All her friends call her Little Wing
But she flies rings around them all
She comes to town when the children sing
And leaves them feathers if they fall
She leaves them feathers if they fall

Little Wing, don't fly away
When the Summer turns to Fall
Don't you know some people say
The Winter is the best time of them all
Winter is the best of them all

                                        Neil Young

Better to be a live dog
than a dead lion

Better to be a rollin' log
than a lumberjack cryin'

Better to be a drunkin' fool
than a junkies spoon

Better to be a happy camper
than a hurtin' unit

Better to be a fresh pamper
than full of ****

Better to be a live dog
than a dead lion.

Better to be a rollin' log
than a lumberjack cryin'.

Better to be a drunkin' fool
than a ******'s spoon.

Better to be a happy camper
than a hurtin' unit.

Better to be a fresh pamper
than full of ****.

Better to be a live dog
than a dead lion.

Better to be a rollin' log
than a lumberjack cryin'.

Better to be a drunken fool
than a ******'s spoon.

Better to be a happy camper
than a hurtin' unit.

Better to be a fresh pamper
than full of ****.

©2000

Order up your pain,
order it in degrees,
knowing full well
that the ordering
in its self is a disease.

Free me from these
greasy chains of disgrace,
stop me from hurting,
bring me to my place.

One time or another,
everyone misses someone..

While I toss the dice,
trying to decide whether
to miss you or just get used to
not having you around.

Either way, it all seems nice,
I smash that link... there,
I'm no longer bound.
It always takes a little of something
to bring me around.

Living is free but not always easy,
I'm here to enjoy what comes.
It doesn't always sit well with me,
what makes it priceless is having friends and family.

I can't wait
'till I'm all free of you

I wring my hands
since you said we're through

I chew my nails
I don't know what to do

I'm down and out
feeling ******* blue

Travels the tree line
eats what it finds
Cousin the Dog
chows down Kibbles n Bits
or some other such ****.

The lone wolf howls
not before mealtime
This beast roams,
has numerous homes.

Howling Wolf
A lucky day, a pack
A fight, a ****
The spoils of crafty laid plans.

The moon glow catches
his front row,
At peace with his place
But not the human race.

"All Aboard,
All Aboard".
  
The Porter calls,
All aboard this train
Bound for nowhere.

Leaving the Atlantic,
Passengers  headed West,
Going as far as you can get.

The long snake rock and rolls
While you sway back and forth.

Turn to your window and see,
Look, miles upon miles of Canadian Prairie,
So flat you could watch your dog run away from home for days.


Every whistle stop you dash to the closest liquor store
The  cost of drinks making the trip  just tolerable.


Steel wheels and the clack-clack,
Those wheels whistling down the track.

At first, in the distant... mountains.. still so far away.
Then you reach the foothills and the Rockies start to reveal their awe.
A clear day it's best to ride in the Fish Bowl, a most beautiful view to behold.

On and on we go, the steel pushing forward.
On to the lush country pushing for the Pacific.

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

you are the
entire package,  
                  love,          
,a hooka bar..    ..the old ways.

  Unable eyes
     white Xmas,
Water, rough road.

                     Life is a fickle thing..
 Self portrate #1.. 
 
That 3 pm feeling
                    
                        easy vow,
                             right looked
                  
                                  left,­ right
                            left,
                         ­           was
                          right.

                         Left was      
                          right.
wasleftwasright         
                                 ­  rightwasleftwas.


end..


© 2012

Not having a sense of humor
Is nothing to laugh about

You have to push it out
Like an overdue bowel movement

Guarding your personality
Like it's something special

If you can't take a joke
It's no laughing matter

It's easier to admit your faults
Than it is to change them

If you can't laugh at yourself
Someone will do it for you

You've got to have guts
If you're  going to eat haggis

It's either I'm not funny
Or you don't have a sense of humor

I can't tell which one is the case
So you'll have to take your pick

She will smash
every wine glass.
They are broken,
but not her heart.

She will walk barefoot
from room to room
while her feet are bleeding,
but not here heart.

She will drink him up
until her body aches
and her head hurts
but not her heart.

She will smash
every wine glass.
They are all broken,
but not her heart.

She will walk barefoot
from room to room
while her feet are bleeding,
but not her heart.

She will drink him up
until her body aches
and her head hurts,
but not her heart.

She will smash
every wine glass,
they are broken
but not her heart.

She will walk barefoot
from room to room
while her feet are bleeding,
but not her heart.

She will drink him up
until her body aches
and her head hurts,
but not her heart.

