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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
Canada and America have their differences from Eh to Zee
Joe King
7:30 am
windows
letting
through sun
must get out
and play
or just to
walk
in its rays
Time and again
It's easy to see
first I do drugs
and then they do me

Because I say
I don't believe
in the devil there
is no real assurance
that he doesn't exist

When he's found out
 he's not getting his due
 My guess is that
 he's going to be ******

Santa
and
Satan
they be
making their list

I'll get
what's coming
my way
On this
he'll insist

A lump of coal
slung in a sock
and a wicked back hand
with a doubled up fist

Just enough rope
to hang myself
if you get my gist

expel my blood
in the bath after
I've slit my wrists

Full on boils and
***** oozing cysts
Gassy smelling vapour air
charcoal coloured mist

The  forked tongue
pushes out a steamy hiss
Master of many moves made
a charming guile hard to resist

Pre-paid passage
on the wretched raft
his water minions
pulling me out
to cross the Styx
  
You do drugs
then they do you
You know it in your heart
there is madness in the mix


So if you don't mind
I'll stand over there
while you keep six


© 2014
Wrote this after hearing a friend of mine tried to **** herself.
If you box
the ace of spades
you know your
luck is going
to change,
it's going to change
for the worse.

And if you
box the *****
you're liable to
play until you
empty your purse.

What's it called
when you know
your place,
keep calm behind
those dark glasses
that hide your
oh so easy to read
poker face.


© 2013
Looks like
I took a turn for the worse,
I hit a fork in the road
and caught some kinda Voodoo curse.

If you box the ace of spades
you know your luck is going to change,
it's going to change for the worse.

I got the Devil in my doorway
just a leanin' on the bell.
I know he's not going away
'till he's sure imma going to hell.

These February blues
I do detest, they've taken away
my 'happy-go-lucky' and put me under House Arrest.

So you know, if you box the *****
you're liable to play until you empty your purse.

My Muse she flew
out the back door and she's on the run,
screaming over her shoulder
'It ain't a crime to be unhappy but it isn't any fun.

What's it called,
when you know your place?
Keep calm behind those dark glasses
that hide your oh so easy to read.. poker face.


© 2014
left with
a Christ to find
we ignore
or not
Now I'm a *******
From Scott's Bay
Where inbreeding  took its toll
My mother and her mother before her
They were an exception not the rule
Or was it the other way around.
The only thing that saved me was my father
God rest this soul.
He was imported from Boston while a babe in arms
Later to met with the love of his life my mother
God rest her soul.
I guess you could compare us
With the hill billies from the hills of Virginia
Complete with some banjo playing
Only here in the Bay someone's
Always playing the bagpipes
You know the difference between the bagpipes and an onion
Nobody cries when you chop up the bagpipes
And as for crackers like Hank Williams the third
We crackers prefer to be called Saltines.
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.
*man-child   -Jon Stewart
A glimpse into more than the globe
No passing fancy a glance into the Universe

Like seeing the patchwork patterns
On one hell of an acid trip

Feeling for the first time a kaleidoscope
Of wavy sounds weaving out and in and through

Knowing but not knowing that I am  much more than ego
Finally seeing it's not me but just a part of who I am

I tell myself why or is it that I ask myself why
Just for a brief moment the Universe showed its hand

All  of those seminars and self help books
Just as bad as those Christian evangelists

Preying on the lost or ill and confused and asking for the hand out
That they are sure to find in a game of numbers translating in to cash

Like a dog with a bone a seeker of the 'what is' I twist and turn
I sometimes pretend that a new beginning waits at the end to begin again
How can you say you love God and God loves you
When you're afraid of every small bump in a road
Do you feel he failed you?  

Every corner is planned and you believe you are god
No wonder you fear, Fear God and be free  baby
We all are small babies, we all play god,  we all do.
beenaway
I want a bar
Where I can smoke a cigar
And not have it be a big deal

I want a bar
Where I can have Surf 'n' Turf
While I watch Hockey in May

I want a bar
Where you can have a bump
And not worry about the Po-Po

I want a bar
Where clothing is optional
And you can stretch out on a sofa

I want a bar
Where if the phone rings
I'm not here even if I am

I want a bar
Where I can run a tab
And when I've had enough they call me a cab
I can be so 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 the top hat and spats
and strike out on a crawl

