I was twenty
when a ball hit the tip of my pinky.

The doc put a thin piece of metal in it,
an attempt to straighten.

Every bang on it
hurts me today.
Reminding me
winter's here,
and the metal
gets o so cold.

I said to my wife
after she crushed her foot,
and in surgery
they put in bolts and screws
telling her it can be removed
once it heals.

Now she vacillates.

If I can be
so bold
I say
remove it.

Don't put anything
in your body
you can't
**** out.

the tube
on a synch
remedy for sickness
a kitchen sink
government says
stay at home
wink wink
for the most
part
the situations' stink
left here
to take
hold my drink
newsman says
this is what
to think
neighbour
peeking
through their curtain
turns into
another fink
love that
was all
around
gone in a blink
your finger
broke
searching
yet another link
we take nothing
with us but
our soul
think

Fully vexed yet?

ever have an itch you  can't scratch
hen's teeth
rare


ba-bye

Went to the doctor today.

I told him that I have a twin brother.
I said I call him my womb-mate.

He said, I see.

You have an inflamed pun-disorder.

I said Thanks Doc, please give me something four it.

I haven't seen a passenger train roll on through town
for near two year now.
Plenty of freight moves, stopping traffic at intervals.
They carry illegal art on their exterior
for-all-to-see. Even for those who never look.

Christmas this year is cool, green and sunny. The freezer is full and times have been worse. I walked this morn crossing paths with a couple of dog owners out doing what dogs do.

The gifts have been given and the race to the table will be around six. Smoked, baked ham and vegies. You are what you eat or something along that line.

A starry night is forecast and I will venture out and about and around this tiny train town. I'm sure to don winter-wear and crunch the salt that be liberally applied to the concrete walk-way.

If you can't stand the heat get out of the *******'
Argue for your limitations and they are bores
You're only as wrong as your weakest link
The kingdom of leaven is within
You can't serve two *******
Only the good die fun

intoxicating
liberating
oscillating
vacillating
never negating
not degradating  
only relating
fully inflating
intoxicating
liberating
oscillating
vacillating
stretching out
folding in
inebriating


end

I can't see the light in people
It's obscured by crowds
One by one reaching to connect
In the thick-of-it it's too loud
Picking up the ball to take home
Moody gets dark and broody
I crave and crave and savor
Dark and light light and dark

My wife asks, "Are you drunk?"
I can't tell because your texts look like you're
Fumbling with a cell phone while riding southbound down the Memorial Highway towards the city.
                            
I am at the massive sculpture of an escaped zoo elephant
               That they proudly claim is a Mastodon.

Why believe what I say when I tell you I'm caught-up in the
Whirl-wind like many, not paying much heed of what they have
Spouted to-day.

Don't **** yourself just yet,     I zinc we will be okay.
I work towards forgiveness     and         will never forget just how
Much of a slave I've really been.   They have opened my third eye To my folly of mind. Back and forth the pendulum will sway.
Some tail-spin on full display.

Omicron blue,  something new, what's a population to do, is it as Strong as a flu or does it stick to the bones like glue.
Country upon country calling.        Old guards falling. The rich Fight so you must not take up your right.  If  so, what be next.

Was I ever free, always buying, always replacing. Always with the shoddy feelings holding out a fleeting Possibility. Waiting like the vexed to turn the corner. The vexed who text, the children who will become the mourners.

I will never be free under-the-gun, I will never be free under the Sun. I will never be free lest we are one. Let's begin, I claim it Begun. I wait on tables, I wait on doors. I wait on you. I wait on
Midnight snores. Another morn will come, it can't be the last one.

I dream I wake, I live I fake. I hold my own while my wife is out of town. I shovel the bad when no good's to be found. A new day, a better way, I dream I wake, I wake, I dream of texting on a tricycle.

