Category: More Poems


The place where I come from

September 16th, 2017 — 11:48am

In North Ontario

the place where i come from

the grain grow high and frames the sky

the clay has been there forever

that’s where I’m gonna die.

 

The place where i come from

the roads are straight and go dusty ‘n far

mile after exact mile

you’ll know exactly where you are.

 

The place where i come from

the breakfast joints are always packed

there’s talk of the hockey games

there’s talk of weather and winter comin’ back.

 

The place where i come from

the women pull their men in close at night

hangin’ on, survivin’, hopin’

things ‘ll work out right.

 

The place where i come from

there’s fights outside the hotel every Saturday night

the women wear too much make up

and are never seen in white.

 

The place where i come from

has a muddy river running through it and train tracks too

old farmers fill the old age homes

they ain’t got nothin’ left to do.

 

The place where i come from

your piss will freeze before it hits the ground

in summer the flies block out the sun and

the land forever, will never let you down.

 

The place where i come from

black bear, moose, beaver in every lake

men sit on summer porches

cursing about the money they didn’t make.

 

The place where i come from

you can spit and grow a beard

wear big rubber boots around town

the mud falling off, from the land you just plowed.

 

The place where i come from

the winters last forever and you can hear wolves howl

there ain’t nobody to hold yur hand

there ain’t no fancy footin’ allowed.

 

The place where i come from

a man can build his own place at his own pace

paycheck by paycheck,

a man can mill his own dreams

in his own bed, in winter’s solid embrace.

 

The place where i come from

has 4H and no nine to five

nobody need ask no one what it means to be alive,

they eat their eggs broken n Jesus still saves

n the big trucks keep driving by

not a honk, not a wave.

 

 

The place where I come from

there’s crows high in the sky and big birds fly

they just fly right on by

 

The place where I come from

every guy has a pickup and the transports roar by town

the place where I come from is where

nobody is bound …..

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Ways To Eat

August 5th, 2017 — 10:53am

Some men eat everything

on their plate.

Some men come late

don’t even bother to phone.

Some men eat alone.

 

Some men eat everything

then ask for more.

Some men just ignore

tongue tied the need.

Some men for money’s sake

eat little, eat greed.

 

Some men eat greens first

the meat fast.

Some men don’t eat

meat at all.

Some men just fast

fishermen who last

and catch nothing at all.

 

Some men leave a little

on the plate.

Some men can’t wait

eat in the car three bars.

Some men metaphorically eat stars.

 

Some men take dessert.

Some men take two.

Some men just desert the table

the moment the main course is through.

 

Some men sup

from the bowl.

Some men slurp

or even burp cuz

the eatin’s the goal.

Some men sit quiet

waiting for the dinner bell’s toll.

 

Some men eat for

the taste of it.

Some men just out of habit.

Some men would never eat rabbit.

Some men don’t give a damn

about it.

 

Some men eat to soak up

the alcohol.

Some men just to be tall.

Some men eat to entertain

themselves.

Some men while waiting for wives

at the mall.

 

Some men eat to pass

the time of day.

Some men want but can’t

find another way.

Some men say prayers.

 

Some men eat their fill.

Some men test their will.

Some men smoke after their meal.

Some men eat only monkey and eel.

 

But every man eats

every man completes

himself

in a million myriad ways

food, the fulcrum of our days.

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Happiness

June 30th, 2017 — 3:38pm

Happiness

is not a general thing.

It is not a state

it moves

and is digested

like salad leaves

off the plate.

 

Happiness

is not what is.

At rest it disappears

it is the eye of interest

a going there

a doing that

a mind that remakes all

an embracing even of that

which against us might just fall.

 

Happiness

is not a thing.

A car, a child that is mine

it is what can be

what might we always find

never looking behind

it is that fear unfounded

because the eye is up ahead.

Happiness a kind of compass

memory unbled.

 

Happiness

is what is alive.

That is each moment more

in interest

in possibility

how in thought

we can walk through

every door

pushed by the question

what is this life for?

 

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You’re Never Gonna Win

June 28th, 2017 — 1:44pm

You’re never gonna win

not even if you

practice all day,

not even if you

get that nose job,

not even if you

win the lottery or

hit the triactor.

