The Countdown

Everyone e'er expects,
Changes come the New Year,
As if one day could differ from the rest,
To which spirits adhere.

Not even the day, but the hour it ends,
A countdown to mark it,
So much is forgotten, just shed away,
That the last year was so fucking tragic.

Though, I suppose there's something to be said,
For communal focus,
Surely, if change will ever act'lly come,
That could be the locus,

Of rev'lution,
There, I've said it again,
Like the child who asks for treats all the time,
I'm hoping to wear down your complacence.

Lying Down

Up there in the heavens,
I don't mean where god lives,
Where the human mind has placed all its fears,
Of the unknown life gives,

Nor do I speak of the clouds or dark space,
Where we're not meant to be,
Like the labyrinth of our organs or flesh,
Or the silent refuge of the deep sea.

There's an arena that is barred to most,
Where all dreams have come true,
Born by both luck and determination,
That is hard to get to,

Because of us,
We fear it and stop those,
Who dare to make that journey against odds,
In the name of a love only god knows.

There's A Lot

There's a lot happening,
No matter who you are,
Not e'en counting all the news that you hear,
From both near and from far,

Forget the drama 'mongst fam'ly and friends,
Though your support's needed,
Just as you count on them in your hard times,
When they'd much rather tell you to beat it,

Dismiss your past fails and your future goals,
That is all just gravy,
The dreams you remember when you wake up,
You just as well may's sleep.

Without all that,
There's still a lot about,
To distract your mind and drain your spirit,
Without even both'ring venturing out.

Time Flies

New Year's fast approaching,
If that means anything,
'Cause so is Valentines and Fam'ly Day,
All very exciting,

Dates that assist you accelerate time,
'Cause anticipation,
Is as good as good ol' reminiscence,
In distracting you from concentration,

On the moment in which you are living,
Else you'd live forever,
For how could time e'er move if you stop it?
Wouldn't that be clever?

Do what you want,
It's your life, after all,
I'll be sitting with my head in the clouds,
Spending my whole life trying not to fall.

Getting It Done

When you're wishing something,
And finally it comes,
You sometimes don't know what to do with it,
Not 'cause it's not welcome,

It is because as you have been waiting,
Life has been happening,
Making you wish for some moments of peace,
'Fore you take advantage of your winnings,

For that is what life does to everyone,
E'en when you follow dreams,
It is such a winding road you must take,
You'll wonder where you've been,

You've been living,
For even though life's brief,
If you subtract all the time you must waste,
It is a wonder anyone can breath.

Rebirth

The year's almost over,
How do you feel 'bout that?
If you follow that way to measure time,
Or consider time fact,

Or think there is value in what has passed,
Lessons for the future,
Fodder for reliving joy in hard times,
Just'fication for what you've done to her.

Is the new cycle a chance to fix things,
Or to start things over,
As if what's past has no bearing no more,
And no affect on her?

Well, in the end,
You prob'ly will ne'er know,
Your choices may turn out not to matter,
Opinion all by which you had to go.

Two Worlds

The line is getting thick,
Between the world's two worlds,
One side claims to be defending the right,
And following the rules,

Th'other side says it's defending the right,
And following the rules,
Both sides have been known to repress people,
Accusing th'other of threat'ning the world,

What happens when more countries take a side,
Could be quite dramatic,
We've yet to see what new world weapons do,
When they really go at it!

That'd be something,
Same old story, again,
Ideologies can't seem to exist,
Knowing others are still in existence.

What You Do

You want to get things done,
Stuff that you love to do,
Not that you need for keeping soci`ty,
Functioning around you?

Not tasks that you are responsible for,
Or that are expected,
Nothing to do with where you were brought up,
Or loved ones to which life has connected?

Something you consider your real purpose.
Do you know what that is?
The thing you want despite everything,
That makes life serious.

I cannot help,
No one else knows but you,
Though, if you're not bothered that you don't know,
You're perfectly suited to what you do.

When

When you've a sunny day,
When all should be drabby,
When the music all around's festive,
When you ain't that happy,

When the few days before factors imposed,
When you thought they wouldn't,
Whenever it was, wherever you were,
When those around you said that you couldn't,

When the news from the world was less than grand,
When was it e'er, really?
When so much happens each and ev'ry breath,
When you've lost all feeling,

When do you change?
When the universe does?
When the sunny day drabs like a bummer,
When you've finally exhausted all loves?

Two Stories

I agree that it's sad,
I choose The Interview,
To discuss, instead of The Massacre,
The Taliban did do.

The one is about computer hackers,
Working for Kim-Jong Un,
Though North Korea's telling the U.S.
Dark Seoul Gang's not their organization.

The other's a sad story of revenge,
By ruthless Taliban,
Who killed young children 'cause they lost soldiers;
Don't see the connection?

They both remind,
You can be innocent,
Trying to live in peace and to let live,
Still, others can destroy your contentment.

Wait a Minute

Time will certainly pass,
Away from life, to'ards death,
The minute you leave's took from what you have,
Each lost's two minutes less.

But ev'ry minute can't all be precious,
You need time to reflect,
For the search for meaning's where value's found,
E'en though the point is you'll never find it.

But, don't lose yourself in that black abyss,
That is just a death, too,
Hard to scrape out of, once you've surrendered,
To its dark grasp on you.

Here's what to do:
Laugh at how you're walled in.
That will give you the teetering balance,
To appreciate the gap, not fall in.

Let the Future Stand

There is a future,
Carrying us along,
Rec'gnized by some, though oft incorrectly,
In reports, chat and song,

For the future's not something to be told,
No story's that complete,
Oh god, let me never know what is next,
For I'd resist it with tenacity!

My need for the unknown would override,
Any establishment,
Plus, the minute details knowledge contains,
Would test my temperment.

Then there is love,
The enemy of fact,
Living in gaps 'tween rotting real'ty,
Flourishing from the certainty it lacks.

World Games

Well, this cannot be good,
I'm not a fan of oil,
But these low prices are fanning a fire,
And tempers will soon boil,

Most notably in the great bear Russia,
Where interest rates spiked,
Their media toning down the import,
Though it won't take time for fears to be hiked,

People taking to the streets in anger,
The army lashing out,
A desp'rate country defying the world,
Its pride never in doubt.

Is it OPEC,
Trying to stir the pot?
Something inside me can't shake the feeling,
Some wealthy minds have concocted a plot.

Give

Remind people to give,
It's an important thing,
E'en though the ninety-nine percent are poor,
And the one, uncaring,

Even though the invention of money,
Has caused the need to give,
Well, act'lly the distribution of wealth,
Which transcends the structure in which we live,

E'en though you think the poor don't deserve it,
They don't try hard enough,
Which is per the structure in which we live,
That requires we buy stuff,

That we don't need,
Leaving less for others,
And the fear that if we don't buy those things,
The structure in which we live could suffer.

Full Circle

The good ol' U.S.A,
Has avoided shut-down,
Two-nineteen to two-oh-six was the vote,
With a small addition,

Rules put on banks 'cause of two thousand eight,
And the mortgage breakdown,
Will be eased due to Citigroup pressure,
As will already lame enforcement clowns.

It takes so much moxie for protesters,
To keep demanding rights,
While it's easy for banks to pay lawyers,
It is a losing fight.

'Less the next fight,
Is a balls out real brawl,
The majority coming out with strength,
The suits getting pommeled once and for all.

China's Gambit

There's nothing China does,
Without ultimate ends,
This is no different for any country,
They all trick their cit'zens,

To thinking one way, least that's what they try,
But China propogates,
'Cause its structure seems so diff'rent from mine,
A specimen I can investigate.

Like its new commemoration today,
Aft' seventy-sev'n years,
Of the Nanjing massacre by Japan,
A country that it fears.

It makes you think,
'Spite what Pres Xi might say,
It's a gambit to get his people prepped,
For confrontation with Japan one day.

No Reflection of Me

Anyway, one can't live,
Unless that life is being examined,
Whether painful or not,
All pimped out or damaged,

A reflection of one's dreams or nightmares,
It's really all the same,
The value of your life's your awareness,
For no one determined the way they came.

P'haps if there was a pre-birth registry,
So we could map life out,
From how we are raised to our thoughts at death,
Void of all fear and doubt,

Then poems'd be glad,
Diversions from more glad.
With no disappointments of which to write,
Poets would have no audience for sad.

Are You In or Out?

There are two worlds, you know,
One inside and one out,
The former guides what you should do outside,
While the latter holds out.

Inside, you feel anything's possible,
They're called your wildest dreams,
Things the outside spurns as impossible,
For you have e'er been given your regime.

There are some who call this cries of the weak,
They don't accept the laws,
Or the feelings of those who've embraced them,
Dismissed as a lost cause.

Then there are those,
Who can't make up their mind,
'Bout which of the worlds should take precedence,
And which is more real, the in or outside.