I can't recall I don't know why
I can't recall is it ours or mine
Training fingers vibrations linger
but I can't recall  can scarce remember
Placing them there because they're mine
Various vibrations linger


But I can't recall and I don't know why
It's in the past and to me that's fine
Yet again friends breaking bread
Ten stretched out fingers
All those hard times between us and
I can't recall, for the life of me, I can't recall

Finding love in a strangers' face
Feeling the green of grass and musk of tree
Pounding cities steps hard concrete
Butts and fumes held between glass and steel
Finding love in a strangers' face
Along trails by seashore
Old railroad tracks repurposed
Wildlife not knowing the up-right ones
Birds so many to name
Finding love in a strangers' face

Professor Longhair's piano
Tightly wound strings
Bottleneck traffic the honking horns
A bluesman sings
Freedom freedom
Freedom amongst the braves
Roaming the west crossing
Markings in caves
Bent notes on Little Walter's harp
Arrows as sharp as a dart
B flat, low-F,
Trumpets muted
The occasional fiddle
An ex-rolling stone chugging some Berry soul
Get me started with the James
Go to the country for some shine
American music is the way to unwind
Cloaked in enigma and sweat
Back to the blues, Muddy couldn't read
His mojo was working
Followed by Elvis twerking
Sugarcane Harris and a wishy washboard
Mandolin and a back to the blues man sings
Ain't no Arian twang like Downy sang
Just the rhythm and vibes of some stranger stranger than a steel drum... come and get some

two days passed new used snow tires hit the wheels

Ring around he covey
pocket full of pharmacy
money flew out the window
death to all that sin though

Free the owner of the slave
be the druggie at the rave
bless the ones that finger fun
hold me close I think I'm done

Now I'm off and on the run
eating big macs and dodging facts
no new thing under the sun
the thing is toppling see the cracks

I grow in
                                   your garden
                                                                                         as you grow in mine

Here in this bar, this place could use a Pharmacy sign.
Nobody trusts no one as far as you could throw a person.

All there is to do is be careful,
since I've last the niche for 'taking care'.
And it's right to convey, when all is said and done,
once more, once again, self-conscience-ness
of the worst kind will visit.

What a drag to be eating the crow after having prepared the pie.
No news could be the best news, but now no news is just another lonely feeling that eats at my unstable soul... that links to
and with my delusional mind.

Good-bye to all of this... this bar is here, and so am I.
Or really? Too much of a 'good' thing makes for some
sinister side effects.  It isn't just one cause, one affect
So I will reminiscence with my own-self, wondering why
intensity is so attractive and alluring.

How do I love someone with a slow-burn and will I ever learn.

end

I cry out
in pain
and joy,
how about you

For Marley

Santa Clause is a spirit,
he comes to those who believe.
The only thing about being spirit
is you have to use people to do
material things in this world.
That is why he gets people
to deliver the things that you desire...
but only if you choose to believe

My dream life is a cake-walk into town
It's as North American as baseball and apple pie
It is a zombie apocalypse on Halloween night
It's ocean waves, and a sunny sky, where bodies fry

My dream life is always speaking truth, not being caught up in lies
It's an old western movie, funny, old farts and dusty trails, where the good guys win no matter their side. A horse and a decent ride
It is a UFO abduction, being probed in a most delightful way a shared feeling deep inside

My dream life is

We are what we think,             are we not what we see, 
  hanging-tight to that which is thought        to be known.
   Remember the span of time before a       Christmas when it is
     spend, spend, spent.    Now home, cooking, but not happily.
      How many, hopeless, long for the clean-up and swallow
        quick, choosing a later *******-of-the-mind
           rather than a mastication in the now.

The happy full of bliss, fooling self and others, 
  the sad grief hidden.                     Grieving a earlier time when all
    felt good only all being false memory.  Nostalgia. Vagueness,
      holding a bad hand, bluffing in dark glasses.  Chips all-in                                      

The trees that fill the Amazon toppling,     animals and humans
  scatter like roaches missing the boat.           Wishing to the last,
    to conquer the earth. Hoping to be the longest living the life
      of riley, imagining a greatness, a false feeling, a well meaning,
        fooling dream.

The motel rented, a mattress, home to blood-******* ticks,
  hitch-hiking home to invest in an I who believe to be blessed to
    travel. Who's the sucker? Who is the free-bird hanging in the air?
      God clothes in love sublime, feeding those bits of spirit eaten
        with chop sticks and plum sauce, the meal sliding down the
          Cross to be met with intestinal fortitude. (if only)
            Wits in terminal tumultuous slavery.
            
I am Blue, I am not so new, I am the 'egg-man', I am me, I am you
striving to come-together over what to do.       I offer to the poor
   deciding who is worthy and them do I bless with coinage or
     paper taking no receipt for taxing relief. Taking no time or
       courage to meet that one God put in my path, in my face.

No time is the right time. No time hung on the pale-blue wall.
  No time clung to the wrist. No time on the bed-side table.
    No time in the machine that queues robotically.
      Compressed time, an eternal 'now' passed over, missed.
        A sad time in want of a glad time. A bad time's visitation in a
          hallow human shell. Cold. Cold and lonely in Winter's dark.

