I love my e-cigarette,
my smoking stick..

Reminding me of
an Aboriginal elder,
passing their pipe
of peace around the circle,
only to be passed
to that White Devil
full of guild..

Did the White Devil
know which way
the story was going to go?
Too much guile
would have had to been sensed.

Perhaps there was no game plan,
only the rhythm of Life..
like a bucking horses'
up's and down's..
and jerking from
side to side.

The end result being
a stallion's broken spirit..

From the whip's full of pinch,
the lashes of the crop..
And the spurs full of vengeful  thrusts,
in no way, in any way of any winning,
Only a demoralizing, and a shaming.

The Evil White Devil,
his Evil didn't stop after
he hunted down the Warrior.

The Warriors Scalp taking,
perhaps an angry, brutality exposing
of a weakness in their spirit
when standing beside the Great Spirit's fullness'

No, no, It all has to be "owned up to".
Then perhaps a healing will take place,
A healing to where blame is resolved
by confession and understanding,
not by putting a monetary value on it,
but by a Love for by a Love's knowing.


The dreams I have when I smoke my pipe.

wisps
of
smoke
blown
into
the
wind

tattoo
piercing
pushing
a rock
over
a hill

a candle
a torch
a floodlight
a flamethrower

imaging
projecting
thinking
breathing

it sounds
and i am compelled to listen.

this is beautiful,
now that i've heard it

there is no turning back,
to the point of no return.

experience piles up,

the hold never dissipates.

at times it emmersis me and i remain motionless.

it sounds, squeezing ***
on its bonds with male
and female on fresh waves..

© copyright 2013

All Rights Reserved

7:30 am
windows
letting
through sun
must get out
and play
or just to
walk
in its rays

Left to my own, he bit his bone and smirked.
One of those skeletons not in the closet.
Bony, he was being
dragged, kicking and screaming
and biting his bone.

He told me one morning
after a second cup
of a so black and hot
it took an hour to drink.

Two right hands are the answer,
your left hand will never know.
Two right hands are the answer.

I don't care if you hate me,
usually good does hate evil.
you know when I'm in that closet
I'll step out to visit like an old ghost,
and you may be powerless
and I may have my way.

Then he stopped pushing
and started biting my bone.
I was standing on thin air.
That's what they want, they want you to fight.

I cry out
in pain
and joy,
how about you

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

My eyes are all dried up I can't cry anymore
Even if I could I wouldn't waste my tears
It's all in the wrist a simple twist of fate
You have a beginning before you have a finish
When you **** one out it's not the end
Just dig in and pay the price of the ticket
Fire yourself out of a hundred foot cannon
And choose your death before you fade away
Slap your woman on the *** and show her you love her
Let her know that after the fact you'll still be there
Pass on the torch and roll another number
Lay you to rest before you turn into another.

There was a time
When you could move mountains
With your smile, and the earth
Was such a beautiful bridge.

Now Ursa dips deeply into
The dark well of sky while
Little sister plays hide and seek
Perishing thoughts that ride down with bitter cool

Our birth has been breached
As we cling tight to earlier yearnings
And the wailing wall sounds
A whisper to the cry in my mind

How can you or I claim innocence
When we have both been here before
Shall we cast down our glance in shame
Having lied through eyes of stolen charm

Those times when in spirit
Our fingertips would brace
Prying open closed doors
That had been slammed shut
By a life swung hard

What fear brings this memory
Doesn't every tree stand alone
Until you look below the ground

lonesome for the country
i need to get outta town,
with this city
in for a penny
in for a pound.
i need to get back to my roots
i wanna fill my boots
with some hallowed cuntry sound.

a skate board flys by
clack-clack on every side walk crack,
same rhythm same rhyme
as that lonsome long snake
rollin' down the line.
movin' up the steel to a muddy sky.

a pedal steel wails as a cop goes by,
72 chev malibou sails through a red light.
on every corner you have to look left,
you have to look right,
you can't go lookin' up the steel to a muddy sky.

this city she has her shades of blue,
a man on the corner with a national,
two hands poundin' out a delta groove..
head tilts back sings you godda move,
you godda move,
movin' up the steel to a muddy, muddy sky.


