on food, and
not people's
works.

KTWK

Some times are hard
Some times are chaotic
Some times are missed
Times are summed up
by events and people
measured by some ticktocks.

Sometimes hello leads
to tearful goodbyes
Sometimes hello is never
answered but by an echo
This is neither goodbye or
hello, really it is a wash.

Tears streaming,
sink full of soapy hot water,
Day dreaming,
...
Facebook, email, news, takes
me away from what I oughta
decide to do.

This not a goodbye to poetry,
this a hello to all things,
especially only writings.

So to stay true to me,
I will be writing free,
followed by edit-ting,
stories in my veins,
will be pumped from my
heart, life is easily wasted,
the bottle of red tasted,
spirit of distraction,
let me go.

You don't need me to change
your world, take those reins
but be aware writers, strange
as it seems, are targets of any
and all who are within range
to silence many.

This will always be a place
where words fill my small
space in the cloud, or word
spoken out loud.

I will write.
I will share.
I will wrestle on the spur of the
moment or transfer
my words from paper that cuts
till I bleed black,
sometimes
sometimes I read
sometimes I write
sometimes I find
the self.

missing it again,
keeping hoping,
closer to land on,
a place,
but hearing a
beat of hearts,
not even a border
can stop,
the sun sets are not the same,
dream of what
will be one day,
family and friends
will say,
it has been too long,
            not too far away,
but something was missing
while you were away,
the sunrises just don't look right,
pick up the pieces and put
them where they belong,
like they were never gone.



©DWE122013

Moving through the night, feigning sleep,
eyes closed mind open to the possibilities
that all we thought was known, is now not true.

That we are being cared for too, instead why
is a balding wolf chewing at my pain in the neck.

The pig is a snake and has a forked tongue,
fattens you with comfort as long as you like
blood tipped sharp barbed wire, ***** coated
to guarantee you catch something, even if it is
too late, to recognize the calamity.

Don't blame the pig, "all animals are created equal
but some animals are more equal than others"

So on the morrow we may become as unglued as
what we open, hopin' for a merciful gated pasture
rather than a lamb for the slaughter as fast as
                                                 it can be manufactured.  

Oh sorry to disturb you,
I know you don't understand,
I mustn't either as then I would
not need poetry...to lie with me
and dry my tears each one wet
with fear that I torture myself,
sadly I know already that I am
right, but I am not up for
this
fight.

I will lose...no honour in this, against my beliefs,
my grief a failure will erode my will to breath,
so sorry go about your night or day, I don't
mean to disturb, let me fester, let me rot,
                you all are, all I got Hello, goodbye.

I like A's the pointed head and wide stance, a strong, a brave one,
I like E's the pleasing creeping greasy vowel.

I like I's ones that stare, one's that share, one's that care, the way I see it.

I like O's that round out the sound of my voice,
I like U's that take the attention off of me, under scrutiny,

I like Y's you may ask why, then you have answered Y as well.

I like the sounds
of poetry

Sounds,
can you hear them, or
   do you feel them,
are they waves that wash or
are they electrical impulses,
do they change the air pressure, or
             change the way you act,
what if the next sound you heard
was the first time, ever you heard that
sound,
that of a breaking heart.

Shivering against the cold
Fresh hair cut and she is old-
er
Wire fox terrier off white

plays hard and treats her toys light-
ly
curly lamb to sleek slim cut
demands attention, no if, and or, but

"Pretty me pretty me pet me keep me warm"
She is more than just a pretty face, not a farm-
dog
Curled up close against my leg to ward off the cool chill tonight

She is a companion dog and all her challenges are now my delight.

two hours
more is less,
than I want
to spend,

waiting for
this Day, to
end so I,
offend not.


©DWE102013

Chick peas et al Garbonzo beans'
a machine with blades, the means.

Tahini, lemon juice and a red pepper flakes,
A chipolte in abodo, smoked paprika, is what it takes.

Roasted red pepper, garlic too, touches on the button,
The roar, whirr and with the sounds blending till done.

Salt and pepper to taste,
Not too much or it is a waste,  
Not to little or, well, you know,
A hint of red just shows.

With your crusty bread, dig in like you hold a shovel,
Two handed flavour, taste and bite into that crusty bread,
Flavour moves and sends a smoky heat sensation to a new level,
Hope this is the best tasting poem that you have  read!

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

darkly entering, crying what seems,
like a millions drops in one tear,
like non-stop festering,
on any of her wounds,
no, I have swallowed
a bitterness pill and
drank down a glass
of spite,
while she hangs on
weakly turning pages
to find that happy
ending, in a
Greek tragedy,
this isn't the circus,
it is bailing out the
leaky boat with
drinking
straws.

I rest enough to
catch my breath,
she catches a
tiger with a
too long tail,
and every scratch,
is infected with
the weight of the
world, she gets no rest,
give her a brake,
don't touch
her spoons, 'cuz
she won't make
IT
through
the day,
and what then
about tomorrow,
if she is not there
to let the sun rise,
and the sunshine in,
how will I know
that
we are all right.