She will smash
every wine glass.
They are all broken,
but not her heart.

She will walk barefoot
from room to room
while her feet are bleeding,
but not her heart.

She will drink him up
until her body aches
and her head hurts,
but not her heart.

She will smash
every wine glass.
They are broken,
but not her heart.

She will walk barefoot
from room to room
while her feet are bleeding,
but not her heart.

She will drink him up
until her body aches
and her head hurts
but not her heart.

March came in
like a tired Zebra
being run down
by a pride of Lions.

But no, not now,
she's going out like
a ***** old Mule
kicking in the stall.

As you know, mules are *****,
you couldn't have said it better yourself.

Spring comes in March,
I'd like to know who ever
thought that date up.
I've been shovelling snow
while it's ten below.

I went out and bought
a rake a ***** and a ***.
Wishful thinking on my part
the ground is still hard.

I'm going to plant flowers
And raise a high fence
so the Deer's mouth will water
but it will get no feed.

Good riddance March
and your frigid temperatures
I don't want to see your face
for another year.

Bull reeds
and culverts,
tall and golden
sweet grasses and such.

Azure,
December droplets
of glittering star shine.

A walk along
the flood plan,
wondering why
houses breach
the swamp and sky.

Why is it that
some fools
build houses here
knowing full well
you're in for a flood
every spring when the snow melts.

Bits of ceramic caster from a chair leg,
A coatrack rests on the floor.
Any minute now he'll right himself.
Paintings askew, mats run too far down the hall...

Shuffling passed snoring bodies
Stricken from one's too many, hundred's not enough
Pizza off the table, straight to the pie-hole
Looking hard, and wondering, what the ****!

Is a goodtime a good time, maybe.
Maybe a good-time's a bad time maybe.

A foot of snow
with rain to follow,
only the youthful can travel,
the youthful at heart.

The elderly are house bound.
And those who choose to be,
like lovers
on their feather bed.
And the paranoid
with too many holes in their head.

I listen
and I hear
the sound
of a radio
that is off
the station
and I don't
make a move
to fix it while
I sit here involved
neck deep in
mental *******.

I live in a room where time stands still
I have been sick of late
I have need to take yet another pill
They don't really do any thing to help
But I keep hoping that they will.

Sometimes I think that I am as dead as
I am ever going to be
That is if I still wake up tomorrow
I am bright enough to see
To whom it is I bless
And just where it is I bring sorrow
I keep wishing for good health
For that I would beg steal or borrow.

I dream the craziest of dreams
Last night I caught my mentor mixing metaphor
Watch me go 'round in circles
I've got one foot nailed to the floor
I stand in a room made of mirror
I see myself clearly
Yet I start out looking for the door.

I woke up and started drinking today
That is the only relief I get
When I go around town smelling like alcohol
I'm not exactly teacher's pet
But I will live to uncork another bottle
Oh on that one you can bet.

I'll always give you the truth you see
On that you can depend
Even if I tell you a lie over coffee
While sipping my special blend
Later I will type 'what is what' you see
But I won't proofread before I send.

I live in a room
Where time stands still,
I've been a little sickly of late
Needing to take a handful of pills
Sometimes I think that I am
As dead as I'm ever going to be
That's if I wake up tomorrow
Sometimes I know just where
I've gone wrong and caused a lot of sorrow
I dream the strangest dreams
Last night I caught my
Mentor mixing metaphor
Then I watched me go 'round in circles
One foot nailed to the floor
While I was stood in a room full of mirrors
Frantically looking for the door.

And my creativity
has left with  her backpack
she has gone camping

I can blame her
I sat here like a bump on a log.

She says she will be gone for three days
So I'm left here just scribbling lines.

When she returns we will have a lot to do
Fitting in my words to her lines.

Three days is just long enough
To drive me  bat **** crazy
Bore of some of my splintered self.

There are those
people that think
they have you pegged.

They will try and finish
your sentences for you
and even be right sometimes.

Those readers of minds
they put themselves ahead of you
always assuming all the while.

In parts of the world
where someone asks you over for dinner
It is to the cannibals, very literal.

A decree is sent out to the countryside
to look for such mind readers
for the mind readers are the cannibal's delicacy

It looks like I took
A turn for the worse
I hit a fork in the road
And came down
With some voodoo curse

These monetary blues
I do detest
They've taken away
My happy-go-lucky
And put me under house arrest

My muse she flew
Out the backdoor
And is on the run
Screaming over her shoulder
It isn't a crime to be unhappy
But it ain't any fun

It looks like I took
A turn for the worse
I hit a fork in the road
And came down with
Some kind of voodoo curse.
These monetary blues
I must confess
They've taken away my
Happy-go- lucky
And put me under house arrest.
My muse she flew
Out the back door
And is on the run.
Screaming over her shoulder
It ain't a crime to be unhappy
But it isn't any fun.