© 2005

This corner
or that corner
it makes no never mind.

Always with his hat
in his hand,
sometimes with a sign.

"Excuse me sir,
can you spare some change?"

"You see, I live here on the street."

"The two things on my mind
are a warm place to sleep
and getting enough money
to buy myself something to eat."

"You see, I can't tell you
that I'm a Vet, I can't really say
I lost my job. It's just, in my head
things aren't straight, they're just not right.
But it's not that I've gone down without a fight."

"I beg of you so I don't have to steal my next meal.
I often try hard not to think about where I am and what it is I'm doing.
This I do so I don't have to feel ashamed."

Nevertheless, people will shun him, others will beat him
and family will turn their back. What is so civil about this civilization?

The crackheads
want the good gear
even though it doesn't matter
they are going to take that eight-ball
and smoke it all

All wide-eyed and sketchy
teeth rotting out of their head
scanning the floor for any dropped crumbs

Another run for a twenty stone
to be drawn down deep with another and another

Good gear they say while grinding there stubby stumps
too wired to think of anything else but the crack

The sores on their bodies skinny rakes for a frame
A bad reputation with their drugs to blame

The nights and the days they very much mesh together
until they run out of funds that were begged for borrowed or stole

The crash is inevitable the cycle as well
the lives they lead are a living hell.

Took a long drive down
To jawbone corner where
A flashing red light
Acts like four-way
I'm with my girl, her driving
Me delivering foreplay

Down in the Valley where
You can be at rest or you can be at play
Newly- weds and nearly-deads
Draft dodgers from Yankey-ville
And my family lives there still

Apple blossoms with
Their assault to the senses
All kinds of distractions
Too many to mention

A Sunday drive that lasts all day
Blomidon stands oh so tall
And you can forget about it all
As you coast in to town
And lay your money down
At the local pub checking it all out
To see in the way of fun
Just what can be found.


© 2012

Brenda'lee, Brenda'lee,
no i can't chase you girl.
Brenda'lee, Brenda'lee,
you're just too fast for me.

200 miles to see you i come
and you won't get outta bed,
make me mad and then some,
now what has got into your head.

Sometimes you're so lovey dovey girl,
you make my head spin,
then you go and freeze me out,
seems sometimes, i can never win.

Now, Brenda'lee, we've known each other
for so many years,
why not get a little closer
instead of giving me the gears.

If there ain't no change in the weather, darlin',
i'm going to have to give you up.
I should have known better baby,
next time i'll have better luck.


©   2013

My breath is on fire
Too much whisky for me
Tomorrow my head will be pounding
I'll have to squint if I want to see
I guess I'm asking myself
To go easy on me

But for now, pour another round
And the barkeep, he likes that sound
Money in his pocket
A long night's worth of five dollar tips
Will at least pay his light bill

And if you will
Please say a little Irish prayer
For my spirit, if you can get into it
Just sing it out loud
'Cause I can't hear too well
In this bar room's crowd

There was a time
when you could move mountains
with your smile, and the Earth
was such a beautiful bridge.
Now Ursa dips deeply into
the dark well of sky while
little sister plays hide-and-seek,
perishing thoughts that ride down with bitter cool.

How can you or I claim innocence
when we have both been here before,
shall we cast our glance in shame
having lied through eyes of stolen charm.
Our birth is breached
as we cling tight to earlier yearnings,
and the wailing wall sounds
a whisper to the cry in my mind.

Those times when in spirit,
our fingertips would brace
prying open closed hearts
that had been slammed shut
by a life swung hard.
What fear brings this memory,
doesn't every tree stand alone
until you look below the ground.

wind
blows,
curtians
fluttered,
flapped.

truth,
fiction
muttered,

the breeze
slacked.

rain
falls,
panes
close.

Soft
rhythmic
in
art
iculate
riddles,

droplets
stream,

tapped
memory
flows.

Con
den
sa
tion

dampens
sill,

time
drifts,

I
remain
still.

grey
grey
gazing,

hyp
not
ical.


rain
rain,

go­
away

come
again

some
other
day.

You could cut the air
With a knife, it was just that thick
It had me chewing my nails
Gnawing them to the quick

I plan for the worst
But I hope for the best
Born to create
I take my imagination
and put it to the test

They say that a bad attitude
Is like a flat tire
You have to change it
If you are going to get very far
Free will
Choose the things you choose
But you can't go pinning all
Your hopes on some far away star

As Life goes, and go it does
I hold on tight and put my past in the dust
I have come face to face with my demons
and lived to tell the tale
I was backed right up against the wall
but my morality is in tact...
'' This cat's not for sale''.

I'm alive for two reasons
yeah, it's come down to that
Reason number one is I was born
And number two well, I didn't die yet.
I am no go between it has come down to that
I can't deliver something I never had
Although sometimes I have to give my head a shake
And always remember to give a sucker an even break.

95% of what
spews forth
from her mouth
is a lie
and the other 5%
are faslehoods
born of ignorance.

Her tales are so tall
the fire bragade
has to use a ladder
to remove her
from her tree
of denial.

She wishes it
weren't so,
but her Doctor
told her though,
she's going to
have a life full
of chaos
and will miss
all those moments
of bliss.

She'll shatter
the lives
of her children,
putting them
in harms way,
pulling them
out from
her burning building.

There is no
turning back,
she's past the
point of no return,
those who
look upon
her life say
burn baby burn.

If she were
on fire
I wouldn't ****
on her to
save her day,
every time we meet
I just want her to go away.


©  2013

Go sit up all night
Go sit up on the Arm's Wall

I am going to take it all in
And think about it all

The moon light on the water
Striking me in the eye

Mighty Blue Heron
Under intermittent sky

Ducks knocking back shellfish
Fuelling up for the flight into the fall

Here I sit, quiet, on a stone
So glad to be here on the Arm's wall

Sitting in the
Executive boardroom
The CEO on speakerphone
It's all fun and games
Until someone loosens a tie

Down at the
Local watering hole
Enjoying a round of darts
It's all fun and games
Until someone
Loses an eye

The air is thick with water beads
***** water beads
That fill my lungs
Making it harder to breathe

The yeast
In my belly
Is causing a sickness
That nothing can remedy

My head is full of
Dead ends and barricades
The yellow and black
Bumble Bee signs
Warning me to
Keep my feet on the ground

Just as a hot air balloon
Spills its people
Onto jagged rocks
Breaking their bones
And giving them ****** noses

Skin deep in her cold green sea,
a dark and gnarled sky above.
On the curved horizon a sign reads:
She believes in angels but she can't believe in love.

Insane in her reverie, wings sewn cross-stitch
down the spine of her back,
rattling panes that the wind blows
are just a reminder of all that she lack.

Saw teeth across metal is music to her ear,
the shriek of the tea kettle full of insolent childhood fear.
Rude eyes shout; forget the devil, he has no bite.
She knows better and isn't going down without a fight.

Her attempts to speak of the things she has heard
are the sound of the cat who has sprung on the bird.
To spread her wings is to spread her legs
and embrace the power the darkness has made.

Oh, the suffering of heartache after hearts ache,
while pulling the wings off of flies.
She can make you laugh, she's pretty smart eh.
But it isn't the same as being wise.

Every bit of her life, it occurs to her,
yes it does, it just occurs.
Now is it being selfish or just being blind,
if fooling people well is her way to unwind.

The
whispers
turning
into shouts,

Hollow rings,
the Sandman brings...

A night life begins
when eyelids close,

wakefulness
riding
shotgun
for the
sleeping self.

A
paralysed
body,
a parallel place,

eyelids
flutter in
some spasmodic
gypsy dance.

So many years,
the span
of a lifetime
spent living
in dreams,

living
through
a slumbering soul.

I had a dream the other night,
                   I visited an old friend
                      who had died last Halloween.

He drank himself to death,
wet brain, liver failure,
the whole nine yards.

In my dream I asked him
    what it was like to be dead,
he said "Oh it's okay....
can I borrow five bucks?"