A home-run hit clear out of Fenway Park, bouncing off the
  windshield of the car you had earlier parked. Looted life, stolen
    goods? Goods!        What good are goods if they be more weight
      that  can be carried.

Parading down the narrow street twilling a baton,
  knee action bending, a goose-stepping military follows.
    For the love of a
     God I live in, free me from this charade. Hold up that Holy day,
       when all creation lay at my feet. Dominion missed,
         an ego with a twisting, a devil in those mathematical details.
           Pressed hard in the cranium, controlling a baton, stared upon
             by shivering parents and children rushing,
               gathering candies thrown from floats
          
Insects who would have one day rule the world become food for
animals with a human mind and a weaken soul. Feasting. Recipe's
   abound, bugs for breakfast, bugs for lunch, Haggis eaten in dark
    Wintery five o'clock nights. Insects prepared in the most curious
      ways.

Cockroaches, bedbugs and me.

I lost a beloved friend a few years back...
The big 'C' got him, thankfully it took him fast.
He died around this time four years passed,
it truly feels like yesterday that his spirit was here,
blessing the ground we both walked upon.

He was a real funny ****, always with the quips.
He'd send me texts and call them e-quips.

Once while shopping at The Great Canadian Tire Store,
we bantered about how it came to pass that the black culture in the western world used slang terms to denigrate the white. Calling them ****** and *******. The latter referring to the slave master's whip braking the speed of sound on the back of a family man stopped from even a pleasure of a good read.

My friend said to me "*******": I prefer "saltines". To our surprise we had come to understand the term '******' derived when white 'John's' would cruse black neighbourhoods to solicit prostitutes.

They would signal they were prospective clients by honking their horns. For they feared leaving their vehicles under an assumed threat of physical violence.

These days I feel I am channeling my dear friend. For me, it's always with the quips and puns and non sequiturs. Some end up as titles for this work I produce. Like, for an example: Are Plastic Surgeons Recyclable.

Although you may not, I just have to laugh at my self. Some say my jokes aren't funny, they are an irritation. To which I state, that is the optimal effect, my true aim.

                                      Pat Two

At his funeral, his brother delivered his eulogy. Telling the childhood story of the family pet, a housecat had gone to the basement and Dave stood at the top of the stairs coaxing "Here Kitty kitty, come here kitty".
His father says, "Call him louder", and without missing a beat or changing his tone or volume Dave says "Here louder louder, come here kitty".

We shared puns and jokes that in this day-and-age, some would deem offensive. To be honest about the matter, some were. But... to qualify, maybe to justify. The jokes were always in jest, never meant to harm. It could be me, in the attempt to excuse poor behavior. Perhaps it's so, that is to say I don't know for sure. I've yet to make up my mind.

                                         Part Three

The point being, for I have strayed and I digress. The love I have for my friend still lives on and perhaps will never end. If it is David that I channel, so be it! I feel blessed.

Although I have, I never had to say good-bye to my dear friend Dave. For he never really left. He lives on in the hearts and minds of his chosen friends. And will continue to long after the day of my demise.

For the life of me, as I sit in the corner on a crooked chair, flanked by a lamp and a potted plant on an end-table. The end of this year approaches quickly and I wonder to myself, when will I again meet-up with my old friend.


end

A part of the blight that is the whole human-race,      I did not know what it is was I was doing:     Ignorance of the Laws of the Universe is no excuse; or is it.     Was I are born into the world pure; innocent, free. I clothe ourselves with dishonesty.        I freeze out my Creator egotistically.  Lest I be born-again,                  I do not move forward.

My apologies I lay at your feet.    Please accept my deepest regrets for the harms I have caused.         I beg your forgiveness asking for release from my war-torn ego; my plastic soul,    my unjust referee.

I long, I wish.  I pray.     I create the obstacle; the splinter,     the log.
I fight my demons when I know to ignore is to perish.       'No more
mister nice guy'  Is not for me.   I be an unholy terror to friends and family,   not to mention the strange faces  I encounter on the streets and in the marketplace.   I drift through space and time untethered.
Like an iteration of the first walk in space:   Was It?       Perhaps not.

My apologies.

Thanks-Giving to my american fiends
Go get your tofu-turkey  -you fiends

Tonight I'll dream of my morning joe
That sweet cream no sugar opens my eyes
I open the widow, turn on the fan and make a daily plan

My wife awakes, says 'morning joe' while sipping her tea ready-made By me.  The Night-time past, the right time to be intimate in love
Morning goes, after-noon flows, night-fall's at five.... put on repeat

Not swearing on my life, bad mojo, Hoodoo, strange Voodoo's
Not suggesting there are people twisting the thumbscrews
Pleasant people, pleasant thoughts, no unwilling Cards playing 3D checkers.  Did you know there are byrd's they call, woodpeckers?

That cursing curse taking hard-earned dollars out of my purse.
And what is worse...  finally carried off in a Hearse. I best marry a nurse, wait now, I did marry a nurse but she ditched that job.
Stressed-out she followed her heart and took education to work with preschoolers until the course took her off course

Teaching the children not so well, pushing ideas, propagandizing thin-privilege.  Children, it's okay to be that... that rhymes with you know what, it rhymes with fat. She left that stuff leaving her student debt and you can bet she'll pay in off in record time.

Cheap rugs all over the place, cheap rugs all over the place
Cheap rugs in time and space... I bought new sneakers, they're the type you lace. Two-faced discovered to me a disgrace only they too are part of he human-race, causing peoples to be displaced.

The Curse, it might be the first, probably not... praying the bad luck is the last. I want to leave this place, leave real fast. Move on through to that other side. Morrison had his faults leaving a lot in the vaults. Now he's free, the tub scene in the Morrison movie I don't buy, I could tell you why but that borders gossip and a lot of people would flip (out). Not 'fly'.

So, what's it all about, it's not the wordsmithing that I flout
Just me avoiding 'the' gout, getting sick, I'm having my doubt
I'll be taking another route, no matter how many people may pout
Reading tea leaves, drinking green tea, the cup holding posies, showing me I'm free, not only to survive, it's to 'I' am that I thrive

Looking across the waters as you stood upon the shore,
a warm feeling your only comfort.
Shadows of a distant past so long before.
memories now fresh of love undone,
the mingling of two hearts that beat as one.

Sights and sounds and vague imaginings
that passed so long ago, a time of love so seldom had
that few have come to know. Me, I was fine up until the time
that you gathered me aside, speaking of matters so far from thought, of how your mind and spirit fought.

Of how you cannot accept the time
although your heart has received a sign.
Why do you unplug my ears and open my eyes
if not selfishly to console your fears and subdue your sighs.

Were you tired of being lonely standing in spirit by the sea,
are you crying out for you only or are you calling out for me.
What purpose served in judging so quickly, so swiftly, so much.
Why make us within arms reach when you remain so out of touch.
You run at the sound of love's unfinished call,
then turn on your heel and unsure of you direction, you stall.

Hiding in your craft you paint to appease you muse,
the oils they dry so slow. Creating visions of what you choose,
still, not always of what you know. Ships and bluffs and the face of love, the canvas again and again will change.
Images of a sea so rough and a love determined to remain.

Paint me out of the picture, paint another man over me,
it will not change that it was me that stood aboard that ship
below the cliff that you stood upon.
Behind you, the rolling highlands of our beloved
Scotland, while below you the thickness of mist
hides that we list, and are going down.

Then waves crashing and men thrashing, don't you know that I have drowned. Your tears add to the vastness of the sea,
I know that although you cry for you, you also cry for me.
Paint dries faster than the tears you have shed,
for a heart cannot master a love that is not dead.

I wish that you had been spared the wait, knowing what it is to grieve. You felt you only standing at the gate though hand in hand with me. If I could have kissed you cheek to take away your pain, for I would do anything for you, even die again...

rubbing my chin
my mind takes me
takes from me

the ability
to be free
of the ego-maniacal

tyranny

*****-deep
in some fantasy
with some self-absorbed  

me


rather live a dream
than be 'woke'
and un-free


unholy


tears of fire
rain down
on me


thanks to those
who came before
and to those

that even the score

no closing the eyes
no looking to the left and right
no more no territory

yes it's clear
yes to no fear
yes to eating steer

no to the enth degree
no to uncivil society
no to not being a you and me

yes to no monopoly
yes to no decree
yes to no tom-foolery

In the world of farming
the cow ain't holy
but holy cow the abuse is real

While working on a farm
shoveling ****, herding cows
across the highway my eyes were opened

The farmer, my friend
o so abused the poor beasts
I keep my mouth shut

Now wishing I hadn't been a party to
I know my friends farm was small
What the large producers do is criminal

