Don't look a gift horse
in the mouth
them's the rules
follow the yellow line
taking one step at a time
running is for the fools
take the matter up
high in to the clouds
spend more time alone
far away from the crowds

are you going
to regret your
passivity when
your mother dies

(and will) while
you feel guilt
because of the way
you looked at her

as you treated her
as someone that
you thought couldn't
command respect

you may not
be able to
remedy that..

although you
could to chance
a learning

oh how to
forgive yourself
for living with
such a

simply simple
mind within  
a completely
complex soul

when you were chased by the violence against her
and ran to the neighbour's pleading
to the deaf ear of a silence afraid to whisper
then a loud " we don't want to get involved"

then to return home
to receive your 'licks'

and to see her
piece together
a meal out of
a fried potato

as he sat down
to steak and beer
with mushrooms no less

you never considered
how very brave she was
why, why would you favour him
looking now as she stands five foot small

how can you retract
a childhood attitude
that you have carried
with you all the way until now

what a weak, weak boy
in a not so grown up man

is even her death about you

© 2014

This way
to the end of days

Passing
brain
insane

Streaming consciousness
Washing ashore messages

Hopes of a lifetime
down the drain

Fools with the world
Doing for an audience

Every bit
of us slowly
crumbles

Be careful
what you think

For they
come for you
whatever you do

Not to be caught
with your pants down

Looking like an idiot
Gladly passing for a fool

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.

I grow in your garden
As you grow in mine

We all have our devils
One's never a hard find

We are all One forever
Look and you'll  see a sign

I grow in
                                   your garden
                                                                                         as you grow in mine

I say to you,
I grow in your garden 
as you grow in mine.

I grant order and chaos,
no move is yet to play out.

I am All,
all in All....
beginning ending,
beginnings endings.  

Co-creating
in this non-creation,
between blurred lines.
It is there as Humankind you stand..
    
Male and  Female,    
galaxy amid galaxy.

I give you azure for pleasure,  
darkness abides in good measure
beyond this world waits great treasure.

The service I ask of you is short lived and simple..
Love,  love yourself, love one another,  .. just love.
        
I am not away on business
as some would suggest,
I have not forsaken
any of my Creation.

I am always moving in,
always moving out..
forever turning on,
forever turning off.
                
It starts and it ends and it starts again to end again,
Impotence amid Omnipotence, a Mystery never to be solved,
always to live and to die moment by moment.
                
I am beyond your Imagination,
you dwell in my imagination..        
in my image you have your Being.

You will never stand alone,
you are always a part of this dance
in the endless stream of much more.

I carry you
gentley through
soft currents
as well as rocky rapids.

My words to you
do not dwell in a book,
They are alive and bring life.


You were born to create this day,
this Day, the only thing new
under the sun..
Your freedom of will leaves you
to create evil as well as good,
your choice yet not your choice
being forged out of my choice.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel,
you are the Light passing through the tunnel.

You have forgotten who you are,
who you were, who you will be.
Fret not... I come to remind you of the abundance
that is at your fingertips. To help you to turn away
from the notion of scarcity. All you need, you have..

All you will ever need you already have.. you will it to be
At times not knowingly. I am here to move you towards clarity.
You can end the fight bleeding and on the ground
or just not get in the ring... your choice yet again.

Free will is just that..
it is not without consequence.
Ignorance of Universal law is no excuse,
the domino being pushed they tumble  into a future which is here
along side the past, only the moment... infinite.

Standing in a field
with big blue sky,
while the rain threatens
the children on their playground.

Swiftly my thoughts,
charging from here to there
and back again,
it isn't a matter of relaxed.

Slow poke in the ribs
that knocks the wind
across the open field,
moving towards the horizon.

Play is an unforgotten
movement that pushes me,
and who is to say
what is or isn't play.

Hold out your hand
to receive this bleeding heart.
Time to move to where the wind blows
over the horizon, if that can be done.


irving2006

Gone are the days of bluesy metaphors
Of rocking and rolling
Of the opening of doors
Gone are those days of Jazz and ****
Of the *** Pistols, of Johnny and Sid
And that vicious junk
Gone too the days of Healy and Cohen
Along with Hank in the backseat and the itch of morphine
Gone along  the one who loved the Alien
Martin and Cooke, Elvin and Elvis now free
Topac and Biggy and The Right to Party
I had a look and listen, I know the many I'm missing
Gone are the days of Alterative and Grunge and the Garage Band
Gone are Cobain with Leadbelly's "In the pines refrain"
Soon are gone the days of strings and horns
Taking their place are keyboard tickled by Unicorns

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.