In Time

If I had a minute,
For every hour gone,
Spent not appreciating that time ends,
Many years before long,

I'd have six thousand hours to continue,
Doing the 'xact same thing,
Not sure if it's disease of just my mind,
Or if everyone is the same as me,

For even those who live in the  moment,
Must combine that with thought,
Forever reminding themselves that life,
Seems long, but it is not.

Well, that's a lie,
When time is infinite,
And one experiences existence,
'Long' and 'short' have no meaning inside it.

Morning

The day started like most,
First get up, then get dressed,
Complete the daily routine one e'er has,
To help control the mess,

Driving away, maybe after two miles,
The world shook back to view,
Realizing until that moment the haze,
My mind was floating, not sure what to do,

Back on earth, back on its familiar route,
There was nothing to grasp,
Happy to be blown by the winds of chance,
Loose of all chain and hasp.

It is there, still,
Is it exploring new,
Testing the strength of pretense on this earth,
Or just cloudy, awaiting the day's brew?

The Search for Justice

If you dream of justice,
What would it look like?
Balancing scales, or a sword in your hand,
Or just a sleepless night?

Would you want to remember a thing,
Or have it disappear,
Like the dreams you had as you laid in bed?
Only in dreams does justice seem so near.

If it is a scale, balancing is hard,
What two things weigh the same?
The sword rests the power in just one hand,
Feeding on fear of pain.

But then there's sleep,
Harmless to everyone,
Utopia based on unconsciousness,
Inspiration for the next rev'lution.

Good Day

There's four walls around you,
Lights from 'lectricity,
The sound of air rushing in through the vents,
A cop show on TV.

There is a time when you will have to leave,
Keep an eye on the clock,
Think of all the other ones in the world,
Occupied by exactly the same thoughts,

Moving through exactly the same routine.
Doesn't that connect you,
To the pulse of the way things work 'round here?
Give life to what you do?

It's like we're one,
We've figured out the way,
To live separately from each other,
Knowing we are all facing the same day.

While There's Time

This is not happening,
Just a throw-away poem,
No time, no inspiration, no reason,
But still, I must go on.

There is no train of thought on which to board,
Can life be that empty,
Even for the space of a few minutes,
In a hotel room, in briefs, in Cinty,

With so much moving? Still no time for thought,
Will the final chapter,
In the final breaths left to us on earth,
Be too rushed to matter?

We'll never know,
Until that chapter comes,
But if the last five minute's any clue,
I'd better make meaning while there is sun!

Riding on a Jet Plane

I'm getting on a plane,
Gonna fly through the air,
Held in metal, so I don't feel the wind,
A fact I find unfair.

There's nothing I like more, when in a car,
Than to act like a dog,
Holding my head out the window so glad,
That the air should massage off the smog,

That nothing should stall in my pers'nal space,
'Magine what a plane'd do!
I'd be in a world free of anything,
That could threaten my view,

Of the real truth,
That we are all alone,
Feeling the breeze of life's impressive speed,
Barreling us to adventures unknown.

Into It

I need to be faster,
Within the time allowed,
To do everything I need to do,
E'er I'm in my death shroud,

The things one dreams of in these free moments,
Not occupied by life,
As presented by soci'ty at birth,
Marked by anxiety, pressures and strife,

Moments that are far and so few between,
Short, even at one's birth,
And not recognized for their preciousness,
'Til life's half-lived on earth.

Not complaining!
Can be no other way,
It's not the world you're born into that counts,
It is the one that you've managed to make.

Charizard_567

Henry made a vid'o,
And it really is good,
Fashioned after his fave, Stampylonghead,
In the MineCraft play world.

I'm impressed by his nat'ral confidence,
Coupled with raw talent,
He always wanted a YouTube channel,
And I am so proud that he accomplished it,

From the beginning he had a vision,
He has much more in wait,
An instinct about what works and doesn't,
Impressive at just eight.

That is my boy!
I have little worry,
If he wants to live off his creations,
My old-age home will be paid for, surely :)

The Spectacle

I'm one who gets teary,
By varied spectacles,
Caught up in the emotional journey,
Shared by other people,

Shows with dancers in animal costumes,
Telling a tale for kids,
An ad where someone overcomes all odds,
The ceremonies for the Olympics,

News reports about peoples' protests,
The thought of injustice,
Being cheered by strangers on a long run,
Even some top ten lists.

All of these things,
Can be defined as art,
A shared experience that breaks through life,
It's pageantry that moves my heart.

Words

Choose your words carefully,
Most people just cannot,
Mind reacting to the body's instincts,
Thought not happ'ning a lot,

As if words aren't real magic at work,
Both if spoken or not,
Expressing your perception of this world,
And the f'd up pictures with which it's fraught.

But should you be truthful to what you see,
The words with which it's caught,
Will mold to the perceptions of others,
Becoming all they've sought,

To get it all,
For we have all been taught,
That the meaning of life's the holy grail,
And that this life could be your only shot.

What Is The Syrian Electronic Army?

Who are the SEA,
Who hacked the CBC,
Replacing the day's news with its logo?
An eagle, it seems to me.

They are a group of young Syrians whose,
Electronic Army,
Fight against the distorted facts spewed out,
By the press about their country's uprising.

They use the most modern of war's weapons,
Cyber propaganda,
Under the eye of the Assad regime,
Though they would deny that's their employa,

One day we'll see,
On screens across the world,
A virt'al battle of army logos.
May that replace the gore of missiles hurled.

Gomeshi Turns Himself In

So he's turned himself in,
Not guilty is his plea,
One hundred grand of bail in his pocket,
He can pay to be free,

Though he's missing the two for one bargain,
For time spent on remand,
If he's jailed for the hitting and choking,
He'll serve full time and lose the hundred grand!

He must have some confidence with Henein,
"Good as they get," I've scanned,
Defending a man by now convicted,
By public opinion.

If he's set free,
Will that prove everything?
Do the courts hold sway over the people's mind,
Like Ferguson and Michael Brown's shooting?

Happiness

What will make you happy,
They say's not outside you,
It's in your pow'r to mold your perspective,
But not what's in your view,

Or rather, what is in your view may change,
You've no control o'er that,
'Cept in so far as you can live with it,
Even make it enjoyable, in fact.

For when you try to mold the world, it's hard,
Won't do what you want to,
There's too many factors, much you don't know,
And nil to do with you.

It's state of mind,
This thing called happiness,
Of course, this is a simplification,
Just ask those being tortured and repressed.

It's Already Been Said

There's so much created,
That speaks to not just you,
But too, not to everyone in the world,
Even to quite a few.

Whatever it is offends their senses,
That's what we all must get,
You can't please all the people all the time,
Oh, wait, that is a saying, isn't it?

But if we all just acknowledged that piece,
Won't we all also give,
That the best we can hope for in this world,
Is to live and let live?

That rings a bell!
Maybe school should just teach,
Every cliché ever written first,
'Fore showing the heights each student can reach.

A Travesty of Justice

The grand jury is out,
Out to lunch, some might say,
Jamming the verdict of Darren Wilson,
And so justice's day,

Because they're aware that their decision,,
Which is let that cop go,
Who shot and killed Michael Brown, who was brown,
Will lead to mass protest from all who know,

That young, young Michael`s hands were up that night,
That he was not a threat,
Now the gov's taking this time to prepare,
For violence and riots.

That they will cause,
By the preparation,
For why would humans resort to such things,
If not faced with extreme situations?

What's Out There

There is just no value,
That I can see right now,
That one don't need dig to the depths of depths,
To be reminded how,

Whether you think we are different from beasts,
There's one diff'rence distinct,
We are not them and can't feel as they do,
Nor do we share anyway how they think.

But that is the same, even between them,
Just as it is 'tween us,
Left to mould our own world, the kinds would sure,
Be multitudinous.

For no one knows,
I mean no man or beast,
What is in the mind of anyone else,
Across land, air, outerspace or the seas.

Please Complain

It's ok to complain,
This world just is not fair,
With all the expectations given you,
From the day you're dropped there.

No one likes listening to you say it,
They all think there's no hope,
They are determinists in their own way,
Like finding time to chase your dream's a joke,

That's why with your complaints you must make sure,
To show it can be done,
That it's possible to express yourself,
Without revolution.

Then they will see,
That free will's not a trope,
That complaining's a tool of the few ones,
Pulling society's tug-of-war rope.

In This Life

She has it, yet again,
Still her smile never fades,
Though one might argue it belies her pain,
It's a brave front she's made,

Or, she truly feels as she e'er declares,
At peace with her journey,
Just as we all strive for in our own life,
Though it is a state mislaid by many,

Feared for its undeniability,
It is filed as a cliché,
But in the end, all you have is yourself.
What will you think of you your final days?

No regrets, I'm sure,
After all, you'h'd one chance,
To find, then lose yourself, in what gives joy,
A guide for all who wake up in this dance.

