Some more chicken scratch of the past that I never found a place for...
The heavens opened up and down came the rain
I stood there alone for hours
Hoping to wash away the stain
The midnight calm refused to set me free
A prayer never answered
When the daylight refused to let me be
At a crossroad yet with nowhere to go
I stood alone for hours
And I waited for my fate to show
I heard the whispers on the breeze
When I asked where they were going
They never did answer me
Like a prisoner left tied and bound
Struggling to escape
I remain caged in this forsaken town
I picked the lock without a key
Still surrounded by bars
There can be no escaping me
Monday 25 June 2012
Friday 22 June 2012
Making a Dream Seem Real
There are some thoughts, emotions, ideas, epiphanies, and even some poetry that we seem unable to find a proper place for. It shows on our faces. It wears on our sleeves. We can let it go to the passing wind if we are able, yet when stagnant, everything lingers...
The radioman plays your favourite song
That two in the morning epiphany
You know where it all went wrong
Never will you be a hero
Never a hope in hell
One day you let it out
Some days you never tell
Not definable is a life on the edge
The sidewalk too narrow
Yet still safer than the ledge
From day to night
From laughter to a tear
When everything is murky
Is when everything becomes clear
Stepping towards the day
A leap of faith into the night
Then choosing to let it go
Closing doors
Shutting out lights
Wednesday 20 June 2012
Downtown
From the book, Stuff That Matters, 2010
This is the original version of the poem I wrote when I was just 18. I had just moved out on my own to a slum apartment building in the downtown core. I spent many late nights down by the waterfront and was amazed at this entirely different world I had stumbled across. And even though I had never witnessed this other night life, I guess my past and upbringing had prepared me for what most wish not to think about as I was curious, scared and yet, not at all surprised. Over the years I was able to rewrite it and make it better but.....There is something important about hanging on to an 18 year old perspective of life and so I left it alone as originally written. Even though it is not very good, I am glad I left it as I first wrote it.
Downtown
I took a walk on a warm summer night
Never knowing what things I might find
I found a symphony cast in the shadows
And an underground world alive
Of constant duals and makeshift rules
Where winners claim an empty prize
And the losers relinquish nothing
Since emptiness can always be revised
Savaouring the night and safe in the crowd
Always nearby yet they seem so distant
No place to be with their life and it is free
And to society's scorn made resistant
Some are hungry and some are hunted
A few are victims of their own demise
Running away or trying to find home
Some dreams are meant to live but some die
The alarm is sounded when the heat is on
It is now time they were unseen and unheard
They scatter for a time but are never gone
That perception of reality that is blurred
Day after day and then night after night
A life lived and no chance for change
And tonight as another one joins their ranks
Will we ever figure out who is to blame
At the age of 46 I realize that the words chosen could be different, but nothing has really changed. The numbers have just mutiplied.
This is the original version of the poem I wrote when I was just 18. I had just moved out on my own to a slum apartment building in the downtown core. I spent many late nights down by the waterfront and was amazed at this entirely different world I had stumbled across. And even though I had never witnessed this other night life, I guess my past and upbringing had prepared me for what most wish not to think about as I was curious, scared and yet, not at all surprised. Over the years I was able to rewrite it and make it better but.....There is something important about hanging on to an 18 year old perspective of life and so I left it alone as originally written. Even though it is not very good, I am glad I left it as I first wrote it.
Downtown
I took a walk on a warm summer night
Never knowing what things I might find
I found a symphony cast in the shadows
And an underground world alive
Of constant duals and makeshift rules
Where winners claim an empty prize
And the losers relinquish nothing
Since emptiness can always be revised
Savaouring the night and safe in the crowd
Always nearby yet they seem so distant
No place to be with their life and it is free
And to society's scorn made resistant
Some are hungry and some are hunted
A few are victims of their own demise
Running away or trying to find home
Some dreams are meant to live but some die
The alarm is sounded when the heat is on
It is now time they were unseen and unheard
They scatter for a time but are never gone
That perception of reality that is blurred
Day after day and then night after night
A life lived and no chance for change
And tonight as another one joins their ranks
Will we ever figure out who is to blame
At the age of 46 I realize that the words chosen could be different, but nothing has really changed. The numbers have just mutiplied.
Tuesday 12 June 2012
The Big Brown Box We Leave Behind
Defining life in increments
It is better that way
Nothing is overwhelming
There is good and bad
And what avails in between
Small sips from a cup almost empty
For each new day
Hinging on a fulcrum delicate
Between the sun rising and setting
More than a life passes you by
Always knowing it took pieces of you
One day you take stock
Then that disheartening reality
When knowing it took more than that
The times passed
Yet you still reside in that place
Left lingering are moments ambiguous
The ones hurtful
What you could not resolve
Until that deciding day
Made stronger from the killing
Reborn in the survival
Every story must have an ending
We are not naive just hopeful
When happily ever after fails
Nearer to the end
It is not salvation we seek
Nor justification
Afraid no one will remember
Or even worse
That they never forget
It is better that way
Nothing is overwhelming
There is good and bad
And what avails in between
Small sips from a cup almost empty
For each new day
Hinging on a fulcrum delicate
Between the sun rising and setting
More than a life passes you by
Always knowing it took pieces of you
One day you take stock
Then that disheartening reality
When knowing it took more than that
The times passed
Yet you still reside in that place
Left lingering are moments ambiguous
The ones hurtful
What you could not resolve
Until that deciding day
Made stronger from the killing
Reborn in the survival
Every story must have an ending
We are not naive just hopeful
When happily ever after fails
Nearer to the end
It is not salvation we seek
Nor justification
Afraid no one will remember
Or even worse
That they never forget
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