I don't know I said,
    "How can I be sure
               I'll get it back"

"Ah come on" he said,
"I'm five bucks short for a case"

I relented and we called a cab.
       The cab driver comes
            and he says to Barry,

"What's it like to be dead?"

As you slowly slide
into memory
and i am left to bury
my dead dream
i can't help but envy
the one who holds you now
because it isn't me
to have and hold you now.

As you slowly slide
into memory
and i am left to bury
my dead dream
my heart is aching
and my spirit yearns
i have to comfort myself believing
that there is still so much to learn.

As you slowly slide into memory
and i am left to buy my dead dream
the thoughts crawl by
i shudder and sigh
and i can't hold back the tears
so i let them fall
and tell it all
to the one who really cares.
As you slowly slide into memory.


© copyright 1999

All Rights Reserved

It's oh so cold
I'm shivering in my boots

Without any labour
I don't bear the fruits

The skies are cloudy
We might see rain

How did I end up here
My life has gone insane

Being without a home
Keeps you on your knees

You can't concentrate on anything
You can't do as you please

When I get a pay cheque
Things will change

I'll get out of this cold
Out of this life gone strange

Trump..  what can you say,
he thinks he's a shark and he preys upon all he can.
        

His calculated bid,  always on the attack,
his war cry, don't give any sucker a decent break.

He chooses walls over bridges
in dealing with the rest of the world.

He has more than enough money,
enough to 'get the job done', and say 'you're fired'.

He's dangerous and the whole world is watching.
Another North Korea, with a sense of a false bravado.

This man doesn't care how he'll go down in History,
he could care less of any man women or child.

It just goes to show you, he's crafty, the son-of-*****.
A man-child in depends... let's make him wallpaper.

Let's show them that they have awakened the peoples
and that we are not going to cave in to the bully on the school yard.

The whole world is watching and we won't  go away.
We have the energy to become a force of truth and justice.

The Universe is watching and no stone will be unturned.
No deed will not be illuminated and courage will stand up to fear.

She doesn't do landscapes,
she does landfills.
No ocean liners on the sea,
only shipwrecks on the bottom.

She states: Jesus was the best Riddler.

Hello!
Well,
I... uhh,

- I'm Still
hoping to cross
that Spiritual Sea -

So, uh, here I go!

I suppose
it's a case of
running into the Truth.

- Just how little
is truly within
Human grasp -

And yet, just
how desperately
I continue to hold on...

....nonetheless....

...We take this
big long walk together,
of that I am sure.

From Darkness
into endless Light.
The deeper the solitude
the surer it seems.

                               Father Graham

I want to love you
Like there is no tomorrow
I want to give it my all
And never experience any sorrow

I want to take your hand and kiss your lips
Lead you to the promised land
And wait for off-spring
With both hands on my hips

I sometimes wonder do you feel the same
I'd like to ask you hoping you're not playing a game
Is it my *** you want though it's nothing to write home about
Or is it your *** you want to flaunt  leaving me no way out

We could blast off into the stars
You being Venus me being Mars
Hold up a mirror and peer past our reflection
Make love all night without any protection

I think that I have loved you
Since I was a kid
But wait a minute now
Let's not and say we did

Cornwallis Inn,
Gothic Stone With
Marble Floor Ways,

A Small Lounge Area
And A Bar Alongside.

Road Weary
And Thirsty
We Belly
Up To The Trough.

A Drunkin' Patron
Pulls Up A Stool,

Too Drunk To Even
Pay Attention To The ****** Gestures
Or Our Body Language.

He Overstays
Any Sort Of Welcome
That I Would Have Given Him.

I Told
The Barkeep
I Was From Town
But Haven't Been Here
For Decades,

That When I Had Left,
The Town Wasn't More
Than A Ghost Town
In The Making.

That The Land
Of ***** And Orchards
Would Dwarf The Town,

Making It Only
A Spot On The Map,
Like The Stain
Left By A Barfly
On A Hot, Hot Day.

This doesn't work too well,
no it's not very nice.
I should have stayed away,
taken my own advice.
Things could be better
if you'd move a little closer,
move a little closer
and warm things up.

