Buy Target

So Target is leaving,
Not a long run, fellers,
Seventeen thousand jobs gone just like that,
Should have stuck with Zellers,

Man, they had a niche no one was touching,
'Tween Goodwill and Targé,
Now all their former stores will be empty,
But Target sure isn't going away,

There's still th'executives who made this move,
Down south of the border,
While the unskilled and newly unemployed,
Are a little older.

Is this step one,
To the revolution?
The more people that learn what poor's about,
The more this system will seem perversion.

What's Left

There's nothing in here that,
Can tell you who you are,
Except in so far as it is the same,
As all things near and far,

Like what you see in the mirror each morn,
Hear on the radio,
Feel when you don't know which way you're going,
On a spontan'ous trip to Mexico,

In your darkest moments drinking alone,
Thinking what you've become,
Or your brightest moments, drinking with friends,
Talking how far you've come.

It's all the same,
The trick's being honest,
With yourself and about what is really known,
Aft' stripping the world and pitching the rest.

We're Here for a Good Time, Not a Long Time

The lights are harsh in here,
There's a chill in the air,
The sound of the aich vak is distracting,
There's plastic plants o'er there,

But if I squint my eyes, look at the air,
Ignore my stress-ached back,
Retreat into the darkness of my mind,
I can return to my normal, safe tack,

Which is to sep'rate my self from the world,
A necess'ty since birth,
Born of what? That I was a late surprise,
Spent much lone time on earth?

Who really knows,
What makes you who you are,
E'en thinking back's done by your present self,
Only the future's subject to repair.

Do Nothing

Where do you find the time,
To do all that you do?
You know our time on this earth is fleeting,
And they will forget you.

Think about George Clooney,
Awarded for his life!
You think anyone will e'en know his name,
Gen'rations from tonight?

He hasn't e'en done that much when compared,
To the mass being done,
Every moment by billions of people,
Oh, since Walter Pidgeon.

But we must, right?
No matter argument,
It's considered disease to do nothing,
A betrayal of human sentiment.

If We Were The Same

If I'm a clone of you,
And so is ev'ryone else,
New babies clones of us and the others,
So that we're all ourselves,

So that given the same circumstances,
Same road from which we came,
Our reaction to a stimulus would,
Be to a hair's-breadth exactly the same,

With no other person we ever meet,
Not being one of us,
Old, young, new people inside and outside,
Are exact replicas,

Would we e'en know,
We're all identical,
Or would we love and hate?  Would there be war,
In such an unlikely order social?

Three Things

How much must be go'n on,
For things to be happ'ning,
To be feeling that each moment's value,
Isn't just a-wasting?

For you know they are not infinite, right?
Well actually, moments are,
Minutes that count down from the moment you're born,
With no guarantee zero's not that far,

And if ev'ry one just thought on the moment,
Doubt they'd kill anyone,
They might starve to death in euphoric bliss,
But it's a concession,

Qual'ty of life,
Wouldn't you trade it all,
For a moment of life where it's all clear,
Open skies, no horizon, and no walls?

Jihad

Is everyone afraid?
Could happen anywhere,
The events in France have reminded us,
Randomness isn't fair,

Too much like the nature of real'ty,
Terror by life's questions,
When will I die?  Can I predict what's next?
The toughest of existence's lessons,

But no one should fear this kind of vi'lence,
That is soci'ty's point,
We live together and let others live,
Th'other side of the coin.

So raise your pens,
Nothing should be taboo,
That doesn't encourage hate or vi'lence,
Shouldn't be too hard to be understood.

Early Morning

Getting up's a good thing,
It has got to get done,
And sure, everybody needs their sleep,
For useful production,

But you want to feel like you've done something,
Before the day's started,
'Fore machines start running and software boots,
'Fore others worry 'bout what your heart did.

In advance of questions and follow-ups,
That's when you can still live,
Before you are who you are with the sun,
Darkness has much to give,

Ere your real life,
As a good citizen,
The few precious hours when no one expects,
Anyone to fit something useful in.