It looks like
I've taken a turn for the worse
I hit a fork in the road
And came down with some kind of voodoo curse

These monetary blues I must confess
They've taken away my happy-go-lucky
And put me under house arrest

My muse she flew out the back door
And is on the run
Screaming over her shoulder

It isn't a crime to be unhappy
But it isn't any fun

It looks like I took
A turn for the worse
I hit a fork in the road
And came down
With some kind of voodoo curse

These monetary blues
I do detest
They've taken away
My happy-go-lucky
And put me under house arrest

My muse she flew
Out the backdoor
And is on the run
Screaming over her shoulder
It's not a crime to be unhappy
But it isn't any fun

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

I used to be a
mortar forker
when I was a kid
working construction,
packing tongs of brick
and slinging cinder blocks
up three levels of scaffold
only to have the block layers
complain about how the mud
was as dry as a camels ****...
but the pay was good
and it was drank up every weekend
while the chicks admired my
tanned and buff skinny frame
but shunned my drunken advances.


© 2013

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

a skateboard flies by
clack-clack on every sidewalk crack,
same rhythm same rhyme
as that lonesome long snake
rolling down the line,
moving 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 ;looking 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 pounding out a delta groove,
head tilts back sings
you got to move, you got to move.
moving up the steel to a muddy sky.

© 2005   All Rights Reserved

I'm lonesome for the country
and I need to get out of town.
with this city if you're in for a penny
you're in for a pound.

I need to get back to my roots,
I want to fill my boots
with some hallowed country sound.

A skateboard flies by,
clack-clack on every sidewalk crack,
the same rhythm, same rhyme
as that lonesome long snake
rolling down the line.
Moving up the steel to a muddy sky,
moving up the steel to a muddy sky.

A pedal steel wails as a cop goes by,
Chev Malibou sails through a red light.
On every corner you have to look left
and you have to look right.
You can't go looking up the steel to a muddy sky.
looking up the steel to a muddy sky.

This city she has her shades of blue,
a man stands on the corner with a national.
two hands pounding out a delta groove,
his head tilts back,sings, you got to move, you got to move.

Moving up the steel to a muddy sky,
moving up the steel to a muddy sky

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

She was a west coast girl,
an artist and a beauty

She pulled up stakes
and headed east.

Didn't stop until
she could smell the Atlantic.

The vibe she emanated
was one of love and joy.

But there were other vibes in the air this Halloween night.

She took a ride to a party in the sticks,
someone from her apartment complex.

Found half-naked on the side of a dirt road,
it sounds like a horror film and I wish it was.

Things will never return to normal or her family.
Every Halloween, a sick memory, an awful chill.

Her intuition must have been clouded
by a Halloween's party drinking.

A beautiful young girl,
barely old enough to drink.

She took a ride offered
by a stranger and was ***** and murdered.

Left on the side of an old dirt road
deep in the back woods.

Only to be discovered in the November daylight
half naked from the waist down.

What kind of human being would
want to cover up such an ugly crime.

Why would he only come to get
two years under house arrest?

Why would society
even want to have him back..

He silently blends in amongst the crowd,
most never knowing not of his part.

Who is to say what he is capable of..
How is he able to sleep at night?

Perhaps he himself is a psychopathic,
The ******* ***** rat, just repulsive.

I cringe when I see him and have to hold my tongue,
I have the urge to do violence against him.


© 2014

Session man turned burglar
Started robbing every second house


He was doing alternate takes

spiritual music
is all that I have ever known
it calls me back home

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.

Sheltered promises
Fitting male into female,
And I hold out in this hotel room
Standing up for nothing.
There is a time to pay the price
And just get on the ride

The local folk, they don't smile much,
So I hunt my alone time down
Only to set it free when caught.
Get a whiff of that,
It smells like someone died in here,
Their spirit choking on crumbs of thought.

Metal bars and a chain link fence,
Chewed torn sleep when it comes.
Some only sleep,
They are free until their lids separate.
The toll being too high to cross beyond.
Unsweetened, sweaty dreams chide and natter
Becoming bitter yearnings off in the distance,
Only markings made by memories.

Sheltered promises
fitting male into female,
and I hold out in this hotel room
standing up for nothing.
There is a time to pay the price
and just get on the ride.