Well now, I like my life,
it seems to serve me well.
if you're going to be my lover,
well you've got to be my pal.
just forget the shouldn'ts
and forget about the shoulds.
It's just a crime
when things don't work out
the way they could.

Rolling, rolling, rolling.
A little something
is better than nothing at all.
the only positive thing
is that all is said and done now,
yea it's all been said and done.

Things could be a little better though,
if you'd move a little closer now,
come on a little closer
and warm things up.

It feels like my life ...it has served me well,
I'd say I'm pretty happy,
though some times it's hard to sell.

Don't you come down on me,
'cause I didn't fly,
it's not a crime if you don't fly too high.

I'm going to move on back
to my single bed.
It's better to rule a lot of a little
than to fight with a king-size contention,
but it could be better, yes it could.. you betcha.

Come on and warm up this old heart of mine,
maybe move a little closer and everything will be fine.
come on little darlin',
move a little closer and warm things up,
come on a little closer and warm things up.


© 2000

All Right Reserved

I drove to see you
but you were gone.

It's cold as ****
even with all those lights...

I wish I was at home where
the cat becomes 'that fuckn cat'.

And the tree
embraces  
the
Angel atop,
as the critter scurries up the limb.

Ornaments are broken and so are hearts.

It's whiskey and candy canes
and a long walk home.

You glide on in
and save my life.
I was so all alone
standing on
the edge of a knife.

I feel so small
on this weary night.
I miss you
gone all the time,
slaving your way
to the end of your day.

Don't be offended,
everyone wants
their soul mended.
Truth be told, it's not
everyone who can be so bold.

Oh I so love you,
and that we have befriended
our vary essences.
The magnificence of our purity.
You know it, love really does set us free.

this way
to the end
of days

pounding
brain
insane

streaming
consciousness

washing
ashore
messages

hopes of
a lifetime
down the drain

fools
with the
world

for an
audience

every bit
of us

slowly
crumbles

be careful

what you
think

for there
comes for
what you do

not to be
caught
with
your pants down

looking
like
an idiot

gladly
passing
for a fool.

There was a time
when you could move mountains
with your smile, and the earth
was such a beautiful bridge.
Now Ursa dips deeply into
the dark well of sky while
little sister plays hide and seek,
perishing thoughts that ride down in bitter cool.

How can you or I claim innocence
when we have both been here before,
shall we cast down our glance in shame
having lied through eyes of stolen charm.
Our birth is breached
as we cling tight to earlier yearnings,
and the wailing wall sounds
a whisper to the cry in my mind.

Those times when in spirit,
our fingertips would brace,
prying open closed hearts
that had been slammed shut
by a life swung hard.
What fear brings this memory,
doesn't every tree stand alone
until you look below the ground.

All Rights Reserved.

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.

I sit here in my mind
and start to wonder what to do

In my mind

I bend back this long long
elastic, stretched it with all I had

I climbed in the middle and let her fly
Out through my cranium towards the sky, then passed the stars

Out into the universe headed for the closest galaxy.

I sit in the relative quiet of the kitchen
The rain plays a shuffle on the window pane
I hear the chugging rhythm
Of the sump pump in the basement
The pills I take no longer work
Coffee long gone from any habitual routine
A cup in the morning is all I will allow myself
The clock on the wall, not digital becomes a metronome
Jazz or Classical is all I will listen to as I prepare for bed
If when I sleep it is incomplete and broken and I awake
My tears roll down my cheek to pool in my ears
Another morning and I rise feeling tired and bitter
Sweet sweet slumber why can't I surrender to your wholesome rest
I pray I don't tear someone another
When I leave my home to face the world
Day after day divided by dark, I remain edgy and short tempered
Not suffering fools or the intelligent  gladly
In need of some kind of medication, a pill to curb my sarcasm
Some therapy to wipe away the insipid drudgery in facing Day after Day after Day after Day.

i feel so big
when i used to feel so small,
i feel like a tyronasaurs-rex
having tyronasaurs-***
and that ain't all,
when i used to feel so small
i wouldn't come out,
would not come out at all.
remember the time
that you were a train wreck
and i helped you to bed,
i scared away all the monsters
that were in your head.