A  poet was given
a life sentence today.

He'll be going the way
of Bob Marley and Frank Zappa.

I saw him perform
over the last few decades.
Hip he was and always will be.

In the ranks of Canadian poets,
his peers being  Gordon Lightfoot,
Leonard Cohen and Mister Neil Young.

He wrote about the Canadian Prairies,
about New Orleans sinking and nautical disasters.
All with soul and intellect.

A friend said,
"You didn't have to
Know know know him
to love love love him".
And that's true.

With a heavy heart I ponder the noon news.
I recall the day I heard of John Lennon's ******.

The only time I ever cried
over the death of a celebrity.

Thoughts and prayers out to you Gordie,
and your family and friends.

Ironically tragic for one so Tragically Hip.

You can change, you've heard that said,
just listen to me, I know what you need to do.
Bring your ear down to my lips..

Listen close and then you'll know,
it won't be before you up and blow,

that ****** green eyed monkey away.
Shoot it square in the head,
right between those beady eyes.

Leave it there,
leave it for dead,
and dead is where it's going to stay.

You could never give it away,
and you can't to this day,
but you can't take any more..
you have to even the score.

No wearing your heart
on the cuff of your sleeve.
You've got to give your self
some room to breathe.

You could never give it away,
and you can't to this day.
You can't give what you don't own,
it was taken from you along time ago.

Taken away when you were very young,
and repeatedly stolen when you reached out to touch it.

How you  shut yourself down,
it's a wonder in its self,
was this the only way to cope with what was..

if you were at least able to give
half as good as you get
you wouldn't crave all the time
making you the misfit those thought you were.

It hasn't been with much in the way of style
that you have let your teardrops fall,
it's been a while
since you had the real thing,
it's been a long long time
since you just let loose
and had a good hard cry...
even longer since you let your heart sing.

Every time you find something that you say 'is to die for',
it up and dies on you. I think it's time for that righteous cry.
Just let it loose, don't wait for the tide.

Cold and lonely
this life you've been living,
perhaps it's time to take a day trip,
rent a car and drive on out of here.

Maybe make it a weekend and go for broke,
hell take a week and drive on out to the other coast.

Stop asking your self
how can you grow up
when you are a child of God,
just remember all the times you were able to hold on when life was so hard..

So kiss those dreams and set them free.
If you could wouldn't you just trust in the Universe
and set those things that are yours to begin with free,
free to come back ten-fold.

Life is too short,
that says it all.
But it doesn't mean at times
it won't be a long hard crawl.

Don't you just carry your light
in to another room.
We can't be here for the bare bones,
The daily bread you think you have to buy
in the supermarket.

If that's the case
I would just lay down and die,
right here, right now.

There is so much more that meets the eye.
If it isn't just a nice day it's someone helping someone in a good, kind way.

I set my own traps and after I learn that... it will be time to move on.

end  


© 2013

If you're going to shoot from the hip make sure you're not firing blanks.

When I was young
a gypsy woman said to me,
You'll have a life of chaos and confusion
With no end in sight, no solution.
She waved her arms in the air
pronouncing due time must pass
before I'd stumble upon peace, and
more pleasure. And love, all in good measure.

As I think about what she said
I relax on the beach listening
to the waves lapping at the shore.
Watching the children carry their plastic pails
full of jellyfish to a sandy death
before going back for more.

The haze in the sky lets through the suns rays
and I burn slightly contemplating these better days.
I don't look back but when I do, it's not for long.
I turn my thoughts to what went wrong,
then I cast the memory aside
in order to allow my spirit to glide.

Mistakes are still made,
not every card is well played.
I get nowhere if I deny,
and cheat myself with some spun lie.
Change is going to come, it comes for everyone.
I make the best out of what I've got,
sometimes it seems that it's so little
but the opposite is true, it's really a lot.

when I was a boy
everything was all brand new
now I am a man

I was bumming
around Halifax town,
it was dusk, or there about.