Now I know what it is to be drunk
and I know what it's like to be sober
I know what it is 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 what way it's going to go

Shake  those dice
and give them a blow
by the time they hit the velvet
you know how it's going to go

We can do it up just like a drug
you don't have to convince me I'm already sold
it's back to throwing out a life line
drawing some heat out of this late winter's cold
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 is to be drunk
And I know what it's like to be sober
I know what it is 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 it's going to go

Shake those dice and give them a blow
By the time they hit the velvet
You know just how it's going to go
We could do it up just like a drug
You don't have to convince me I'm already sold
It's back to throwing out a life line
To draw some heat out of this late winter's cold
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.
I can be so 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 hat and spats
and strike out on a crawl.

Now I know what it is to be drunk
and I know what it is to be sober
I know what it is 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 it's going to go.

Shake those dice
and give them a blow
dealt a straight in spades
you'll know just how it's going to go
we could do it up just like a drug
except we're all out of any float
it's back to throwing out a life line
to draw some heat out of this late winter's cold.

Heads I win tails you lose
you can flip a coin
a thousand and one times
before you just get tired and stop
knowing full well
that it isn't always the cream that rises to the top
no some times it's the slop
that makes the piggies come.

Dive in off the high board
zooming toward a teardrop,
waiting for the belly-flop
aiming at the blues
what side of the line are you on
when you disobey the rules.
A fist full of dollars
and a bucket full of small talk
about something, somewhere
being a once in a long time long shot.
I've got nothing left to lose,
I'm just aiming at the blues.


© 2012  All Rights Reserved
much enjoyed writing this one.. many verses didn't make the cut
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 we could dust off our top hat 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 is 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 it's going to go

So shake those dice honey
and give them a blow
by the time they hit the velvet
you know how it's going to go

We could do it up something like a drug
we know just where that is sold
It's back to throwing out a life-line
to draw some heat out of this late winter's cold
I can be 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.
Sitting outside
on the deck
this spring night,
having what
I tell myself
will be my last
cigarette.

One lone
June bug,
in all its
bug ugliness ,
bashing its self
against the
patio door,
bounding
off the glass
to the outdoor light
and back again.

Two cats
peering out
the window,
their heads bobbing
up and down.

They turn
to face each other
as if to say...

"That ain't no ******* bird".
Sounding like some wild soundtrack
to a Spaghetti Western starring
none other than The Clintster,
it were rolling in good vibes
with the peeps taking selfies
with the band for a backdrop.

Two horns poundin' out
a happening grove,
with a bass player all of
four foot nothin'.
with a cool round sound.

It was cookin' alright,
hours after midnight,
a Halifax sextet hinting
of Tom Waits and the The Bob man.

I yawned, I looked around,
all those sweet tarts in their skin tights.
I yawned again, shook my head
as the band was covering Ray Charles...
I yawned again and again
and realized I am too old to party hardy.

But still... 'I can hack it'.. the last thing I said
as I headed out the door, homeward bound
In a January breeze that had a hint of Spring.

end © 2014
The band was too good. I just got home and it's 3:00 am
The hole, the rabbit hole
down we go with Alice
we go mad, mad we go
down the hole with Alice
much bull no cow
Now and then,
as I remember when.

Such a warm feeling
          washes over me.

A smile crosses my face,
can you believe it I say.
We used to be that way.

So much has passed,
    no one thing has
        been long to last.

I am glad that
  you were there,
and you are with me now.

Not so much
    in the physical,
if not every bit of you.

You are in my mind,
    and my body's cells.

  © 1997

All Rights Reserved
Hold on to what you have.
You see, their behaviour may change
but their nature never will.

You have to pull a rabbit
out of the hat.
Yes it has, it has come down to that.

You need to turn your filter on,
let the others soldier on,
while you put up your protective screen.

The time is now to roll up your sleeves
and start digging in the dirt before you go all in
and lose your shirt.

You flip-flop like a fish on dry land.
You want someone, anyone
to fix it but nobody can.

You're a drunk, hung over an abyss
that is his life.. Does he let go,
or continue to nurse his hangover.

You're like a walking stick fashioned from a giant Oak,
oh the irony, never to attain its former glory.
Now propping up an elderly man who has seen better days.


And what about the days you get so stressed over the smallest of things.
You jump from the frying pan into the fire.
The gulf between your Creator and you getting longer, deeper, higher.