To Know

Authoritarian.
That's got six syllables,
First that I found in a list on the net.
Illuminationing!

It is not that I'm looking for a theme,
That's for readers to find,
Like the events of the world are random,
Until a paper is written with 'whys'.

But there is no reason things can't happen,
Serendipitously,
Like my son said, we can't trust her answers,
Talking about Siri.

'Cause she can't know,
Categorically,
That insects have feelings, for example,
She's hampered by human ability.

Call You

What's really in a name?
A rose is a rose, no?
We can dig as deep as we want, to learn,
And what we see's what we know,

I'll tell you what is really in a name,
The thing that it is for,
What it is colors the letters and words,
Enlivening them with a living soul,

The soul comes from the utterer herself,
It dies with her, also.
A thing don't exist with no eyes on it,
Nor does something unknown.

But I know you,
Your name's etched in my mind,
It will never mean anything but you,
For someone more unique I'll never find.

Writing Life

Is life like a story?
The creation of one?
Does a life well-lived have many layers,
And plot evolution?

Should one strive for a literature life?
One where no word's wasted,
Much is left for others to figure out,
Contemplating motive, like your face did,

When the content was like a waking dream,
Absurd but so normal,
Should one's choices all have the art in mind,
Asking the point of all?

Should we be books,
Using life as pages,
Constantly asking in ev'ry moment,
'What's up next?' as the storm inside rages?

What's The Point?

Well, the snow has fallen,
The world looks different,
Of course, it is never the same way twice,
From minute to minute.

Your thoughts change the way the world looks to you,
Your feelings do the same,
Just like the Earth can thwart your cries for sun,
With unceasing dreary days and hard rain,

Just like you find yourself where you thought,
You'd never go yourself,
For life comes with no guidance how to live,
Not penned by someone else.

So, what to do,
When asking what's the point?
Well, no one's lived 'til that question's been asked,
Nor has their world changed until it's been coined.

Innocence

This is what I'm thinking,
And it is not a lot,
There, I'm done, and now my eyes will wander,
Without another thought.

I contemplate the items around me,
There's not one nat'ral thing,
Even if I look out of the window,
I see artificial everything,

The guy coaxing his leashed dog in the car,
Trees planted in their place,
Bushes and flowers from other countries,
And my reflected face.

It will not change,
It's the world where we live,
Now I've got to snuggle with my daughter,
And bask in her natural innocence.

Touch

Look all around yourself,
All the colours and shapes,
The greens, the greys, the curved lines and the straight,
Your toes and other traits,

Things given by your eyes, if you can see,
Things assumed to be there,
Things that you pick up and manipulate,
Things you collect, own and for which you care,

That you surround yourself with like a cloak,
To never see the things,
That don't have walls or windows to look out,
That are just existing.

When's the last time,
You truly touched the earth?
Things not cultivated by humankind,
Without donning protective clothing first?

Unfair Expectations

Talk 'bout stereotypes,
No one thinks they are good,
They not only perpetuate fictions,
But make sometimes to shoulds,

And the sometimes should be allowed for all,
Not just a certain group,
The shoulds should never, not even sometimes,
Be imposed on anyone in this soup,

Of completely unique and free people,
Who, with no presumption,
Would not think there'd e'en sometimes be a should.
There's no motivation,

Again, we're free,
To think, 'cause I'm a dad,
That I'm the fun one, or can't wash my kids,
Think 'bout it, negates me and makes me sad.

Spilling Your Soul

What is the benefit,
Of pouring out your guts?
Of sharing with someone everything,
What you would rather not?

Is seeing your thoughts from another's eyes,
Going to change your mind?
Put them in a sphere outside of yourself,
And see yourself within all humankind.

Or maybe you want to infiltrate it,
Spread your thoughts, so one day,
There's no question why you do what you do,
So you e'er have your way.

Or you afraid,
That you do not exist,
In the mental world you're supposed to be,
And need mental corrective assistance?

Opportunity

Opportunity knocks,
Or, so that's what they say,
It doesn't really matter where you are,
It just tap taps, one day,

You need to be aware of everything,
Hear every sound around,
Because the knocking could happen on wood,
But it could come as a much diff'rent sound.

You could be in a line at a coffee shop,
It could be an ahem,
From a person who, if you got to know,
Could lead you to heaven.

Was that your break?
Fate's not going to tell,
And you can't hear absolutely all things,
Oh, and some knocks can actu'lly lead to hell.

Work

I've fin'lly figured out,
What it is about work,
For I have always felt it is absurd,
No, I've felt it's berserk.

That one spends the majority of life,
Doing something random,
Just to make enough money to live life,
Not that I am afraid of exertion,

It is just that the world that we have built,
Is so complicated,
The 'work' we do's not linked with survival,
No fish need be bated,

No choice exists,
There really are no words,
To ponder what to do with the free time,
Earned once our food and shelter is secured.

I Don't Know

What can you do yourself,
That only you can do,
That's never been done in the world's his'ry,
Except by only you?

And it's enough that only you know it,
For it will be forgot,
No matter how many times it's passed down,
For Time will end and it's all that you've got.

But in your mind you can live forever,
Even space is nothing,
Imagine the power of your knowledge,
Of your unique doings.

For nothing else,
Can be known in this place,
Except what you personally belief,
If you don't know, it's in front of your face.

Rebirths

What does keep this going?
It's all been said by now.
Even so, as it is with existence,
It simply does, somehow.

Like some songs of the past could be hits today,
Because they say it all,
Or words of wisdom have not seemed to change,
For both time and space are universal,

Yet, we're here today to say it again,
To new ears, in new words,
Because life simply refuses to stop,
'Spite what we do to Earth.

Still, no one's learned,
We make our own mistakes,
Because happiness never tastes so sweet,
As when happiness itself is at stake.

What's Good

There are two kinds of good,
For everyone on Earth,
There is what you do that you believe good,
Of the two, that's the first,

For nothing could goad you to something,
That you didn't want to,
That would result in something really good,
For true good comes from desire within you.

Then there is the good that all recognize,
Or, at least, enough folks,
That what you've done touched a universal,
That sends tidings of hope.

For that's the point,
Of any creation,
First for the maker, that she may rejoice,
Then, universal unification.

The Fall

If you kept on falling,
Only your thoughts with you,
Too dark to see the walls of the pit you're'n,
While your life's undone, too,

Puzzles you've now figured out, now too late,
But if before the fall,
You would have saved those that you love the most,
Is not that the most greatest hell of all?

So, so many things you would figure out,
Endless meditation,
Yourself, others, the world and, yes, your faith,
All of no importance.

Maybe that's life,
Futile to figure out,
Until you're so removed by space and time,
You can't go back to erase other's doubts.

Empathy

Sometimes it is just hard,
No one's denying that,
Ying yang, up down, good evil, they're all there,
I have got that down pat,

It's not a stressful thing, might be for some,
I really wouldn't know,
The thoughts and feelings of others are blocked,
From my body's experiential scope,

Though I've been told by others what they feel,
Like color, I must trust,
That what they name things mean the same for me,
I mean, god, they just must.

But what about,
That which I can't relate,
To things within my own experience?
Like chimeras I can just contemplate.

When You're Old

There is not much to say,
Sometimes one's mind is blank,
As if nothing existed in the world,
Like it was a clean slate,

But then your eyes open to what there is,
Which is e'er quite a bit,
You mayn't be able to relive the past,
But you can also never escape it,

Nor the present, that just carries on, too,
As if you were nothing,
And if you don't try to keep up with it,
You will find you soon become just that thing,

So, keep it up,
That is what I've been told,
No matter what others say about your goals,
You want to know you chased them when you're old.

Where You Are

I honestly don't get,
The responsibil'ty,
People take upon themselves for others,
In this reality,

Am I alone in having been sprung on,
A world already made,
With expectations random in light of,
The infinite choices through which we wade?

It is not that a path must be traversed,
One still lives on the earth,
Love must exist and bonds formed, for that's life,
Or there would be no worth.

But where's freedom,
When others task themselves,
With the burden of the places you go,
Or does delusion guide the depths I delve?

When Scientists Speak

It couldn't be clearer,
The call from the U.N.,
By twenty-one hundred, all fossil fuels,
Sans CCS must end.

What are the reasons for not listening?
Really there is just one,
There're people and nations with things to lose,
That makes the world's being irrelevant.

Things like money, of course, that's a given,
But there are other things,
Holding on to pow'r, wait, that's money, too,
Wait, money's everything.

'Cause think 'bout it,
What sci'ntists have to lose,
By being so unified and ad'mant,
About such an inconvenient truth?

As The World Turns

Sometimes it's very hard,
To concentrate 'round here,
One cute and vibrant daughter begging me,
If cheesy time is near,

A super sharp Clash of Clans obsessed boy,
Asks when candy time is,
Oh, the day after Halloween brings us,
Constant candy begging and moans anguish.