Getting cold and
in need of shelter,
I entered an old abandon apartment
that was toasted to in the worst of ways.
All to make room for progress.

There scrawled on
what would have been
the living room wall...

The words written in blood,
the funniest thing,
it read...

'Dyslexic's of the World.. Untie'

I knew I was home for the night,
no big deal, if the bleeder came back
at least he had a sense of humour.

Hand me that pistol
don't let it go off in your clutches

Give me the ammo
stay and watch me load

The first few pops
shake me out of my skin

Sweat pouring down my forehead
I feel like losing control

Nervous as a first date
hard to draw a bead

Okay, gently squeeze
the trigger, count... one two, three

No more
cigar, cigarette cigarillo
don't smoke no more legal ****
ain't chasing a dragon
don't speed me up the street
oh my god I'll tell you though
My Zippo is litigated to candle

I drank way too much last night
now I feel like I'm paying my dues,
I woke up real early this morning,
all dry in the mouth and my head was pounding,
I've have me a case of those hangover blues.
All I ate last night
was what I think was horsemeat.
With a sickly sweet sauce
in greasy, greasy flat bread.
The man said it was a Donair
but whatever it was
I really don't care,
because my wallet is empty
and my life doesn't seem fair.
I feel I have nothing left to lose
I have a real bad case of those hangover blues.
My wife tells me that I wasn't any fun,
I had me a case of whiskey ****,
I just wouldn't get it up,
and after my epic fail
i moaned...òh ****,
I just rolled over on my side
and then got sick.
Well, life is about winning
just as much as you lose
and I woke up this morning
with a mean old case
of those hangover blues.
Thank god I didn't have to work today
because I would have giving my boss the bad news,
I would have been staying at home today
with one of those 40 ounce flues.
Oh, the things that I just know that I said,
and the people that I *******.
The peoples faces that stick in my mind
haunting me hard,
while I sit with my head in my hands,
my money all spent
and my bloodshot eyes
that I can't conceal,
Total disgust for myself
is the way that I feel.
Oh the self pity that I ooze
with this mean old case of those hangover blues.

© 2012

I drank way too much last night,
now I feel like I'm paying my dues.

I woke up real early this morning,
my head was dry and  pounding,
I've had me a case of those Hangover blues.

What it was that I had to eat, I really
don't care to remember 'cause my breath
knocked everyone over and my wallet is bare.

And it's now I feel like I have nothing left to lose,
I had one hell of a case of them Hangover blues.

My wife tells me, it wasn't any fun,
I had one big case of Whisky ****,
and couldn't get it on.

Yet I still acted like a ***** and
after an Epic failure, I rolled over
to one side and tossed my cookies,
yes me, a real gentleman, right as rain.
so buckle up because here's the refrain..

Sometimes life is about winning  
just as well as you lose
I woke up this morning
with a case of the Hangover Blues.

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

Cigarettes and motorcycles,
Oh Mercy and Long Train Running
The art of snubbery, not an actual word
But you catch my drift, he snubs so good
Never anyone's pawn he wrote so much
He often forgot what he'd recorded.
The story of him hearing someone cover
Love Is Just A Four Letter Word and saying
That it was a good tune brought chuckles from
His travelling companion.
To call him luminary would be a shortfall.
Prolific, another stab in the dark,
Maybe Wizard would suit him, I don't know
Just play it loud Bob, play it loud.

canada and america are different all the way from eh to zee

**** salesman with a mouth full of samples

My heart is loaded with sorrow
I feel like I'm going insane
Please tell me baby what do I have to do
is there anything I can say

Sometimes I can be slow on the draw
I'm hard to live with, maybe don't pull my load
I don't want you to be on a see-saw
I promise, I'll be as good as gold

It pains me that you found another lover
Now you've said goodbye  you have to go
I don't know as if I'll ever recover
I can't believe it baby, say it ain't so

My heart's loaded with sorrow
It feels like I've got a bee in my brain
Please tell me baby what do I have to do
is there anything I can say

If I've lost you, well
I just don't know what I'm going to do
It's going to cost me I can feel it
Already I'm feeling blue

Have

January's heavy snow
wash body, mind, soul.