We all must be fed    but
there must exist a godly way
who wants the **** and the slaughter

Who wants to have this continue
will we every grow?    perhaps not
only change I'm going to see will be in me

In the Hood where there used to be Fuzzy Dice
Now dangles a ***** mask that wasn't been washed
Since Fall of 2019, one where a couple of scrubs would suffice
The emergence of practice rounds of the Authoritarian's awash

Blessed are the peacemakers is the Christ-like cry
Stopping-up guns and ***** bombs: Here's Mud in Your Eye
So many people fed-up with the slease
So many of them angry to immense degrees

I wish this all a free hallucination that
I've have tapped into, it saves money on mushrooms
All I what is some food and shelter, my wife and my cat
Keep me fit and full while the end of this world forebodingly looms

They are there looking
they talk so smooth

Trying to get you in the grove
if you please, they be perky

A little hole and
the boat don't float

If you please
come follow me
come follow me if you will

You be kind
while they un-wind

And bury you
in a shall graveow

I have a booth
At our town's Farmers Market

All the Gentryfied
Queue up before the doors open
Shivering outside

Above my head
a sign reads:

Fresh Eggs from a Chicken Free
$5 US dollars a dozen

Canada and America have their differences from Eh to Zee

At the barroom playing darts
it's all fun and games until
someone loses an eye

Sitting in the executive boardroom
it's all fun and games until
someone loosens a tie

Dark forces
Stay out of the light
No shadow cast

They reel-in aspersions
From casted doubt

Walking paths
Through the woods
A dark force

Whispers come hither
Disguised between  
Leafy barking trees

             X

The traffic light
Turns amber

The car races through
Only too
Drive into

An old man
Wearing sunglasses
      
                O

The dark forces
Make one become
Sleepy-eyed

The darkness forces
A vision of a
Hundred billion Suns

                X

Lampposts discuss
The disgusting force of darkness

With light comes the day
Truth is "darkest before the dawn"

                       O

Light dispels those
Dark (and *****) forces

That come out
To play hard
Into the night


end

I became
bored
so off  
to the
Dog Park
with my cat

I say
don't worry
he won't bite

And a Shepherd
herded my call

The polyester I wore in the seventies was itchy,
the equivalent of one of those hair shirts the religious
fanatics wear after rubbing it in a bunch of sharply pointed twigs.

The seventies were good times  and carried a bright future.
Introduced by hippies to a **** that opened my senses.
Some trouble began when at sixteen, while taking a trip with a friend, on some powerful LSD we began to get very high and the hallucinations started to freak my friend into a major bad trip.

There was nothing I could do and I was scared too. That night we stayed in a tent  and used candles for light, all the shadows  and the candle wax  melting looked like giant bugs crawling, while the flickering on the sides of the  darkened tent  felt so sinister.

Things were never the same for my friend, I mean he lost a part of his mind. He could still function but was never the same.

I on the other hand lived hard and fast for years. I did most of the drugs that I came across never giving it much thought. Just moving forward, integrating experience. Not thinking of death but not of life either.

Captured beneath
the low lying cloud

Rocking my world,

Let there be no
flags in the world unfurled

Summer sunshine
leaving behind

A low-lit world
giving us a sign

You were there
when life was good

You were there
when live was a struggle

You were there
when I lived in the hood

You were there
when you wanted to snuggle

You were there
in pain and pleasure

You were there
during work and leisure

You were there
when the court fined me

You were there
when they took our son from thee

I used to love you
and now I don't (know)

Along side the old railroad track
A harsh breeze keep an eagle suspended
While the wind whistles
Through the massive power lines
The Fundy water red with clay
Although I've never been
I'm sure it's comparable to
The great Muddy Mississippi
Always seems to be an osprey in the air
and gulls and geese at low tide
Feeding to the delight of hikers
Come see us someday where there is
No politics in play
Just fresh air and clean visuals
Refreshing to say the least
Like a mushroom high

Try it, you'll like it

Said the man in front
of the liquor store

Chain-smoking
filter-less camel cigarettes

Grinning through
nicotine stained teeth

not entitled
broadly speaking
not speaking of broads
of course not
you silly goose
flying south
out of or in order
i will take greasy fries
on the side

c look at me

What happens when a hoarder marries a minimalist
I'll tell you what happens, chaos, pure chaos
One tries to hang onto everything, Everything!
The other secretly removing items from their home keeping order

Old copies of The National Enquirer where the truth can be told,
not like the hundreds of Rolling Stone Magazines passing for news and entertainment did they ever change from a one-time underground press they started as.

The minimalist is always throwing stuff out and this purge is not taken well by the one wanting to hold on to everything, and not things that serve a purpose, she is like a magpie collecting shinning little bits as well as old and worn vehicles, cluttering up the yard surely making the neighbours smile... yeah right.

I can't keep doing this, he says, not only to himself but also to her.
Was God a hoarder. I think not. Everyday things go away. Species die none stop, Stars explode releasing boundless energy.
Space expands, more room, the sky looks cluttered but is so vast.

The hoarder and the minimalist. They oh so love each other nothing will tear them apart, they stand their ground, they love each other to the end of time, time and space. This life isn't a race it's a challenge. So they continue to give and to take. Love, it's love.

An old tale of treasure spun through centuries
Of the ***** hid by Captain  Kid
With his slew of Pirates and captured slaves for labour

Story's of men's loss of lives through suffocation or broken bones
Pits dug where foreign objects marveled and feared Kid's crew
Bone chilling mystery so real, men wrote, and rumours flowed

The first where lucky and theirs lives where spared
Egg on face they travelled home empty-handed, head hug low
Oak Island, engineering marvel, apparent mind-**** to your head

To my friends I say I'll bet you that I live longer than you
The problem is just how it is that I'm to collect my winnings

At my Open Casket funeral, it's in plain sight
They call it Open Casket because it's your remains to be seen

I've never had no problem giving a person his or her due
I give the respect they deserve, my respect I may just muster it up
But for most they only receive the utmost in common regard

I'm here to love this life though sometimes it's a pain in the ***
I hate when phony people and the wealthy 'ill eat' try to force
Their will on people or just plain buy them out

What is the plan? Are we too stupid to come up with one
Are we so self-absorbed to do more than just talk about some scheme, some ill conceived plan that makes sense to maybe a two year old

I don't ask for much, just don't lie to me, much less than try to force feed me a lot of *******. You know people are full of it when in conversation they ask you more than just one time 'How you doing'

They're fishing for some juicy gossip to spread just like a venereal
disease, a ****** cold sore that stays with you for life

Yes, yes, to be sure, evil does exist and it down right kills
Tell me please, why isn't it the cream that rises to the top
How come it's the dross, the slop that makes the piggy's come

I'd rather crawl my way towards the top. Filling this world with creation. I don't want to spend all my time ******* on the Government's **** just to feed and house myself
The Poor's they call us, how arrogant, how disgusting

Life may be at times strange but I'd have it no-other-way
And with that, all the best, I bid you have a good-day

Any other day
would have been fine

I would have pulled
out the coffee ***
and greeted you
with open arms

I would have
served up the sweets
and dusted off
the wingback chair

I would have
pulled out the ******
and told tall tales

Any other day
I would have
put the world on hold,

turned off the ringer
and given you
my undying attention

Any other day
but not today

I you are going to ride my ***
you could at least pull my hair.

She was pushing 55 when the bumper sticker
caught my eye. She was at the controls of a disturbed
yellow Datson with Nova Scotia plates when the bumper sticker caught my eye.

A combination of rust and bright yellow
sliced down the tops middle one wide strip of black,
heal to toe with tinted windows to boot.

1970,s Northern Canada, now a defunct country, hundreds of kids
thumbin' from east to west and from west to east.

I shared an Impala with to young ladies from Ontario
and the driver was as friendly as hell, as well as being deaf.

The Datson's bumper sticker now a distant memory...

Today there's not  many travelers, there's many being unemployed, ex-cons and dyed-in-the-wool Hobo's... homeward bound.
Plus those harboring severe drug and alcohol problems.... you could say it is no longer safe.

My traveling days are over
I left them 30  years ago in the dust.

I really thought I had seen the end of those days
30 years in my past. Today when I leave New Scotland, it's not long before I return home. I always miss the ocean.

The Atlantic is my choice, The Pacific smells like dank wood what, with all those firs and the logging industry.
Give me a campfire on a sandy eastern beach.

I'll wash sea-salt off my skin afore I jump into the sheets at days end. My skin being golden brown from the affects from a close enough star.

I'm not here
to testify

I'm not here
to mystify

I'm not here
to justify

I didn't come here
to classify

I didn't come here
for no donkey ride

I feel out-side
I feel outside

I only came her
because my dog has died