It’s just not gonna happen.

 

Entropy has us all in her

dirty hands.

There’s a loose nut in

every assembly line.

There’s a self-destruct button

blinking on and off

in everyone’s heart.

 

Best to not swim upstream.

Learn to love the toast on the floor,

jam side down

cuz

your ship always will be

going back out again

and

you’re never gonna win.

Get used to it.

There ain’t no Oz, Dorthy.

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Poetry by the numbers

June 17th, 2017 — 2:49pm

There is more plastic in our oceans

than fish.

More guns are fired each day

than kisses given.

We kill over 250,000 living organisms

each time we exhale.

 

100% of us will die.

Despite appearances

there is no tomorrow.

The day is sufficient

unto itself.

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One Way Street

May 19th, 2017 — 12:54pm

You only get one go round.

No take 3 steps back cards.

No reset button

No buy one, get one free.

No spin again.

No time machine, no encores

Not even a U turn.

 

So you got 2 choices.

  1. Enjoy the ride and hope against hell there’s cotton candy and soda dished out by bosommed blond maidens after

or

2. flash your fleshy bottom at the fair master constantly turning the crank and making things move forward, round ‘n round.

 

You choose.

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Overrated

May 19th, 2017 — 12:48pm

They’re always askin’ me

“When’s your book coming out?”

and I tell them

“Next month. I’m working on it.

Next year. You just wait ….”

 

The postman, the neighbor, my bartender

the neighbor’s kid, the barber, my alter ego.

 

I should just come clean

say what I mean – “Never.”

 

Books are overrated.

The minute you finish one

the thing is dead, rotting

and then what?

 

So the notebooks and scratchins

pile up in the back closet

and the word stays alive in me

as I, like any good poet

find better ways to lie.

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Desire

May 6th, 2017 — 10:06am

I once knew a guy

who was always hungry

even though

his fridge was full.

 

He’d order out while

all the cheese, cold cuts, milk

rotted to hell.

 

It’s like that guy

I heard about on the news

floating for days

on top his windsurfing board

Lake Baikal.

They rescued the poor sod

and evacuated him to the hospital

suffering from severe dehydration.

 

So many of us poor souls

suffer irreparably

from farsightedness.

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Giving Up

April 10th, 2016 — 10:46am

 

There is a moment in a man’s life

when he realizes deep down in his gut

his groin, his gait

he realizes

he’ll never experience much

that life has to offer.

 

TV, news, radio, magazines, books, atlases, photos

airplanes, buses, the brain, our imagination

can’t take us there or anywhere

near the sum of experience.

 

There’s a time in your life

when sadness soaks all and

awareness becomes a chore given

there’s so much you’ll never have or know

in this big candy story.

And the only recourse once you do feel

once you do know this,

the only action, the only response

is to give up

sit down in your garden, enjoy the day’s sun

’cause you ain’t going anywhere important

in this short time you’ve got.

 

Enjoy your slice and

give up the guilt of not owning

the whole damn chair of stores.

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Why I turned out the way I am

June 2nd, 2015 — 9:02pm

 

It’s for your own good

my father belted.

My mother did the same

at the dinner table with peas.

Mr. Drury in grade 7 had me

write lines of “P”s,

“It’s for your own good.” he opined.

 

Cigarettes are now $10 a pack

and casinos $1,000 plane rides away.

“It’s for your own good,” they say.

 

Seat belts, sanitariums and saints

always a safe, sane, step away.

My wife, my ever always wife

books me monthly to see a doctor

as much a dunce as a doctor can be.

All he offers are pills and pleasantries.

They both say, “It’s for your own good.”

 

Wars, weddings, sprayed green lawns

taxes, papal proclamations and government acts.

“It’s all for your own good,” they declare when asked.

 

My life nearly done and

I have yet to truly taste

what we call – free.

I followed footsteps

and danced to my own good

doing as I was told.

 

Thinking back, I now know

how I came to be who I am

this man, here and now

finally at home in the world

on edge, aware,

of what is really good for me.

 

My flusher finally broke.

 

It’s like one day you wake up

and realize there ain’t no jello tree

or the dictionary was written by a pedophile

and

you head out the door to plant or write your own.

 

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