Thursday, 20 June 2013

scandal at the rally

oodles of conservatives
saturated monologue
transparent arrogance
double dip deserve tripple pay
the imaginary garden with real toads

freeze cheese snapshot
bouffant scuba suit
egg face happenstance
red-handed riverbed today

punk rock relative
sucker punch clutch purse
whimsy imperfection
celibate, buy a bit, give a bit away.


Don't ask ... I've been reading ee cummings all day.

Sunday, 16 June 2013

The Root-word of Happiness.

This is my Father's Day confessional poem. It's pretty raw (as in unpolished) I fell into and out of rhyme and metre  through out. Whatever, the message is there in its ugly raw form. I will come back another time and beat it into reasonableness -  for now I'm taking the rest of the day to hang with my Girls.  

Happy Fathers Day (single Moms are Dad's too!!!)


I never wanted to be a father.
It just seemed cruel to bring a baby
into a fucked up world like this.
And babies never did a thing to me.

I thought penis was the root
word of all happiness (of all ha-penis).
I kept my sword sharp and sheathed.
Slaying dragons in my sleep.

I slayed Dragons 'till my sword caught fire
I tried to put it out with whiskey
but that just added fuel to my desires

Soon it was the Dragons chasing me.

Fire burned a hole into my soul
Emptiness took control.
Comatose and overdosed I fell into oblivion.

Some divine intelligence; or intelligent design.
Reached into that darkness.
and pulled me out in time.
Whoever hands out second chances, just handed me mine.

I was like a newborn child
skipping stones and summersaults.
You've never tasted chocolate
until you've lost your taste.

There was still something missing
the hole wouldn't go away.
It was tied into my broken bits
I still had to let go.

When my first daughter arrived
I let my first breath out
I'd been holding it for thirty years
of self indulgence and self doubt.

Now I have two more girls
and a wife who keeps me on my toes
It took three decades of adolescence
to see that family fills the hole.

The only thing better than fatherhood
is being a Dad
Happy is the root of all happiness
the opposite of sad.

Linked up at Poets United & Theme Thursday: Destination

Saturday, 8 June 2013

Who Created Evolution?

Growing up agnostic
(or was I atheistic)
the origins of life 
were really quite simplistic.

My tidy mind dictated 
a rational solution
scientific method 
of random evolution.

Ideas from my parents
supported by sensation
rejecting fuzzy feelings of
the magic of creation.

First my teacher told me 
I was primordial ooze.
And the preacher lectured me
about the right to choose.

I start to think that maybe
both of them are quacks
and the origin of life
fell somewhere through the cracks.

I may be a monkey's uncle
or the son of Abraham  
No crazy-wild-eyed-nut-job
can tell me who I am.


Friday, 7 June 2013

Healthy Communies

Important to note knowledge
and intention in the fall of 2009.
Teaching particular  pre-automobile
pedestrian friendly meet-up point programs.

Increasing pressure helping the urban
software development design standards
that included guides for all  results from
more evident environmental resources.

Progress to date age to create
mixed social programs negotiating
various special interests. Practiced
developing borrowed body of knowledge

Perspective prospect conducted across all
communities developed from adopted success.

(or should that be excess?)


Over at D'verse Poets Pub, Charles Miller has us working  on an exercise in the avant-garde art movement Dadaism - an anti-form movement in poetry. The task is to take words from a random print source and rearrange the words into poetic form.

This makes the sharp, tidy corners of my brain bleed.

The magazine I cut up was a back issue of "Plan Canada" - the periodical for Registered Urban Planners in Canada, of which I am Member.

I cannibalised the summaries on three or four articles, cut out one and two word pieces and then had my six-year-old-daughter pick five at a time until ... viola!!! That was fun.

Wednesday, 5 June 2013

Dusky MInd

Trapped in messy corners
My dusky musty mind
Memories of better days
Love and luck were blind

Love was a simple lullaby
Luck just came with faith
We prayed and played every day
Life fell into place.

Love turned into dusty lust
Luck struck deaf then dumb
Dreams built broken rainbows
that melted in the sun.

I saw you through the looking glass
Springtime sparkle eyes
You reached into my dusky mind
with echoes from inside

Who knows how this stanza ends
Maybe we will just be friends
Trust goes to the safest place
and true love never goes to waste.


D'Verse Pub Night

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Tuesday, 4 June 2013

Mornings with Mary

mornings with mary
reflecting and preparing
spring sunshine prayers

spring sunshine prayers
quiet meditation 
mornings with mary