The questions do not stop as I sit here,
This is not complaining,
For the task at hand is still getting done,
Despite what I'm saying,

I'll never stop,
No matter where I am,
Each time I complete a Wath I have learned,
What it takes to create amidst mayhem.

All Hallows' Eve

This eve is Halloween,
A Celtic holiday,
A night meant for facing the pow'r of Death,
By the merry and gay,

Meant to mark the switch from light to darkness,
From summer to winter,
A night when the dead would return to earth,
And the living would set for them dinner.

They would go house to house in costume, too,
Receiving food, in kind,
Like today, with our children dressed as well,
Tricks, if no treats they find.

Like any feast,
It's also meant for thought,
Reflection that our own lives will end, too,
And think what you'd do, if back you were brought.

Right Out of the Machinery

Solsbury Hill, the song,
Is not about logic,
It is a true story about a man,
Who was feeling homesick,

Atop that hill in commune with himself,
He may ne'er have been home,
But he knew the feeling for which he sought,
And knew that to that point, he'd only roamed,

He began that long trek, led by his heart,
Friends yelling to him, "stop",
For they couldn't see the future he saw,
Out of the machine's cogs.

That's just a song,
Though the story is true,
The world would surely explode, should the world,
The same as this man did, choose this route, too.

The Directive

Everyone always says,
Time on this earth is short,
Live each moment as if it was your last,
Or something of this sort.

But we all live together on this earth,
And our community affords freedom,
We can't live for ourselves,
We must live for the organization,

We must take care of each other, or else,
We will muck up the cogs,
And what will become of our freedom then?
It will go to the dogs.

So what's the cure?
Maybe we all stand strong,
Do our part to help maintain the system,
That affords us the time for which we long.

And The Winner Is

The people have spoken,
(No one I act'lly know),
But now John Tory is the new mayor,
Of central Toronto,

East and west, too, along the waterfront,
'Cept Chow's piece of High Park,
Proving white privilege doesn't exist,
Just confidence that rail tracks can be smart.

So, what of this exec'tive come mayor,
Who says business will,
Help fix this city, because they love it?
(Oh, and cash in their tills).

It's what it is,
Some say better than Ford,
Though, at least with him we knew what we'd get,
Let's wait a few months, then check on the poor.

Q

There have long been rumors,
Of gen'ral creepiness,
Though, more often than not, facts are mangled,
So you assume the best,

And one can do what she wants in her bed,
Or anywhere private,
Life's too short to deny experience.
Or there's no point to actu'lly live it,

But there's this notion of 'consensual',
That one should never be,
Imposed upon with acts he does not want,
That we should all be free.

This ain't to say,
I'm making any claim,
There's also the freedom to litigate,
A priv'ledge when you have money and fame.

Saw Knausgaard

Last night I saw a talk,
With Karl Ove Knausgaard,
A writer who's taken the world by storm,
By pushing writing far.

Somehow he managed to write a memoir,
'Bout normal goings-on,
In such a way that it's literature,
At just thirty-five hundred pages long!

He's Norwegian and he is very tall,
With a rock and roll feel,
Interviewed by Canuck Sheila Heti,
At the former Premier,

So, what's to say?
Did I learn something new?
I laughed and 'hmm'd' and he did make me think,
And was inspired to embrace my life, too.

When You're Born

There's two ways to see it,
Then multi-shades of each,
Then nuances of each one of those, too,
Then the truth you'll not reach.

One is based on what you feel inside you,
One thing you cannot prove,
One is grounded in the facts of the world,
One slant for ev'ryone you show them to.

Amidst all this is the shade we all live,
Amidst much global strife,
Amidst laws and expectations on you,
Amidst all this is life,

For you are you,
For better or for worse,
For you were never told what you were made,
For, when you found yourself upon this earth.

Good Bye

It is funny to think,
How someone that you've known,
Since you first laid your eyes upon this earth,
With whom you shared a home,

Who you showed with excitement how you learned,
To count aloud by fives,
And considered the one closest to you,
That you now exist in different lives,

So removed that when your life is tested,
She cannot contemplate,
The circumstances through those very eyes,
Which have not act'lly changed,

And that you then,
With this understanding,
Are willing to wrap up that history,
As mem'ries of one no longer living.

Silence!

There is not much to say,
So we'll leave it at that,
To say anymore would complicate things,
So, let's keep our mouths shut,

Don't talk of anything, not even that!
Isn't everything clear?
Any vocalization you intend,
Let's just agree not express it right here.

Okay, so now things seem pretty good, right?
Just bask in the silence,
Let your thoughts be whatever they would like,
Just like your existence.

There is the key,
In the absence of words,
Whatever you see's whatever you want,
You see how speech just complicates the world?

The Choices You Make

Who should you listen to,
To yourself, god or life?
Some would say that they are one and the same,
That they shine diff'rent light,

Which makes sense because you are all you know,
And god knows everything,
While life is all that could poss'bly be known,
Therefore, none could exist exclusively.

So, I guess the goal is for unity,
From this triad's message,
'Less you deny the influence of two,
Which shoves you to the edge,

Of a mix of,
Solipsism, that's one,
Extremism, or just towing the line,
All of which are not good propositions.

Finally, Some Progress

Well, Hong Kong's now talking,
To the student leaders,
Though they have no intention of changing,
What it is they need t',

Which is allowing anybody to,
Run for public office,
For it would be irresponsible to,
Just let anyone run, for there's a risk,

That the candidate has not the skills,
That public office needs,
That's why China has a large committee,
That then respons'bly feeds,

The people those,
Who can best lead them all,
Who know what is best for state and the poor,
Someone who the students don't resemble.

Culture's Knowledge

Life is such a big thing,
That goes by very fast,
Mostly spent trying to figure it out,
Then reliving the past,

So culture tries to provide some guidance,
In ritual and lore,
So you don't have to repeat those mistakes,
Committed by humans that lived before,

But hard-learned lessons don't always apply,
With each new gen'ration,
So the value of mores must be reviewed,
Every so often.

But then, by who?
We're all new to this life.
We can only overturn tradition,
And let our kids figure what we did right.

21k

It is about two hours,
'Fore my long distance run,
With twenty-six thousand other people,
Getting up 'fore the sun,

All with their own different rituals,
And reasons for running.
Everyone of us could just run alone,
But need the event for something, funny.

I will be free of partners and music,
Alone among thousands,
Using them to maintain my momentum,
Keeping up, if I can.

And if I can't?
If my body just stops?
Despite the entreaties inside my head?
Now that's the real reason we all got up!

Hong Kong's Dilemma

Who'd've thought umbrellas,
Could overwhelm police?
Nine thousand protesters of China's ways,
Taking back Hong Kong streets!

China's agreed to have talks on T.V.,
Aired live for all to see,
With student leaders, 'bout the unfairness,
Of elections, two thousand, seventeen.

'It's not democracy,' the students say,
When candidates are seen,
As picked by a single-party gov'nment,
North of this 'free' country.

But China's set,
And will not change its mind,
It doesn't care about what the world thinks,
It thinks only of its Chinese inside.

Seeing Ahead

What is the real value,
Of something you can do?
It changes with the position you're in,
And your consciousness, too.

You might be too young to recognize that,
The way you see the world,
Makes you ideal for a specific task,
Better at it than anyone else could.

Then, it should be something you like doing,
For you only live once,
Of course, if you're able to attain both,
You are one lucky dunce,

For think?  No need,
You only need to when,
You are not doing what it is you should,
That is what makes us distinctly human.

Gotta Go!

Sometimes there is nothing,
You feel fully at peace,
As the world around you continues on,
Bringing you to your knees,

It won't let you stay in that euphor'a,
Why should you be happy,
When so many others have succumbed to,
The pressures and expectations on we?

You need to escape to a high mountain,
Far from everyone else,
Free because of society's largess,
And f'd up mental health.

Then you come back,
Resigned you're not allowed,
To be fully free no matter what's said,
Because you've had to commit to your vows.

How To Choose

My mom always told me,
To make a decision,
Imagine making one of the choices,
Then the other option,

Like, really imagine taking both sides,
See how your really feel,
Like you've jumped forward in time and can't change,
As if you've ordered and ate your last meal.

Now you have to be honest with yourself,
Which decision was right?
It's all about your body telling you,
And all of this despite,

What's the impact,
On others around you,
For if they did the same with the same choice,
Nature should choose the same decision, too.

The Golden Rule

There's got to be a line,
Acknowledging freedom,
That defines when there's something you can't do,
Viz., molesting persons.

It seems clear-cut, and not problematic,
Just do not hurt others,
The way you would not want to be hurt, too,
Masochists applying, need not bother.

Yet women are slain for being witches,
Children dying of thirst,
For some believe their way of life hurtful,
And their existence cursed.

Hard to argue,
When 'hurt' is subjective,
And power over others limited,
Such is the pain of the world where we live.