She came to call
And stays most of the fall
She takes the ground floor
You the  one above

The  floorboards creaked under your weight
Driving her wild she'd yell at the ceiling
You thought maybe it was from a hospital she escaped
Any scenario was none to appealing

You hoped for more than this
Trying so **** hard to appease
When you met in the kitchen
You'd ask who this strange person is

Something about her had you sweating bullets
You reached for a tea towel while the kettle boiled
She whimpered and you didn't know what to do
She shrieked and you poured the tea

Around the first snow you saw a way out
Above her you'd shuffle sounding  soft shoe on the wooden floor
Using the wash room you'd pull the seat up and snicker inside
Leaving hair in the sink water everywhere and a mirror that's streaked

Before too long our cards were played
The rooster greeted the morning and her bags were packed
You waited at the station to make sure she got on the train
You waved a gloved hand the sound of the whistle made you free

Here's to you,
I'll raise my glass.
You don't lie worth ****
but I'll let that pass.

I didn't say
that it was wrong
to live on the dark side,
it just isn't for me.

I told you
what I wanted
and you told me
how you felt.

It appears that
I was just another
notch on your
yard long belt.

It's too late
to take back
the things we said,
whether they
were said in the kitchen
or said in the bed.

You're not hard
to look at,
but that just won't do,
you're poison to my system,
worse than the flu.

For a while
we were on a roll,
until it came to the point
that you asked me
to sell my soul.

You lied so much
and now you play
the old stand by card,
how you are afraid of me,
that I just make your life so hard.

But it isn't me that makes the calls,
leaving message after message,
they all start with rants,
as soon as I hear your voice
I hit save.
I don't listen later,
why I keep them
is a mystery to me.
It looks as if now
you are just some part of my history.

Yes, now things are different,
our friendship of years is dead,
still I find I need a turn-key,
one to unlock my head.

I ache for the
love of your children,
the ones that
I have known for years.
on the outside I don't cry
but on the inside
I'm full of tears.

Now that our friendship
is dead and gone
I know I have to grieve,
what I don't know
is in what way
and for how long.

Things will change,
they always do
but there is no chance
that they will change for you.

I still love you,
I love you as a friend.
But your addictions
are so bad of a sign
that killing you softly
is what comes to mind.

Yesterday, as well as today,
I miss what was,
I miss what was the good.
Your children must
be so confused,
that I  no longer come around,
but to try and keep up the game
would not be very sound.

And now I hear
through the grapevine
that you are pregnant once again.
You can't afford the ones you have,
to include another is nothing
short of insane.

Your partner lives thousands
of miles away so he can make
the money it takes
to feed and clothe the ones
already here,
while you take his checque
and spend hundreds a month on
entertaining your fair weather friends
and beer.

You kept me around
as long as I was your go- to- guy,
someone to babysit
and drive you around.

When I started saying'no'
everything changed.
Nothing will be different
until your life
is rearranged.

There became no more requests to visit,
no invites for supper.
Well that is all well and good
but for the most part
it's your children that suffer.

So it's good bye, so long,
you've cut me out of the family.
But I guess everything must come to an end.
My only hope is that you will pull
yourself together and once more
I'll be able to call you a friend.

I'm all about forgive and forget,
I'm just not there yet.
Your slap in the face
when I brought over
your Christmas gifts
and what you said to
my friends.

Just as there are always
so many beginnings,
I see that there are also
so many ends.

Inside I cry,
outside I grimace,
but it is what it is none the less.

So here's to you,
may you hold it together.
May the days you have in store
be called somewhat better.
for now let us keep
our distance,
steer clear of one another
right down to the letter.

Once you can put down the glass
and return to what is the real world,
perhaps we can talk again,
perhaps we can 'let it go'
and once more address each other as 'my friend'.

© 2013

I used to
  Drink my face off
     'get lost' to this world

I'd stare at my insides,
   My red raw meat

Up to full speed
    I  wiped more off my chin
       Than most others drink

    Life was going down the tube
And I wasn't helping the situation none

Everywhere I went I wore out any welcome
  My rude, angry self, had no restraint at all

The face left me
   Was nothing I could live with
     I  had to clean my act up,
       Make me a more presentable me
           Blend in with those  I chose as my peers

Imagine that,
No more 'Bums Rush'
No more bloodied noses
No more " Here's your Hat, what's your hurry"

I offer up something
and you don't care..
You tell me that I am unhappy
like it's a sin.

Why would I continue
to let you in
only to have heartache on top of heartache
with no one but my self to blame.

You're better off calling
your
"same old used to be".
It's more likely that
he will have something to do with you.

Because I won't, it's been a slice,
enough is enough! Getting rid of you
is like shaking off a vice

And as for your friends,
well you can have them too.
Everybody gets lonely sometimes
but I won't be thinking of you.

Sure I wanted to play
and that's why I did,
But let's face it...
You can't stand me when I'm drunk
and I can't stand you when I'm sober.

No matter how you choose to say it,
it's just another way of saying it's over.

I know you know that you didn't fool me.
I knew you knew that I just wanted to play.
You knew you knew just how to ***** me,
so what fair was it for me to stay.

Your *** was good but your strokes
didn't count for much.
It wasn't just my pleasure,
though it sure felt good.

If you could have ****** my brains out
I might have stuck around.
But all your choice just brought me down.

you be


                   a             surrealistic

      bird          

                     mister green.



           did i

smoke                         it?


                                                                  no    
                                                                             i
                                                                                 took          it



effin                                ******.

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

between what is
and what is to become

sitting on
a large grey stone

eyes skimming
across the inlet

never have I seen
an ugly sky

the horizon the horizon
how many times

have I penned
that word horizon

looking for the ears to hear
to come from beyond the horizon

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

The air is
thick with water beads.
***** little water beads
that fill my lungs
making it hard to breathe.

The yeast
in my belly
is causing me sickness
that nothing can remedy

My head is full
of deadends and barricades.
The yellow and black
bumblebee signs
warning me
to keep my feet on the ground.

Just then as
a hot air balloon
spills its peoples
onto jagged rocks.
Breaking their bones
and giving them ****** noses.

© 2011

All Rights Reserved

Rest
in
peace
Herb.

It's
just
over
a year
now

since
you
delivered
that
'hot shot'.

Did
you
send
it
into
your
veins.

Or
did someone
overdose
you,

did
some
one
other
than
your
self
give
you
that
lethal
injection.

Maybe
some
pretty
little
lady
that
had
you
wrapped
around
her
finger
'cause
she
needed
a little
rock
and
roll.

The
day
after
this
had
happened,
I
found
myself
knocking
at your
door...


Funny
how
things
work
isn't
it..




I miss you herb.

© copyright 2012

This house
Over 100 years old

One and a half stories
On the corner it stands bold

The wind blows the trees
The whole place  creaks

People were born here
Others had died

With in the walls
No secrets to hide

Large deer problem
In our little town
Thy dart out into traffic
And at times you can see
The fear in their eyes
They are eating human food
Left out by town-folk
It's getting so bad
The town decided they'd
Put up signs
They addressed the signage
To the deer warning them
Not to eat human food
Long story short
The deer are livid and have taken
To spraying the signs with graffiti

Missing you Lord
On bended knee
Be with me fully

Allowing my life through you
As you choose to live through me

Richly, always peaceful, free
Lone spirit cries, fractured in mind
Evil's Spaniard in the works

Same me from my plans, my instincts
I lay my thoughts, my very will and life
Please be with me in You

Missing you Lord
On bended knee
Be with me fully

Allowing my life through you
As you choose to live through me

Richly, always peaceful, free
Lone spirit cries, fractured in mind
Evil's Spaniard in the works

Save me from my plans, my instincts
I lay my thoughts, my very will and life
Please be with me in You

When at times
It's just people are gone
I stop and think awhile
Wondering did I do wrong
I can't help that
When at times
I live life like a child
Sometimes fearfully
Sometimes wild
I can't help that
Sometimes I'm Judas
Another the Christ
I can play the Tempter
And I can pay the price.
I can't help that  
Sometimes I'm living
And then again I'm dying
Sometimes I'll hurt you
Without even trying
I can't help that.

I crossed eyes
with a money hungry,
power hungry pig today.