Some one said, it is in vain to attempt
to keep a secret from one who has the right to know.
Best to head on down the road, whistling blow wind blow.

You hold my hand out to receive her heart.
We never got along too well
but this is a much better start, me and her bleeding heart.
I would crawl to work
on all fours after a night of heavy drinking,
just to avoid nursing a hangover at home

I hated being stuck at home, what, with all
my furniture bought on credit, living a life in debt.
So again and again, I crawled back to work.

Once, before I knew what and who I was, I found
nothing to question, not that the whole ball of wax
wasn't just a put-on, a big lie, a way to keep me bound.

The language of the living put out their message of peace love and understanding and I'd like to say I immediately answered the call, but that was not to be, not for years to come.

I couldn't stay away from the wicked alcohol without some hope.
I hide myself from any kind of sheltering arms, or full-on hugs.
I held myself back, back to that phony-self that kept me alone.

Finally, after a emotional-breakdown I began my spiritual breakthrough, not easy, just one thing that had to be done, it was a process that 'I am' doesn't always find to be all that fun.
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.
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
Coughing
up a lung

a little leery

worse for
wear and tear

I say fill
your boots

go for it
let it ride

it's just
a cold

what
you're

not a kid

man up
pull up

your socks

get out
there
and give

'em hell
On the ropes
     As the day once
        more meets the night.
          What's out there in the dark
         those sounds, those shadowy sights.
       I, it is friendly, It feels right to me.
And The Plot Thickens...
    It always does, it thickens
      Where three are gathered or even more
             some engage and others watch
               It's too lonely to be alone when you do share
and alone you get
when you plan your day,
take the lowly hour and make it you crown

The ears and the eyes of those whom listen, they ask to breed.
We want more, enough to spread all over this Globe
Like a topping for a fruit cup it tastes of whipped cream

And the Plot thickens, you see, it always does.
    It doesn't throw out its branches to no one.
       It knows that they will be climbed. And can see that bones will break.

Offer The Plot That Thickens  roads that go east and roads that goes west.
Tell it to go down below and then hover on high. skate circles around it.

Ride it ******* with just the right hand holding its mane, without spurs spur it on..... only good can come of this. As The Plot Thickens
Life is short that says it all still you're going to find that it's a long hard crawl.
Magical the myriad of visions that pass moon beams,
hopeful my heart grasps the spark within these wakeful dreams.
The hours of fitful slumber waning fast like the death of night,
my mind wonders to and fro like a pedulum on my sight.
Dreams that seams like nothing now at all not big or so small.
My relentless wake devours me now, for I am always dreaming anyhow.
It is my hope that all who see and want to be a part of this will contribute a line. I don't know how exactly this will work but let's give it a try. I'll start with the first line. If you don't want to contribute a line feel free to have imput by commenting.           Let's  rap this one up like a late Christmas present
on midnight December 31st..... if the world don't end.
Angel drives so well
She'll drive you against the flow
Driving with one hand on the wheel
She has nerves of steel
A labor of love is her job
It can move you heart and soul
When a labor of love is all you got
It can put you in the hole
Angel does my dishes
She does my laundry too
At the drop of the hat
She'll cover  your back
She wraps her wings around me
And sometimes I miss my clue
Then it comes at the speed of sound
She was only passing through
Angel drives so well
she'll let you go against the flow
driving with one hand
she's got nerves of steel

A labour of love is her job
it can move you heart and soul
but when a labour of love is all you got
it can put you in a hole

Angel does the dishes
she'll do the laundry too
at the drop of the hat
she'll cover your back

Angel she wraps her wings around
and sometimes I miss my queue
then it comes at the speed of sound
she was only passing though
The cat is on the ***
Trying to weasel a treat
Meow, meow is all she say

Could be like her, well taken care of
All needs met, each and every hour
All the live-long day

A lingering ego be a bruised apple of my eye
I don't need a death sentence
To know that I'm alive

Sitting in amusement, falling in love
With a muse that visits on occasion
A muse meant for art in art of the amused

Some glances at various watercolors
Hung from walls, strokes and dabs; smears, smudges,
Peeking out from under matting

Dry oceans, rainclouds no longer heavy and wet
Crafted by a friendly schizophrenic
While half in the bag, I'll bet

A smile beneath my nose,
A tear slips from the corner of my eye
I don't need a death sentence to feel that I'm alive

Reaching for a treat, she gives a precious growl and comes:
Sleek and quick. My fingertips feel her gentle nibble
So goes a night at home.
-littlebigheart-
kinda
like an
eccentric

living his life

with
three
cats

waking
up in
the middle
of the
night

pinching
a flea off
his *****

before
turning
over

on his side
to take sleep
again
On the bad days, anxiety comes in waves,
they lap at what once was a solid shoreline.
The sands turn to mud as they roll back to the sea.

