Sunday, December 13, 2015


I sang a song for her
I made a go of it
Dreamt kisses and yogurt with strawberry chunks
I drunk the kool-aid
and believed in mermaids

I searched for her in the waves
and found the rocks

It's fun to be fake in love.  And it sucks to have your fake heart broken by a fake love.  Haha. I've been reading a lot lately and reading inspires me to write.  Funny how that works sometimes.  It's been a while since I've been here.  Sometimes it feels like I'm always just visiting.  Maybe I'll stay a little longer this time.  We'll see.  Check out my now dead vegan blog in the sidebar.  I haven't been completely dormant.  Peace out.

Sunday, June 7, 2015

Ex Hunter

I used to be young once
with a hop and skip
and the capacity to be happy

Trading songs for smiles
Major moments in time
I barely hear the music now
Minor annoyances at best

I rest my eyes
and wash the salt off my face
I'm uncomfortable being pursued
and don't have the heart to chase

Spitting truth today.  Unbelievable truth.  I guess it takes some truth to spit to get me out of my semi-retirement.  The other day I read "Pride and Prejudice".  Look at me say, "the other day" as though I read it in one sitting.  I didn't. It took me a few days to read it.  There's a passage near the end of the book where L. B. contemplates that she doesn't have the same capacity to be happy like her sister J. B.  And that even if she were in the same circumstances that J. B. would be far happier than she could ever be.

Had a pretty emotional day at church today.  Maybe more on that later... or maybe never.  Peace out.

Monday, September 1, 2014

Long Winter

I keep catching myself
holding you so
in the space between thoughts
as if it was my default position
I autocorrect my focus
A locus of ideas bubbling to the surface
Popping my mind back to reality
A different shade of grey than yesterday
Time beats on too slowly to notice
and yet too quickly to keep up
I brace myself for a long winter

I dunno.  Another long weekend where I felt like I needed to write something at the end of it so that I felt semi-productive.  Peace out.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

The Key

You were immune to my prose
my rhymes bouncing off your chest
violets, roses and tulips
I had to strike the chord
to cut deep
to reach your heart
notes floating through the air
mastering the wind
It turned the key
and you let me in

Art is art right?  Or is one medium harder than another?  Is one medium more powerful than another.  Today I'm retreading ground on an idea I talked about before:  How writing poetry is for the people not talented enough to write songs.  I know that is probably not a popular opinion amongst all my avid poetry fans but it's something I hold to be true.  Maybe I've put song writing on the pedestal next to her, but wait... how did I get back on the topic of her again?  Peace out.

Sunday, August 10, 2014

Old Song

The taste of imitation lingers in my mouth
like ringing in my ear after a loud boom
the metal spoon rolling between my fingers
dexterous distraction
firing nerves from my hand to my brain
fake cake and wax candles
edible lies and good intentions
my stomach craves authenticity 
and the taste of an old song

Spoiler alert:  The title gives it away.  I'm not on a diet in case anyone assumed that from today's piece.  And I didn't have any cake today.  Today is a good day to talk about fake things.  Or maybe not fake things but things that are not as good as what they are trying to be like.  Well, maybe they aren't even trying to be like them, but they just get grouped with them... What am I talking about?  I'm talking about hearing a song that makes you want to listen to this other totally more awesome song.  Or watching a movie that reminds you of another better movie.  Or reading a line in a book that makes you totally want to read all 3 books from a different author.

How do the mediocre survive in a world with superlatives?  Peace out.

Monday, August 4, 2014

Blank Cheque

I write to you as one of the ordinary
with feeble phrasing and loose rhymes
I spent the past few weeks looking for words
how do I capture your beauty this time?

With memorized words, you enthrall me
tickling the corners of my mind
I play a song
trying to do the same thing for you in kind

I'm lost
I'm a wreck
I've put my neck out
and written you a blank cheque

I watched Forrest Gump the other day.  What is it about that movie that just captures my imagination?  And do I feel so awful after because I'm jealous of all the great things Forrest got to do in his life?  I dunno.  Jenny where are you?  Peace out.

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Wet Thoughts

I miss her mightily 
my midnight vision
chocolate chip cookies
and roasted almonds
The sun was hot today
evaporating the rain that remain in puddles
Black asphalt heating up dried worms
I look for her beyond the mountains
The rains came
and disturbed a thought I had buried

I dunno.  Didn't have a very productive day.  I thought that maybe if I wrote something, I would be able to say I accomplished something today.  Peace out.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Blank Pages

I should have let the page remain blank
I sink and think of what could have been
if the mystery lasted
I casted the roles
you the princess and I the toad
but now I know
and can no longer suspend my disbelief
I no longer have to cross the line
... at least not this time

I was listening to a podcast the other day and they were talking about how asking a girl for her last name is the modern equivalent to asking a girl for her phone number back in the day... obviously, the last name enables you to do more research to find out more about this girl on your own time.  Anyways.  That was one of the seeds for today's piece.  Peace out.

Saturday, March 29, 2014


I'm not one to break the rules
My thoughts resonating in Bb minor
I took a trip to see her
and braved a plane to find her

Late March snows degrade my vision
I sneeze and blow out candles
the handles of dreams that last through the day

I say silly things
in baby-talk voices
Wondering if she can hear me
Wondering if I exist when I'm away from her

The delusions of grandeur
thinking myself clever in machines I devise from words
Like the nerd that I am rereading the Potter series
Writing in the shadow of giants

I've been writing bits and pieces of this on the train in my head for the past week.  I've been meaning to write more this year although I have not been very successful.  I've been meaning to do a lot of things.

There are these chalkboards by the train station downtown and someone writes quotes on there.  Today, I read, "A man who doesn't make mistakes is likely a man who doesn't make anything."  Peace out.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Home Home

The words are changing
with each crashing wave
Redefining the moment
the chosen words lose their intentions
as speakers reinvent them
to represent anew
things we've seen and heard
they merge into shifting vowels
and hard consonants 
I pick up my pen and pout
missing home home

I've been listening to a new Audible lecture series on the Secret Life of Words.  There was a chapter on creating new words and originally I wanted to write a poem where I invented all these new words using the methods described... I didn't do that.  I find making up words hard so it seems.  So I decided to end today's piece with a reduplication instead.

When I was growing up, I don't think anyone really promoted being a linguist as a viable vocation.  It's a shame because I find words so interesting.  For example, the thought that the meaning of words shift with time and with usage makes me wonder if anything I write will be read totally differently in the future.  Or the thought that accepted pronunciation may change with time... I hate change.  Don't even get me going about how interesting I find the Northern Cities Vowel Shift phenomenon.  Peace out.