The local folk, they don't smile much.
So I hunt my alone time down,
only to set it free when caught.
Get a whiff of that!
It smells like someone died in here,
their spirit choking on crumbs of thought.

Metal bars and a chainlink fence,
chewed torn sleep when it comes.
Some only sleep,
maybe they are free until their lids separate.
The toll being too high for me to cross beyond.
Unsweetened, sweaty dreams chide and natter,
becoming bitter yearnings
off in the distance,
only markings made by memories.

My father,
he took me hunting
at the young age of five.

One time we went fishing
on a lake called Cold
I caught a speckled trout,
from then on I was sold.

Then from the sea in a dory
a lobster trap he stole,
I've yet to figure what that was about.

Living in Canada
lends its self to a bounty of beast.

The fowl of the sky
with a rifle I did shoot.
They were tasty and we did feast.

I learned to set a snare
to catch a rabbit
and make a stew.

I'd gut them and clean them,
I learned all of this...
and in the back
in a smoke house
hung all kinds of fish.

You don't have to
be able to understand something
to be able to use it.

But you have to understand something
to be able to use it well.

I guess that this applies to life.

My father and I, well, we were just learning to grow...
he's gone now, and I pray God rest his soul.

My wife and I
we talk about all
the good times we've had
and about what good times
tomorrow will bring
When we see others
not understanding
what a gift life is
we hang our heads and cry

What's
pain
is pain
and
what's not
is not

Turn
to find
sometimes
nothing
is all you got

If it gets you
that natural cause

It's sure to be met
with dull applause

***** what I can't do
I'll see what I can do

I don't want to die
in my living room
the stereo
blasting
the Stones song
Doom and Gloom

I saw joy today,
she was peeking out
from behind yonder's wall.

A passing fancy,
a snowball's chance in hell.

Give me
what you got
then move along.

Hush now,
don't say a word,
quit ***** footin' around,

get to the heart
of the matter,
lay it on me,
don't hold
nothing back.

Unfolding
as it should,
a divine plan
run amock...

God soldiers on
casting shame
on this ball-and-chain.

So pass the peas
and pop the corn,

kick your shoes off
and rest your mind
in the palms
of your hands.

Lean back
and gobble
the grapes
Spill the wine
along the way,
it's only
a bridge
heading
nowhere fast.

A slippery *****
sliding into
a fresh new suit,
no shackles
for bangles.

Take the free ride
with the price
of admission,
pay attention now,
that's the ticket.

Easy boy whoa,
whoa boy
easy now,
whoa boy whoa.

© 2013

Cobain checked out
He didn't want to write the hit
Smells Like Has-Been Spirit
Bleach tore my ears out
Heart Shaped Box
Became a reality
Made of pewter
Holding my guitar picks
Young said Every ******
Is Like A Setting Sun
Though no one can touch Cobain's live
In The Pines          in the pines
Leadbelly would ****** another man
In his honour.

Bring out the noise makers
and kneel at the alter.
Blow your kisses to the breeze
and let midnight fall.

Charity mesmerizes me,
comforts me and brings me around.

The people are dying
and soldiers bullets are flying.

Old Mother Earth
tells it like it is.

No terrorist threat,
just slam the coast
one time,
slam the coast two time.

Blow those noisemakers
and throw your kisses to the breeze,
kneel at the alter
and let midnight fall.

Water
under
the bridge,

rolling
and tumbling,

kissing
the river's
edge.

Trees
bend
in the breeze.

The
lonesome
moon
calls out
to the stars.

His *****
strikes
the earth,

overturning
a crawler's
night lunch.

A bottle
of ***
shared
by two

who steer
clear
of the fire's
orangey
fingers.

Fingers
to fry
the catch
under
the night's
sky.

the first thing
that I noticed
was the child's beauty.

then again
I realised how
you can't judge a book
by its binding.

my fingers
laced behind my head,
while the  back of my mind
rest in the palm of my hands.

the linking of
those boney fingers,
a sign
of my threadbare body,
barely old,   barely able.

there she was,
waving her habitual bliss
like a carrot
on the end of a stick.

while a silent psalm
surrounds a starry angel's glow.

The first thing
that I noticed
was the child's beauty.

Then again
I realized how
I can judge a book
by its binding.

My fingers
laced behind my head
while the back of my mind
rest in the palm of my hands.

The linking of
those bony fingers
a sign
of my threadbare body,
barely old, barely able.

There she was,
waving her habitual bliss
like a carrot
on the end of a stick.

While a silent psalm
surrounds a starry angel's glow.