there is a story [untitled]

there is a story behind the
shape of your skin
the husk of your smile
guitar contours lace
the rhythm of your stare

“there’s a circle, that
can’t be broken…”
curses – stir through the
smoke of your cigarette

denim and man
forged into veins of your beard

a tin can
rattles in a song you
sang above the poised audience
begging for air



Original draft




Canadian nuances, Rantings, Uncategorized

Canadian nuances – Part 6: Wading through sludge

I spent my New Year’s Eve in an empty house. The warm kiss of sherry coating my lungs, and the gentle sigh of a dog narrating my thoughts. It was lonely, but perfect. Quiet moments give us time to reflect. On everything, really.

I babbled to a few people on Facebook, my thumbs thundering against the glass face of my phone. I checked the time 23:34…shit, time to leave. I threw on my headphones, slung my bottle of sherry back into my bag, began my ascent through the ice and sludge. The succulent anger of Slipknot thundering threw me.

I approach the SkyTrain. Reach for my wallet. Seconds after my hand collides with its porous body, my eyes dart to the sticker adjacent to the turnstiles Free Ride on New Year’s Eve. 8 P.M. until 5 A.M. A smile creeps over me. “Thank you Canada,” I mutter to myself.

I get off at my station. A few of my heavy metal anthems are now slithering across my playlist. I start headbanging and beating drums like invisible ghosts in the air. Somehow this doesn’t seem like enough. I kick up a bit of snow and do an Irish jig in the middle of the street. (It’s like a version of Riverdance you should never watch. Trust me.) A thought came to me this morning as I began etching out the events of last night. I think I’ve fallen in love with this country. Or perhaps it’s fallen in love with me? I don’t care which way you slice it.

During the summer of 2016 I had a romance with a beautiful Japanese girl. I see an interesting parallel between loving a person and loving an environment. There’s the initial awe of something new coupled with anxiety of being able juggle the complexity of it all. Maybe one has an angry parent buzzing in their head saying “You’re in a new country / relationship now. Don’t fuck it up!”

Initially being in Canada felt like wading through sludge. There’s so many details, -isms, directions, slang and faces thrown your way, all that’s left to do is slowly wade through it. The sludge. Now that I’m two and a bit years into being “settled”, there’s less sludge. I can still see parts of it, others haven’t found me yet.

Where am I going with all this? Well, you remember the earlier analogy about the lover? A tipping point comes in any relationship. It is when you let your guard down. You express yourself, and run with it. It feels like flying. It tastes like freedom. That was exactly how I felt a few hours ago, churning up snow and dancing like dyslexic spaghetti.

Yeah…I may have looked like a fool, but I’m cool with that. Man must frolic, and so should you!


two quarters

i think i’m growing up today
there are two quarters in my pocket
i rub them for good luck and
they smile back at me

i think i’m growing up today
ideas ignite inside my head
i’ve cleared away that teenage fog
she’s asleep and so are the voices

i think i’m growing up this way
when you bleed over the years
you leave behind whispers
your mother may have heard
but today I have
two quarters in my pocket
the silver men stare back
with a presence in their eyes

i know i’m growing up today
my laundry doesn’t argue with me
my bookshelf gleams like my parents
faces at the finish line
my mother wants me to win
my father hopes i grow
to see that soft sun
dance in the grass

i know i’m growing up today
there is a field out there
life is almost perfect
a woman walks with me
her hand skates above
the heads of archetypes
she listens to the music in the wind
and tells me it’s time

meet me there – she says
under the moist tree
it guards our food
our wine wafts in the goblets
holding the memories

i trundle down to that tree
two quarters lie in my pocket
i drink in the shade
she begins to sing a velvet song
with slow notes and few lyrics

Junk, Song

That song that makes you chuckle

This morning while on my normal day off, scrounging inside the guts of my computer, and swapping hard drives I had my iPod on. I’m a metalhead 90% of the day. Now that I got that off my chest, I confess I love to hear a sultry voice while I do dirty work. Today while I fiddled and faded Norah Jones filled in the blanks for me.

I had to chuckle when I heard the first few words of the song. Instead of ruining it for you, see the lyrics and/or video below.

Norah Jones – Man of the Hour

It’s him or me
That’s what he said
But I can’t choose
Between a vegan and a pot head
So I chose you, because you’re sweet
And you give me lots of lovin’ and you eat meat
And that’s how you became
My only man of the hour

You never lie
And you don’t cheat
And you don’t have any baggage tied to your forefeet
Do I deserve, to be the one, who will feed you breakfast, lunch,
And dinner and take you to the park at dawn
Will you really be
My only man of the hour

I know you’ll never bring me flowers
Flowers they will only die
And though you’ll never take a shower together
I know you’ll never make me cry
You never argue
You don’t even talk
And I like the way you let me lead you
When we go outside and walk
Will you really be
My only man of the hour?
My only man of the hour.
My only man of the hour.




Those living on the fringe

If you know me well, you may be aware that I listen to a hefty amount of heavy metal. Despite the sensitive poet I can be at times, if you were to catch a glimpse of me in the early morning. You may notice me prancing around the house like a hairy Barbarian.

Most people battle to understand the genre at all, and simply label it as evil. The reason I’m drawn to it, is it attracts that seemingly small group of people living on the fringe of society. I love that. I’m fascinated by extremes that are around us and the “freaks” it gives birth to. I’m the type of person that lives in my head, I can sit for hours on end sometimes watching a couple or a group of kids interact. The novelist in me, will then try and build up a storyline based solely on their appearance.

So my history with heavy metal is a fairly short and succinct one. I once remarked to a friend, “The only reason I like this music, is I wanted to piss off my parents as a teenager. A started listening to this music, and then it started growing on me.” Despite my wry comment, there’s more to it than just projecting your anger on to others.