© 2012



All Rights Reserved 2012

There was a time
when you could move mountains
with your smile, and the earth
was such a beautiful bridge.
Now Ursa dips deeply into
the dark well of sky while
little sister plays hide and seek,
perishing thoughts that
ride down with bitter cool.

How can you or I claim innocence
when we have both been here before.
Shall we cast down our glance in shame,
having lied through eyes of stolen charm.
Our birth is breached
as we cling tight to earlier yearnings.
And the wailing wall sounds
a whisper to the cry in my mind.

Those times when in spirit
our fingertips would brace,
prying open closed hearts
that had been slammed shut
by a life swung hard.
What fear brings this memory,
doesn't every tree stand alone
until you look below the ground.

She is the devil
in thin disguise,
she will prattle on
"oh the greatness of his being",
but her clothing
is stitched with lies
and her nakedness is obscene.
I call her 'tomorrow'
because that is when
I want to see her.
Everybody knows
tomorrow never comes.


© 2012

You boarded that train
Bound for nowhere
That day at the station
You were looking kind of frail
I warned you that this would happen
When you burned all your bridges
Now you hang your head with shame
The price of the ticket was all you had
Your duffel bag full of canned goods
And a jar of peanut butter
It's hard to call your life a journey
When it feels like you've hit a dead 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

I can be some brutal
or so you say you can tell,
but stop and look again,
this could be a match made in heaven
for two angels straight from hell.

We could sit here
and stare the clock down,
stare it right off the wall..
or dust off our top hats and spats
and strike out on a crawl.

Now, I know what it's like to be drunk
and I know what it's like to be sober,
I know what it's like to be young
and quickly growing older.

The safest bet by a long shot
is to keep time hung up on the wall,
make believe we can predict
just which way the chips are going to fall.

So shake those dice
and give 'em a blow,
before they hit the velvet
you'll know how it's going to go,
we could do it up just like a drug
no need to convince me, I'm sold.
It's back to throwing out a life line
to draw some heat out of this late winter's cold.

Winter snow is so high.
to jump out into it
is to jump into the sky.

The woman downstairs
has nowhere to go
as of tomorrow.

What will the universe grant her,
what is it, does she need faith?

Spirit people floating
like snowflakes in the air.

The woman downstairs
thinks worried thoughts,
contemplating the street
and its harshness.

Could I be witnessing
a fall from Grace.

© 2011

Left to my own, he bit his bone and smirked,
one of the skeletons not in the closet.
Bony he was being dragged
kicking and screaming
and biting his bone.

He told me one morning
after a second cup
of a so hot and black
it took an hour to drink.

Two right hands are the answer,
your left hand will never know.
Two right hands are the answer.

I don't care if you hate me,
usually good does hate evil.
You know when I'm in that closet
I'll step out to visit just like an old ghost
and you may be powerless
and I may have my way.

Then I stopped pushing
and started biting my bone,
I was standing on thin air.
That's what they want,
they want you to fight.

They say that
Robert Johnson
and Bob Dylan
sold their Souls
to Beelzebub.

It's just like
them there
preachers..
all they want
is a wee donation
of five little dollars.

Give me your poor
they say, but not too poor...
We've got a spire that we desire.

And forget the soul
of the bed sore *****.  

We want you all...
though the bone white ones,
they get First Class
on the Jesus Jet.

A late afternoon drive
through the countryside.

A lot of rolling hills
dotted with fields and farms.

Haying time, first of the season.
Old roads potted with holes,

asphalt turning to dirt...
we lay plumbs of dust.

The suddenness of a summer shower,
then thunder rumbles, the rain begins.

When the water hits the dirt
it almost looks like little atomic bombs.

We stop the car, not being able to see
through the windshield.

The farming community called Old Barns,
with a Lady Slipper Lane and the whole bit.

Silos breaking the sky, drizzle equals puddles,
puddles to drive home through.

A lick and a promise, the sweat of the gods,
nothing  comes close to a tour by the bay.