Growing Up vs Growing Old

Your body will grow old,
There's nothing to stop this,
All physical things slowly disappear,
'less there's something I missed.

Yet, dig down deep enough and we assume,
There's something eternal,
Like atoms, quarks, leptons and bosons, too,
Plus other smaller bits to explain all,

We have this need to prove something not seen,
Unchanging and complete,
So we can posit timelessness in us,
So Nature can be beat,

It's called the soul,
The thing that keeps you young,
By choosing where in time your mind will stay,
Despite how many breaths left in your lungs.

Happy Thanksgiving

What am I thankful for?
Well, first let's ascertain,
What we have a right to as Earth's creatures,
Then we'll see what remains,

No one survives without food and water,
And shelter from the sky,
Seems odd we'd have to be thankful for those,
We wouldn't live together, otherwise,

Of course, there are those who fall through the cracks,
And starve despite the fact,
There's enough money and resources, too,
To keep all men in tact,

I guess it's this:
Thank god I'm a white guy,
Despite what John Tory seems to believe,
That small fact puts me in front of the line.

Morning Rush

The bus picks up people,
Part of the rush to work,
It will slow down once business has started,
A fact you musn't shirk.

Left are those who aren't on business time,
They're either rich or poor,
Free to think on what their lives could have been,
And what everyone else's work is for.

They are all listening to the music,
Made for their lot in life,
If such arts were not there to console us,
Can you 'magine the strife?!

The time to think,
Left to our own silence?
Maybe this structure we have ain't so bad,
It excites the lambs and soothes the lions.

The Vote

Here's why Democracy,
Is really just a scam,
When Capitalism exists with it:
It's all about the man!

Let us take Hong Kong for an example,
They want the right to vote,
For any can'date that wishes to run,
But China is denying them that hope,

So they took the streets 'cause they know what's what,
That's not Democracy,
Here, we are told that anyone can run,
But who d'we actu'lly see?

Those who'd never,
Get where they are today,
Without first becoming what Gov'ment says,
'cause Capitalism's stuck in its ways.

Which Is The Way?

Will someone ever give,
The quintessential word,
On why we are here and what we should be,
Moving ourselves toward?

Is it our own instincts we should follow?
Does our body just know,
Like the bluebird doesn't need to be told,
That she must create her nest all alone?

Perhaps it is for others we must live,
Forever balancing,
How what we do impacts on he or she,
Like that contact dancing.

Or p'haps just think,
Fifteen years down the road.
Is where you are at where you want to be,
Or should you change your tack before you're old?

Mores

The mores you were born with,
Where d'think they came from?
At some point at some time in history,
They were a creation,

Maybe not yesterday or the day 'fore,
They could be quite olden,
Devised by an ancient human being,
With diametrically opposed thinkin',

But that's just the way things are in the world,
No need to modify.
How would it make everybody else feel,
If you did what you like?

It would hurt them,
For they might just see, too,
That you can live an entire lifetime,
Doing only what you're expected to.

Life Changes?

Things are always changing,
The nature of Nature,
So why do we fight so hard against it,
When it is all that's sure?

We all acknowledge that life is fragile,
No one's time's guaranteed,
Yet we all plan years and years in advance,
Accumulating things that we don't need,

And that's the way we've set up soci'ty,
I guess the question's begged,
If we're so obsessed about living on,
Is that what Nature meant,

That that's our mind,
For whatever reason,
Amidst the proof of instability,
We're meant to trust in perpetuation?

As My Feet Hurt

I just ran eighteen kay,
I don't really know why,
It's not like I get the same benefits,
As those with runner's high.

Truth be told, I don't actu'lly like it,
Just something I can do,
And makes me glad I can do it at all,
'Cause in two year's I will be forty-two.

Gave myself a goal that before forty,
I'll run half-marathon,
Now I'm committed, though I'd rather be,
Practicing writing Waths.

But there you go,
Might be in the end that,
The experience of these morning runs,
Will be fodder for what I've yet to write.

Back Again

I think I've forgotten,
It's been so very long,
Since I've put this aside to write a book,
The rules behind this song.

There was a time when I thought that I would,
Not stop until I died,
Which might be true, but I still had the break,
Until Buster's story was rectified,

Now it is done and I return to this,
So many months it's been,
I wonder if my experiences since,
Will give it all new meaning,

Whatever way,
This takes me, I don't know,
I'm back again to write most ev'ry day,
The Wen'sday at Twent'two Hundred Hours Show.

Making It Big

What's it going to take?
All this wealth unfairness,
Obvious to everyone in the world,
While the poor still get less.

Is the unifying message still short,
That people have power,
That if we all stand up and say, "it's wrong",
Those with all the money may just cower?

Or is the power actually not there?
The oligarchy's set?
The faces of those in power could change,
But the structure's still kept?

Hence the big dream,
That anyone can win,
It's hard to muster up revolution,
Long as there's the chance of making it big.

Taking a Break

There is not so much time,
T'do what I've wont to do,
For sometimes you decide to sacrifice,
Things old for something new,

That offer new and exciting chances,
T'do what you've always thought,
Is what you wanted and were meant to do,
Yet for which you ne'er fought,

But though you only live once in this world,
It's still never too late,
To do something to transform who you are.
Time's judged by how you wait.

So off you go,
Carpe diem's what's said,
As long as you have a day you can seize,
You have a different life that can be led.

Climate Change

The world is now saying,
Climate change is a fact,
Midst the ever-croning argumenters,
That it's all a throw-back,

To days on this earth when climate changes,
Were natural events,
Which begs the question, no matter the cause,
How will we struggle with this as humans?

The IPCC's intergov'mental,
Meaning it is neutral,
So if science is the measure we trust,
Let us face the future,

Do what we can,
Or just let it happen,
Either way we're the same we've always been,
With no knowledge of the wisest, best plan.

To Write

The secret to stories,
Is one draft's not enough,
Like confused explorations by flashlight,
Over land iced and rough,

Exciting, yes, but lessons come by chance,
Random in the topic,
Though aft' forging paths again and again,
You choose what's seen 'mongst the terrain scenic,

Then you return with the flashlight in hand,
With others who don't know,
Though your feet lead you as if it's all one,
'tsfirst draft for those in tow,

Then you see more,
Small pics in bigger ones,
Things you know well they will never come 'cross,
Though they will all inform your narrations.

The Five Dollar Revolution

What would really happen,
If all digital cash,
Was to suddenly just cease existing,
In a global, rev'lutionary crash,

Orchestrated by the world's 'ex' hackers,
Now working for the man:
The gov, corps and military bases,
Hired to control the rest of us humans,

Tired as many are of inequal'ty?
Been a while, hasn't it,
Since the people've risen up for themselves,
Against the government?

Not possible?
Just look at history.
Heck, just look at what people say today,
About how unreal it is to live free.

The Truth Of Bad

Okay, I've sat enough,
Wondering what to say,
When all one has is expression on earth,
Silence is like decay,

First, why aren't drive-throughs conveyor belts,
So cars can be turned off?
If poverty hurts so many people,
Why the hell isn't it against the law?

We all know, rich and poor, what's the right thing,
To wit, the Golden Rule,
The maxim for religions globally,
A staple of all schools.

Yet, here we are,
Our system supports sins,
Some say it's a fact of human nature,
Without evil there is no intention.

The Options

There's something to be said,
As Jean Baudrillard did,
For noting the society we're in,
Is completely a fib,

The social is a refraction of signs,
Draped on a silent mass,
With the power to destroy all we know,
The moment our craze for labels is past,

For it's a good reminder that the world,
Need not be what it is,
Or rather, it's a nat'ral product of,
Our unique humanness,

It also means,
Even if we change things,
The mass is e'er there to destroy that, too,
For how things are's actually void meaning.

The New Working Class

What did the I.T. world,
Learn from Industry?
Don't let your workers work in the same room,
Then go out and party,

Make sure they're kept apart in six foot cubes,
Their hours unusual,
They should work hard, yes, but the key t'all,
Is that their products ain't compatible.

When they leave they should go straight to their homes,
Occupying themselves,
With solitary amusement like games,
About wizards and elves,

Then progress wins!
Everybody's happy,
The suppliers demanding their own shit,
No one asking who's making the money.

Next Project

I plan to write a book,
You can call it self-help,
I took a chance and Googled the topic,
To see if it's been dealt,

Which is risky because I really think,
Search queries are observed,
That really good questions are then stolen,
Developed 'fore the asker can be heard,

But though I found some topics similar,
They're different than my own,
Nothing near as long as my book will be,
Now I can chew this bone!

It will be good,
For my own life as well,
For nothing will speak to other people,
That doesn't first speak also to yourself.