In my short time with the genre. Metalheads:

  • feel the need to be different.
  • love the arts.
  • are highly creative.
  • have the tendency to be heavy drinkers and/or drug users.
  • are misunderstood.
  • are highly talented musicians, or close friends with them.
  • piss off the general public (although once you get to know them they’re probably more loyal to you than your own dog.)

All the above is true for a number of reasons. I’ll leave you to do the thinking, instead let me debunk a few misguided opinions.

Why all the screaming? What’s the point of listening to music if you can’t hear all the words?

If you listen to music only for the words then you don’t really understand music. I think the reason most people point out the fact that the words aren’t recognizable, is because it’s one the first thing that jars a first-time listener. When your favorite song comes on the radio, you sing along to the chorus (i.e. the most catchy part of the song). The actual meaning behind the words, or the storyline isn’t apparent to you (unless you’ve really done your homework).

What makes metalheads unique is the fact that most of us study the lyrics. We spend hours reading them, and often when we go to gigs we’ll be singing along to the lyrics while they are performed. If you fail to believe me…go ask any seasoned metalhead about songs like Iron Maiden – Number of the Beast, Slayer – Raining Blood, Metallica – Master of Puppets. They might not know the entire song, but they’ll belch out a damn fine chorus.

That music is Satanic. Anyone that uses a pentagram worships the Devil.

Let’s face it, most of us metalheads listen to it for an outward reaction, initially. If you were to do some research, and pool all us headbangers together…only about 3% of us (if that) are “worshipping Lucifer” in our free time. Those who are really serious about it, won’t let you know either. My father spent some time counseling hardcore Satanists as a school teacher…and his remark was that the plain clothes people are the serious concerns to society.

If you’ve ever worn your favorite soccer shirt on the eve of a big game, that same feeling is what metalheads promote. I was in a queue in MacDonald’s the other day (dressed in work uniform), and the metalhead who was served after me saw my pentagram ring and said to me “I see we’re part of the same tribe.”

If I start listening to metal, I’ll end up dirty, badly-dressed, an alcoholic and a drug user.

The media is never a great guide when following popular culture. Journalists thrive on bad news, simply because fear sells papers better than warm feelings. It’s a sad truth. There are those who choose to ‘loose themselves’ in chemicals, but perhaps they need to start journeying into themselves, and learning the patterns in their own psyche?

Calling all metalheads alcoholics, is the same as saying that every guitarist will end up like Kurt Cobain. It’s that fair? I highly doubt it.

Metalheads are angry and pissed off with life. What’s the matter with being happy?

Pissed off and angry is one way of looking at it. We’re honest about the dark side. Most people are afraid to journey there. If I didn’t have metal with me, while I was a depressed teenager perhaps I would’ve committed suicide. If anything a large part of the culture has a never-say-die attitude about it. There’s a freedom to persevere and continue on.

Musicians who have committed suicide, want the easy way out. Living life and surviving, is far more difficult than ending it all. If you’re taking the easy road, you’re not learning anything. Like I mentioned earlier, the image and anger is just an exterior…once you know us we’re your friend for life!


Image List:










Everyday Normal Guy

This song I’ve listened to countless times and always end up laughing by the end of it.


Source: http://www.jonlajoie.com/chordsandlyrics.html

Jon Lajoie – Everyday Normal Guy

I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
Nothing special about me motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
When I go to clubs I wait in line motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
I got $600 dollars in the bank motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
And my sexual performance is an average

Verse 1
I work in customer services for a phone company,
I make 12 bucks an hour and thats all I need,
I live in a small apartment on a quiet street,
I don’t go out that much,I like to watch TV,
I can’t afford a car,I use public transportation,
I don’t mind I read until I reach my destination,
Sometimes a newspaper,sometimes a book,
The amount of money I save,this shit is off the hook,
And I’m not very good with the women, I’m a pretty sharp and I’m average looking,the last time I had sex was 2003 and I’m ashamed to admit it wasn’t free.
Chorus 2
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
I get nervous in social situations mother fucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
I get constipated once a month motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
And I make pretty good spagetti sauces motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
And I get scared when I go see the dentist,

Verse 2
I’m the polysure of everyday life,
I’m easily forgetable and I’m not very light,
I am according to gym personality,
As entertaining as a fucking STD,
If you wanna mess with me,then you probably can,because
I’m not confident and I’m weak for a man,
I’ll just roll up in a bar when you kick me in the back and honestly I won’t fight back,and I don’t have many friend that’ll back me up,but my friend steve will but he’s not very tough,
(Steve)”You want some of this bitch,”
If you rarely get laid put your hands up,
If you’re not well paid put your hands up,
If you’ve got a pet cat put your hands up,
If you’ve got a bad back put your hands up,
“I hurt my back two summers ago moving a fridge,ever since then it’s just not the same you know it gets…
it gets pretty sore.”

Chorus 3
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
My parents are real nice people motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
I’m somewhat afraid of heights…motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
I like to grace and anime motherfucker,
I’m just a regular,everyday,normal guy,
And I’m pretty good at making paper planes,


poetry, Thoughts


tonight while i cook
i look into
hannah’s faded face
with her flaking fingers
she clings onto that
microphone full of grit
and glamour
– so the crits say

she’s getting old now
the flowery spotlight
drowns the echoes of
female essence floating

through her clothes
she’s a singer now
my dad told me once that
yesterday’s heroes only
eat the bread that
certain slivers
of society bake
in their unconscious oven

i wash the dishes and
my hands graze hannah’s
supply neck and muffle
her laminated lips

perhaps it’s time i buy
a new radio with
a round volume dial
that can cloak the chime
of adolescent deejays

and allow me to sleep
for a few more minutes