Tonight history

The world shocked looked around
like a squirrel handed a basket full of nuts.
How long will it take us
to bury them?

I dedicate to you (these)

Truth is a cherry
Tiny bomb in Robin’s nest
We are all lit up

Written in scabs and bruises
On honey-white knee:
Carnage, decayed decency.

So much waste is made
In all these dishonesties,
Chief Nihilist Son.

Lose A Turn

Time for some shut - eye,
Let's get the lids down on my almondines.
Nutcrackers if ever there were some!
Long lashes with wet noodles
And another afternoon slips away.

Baby Snake's all outta venom,
No insults to spit, although plenty of rattle.
Tears I have to force, a fake quaver in my voice
And I think to myself
"You're one bad actor."
And I think to myself
"What a wonderful world."

Life can't be half bad,
When strangers will pay for you to drink.
Life must be great,
Since trust is currency.
(You'll never run out, even in these: our trying times.)
Easily overspent, or squared away
Where it collects compound interest.

On your eleventh beer,
You start asking personal questions -
"Is nothing sacred!?"
I demand.
You tell me
"Disco for me, honey."
Much obliged sir!
I give one hundred and ten per-cent.
Five whole dollars return:
This time I've outdone myself.

Bears linger in my apple trees,
Ripe as the sour fruit with its 'added staying power'.

Hybernation is a temporary death
That I would give two toes,
(Or one pinky-finger) To participate in.
This is their lumbering
Danse Macabre.
If only I could sleep
Half of Canada away.
Or more accurately,
Fifty Nine Per-cent.

Each day,
I clasp the thick stacks,
And start counting.
From what I know,
And from what I've learned
It's high times, and high time that I lost a turn.
Candyland, Sorry, and so much Canadian Tire money,
Thrown to the wind.
Why should you gain a monopoly
On West Broadway,
Or Gaultier?
(If you pronounce this correctly, it rhymes.)

I'm a white moth burning - I am fucked!
I'm bad ideas about letter bombs,
I'm Roman Numeral Five.
I'm Evil Dead,
I'm finalized.

C'etait pour la passion, mon frere:
I let things fall apart on principal,
Or things just fell apart, I guess.
Twenty Two questions:
Two more, Two Less.

So we're out of breadboxes, wallpaper,
chocolate cake, specialized leather gloves -
Let us make a list.
Get us to the shopping mall -
We shall be recieved!
I promise you,
If it is the last thing I do,
I'm going to give you everything...
Everything...
Everything.

Certainty, MB

And then it gets all sad in the middle:

The fall of Communism came,
When I was in grade nine.
I quickly learned what those Reds were really all about.
I had folded pamphlets for the Charasmatic Leader.
Highlighted by hand, the Doctrine of the Shaved Pussy.
Listened to proletariate marches by the Tragically Hip.
Drew charicatures of Karl Marx in art class.
Attended LAN parties,
Diligently puked in the sink with the rest of our collective.

Soon I would realize that Great Ideas,
Are better off in growing soft inside
The tortured hearts of Mama's Boys,
Our Charasmatic Leaders.

When my hand painted propaganda
Began to border on the sarcastic -
(Soon all it pictured was the sledge and scythe
And the word NO in quotations)
The Charasmatic Leader deamed me a lukewarm Socialist at best,
Told me that my opium, was the opium of the people,
And kicked me right out of his grandfather's basement,
Where I resounded, caterwauling with the other Pinkos there.

And then it gets all sad in the middle:

I began to notice holes in the plot
Of my personal revolution,
When each of my independant candidates
Began to mingle with one another.
I wanted them each for their serpareteness!
To steal votes from one another,
And dance like puppets, competing
For my affection, and my registration
With them and only them.

Of course it was always my intent
To never settle down.
Industrialisation of the student body,
Had me spinning, like a little cog
Attached to nothing and nobody
While all the wheels worked together,
Uniting in their basic similarities.

I found a green ribbon
On the ruddy-brown tiles of my highschool,
And tied it round my disheveled pile of hair.
I steeled my eyes in the lunchline.
I wore the same jeans everyday.
I sat alone, washed up in some locker bay,
A French Revolutionary,
Learning all the subjects (Except English)
In a patriotic language.
And subdued.
Tied up,
In something I found on the floor.

I said to myself,
In my selective amnesty:
"Ne me quitte pas,
Ne me quitte pas,
Ne me quitte pas."

3 works (lao soo, lao zoo?) (revised cuz i was drunkerz)

save yourself
from everyone
not just anyone

close all doors
you welcome the light no more

before sleep and doom
you hum a prayer
to the new moon

it is coming for you
beware

always the opposite
still magnificent
bright smiling faces
so shine your grace for us

and beware
---------------------------------

i pay you no attention
will i regret this?
can i forget to move on,
to further progress?

only time can tell me
what will be
i've seen some things
these images haunt me

so if you wish
to scream and howl
do not think of daytime
be a night owl

care less of this moonlight

so i bring this hand to you
will you take it?
hold it true?

or let go

you know
trouble
is on its way
trouble follows you

if you are going to be so shy
as to leave us all behind
remember
to heed these lines
live in the night

and always be kind
-------------------------------------

Distractions
surrounded on all sides
all of the time

impossible to ignore
the streets
the people
the booze seekers

going and going

every footstep
makes a path
in the road

so i throw a few coins
if i remember

draw some lines
to see how they assemble

erect a poem
or two

flip through those pages
find wisdom
from fu hsi
or lao Zhu

they tell me to be firm
to be correct

and good fortune will find you

should i follow these new people
to find my truth?

in a new city
islands, boroughs, and liberty

i wonder and live in this mammoth building
foreign to me

pristine beds to sink into
they swallow me whole

my dreams go on forever
and suddenly interrupted
by some howling from the new urban forest

there will be no more distractions