Grow Up, Not Old

I've a presentation,
Yes, many people do,
They present it everyday of their lives,
As I am sure do you,

Though I am speaking of something formal,
Somewhere in a classroom,
Midst the expectation that what one sees,
Will leave some uneducated limb hewn,

Not all of that responsibility,
Is the person's up front,
You must be ready to cut off that limb,
And allow effluence,

Of baby's blood,
That is what keeps you young,
But if you want to know all the world does,
Best not stay in that condition too long!

No Time

I do not have the time!
Please, don't even read this,
Anything of value herein's not meant,
It is an accident,

Like penicillin and what good was that,
If you look at it now?
Gave us a false sense of secur'ty,
And now we're actually worse off anyhow,

They say we're going back to days of yore,
When we'd no idea,
How to stop the diseases we all feared,
You're kind of scared, ain't ya?

Just goes to show,
Gotta always be prepped,
E'en when comfort tells you you can relax,
Quick destruction could e'er be your next step.

The Missing Plane

I better write something,
'Fore the mystery's nae,
'BoutMalaysia Airlines flight three-sev'nty,
Missing twelve days today.

Did Captain Shah practice the theft at home,
Then delete the info,
Fly up high to knock out the passengers,
Then to avoid radar go really low?

It's been said the pilot could've been smart,
And a hero at that!
Trying to find a runway midst a fire,
Though't's contrary to fact.

If it's e'er found,
Whether hi-jack or crash,
The real story here's our ability's,
Short of what our hubris 'til now's confessed.

Cock Makes Headlines

Did you see that penis?!
They showed it on the news,
Guess that's what you get when the internet,
Is live on your live view.

They were talking about a 'copter crash,
Scrolling through Twitter pics,
Of the four one was Edward Scissor Hands,
One the crash, a meal and, oh yes, the dick.

The only other thing contributed,
To this "news coverage",
Were the four couched hosts hired for this show,
And their wide-eyed visage.

So go ahead,
Consume your news this way,
Biased views viewed through biased perspectives,
It's prep for everyone you see each day.

Almost There, Guantanamo!

'Member Guantanamo?
Been almost closed for years?
One of the hundred fifty-five pris'ners,
Remaining has been cleared!

The U.S. held Belbacha for twelve years,
That's Denmark's life sentence,
But here there was actually no charge,
Though he did, twice, run into bin Laden.

Now he goes back to his home Algeria,
So there's no need to fear,
That he won't be treated in a fair way,
Like the protesters there,

I don't know him,
But seems he's not got much,
E'en Al-Qaeda may want a piece of him,
I bet he wishes he could just go Dutch! *

* I am aware that the Dutch are actually from the Netherlands not Denmark, but I couldn't pass on the rhyme.

The Missing MH370

Yes you can steal a plane,
Even one that can hold,
Two hundred and thirty-nine passengers,
In this here modern world,

First I bet you have to plan a lot,
I'm not technic'lly strong,
Y'have to know how to cut the radios,
And how not to pilot the plane, er, wrong,

You would know everyone'll look for it,
Once they realize it's gone,
And need someplace to land where you have friends,
With LOTS of connections.

And what a trip!
Once you have pulled it off,
Reading 'bout the disbelief of the earth,
Still, I wonder why they did it at all!

Reading Reimagined

Reading Reimagined,
Even though it's trademarked,
Is exactly how I feel about Spritz,
Don't e'en know where to start!

A true innovation is inspiring,
I dare say I did think,
That humans had reached the limit of thought,
'Less you consider these Waths which I ink :)

Now I can read words faster in a blink,
Which is really big news,
And books can be read on really small screens,
That's too good to be true!

So I declare,
My life has now been changed,
As will the world's once thoughts prompted by words,
Can be absorbed in less time by the brain.

The Magic Pants

I've a story to tell,
The facts are all made up,
But the questions it raises about life,
Will leave you asking 'what?',

Like, 'what could have inspired such a farce?',
And then the scene is set,
For then you search for the life-line back home,
And though you grab it, you don't know it yet,

You must first find yourself among the minds,
Taking you through the facts,
Understanding things from their perspective,
Expressed through words and acts,

Then, there you are!
Having bought into it,
Realizing that anything can be true,
Because everything you know is a gift.

Believe In Others

D'you want to know someone?
Someone once told me how.
It sounds like a simple thing, but it's hard,
I'm going to tell now:

You have to listen to what people say,
Take the words into you,
Imagine yourself saying the same things,
And figure out exactly why you do.

Don't fear that this will compromise your view,
Of how real'ty works,
Like if you believe this world is a dream,
Continue with that quirk.

It's about life,
Attaining higher finds,
E'en if life's a dream you're not very bright,
If your thoughts're the sole products of your mind.

The Little Green Men

Who're the 'little green men"?
Don't think it's hard to guess,
All their clothes and armor are like Russians,
Just without Russian crests,

If Russian news chooses not to show them,
But instead, volunteers,
With hardly any organization,
I think that supports all the western fears,

The fear Ukraine press is quick to publish,
Russia has invaded,
A plan they were probably ready with,
Before they were hated,

'Aft the EU
Was shunned by the last gov,
And the people stood up and said, 'no more!'
And as a people, 'enough is enough!

Frustrated

In the fucking airport,
I'm early for my flight,
But when I got here I was asked to wait,
Now boarding will be tight,

Because this new airport cannot handle,
The volume of people,
So they've created this 'lounge' pre customs,
With no shoe shiners or consumables.

I could have stayed at home and had breakfast,
Lounged in my underwear,
Now I'm waiting with hundreds of others,
Not getting anywhere.

A bad morning,
Not how I imagined,
I don't even feel like writing at all,
Nothing worse could have ever have happened!

To Be Eaten By Dogs

Whoa!  I didn't realize,
That Kim Jong-un had fed,
His uncle Chang Song-thaek to hungry dogs.
Talk about seeing red.

T'was done while hundreds of officials watched,
An example for all,
Of what will happen to those who betray,
The goals and whims of North Korean law.

Amid this background 'elections' go on,
Proof of its unity,
With one candidate for every office,
'Yes' or 'No' you can plea,

Lo and behold,
The last time there were votes,
Everyone said 'yes!' in that happy land,
Helps knowing what might happen if you don't.

A Better World

Blue Jasmine is better,
Than The Wolf of Wall Street,
The one has interesting characters,
The other, no one's deep,

The one lets you into the people's minds,
So you feel you are them,
The other's like watching masturbation,
Over solipsism,

The one looks at mass changes in one's life,
And how she handles it,
The other's main player learns naught at all,
And makes money from it.

In other words,
The one's a waste of time,
And if you can't figure out which is which,
You're part of why all in the world's not fine.

Pistorius Trial Has Begun

What 'bout this Phil Spector?!
Wait, meant Pistorius,
Convicted of shooting girlfriend Steenkamp,
It's looking serious.

He says he thought she was an intruder,
C'm'on, he's got no legs! and,
He's also a track and field superstar,
Both facts should give him the upper, uhm, hand,

 But it appears he's also a gun freak,
Trigger-happy, at that,
Friends telling of him shooting in anger,
That's quite a damning fact.

Then the murder,
On last Valentine's Day,
You think an intruder's in the bathroom?
Best not check first before shooting away.

Hot War

Here's why it's int'resting,
This Ukraine dilemma,
Other than the clear disproportionate,
Power per capita.

Ever since the iron curtain was drawn,
(Remember that success?),
The Russian bear has been sleeping once more,
Now woke by the sun setting in the west.

Anywhere light has touched where once was blocked,
It's swiped it back, huzza!
Syria, Korea, now Crimea,
Don't e'en mention China.

There are more still,
Lines are being redrawn,
Once again the world's being split in two,
Neither's an animal without its flaws.

Reality Check

I got feet on my legs,
They're kicking at my thighs,
With questions coming from all directions,
'Can', 'when' and sometimes 'why',

Talking is happening most everywhere,
A screen's in front of me,
Every second's filled will some distraction,
Unique to this modern society.

No birds are chirping, least what I can hear,
Where's the silence one needs,
To commune with the hole deep in one's heart,
Skepticism's young seed,

Not of all things,
That doubt's an easy find,
That sort that reminds you, 'spite all this noise,
True real'ty's, in fact, a diff'rent kind!

Russia's Ukrainian Motives

So, Russia's said, 'enough'!,
Despite world cries to cease,
And's entered the port of Crimea with,
Two war ships from the sea,

Military forces are on the ground,
Surrounding Ukraine's base,
The head of the Ukrainian Navy,
Has argued to his fleets the Russian case,

But they've stood strong singing Ukrain'an songs,
And the base resists, too,
The rouble's plummeting 'midst Russian acts,
Hark'ning to world war two,

A phony war,
Nary a bullet shot,
M'thinks this is just to show Russians at home,
If you think Russia is weak, well it's not.