Just to say,
sometimes you have to show him who's boss

I took a ***** a rake and a *** into Rogers Canada because they over charged me 100 clams... The first time I said **** he said that I can't use that kinda language. I said that he had been saying it  since he was four. I told him he  had better call security and make sure it is more than One.


To that power hungry *******, I'll bet his two young female staff got a snicker out of that.

I cry
not because
I feel alone
but because
I feel others
out there
not knowing
what to do

You say
you have good
to offer
please
come to
my window pane

I don't
need any chaos
like the
devil
who
stands on
my welcome mat

I'll await
that gentle rap
from you
on my
window
pane

I cry
Not only because I feel alone

I see others out there
Not knowing what to do

You say
You have something to offer

Please come to my
Windowpane and tap lightly

As the devil
Stands on my welcome mat

Beating down the door

What do I do, do I invite him in
To begin another round of chaos

Or do I wait for your gentle rap
On my windowpane

Go and have
Your ideas
Just as long as
Your ideas don't
Encroach on
The idea of what
I would have
My life ideally be

do we have them or do they have us

Idling too fast,
but why move
for the sake of movement.

I pet my head
and shuffle my feet,
doing something
that doesn't need doing.

Quite loss to the
end of the day,
a group of
rusty nights
spreading their togetherness.

My bed waits,
it doesn't call,
knowing I will
take it up and walk
into a play
that feels so much
like a life
otherwise not had.

I stayed up all night,
Looking for the  Sun,
And then it dawned on me....

That deserves  
A rim shot at
The very least..
Or maybe,   Even some slow,
Low,    slide  trombone, muted for style,   with a plunger.

This place is as close as you
Can get to living on an island.  
Almost completely  surrounded by sea.    
A  rocky  coast,         cliffs scrapping the sky.    
Strong riptides, with their brother, the other one,
The one and only, here he is...   the infamous, Mister  Undertow.
            
The land's well worn mountains are now hills,  
Windswept over centuries.  
The hills,  the harbors..... the Valley,
Stretching  more than three hundred  miles,
Blooming with fruits,  orchards of all kinds  
**** lands, and cattle farms and other livestock, and history.

When I was a child I couldn't stand it,
All my friends couldn't wait
To quit school and head west,
Armed with a larger wallet for
The big bucks that were to be made.

All that was found was greed and fear and stony faces.
People leaving their families back home,
They might as well have been going off to war.
They ***** the land and squeezed its oil sands,
All the while there eyes growing maniacal.

Big dollar signs is all everybody could see.
The leaders and the rich pushed and pushed
And ****** and ******, Wanting more and more.
They scraped and scraped until everything was black.
Black as black can be, black as the dark side of the moon.

Now, I look ahead,
And I look behind,
I see that I slipped through the cracks.
I encountered no war.
I wasn't faced with the prospect of
Blowing someones face off,
Or getting my self killed.
I like to tell myself that I
Would rather go to prison
Than to  have to shoot some one.
I wonder if I would have the guts.


When they come from "away"  
They call us Blue-Nosers
And think us quaint...
Better a Blue-Noser  
Than a Brown-Noser.
I  tell  myself,
Better to be free
Than to chase Money.

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.

If you're going to ride my ***
you could at lease pull my hair.
She was pushin' 55 when
the bumper sticker caught my eye,
she was at the controls of  
a disturbed yellow Datson
with Nova Scotia plates,
a combination of rust red and bright yellow
sliced down the middle with one wide strip of black,
heel to toe, and tinted windows to boot.

1970 Northern Canada, hundreds of kids
thumbin' from East to West and from West to East.
I shared the Impala with two young ladies  from Ontario,
and  the driver was friendly as hell, as well as being deaf...

The Datsons bumper sticker now a pleasant memory..
Today there are fewer travelers and many being unemployed ex-cons and dyed in the wool Hobos harboring severe alcohol and drug problems... you could say that it's no longer safe.

My travelling days are  over..
I left them 30 years in the dust.
I really have seen the last of those,
today when I go, it's not long before I want back..
I miss the ocean, and the Atlantic  is my choice.  
The Pacific smells of dank wood with all the tall furs
and the logging industry.  Give me my camp fire on the beach,
I'll wash the salt away before I jump in the sheets at the days end.
My skin being golden brown from a close enough Star.