As Time Passes

My body's getting old,
My brain cannot help that,
My foot, knees, hip and neck now give me pain,
My, am I getting fat!

Morning's are now harder to wake up to,
I guess I need more rest,
So I'll start to go to bed earlier,
Also, an afternoon nap may be best,

The greys I don't mind all that much, you know,
While I still look younger,
I won't like losing the small height I have,
This pome's been a downer!

There is my health,
I have got that for now,
But remember, no one lives forever,
E'en though it's easy to forget, somehow.

The Old Ways

In another airport,
But, watching my paesan,
Singing and playing with the organette,
From far across the pond,

Making me think about the traditions,
That won't live on with me,
As familiar as Canada's seasons,
And Dub'ewe Kay Ar Pee in Cinc'nnati,

I want to relive my youth, get it back,
Learn those songs and dances,
The language, cooking and literature,
Those sayings my aunt says.

E'en if I tried,
It's probably too late,
That generation is mostly all gone,
Or just too old to teach this manga cake.

Say It Ain't So, Andrew

Prince Andrew must be glad,
That his ex-wife Fergie,
Defended him 'gainst prostitution claims,
With her stellar hist'ry.

Buckingham Palace made a statement, too,
Claiming it isn't true,
That Epstein provided him with young girls,
Repeatedly and all over the world,

So once again one has to ask oneself,
What's the motivation,
Of women standing up to ridicule,
For such accusations?

Maybe it's true.
D'ya ever think of that?
Do you realize exploitation's common,
Amongst the rich and the aristocrats?

The Connection

It's easy to forget,
That others live life, too,
They face the same dilemmas and desires,
Basically as you,

If not in function then in their spirit,
And in their energy,
With regrets and about their past decisions,
And questions about all the facts they see,

Existence filled with more time thinking 'bout,
Existence than their life,
Tormented each minute by not knowing,
The future.  Ain't that nice?

But that's not you?
Everyone's not the same?
Surely there's something that connects us all,
But what could it be if it's not the pain?

Controlling the Skies

Snow, rain, then snow, then rain,
When will we have control?
We're so afraid of this thing called weather,
We forget what we know,

That we made it to the friggin' moon, man,
Split the fucking atom,
Put one person's heart in another's chest,
Then that person did a goddam ir'n man.

We've dug deeper than hashem knows how far,
Or allah, truth be known,
Flying ev'ry which way in aeroplanes,
Don't e'en start with cellphones.

So why our fear,
Of fiddling with the sky?
Wait, cloud seeding's common across the world,
Prob'ly other shit I don't know, ne'er mind.

Invention

For example, the car,
An immense invention,
Changing the way we see distance and time,
Still, an evolution,

Arrived at by steps through generations,
Starting with the ol' wheel,
Then human after human built on it,
And it's not e'en what we envision, still,

They are not quite driving themselves, but soon,
Hovering, who knows when?
But someone one day will think of those things,
The way we think of when,

We had to dial,
Into the internet,
The opportun'ty's ope' to all of us,
To contribute to what is coming next.

Good Morning

As the world awakens,
(It always does, somewhere),
The sun growing slowly, bright in the east
As it does ev'rywhere,

Each person will either face it or not,
So many days a year,
Each day a choice whether you think or not,
That can only be made by facing fear,

Fear of what you do not know is coming,
Or p'haps of what you do,
Fear of the success trying might just bring,
What it might do to you.

Then there's the fear,
E'er the moon you'll be dead,
A very real possibility that,
Has kept better people than me in bed.

Happy New Year!

The confetti's all spent,
It lays all around you,
Other signs of celebration must go,
Before life can resume,

When the break from what is real is over,
You return to yourself,
Considering dealing with things anew,
Knowing doing so means you'll need to delve,

Into reasons why you do as you do,
But you don't want to change,
Even if you did, it would not be real,
Not for long could you feign.

Happy New Year!
Here's to the same old ways,
The only true way to find your true self,
Is to be true to your natural ways.

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.