Rob Ford on the Red Carpet

Just 'cause I got nothing,
Happ'ning in my brain now,
I'll dwell on Mayor Ford at the Oscars,
Just to avoid a row,

His impact on this city's close to nil,
I think that's safe to say,
Since he's said for I think the thousandth time,
I don't do drugs on this specific day,

Not that anyone would actually care,
If it didn't sway work,
But it does, no matter what he might say,
He seems to act the jerk.

So go ahead,
Be Jim Kimmel's sideshow,
Nothing you do'll hurt your reputation,
Or people's opinion of Toronto.

Let's Please Lay Off the Gays

What's with this whole gay thing?!
Will they e'er get a break?
It's not a point of pride anti-gay laws,
Were struck down in two states.

How people can feel free to raise such laws,
In democratic states,
Makes me wonder if there's e'er been progress,
Or if humans just need someone to hate,

As I'm sure each gay person hates someone,
As I'm not e'erone's fan,
Still, can't we stop short of the kind of hate,
Displayed by Ugandans?

Or Russians, too,
Really, what's with the gays?!
If it's that they can't have kids together,
Then a lot of heteros should part ways.

The Secret To Happiness!

One day you find yourself,
Where Nature always meant,
A beautiful garden with colours perfect,
Completely suited scents,

You stumbled in from your dirty, old world,
Somehow, the sun shines here,
Your shoes are gone because they're not needed,
You have none of your familiar, dear fears,

People you meet are friends who understand,
No introductions, no!
You could die any minute and be happy,
Because you finally know,

What life is for,
It is a selfish thing,
You're meant to find the thing that makes you glad,
For you can only know your own feelings.

Meta Construction

What is it that you do,
Beyond what's expected,
Beyond those tasks that take the least effort,
Beyond what your dad said,

Beyond the small tokens that make you feel,
Beyond others' routine,
Beyond the special world you think you dwell,
Beyond the work that earns your salary,

Beyond treats for loved ones within your house,
Beyond famine, too,
Beyond thank-yous for presents above and,
Beyond, that's done for you?

Give it some thought.
What raises you beyond,
An acceptance of the life you'ere given,
Then managed the charge on the construction?

Things Are Now Very Tenuous in the Ukraine

Oh, the things you can miss,
When watching Olympics,
Like the ousting of Ukraine's president,
Viktor Yanukovych,

Fleeing to Balaklava from police,
For killing citizens,
Protesting his flip flop on EU terms,
Under stress from the olympian Russians,

Maybe he's hid in the submarine base,
Of that once rusky town,
Renown as a site of historic fights,
And full-head winter gowns.

Turchynov says,
(The new Ukrainian "man"),
That he's seeking Putin's understanding,
Hope he's not the next Archduke Ferdinand!

Nice Thoughts

Now I'm just writing,
To no one but myself,
Wondering what I should be looking at,
Or that someone would tell,

What the fear is that obliterates you.
Soon you start to think,
About all the things you could be doing,
And you don't even get close to the brink,

Yet don't even stop to think what you do,
E'en as you turn away,
Satisfied that you even thought at all,
And lived another day.

Well good for you!
No, really, I mean it,
No one knows the secret to happiness,
But I 'spect you've come by a little bit.

Olympics, Day 13

I'm watching curling,
Maybe my fav'rite game,
Canada's women are up by one point,
Tenth end 'gainst Great Britain,

The Brits are looking quite stressed at this time,
The Canucks got hammer,
They have just been playing it really safe,
Though you can still see a little swagger,

Because this is the thing about this sport,
If you throw perfectly,
There's no way you can act'lly lose a match,
It's all 'bout strategy,

Like life, some say,
You are responsible,
We don't have two rocks hugging the centre,
From slumping on our couch all miserable.

Olympics, Day 10

Putin's day of visits,
To the athlete's village,
Included a stop by Canada House,
It was quite an image,

Forget how you feel 'bout his politics,
The law 'gainst gays alone,
Begs the question why all the athletes swooned,
'Stead of protests by phone,

Martin Luther King Junior even said,
The king of non-violence,
That life begins to end when we're silent,
In face of importance,

When we should act,
Because it's obvious,
In the presence of human rights abuse,
We must speak out to defend all of us.

Olympics, Day 9

Wow, speed skating is great,
May as well be flying,
Rarely more than one razor blade on ice,
All the chips on timing,

All about when you need to make that move,
To end up in the lead,
Hair breadths 'tween you and the other skaters,
It sure is similar to life, indeed!

Death, loss, and unbelievable success,
All are so much the same,
Finger tips keeping you from falling down,
Fighting despite the pain,

This is where sport,
Can teach us a lesson,
No matter how hard you work in this world,
You can e'er get fucked by others visions.

Olympics, Day 7

I have to ask myself,
Watching men figure skate,
'What is a quad-toe-triple-toe combo,'
And open the debate,

What really should count as an achievement?
If I gave gold medals,
For being the fastest up a ladder,
Would countries still spend millions of sheckles?

Would people wave flags and paint their faces?
I think the answer's 'yes'm',
Not for the excellence of the challenge,
But nationalism,

But I'm unfair,
The athletes are elite,
And their achievenments trump national pride,
Their commitment, victory or defeat.

The Olympics, Day 6

Let's talk 'bout Sarah Burke,
Died two thousand and twelve,
Aft' a fairly routine fall in Utah,
So disappears the helve,

Of the saber that cleaved the way for those,
Who live by the halfpipe,
That now can compete in the Olympics,
Somewhere Sarah never got to reside,

Lauded by skiers internashnally,
For giving birth to it,
She would have won a gold medal this year,
But for the accident.

Now all who win,
Like our Darrel Howell,
'Spite not being 'llowed her sticker,
 Still dedicate their medals to that gal.

The Olympics, Day 5

I know it's one person,
So judgement should be held,
On the beliefs of an entire country,
But, what the fucking hell?!

Someone like coach of an Olympic team,
Like Alex Arefyev,
I expect wouldn't opine out of turn,
Especially in the former state of red,

So to say women "create hearth and home",
In a flippant manner,
Speaks to the accepted mores of his home,
And all of his neighbours.

Guess it's no shock,
Though it's disappointing,
Not to sound like a moral elitist,
But his views suggest he's misunderstanding.

The Olympics, Day 4

I guess before it's o'er,
I shouldn't let them go,
Without a comment on this whole gay thing,
In the Olympics home,

Two thousand, fourteen Russian Fed'ration,
There's this law, don't you know,
Passed last June barring the propaganda,
Of gay rights to minors, but you can show,

Vidyos of gays being lured to a trap,
Then humiliated,
Because somehow that doesn't break a law,
Why are they so hated?

I mean really?
There's no logic okay?
The act itself is solely about love,
Yet treated like they are all about hate.

The Olympics, Day 3

It actu'lly makes me cry,
Though, I'm a cry-yee sis,
Seeing the Dufour sisters holding hands,
'Fore climbing the dais,

An experience I'll ne'er have in life,
'Magine how fantastic,
Three sisters grow up together in sport,
And they ride a path to the Olympics,

Shared exper'ence strengthens their real'ty,
Giving it a real truth,
Sisterhood trumping any jealousy,
That might threaten the truce.

E'en the eldest,
Denied any medal,
Lives in a world where family ties trump,
The temptation of pers'nal regret's hell.

Olympics, Day 2

We all knew there'd be fears,
Of trouble in Sochi,
Starting with Volgograd in October,
And Umarov's decree,

Then there is the fear of the Black Widows,
Is Russia's thin facade,
As permyeeble as the United States,
In its dealings with Bashar al-Assad?

Now someone hijacked a plane wanting flight,
To Sochi to alert,
His countrymen of some vague, unknown threat,
He's prob'ly just berzerk.

Still, makes you think,
What's still coming from there,
'Tween violence 'gainst gays and Chechnyan unrest,
Athletic prowess may take second chair.

Olympics, Day 1

Olympics start today,
In Putin's resort stop,
Sochi, home of Russia's Formula One,
And Two-Eighteen's World Cup,

It hasn't seen much controversy since,
Early nineteen hundreds,
When it officially joined Russian lands,
Aft years of territorial bloodshed,

Now it's the face of a country that laughs,
At western rationale,
Strong, with allies China and Syria,
Thought's not universal,

It is fleeting,
With lessons quickly lost,
Like someone who can't let go of a slight,
No matter the interpersonal cost.

Families Held Hostage

I just can't imagine,
Were I a Korean,
With family on the border's other side,
That I have never seen.

A predicament born of the fifties,
After the U.S. split,
The country along that ol' thirty-eight,
And backed the South against the Soviets,

Then a three-year war cemented the break,
No one checking to see,
'Cause pol'tics trumps the souls meant to be kept,
If perhaps that line split through families.

It did indeed.
Imagine the torture,
Your chance to reunite with stolen kin,
Hanging on the whim of gov'ment posture.

To succeed

Every moment wasted,
Is a lesson for you,
But you must not have absorbed anything,
'Cause you're not leaving school,

Your skin is pale like an old cadaver,
Except it is stretched taut,
From laying with beer, chips and beef jerky,
Watching sci-fi films from your pull-out cot,

Thinking and saying you thought you'd be more,
To anyone who'll hear,
Who are less and less as the years go by,
As far as tears are near.

It's not too late,
History is no judge,
Nor a predictor of what will come next,
E'en an avalanche must start with a nudge.

Economic Rights Is All Rights

Was an era when race,
Was on everyone's mind,
Was understood by most that equal'ty,
Was a matter of time,

Then eventu'lly everyone agreed,
Then the laws were improved,
Then made a day of MLK's b-day,
Then the discussion was pretty much moot,

Now the talk's still about inequal'ty,
Now of money, not race,
Now it's not right if someone has no chance,
Now of boosting their place.

Ask MLK,
Ask if race is equal,
Ask what the world should look like with the Love,
Asked by him from the Amer'can people.

The Marks of Life

I look in the mirror,
As I am writing this,
The bags usually under my eyes,
Do not seem to exist,

My face is fuller than it used to be,
'Cause I've been on the road,
With less time to dedicate to myself,
As my just coffee breakfast also shows,

Despite it all my eyes are still the same,
Though they've seen different things,
A curious trait unique to just them,
Untouched by life's happ'nings.

Then there's the brain,
It gets all the eyes see,
If I could see it in the mirror too,
Would I be surprised by much distorting?

Pessimism, Yes

Time may not be stopping,
While you pause to figure,
Your stand on various moral topics,
Representing fissures,

In the future of the world where you live,
You know what I'm saying,
There's death all around, not just over seas,
And you are just playing.

So the question is, what will you decide,
When you're on your deathbed?
That you did all you could to make world peace,
Or may as well be dead.

Yes, yes, I know,
You could spend your whole life,
Dedicated to helping others free,
And ne'er get close to relieving the strife.

The Privileged Few

They say it's ne'er too late,
To chase after your dreams,
Which begs the question, if you haven't yet,
Is your wish what it seems,

Or in your heart do you really want it?
It is a scary thing,
To put as much belief in what you do,
As from everyone else you're requiring.

Then you may have to admit to yourself,
You don't have what it takes,
You'd rather live a life of mute regrets,
Than really risk the stakes.

Isn't that true?
It`s the story of most,
Even if everyone tried their hardest,
There'd still be few who have reason to boast.

Just Tired

The news is getting tired,
It is never not sad,
Lybian kidnappings, child pornography
And bombs in Pakistan.

I am not just being pessimistic,
Isn't the goal world peace?
Just ask the women sold in the sex trade,
If they anticipate a greater ease,

Computers were promising simpler life,
They could take care of all!
No inequality or advantage,
If that's really our call,

But it is not,
We know we have the means,
Until human nature changes its tune,
The news will ever be filled with such scenes.

The Key To World Peace

I don't know what's bigger,
The news is really full,
Two dead in the Ukraine, five in Egypt,
Or Bieber's public D.U.I downfall.

The first is after three months resistance,
To a corrupt gov'ment,

The second, three years since revolution,

Put in a party now ruled terrorist.

But is there any parallel to find,

When Justin, aged 19,

Once the hope of both teens and their parents,

Collapses too, it seems?

It's all the same,
The human condition,
To understand the failures of soci'ty,
Just consider your last contemplation.

This Is The Ford That Never Ends

It has been a long time,
Since I've written of Ford,
His antics had exceeded the absurd,
And council cut the cord,

It was obvious he wouldn't alter,
His behavior at all,
All of his powers had been relinquished,
No one listened to him at City Hall,

Yet he kept on fighting for his beliefs,
Ignored charges 'gainst he,
Even now he stands tall in the face of,
A new film with Lisi!

So, what to say,
In this election year?
I guess if he continues to lose weight,
The Left might yet still have something to fear.

Stop Talking

There is not much to say,
It's all been said before,
By prophets, priests, parents and parasites,
And infinitely more,

They've said everything in a thousand ways,
In an attempt to change,
The behavior of the rest of the world,
With levels of success on a wide range.

They have talked and talked about love and right,
Still many have been killed,
So is there any point in saying more,
Or just keeping it real.

Up in the field?
Don't worry 'bout others,
Just keep quiet and look out for yourself,
And avoid getting stabbed by your brother.

An Ode to Airport Food

I'm eating a cookie,
I bought at the airport,
Still dear but yet the cheapest thing they got,
With coffee, it was four.

I think I'd rather die than buy their food,
Costly crap-covered chum,
Put out to lure trapped and tired travelers,
In a corral meant to hide an ocean.

It must be challenging to prepare 'food',
On such a immense scale,
But one would think that when it is this poor,
That it should be on sale!

I'm just venting,
Like that putrid sandwich,
I'm sure they're doing the best that they can,
They can't poss'bly be taking advantage.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day

He had no allegiance,
To elephant or ass,
Like Hegel, he believed most things fell short,
Or just scooted right past,

The real point in the fight for equal'ty:
Simply, actually love,
Not the kind that makes you someone's servant,
Or that somehow puts the servant above,

He spoke of love using the Greek 'Agape',
God's love working through man,
Your mind rises above vi'lence or spite,
Right to the Promised Land.

Then he was killed,
In nineteen sixty-eight,
In Memphis aft speaking of his own death,
How, if God asked, he would not change his fate.

Fall From The Tree

If one's a product of,
Their parents' story,
Molded by how they got by in this world,
There's something gone from me.

An epic journey in search of freedom,
Both born in poverty,
In country hills in central Italy,
Boarded a ship to a foreign country.

The moment they set their foot back on land,
They were born once again,
Like Adam and Eve in god's paradise,
With original sin.

And they made it,
No more need for rebirth,
From their loins came I to chase the dragon,
'Til I'm again reintroduced to earth!

Take It Easy

I was just singing loud,
Eagles, Take It Easy,
In a decidedly annoying way,
To my work place colleague,

He didn't seem to mind, I'm not surprised,
How can you get angry,
When you hear the words sung to you, "Don't let
The sound of your own wheels drive you crazy."?

Because actually, who else can you blame?
You cannot give offence,
You can only take it, and that relies,
On your own common sense,

Your own self-worth.
If he did get annoyed,
I would have stopped but also lost respect,
For killing a thing that could be enjoyed.

Lucky You

I love hearing me speak,
Do you not love my kind?
There's nothing worse than listening to someone,
Who can't stand their own whine,

But my thoughts are so deep and int'resting,
It really is a joy,
To hear me spew whatever's on my mind,
Without the slightest danger to annoy.

You have a problem, I have the answer,
Just look at my own life!
You think something, I'll show you where you're wrong,
No time to be polite.

'Cause it's so rare,
To be so insightful,
That if I paused to hear your opinion,
I'd deny someone else my cock and bull.

Don't Stretch Out And Wait

I just have to do it,
Can't leave things anymore,
That are so integral to my mind's health,
That I'll be left life-poor,

Even if I somehow get filthy rich,
And can live on a beach,
Which really is my heart's deep fantasy,
If I just lied there it would still need seek,

Just like my mom told me when I was young,
Tell the Un'verse your needs,
But don't just sit and wait for them to come,
Or it can't plant the seeds,

It needs good soil,
Enriched with your desire,
A commitment to face what life gives you,
Lest lethergy become your fun'ral pyre.

Martin Luther King Jr - In Anticipation of his Day

I'm reading the doctor,
Mart' Luther King Junior,
What an inspiration for everyone,
In a still fucked up world,

He was educated in divin'ty,
A scholar through and through,
Connected to Sartre and Kierkegaard,
Sought links 'tween Lib'rals and orth'doxy, too,

First put to practice what his mind endorsed,
From being a student,
Leading the Montgomery Bus Boycott,
Non-Violent Resistence!

Because violence,
Only leaves bitterness,
But standing tall for your right to exist,
Shames the decent majority's conscience.

Random Meets

Met a writer last night,
Told her I was one, too,
Well, not 'til the end of the time we talked,
And I had had a few,

It was a random meeting borne of fries,
And the space beside me,
I, a young gentleman having a meal,
Clam chowder drawing her into the seat.

Conversation was not a guarantee,
Food broke me from my read,
Logic told me don't deny connection,
For it could plant a seed,

And grow my world,
Not 'cause it's all 'bout me.
But say this meeting sparked an idea,
That fueled a life-changing epiphany!

Cancelled Flights

Sometimes you're just waiting,
Usually for a plane,
Often because your flight has been cancelled,
'Cause airlines are insane.

Any other form of transportation,
Only requires you,
To show up on time and to get on board,
And please kindly do not take off your shoes,

But when you're flying, shoes off's the first thing,
An hour before take-off,
Then if you're not bumped 'cause they over-booked,
Space allotted for your bag's not enough.

But it's alright,
You will get a free drink,
And a salami smell from the air vent,
So, it is never as bad as you think.