On the good days I can hold-my-own,
feeling I belong and if I don't, I at least, fit-in.

Those days when the moments are stitched together,  
creating a hand-spun tapestry and life feels well worth it,
as I greet friends and the strangers that I haven't met before, alike
-ivving-..
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
joe king
Any other day
would have been fine

I would have
pulled out
the coffee ***

I  would have
served up
the sweets

and dusted off
the wing back chair

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

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

And given you
my undying
attention
but not today
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 wing back chair.

I would have
Pulled out the whiskey
Poured a couple
And told tales tall.

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.
Meat
and bones
shiver,

trees
naked
branching
on the curved
turquoise
skyline.

Azure,
nothing
hidden,

Spring
bolting
through.

Winter's
white
blanket
long
passed
its Glitter.

Snow
now
a
four
letter
word.
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.
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
Go sit up all night,
go sit up on the Arm's wall.

Take it all in,
think about it all.

The sails on the Arm
are coming to no harm...

Moonlight on the water
striking me in the eye.

Mighty blue heron
under intermittent sky.

Wild duck knocking back shellfish,
fueling up for the flight into fall.

I sit quite on a stone,
so glad to be on the Arm's wall.
Go sit up all night,
Go sit up on the Arm's wall.

I'm going to take it all in
and think about it all.

The moonlight on the water
striking me in the eye,

Mighty Blue Heron
under intermittent sky.

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

Here I sit, quiet, on a stone,
so glad to be on the Arm's wall.
When I get lonely
I go to the airport
and stand in wait
for the passengers
to walk through
the arrival gate

I rush up to
random people
arms stretched out
then straight
into a hug
as I whisper
into their ear
"it's been so long"
I stood there
music with me through me.
As natural as walking after  learning to crawl.
Pacing my self breathing the night air.
Feeling on, feeling relaxed feeling electric

I can't stop and the rhythm is infectious.
My body sways and I'm not there.
I watch myself as I  tumble from note to note,
blending and bending. Ego shut out.
Art for art's sake.

Resolution time after time.
Politics play, a false game
A play of Monopoly with a banker cheat
Play one time, play two
There be no three

Consumerism
Be a slave's chain

Everybody knows, nobody cares
The label's at the door, I promise you
I will lie no more

Breathe deep and step now
Wear it well, and you can tell

When a slave's chains don't remain
Going with the flow
Is against the Crow's style

Wondering about looking for edibles
To shove in his snout

He caws to his community
When there is a lot to be had

Calling out quickly
When things turn bad

A bird of the air
He pays no fare

Alive and well
Sharing a comradeship

With the Pigeons
Whilst  dodging traffic

But more to his liking
His friend of the feather the Starling

These birds are not like those others
There is no going south for them

Winter through next Fall when the Crow isn't flying
He ***** his head and struts about standing tall
as
the dark
once more
divides the light

wishes being fulfilled
bellies still filled

the crackle of
the monitor's fire

a layer of snow
softens any kind of blow

this new year
has to deliver
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
yuck
I did a double take,
it doesn't have to
be that way.

I goofed, ****** up,
my nasty habits were on display.

I have had a hard life,
I'd rather that than
one that's flaccid

I saw and heard things out of
the ordinary, kinda like I was
doing acid.

To each his own,
I can tell you that.
Some things are not for everybody.

At moments I'm bursting with joy,
that's in between bouts of melancholy.

I can be on a plateau
for a bit of a stretch
right before I turn a corner.

Then I'm just shot into space,
I guess you could say that I'm a foreigner

If you wanna have some whiskey
by all means feel free,
it's just not my cup of tea.

I'd rather a blunt and something sweet,
just hangin' out, taking it easy.

If you want to converse
I'll go along for the ride
but there is a limit to what I'll discuss.

Most every thing is fair game
Though an open mind is a must.
But we can't tackle *******
no, that would be a touchy subject.
This is not to make light anybodies experience in any way.
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