#canon
What do you want to be?
Where do you wish to be?
Choose carefully
If you don’t you’ll regret
“What do you want to be?”
Everyone asks you,
It’s a canon event, unskippable,
Important, make the right choice
“Where do you wish to be?”
Life is fleeting, temporary,
Think about your choice,
If you blow it off you’ll live with regrets
“I want to be a doctor!”
“I want to go to space!”
Realistic but grueling,
Choose again
“I want to be a princess!”
“I want to be a prince!”
Too far, you’re unfortunate,
Choose again
What do you want to be?
“I want to-”
What do you want to be?
Choose carefully.
Nov 6, 2025
Nov 6, 2025 at 11:40 AM UTC
You built a castle
Where you hold literature hostage.
You call your castle
Canon.
Gatekeepers
Guard your big iron gate,
Brandishing
Weapons of exclusion.
Your accomplices,
The moguls
Who publish the words.
The critics,
Those self appointed
Judges of worthy literature
And the translators,
All are on hand
To give you helping hand
In your unholy task of exclusion.
We have gathered
On this new square,
Not to invade your castle,
Not to beg to enter your castle.
We have gathered
To build alternative canon
With no wall and no gate,
With no gatekeepers.
Alternative canon
Where none will be denied entry.
We have gathered
To build alternative canon
Where the consumers of literature
Will be the judges of worthy literature.
Sep 21, 2025
Sep 21, 2025 at 8:14 AM UTC
I am afraid of my rage
It's hard to gage
Even at this age
What will unlock the cage
Bringing the worst of me to the main stage
I am afraid
I am afraid of my depression
I've failed to get a grip on
This destructive emotion
An unmovable mountain
And the worst possible thing to become canon
I am afraid
I am afraid of my anxiety
Me against me
Me hating me personally
Confidence will atrophy
All I can do is hope no one can see
I am afraid
I am afraid of myself
I am afraid for myself
I am afraid I'm not good for my own health
I am afraid of me more than maybe anything else
©2024
Apr 25, 2024
Apr 25, 2024 at 11:56 PM UTC
Writing a poem is about locating self.
Every facet within what you’re about to create
blooms from your consciousness, your subconsciousness
your ego, your mind, your heart
But where are those elements planted?
Where are they rooted?
They are rooted within:
your ethnocentric illusions
your lived reality
your privilege, your pleasure, your pain
your abilities, your disabilities
your socioeconomic status: have and/or havenot
your fluency, your empathy, your sense of humour
your vices and your storytelling devices
Now we've got some roots, what are we going to grow?
Let’s begin by observing, using our senses
Maybe, let’s use our eyes
Consider, the reality of how we see and sense the world
Is different for each and every one of us
Everything is tempered by the lens we use
Which is informed through the roots of our synapses
Which empirically flow from the subjective ground
On which we stand
And what does this have to do with poetry?
What you describe in your poem,
Is an interpretation of what you see (and feel)
Interesting poetry comes when
there is exploring to do
It is a poet’s imperative to
Explore the edges
Out past the boundaries of the visual and audible spectrum
If we were fish poet’s
Would we write poetry about water?
I like to toy with my teenagers on occasion
So I asked my son the other day, what his worldview was?
And I have been enjoying the vacuous silence ever since
To be fair, I have been asking myself the same question for many years
And this might have been the inciting incident leading me to storytelling
As we began this journey together, it was stated that
Writing a poem is about locating self.
Can you describe your context?
Let me attempt to describe mine:
Here I am on the stage in this ocean of air
At the Owl Acoustic Lounge
On a Wednesday night in May
Popping air with rhythm, nuance, and a certain je ne ce quoi
Although this poem is not objectively true
Let me attempt to share that
this poem blooms from my developing cosmology
From the overtures of my Overself;
from the undercurrents of the Monomyth,
From my ***** and through my groans of intercession
This poem blooms from oblivion
Threading through philosophy, to worldview, and into a budding cosmology
For myself:
Worldview fell away when I found cosmology while reconnecting with the night sky
That night sky took me places while grounding me concurrently in inner spaces
Where locating self flows into meta-cognitive health,
Well ... that is something to write about
May 24, 2023
May 24, 2023 at 8:25 PM UTC
It was a sweetgrass serenade
singing up serotonin
through the cavalcades
and ramparts
that I had been using to
barricade my heart
It was a sweetgrass serenade
and when I let those sweet words slip
off my tongue
just like syncopated honey
into the three-stranded braid
of me and you and Creation
taking us into those outer places
where we can occupy other spaces
It was a sweetgrass serenade
and on our journey to the moon
is where I wonder who
is following us cause
on our way back
I could feel the exodus
of my past,
you know
the part that
no longer serves.
And in its place...
It was a sweetgrass serenade
singing up serotonin
filling up that empty pocket
with a force of positivity.
Looks like We found a lifeway
time to let it shine and
step into deep play
May 15, 2023
May 15, 2023 at 9:19 PM UTC
The clock smiled at us
as if it knew we were lost.
Unable to see the path, we continued along
on the wrong side of the ones and zeroes.
Tired of our aimless float;
fumbling along in the vacuums of our ignorance.
With all kinds of navigational aids to chart our journey
we mostly relied upon the compass tattooed over our hearts
While lost in the chasm of our indecision
our bodies and minds listed.
Our attempts to unpack the endless
parcels of our unrest ... proved futile.
So carefully, we re-learned the ABCs
and re-interpreted the Western Canon, finding
that it was only by closing our eyes
that we were able to see; were able to feel.
However, the rhythm was off
which was immaterial as
our feathers were ruffled and
the rhetoric was pluming.
With the overture of the new day dawning
we turned our back
on the algorithms of our demise
and shucked off self-imposed limitations.
You see, it was thirty seconds to midnight and
the world that never seemed to want us
needed us now.
So like anemic royalty, we took flight
breathing down rarefied air and
gulping the nuances of our resilience to swallow:
our intergenerational trauma
one more time.
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 8:09 PM UTC
I can't deny it anymore.
I am in love with you.
I didn't fall mind you.
I chose this.
I chose you.
And I can't help but feel
that I have chosen wrong.
That I have chosen too soon.
And it didn't help
that you chose me as your beta.
As your apprentice.
As your most trusted photographer.
Didn't help
that you nursed
all of my fangirl tendencies.
Didn't help that you claimed
to be my alpha,
my coach,
my captain.
Didn't help that you made me feel
like it is just the two of us in the pack.
Didn't help that you
verbalized my feelings
and told me
there is only us in the crew.
That I am your first mate.
The co-captain of a ship
That only the two of us can set sail.
The only thing is...
I am the only one shipping us.
And one day, you'll go canon
with someone else.
And believe me darling,
those canons can sink our ship.
Jun 16, 2015
Jun 16, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC