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.