#poems

 

 

I gotta resist the urge to follow the news

 

I gotta resist the urge to follow the news

when I crave it like a cigarette

The radio beckons me,

ignorance threatens me

and I’ve got one eye on a blank TV set

 

What if the world fell apart today?

What if disaster opened the door?

What of my future’s been stolen away?

What is less and what is more?

 

Do I need to fear famine?

Should I prepare for war?

Are the borders closing?

Is there currency anymore?

 

The news at six o’clock is all I got

The news at six o’clock is all I got

 

All I got to keep me level

All I got to keep me sane

And its absence is a devil

Digging holes into my brain

 

I fear floods and earthquakes,

droughts and tidal waves

I imagine no more birthdays,

I envision mass graves

 

I picture governments falling,

the Prime Minister without shoes

 

I gotta resist the urge to follow the news.

 

 

 

#cdnpoli #election2015 #election2019

#poems #thoughts

 

I was in Ottawa during the 2015 election, touring my first solo record. As it was approaching, I woke up from a snooze and began writing in my journal with no thought or direction. What emerged was this series of simple rhymes that brought to surface some of my emotional life as it related to the first-past-the-post electoral system. The 2019 Election is now at our door and the federal leaders' English-language debate was last night. Despite Justin Trudeau vowing to change the electoral system four years ago, it has not been changed and I find myself feeling much the same as last time. I, for one, will be voting as if my vote will translate into representation in Parliament.

-PWY

 

***

 

Be fed up. Be fed up with this status quo. With one day remaining, thirty-six hours to go until this general election, in which yet another mole pops up its head before returning to its hole. “First past the post” - that crude abomination, making democracy function like a lengthy castration. It is hard to produce fruit when your roots have been deserted, your branches bound and your flowers perverted; trying to stay alive, strong and upright when all around people struggle and fight to gain some slight advantage, which should be inconsequential, that we have made the bread-and-butter, we’ve made the quintessential; Offering support to the structure in only this limited way, creating another game of ‘winners’ and ‘losers’ to play.

 

And the noble electorate tries to make this nonsense work, giving up its true wishes in an effort to curb a worm’s path to power through manipulation of taints - what a ludicrous system, so mired in constraints! Yet, people will say “this is what the public chose,” advancing the narrative that First-past-the-post is a legitimate tool in democracy’s function, but I say, here, at this forty-second junction that we are witnessing, again, democracy’s frustration.

 

May we now begin our journey to purer representation?

Updated: Oct 8

#dreams

A dream from January 2013.

 

A battle is being fought. I am commander, or at least I am bearing witness to the commander. I slowly understand that it is not just a battle but a war and that the war has been fought for my entire life. Within the army I command, there are whispers of unrest and some of our own people dissent, even though an enemy is coming that will likely be our end. These people form their own group and steal our technologies, including gigantic, cybernetic, genetically modified spiders. They nearly lay us to waste with an attack on our gates and then a group of their soldiers come to request parley at the throne. I take the throne in my plain clothes (which is quite an irreverent act in this world, but time is of the essence) and speak to a group of them.

 

Meanwhile, a host of soldiers from their side and its leader are sneaking in around me and my own soldiers while we talk. Their leader then makes himself known and begins parley with me. He is a devious and sly man, full of cunning that is evidenced by his smile and his general aura. He begins to speak quite enigmatically, dropping hints that he has perfected the monstrous orange-and-blue humanoid battle warriors that had been previously stuck in development. Even as he does so, I see these monstrous creatures growing larger on the horizon. As I continue talking, with a discreet wave of my hand I command two of my bannermen to sneak away and summon the battle spider to me. In a last effort to appeal to reason, I tell the leader of my new foes that we need to join forces because the real enemy is approaching us at our northern gates and will be upon us very shortly. I wonder fleetingly if this treachery is some trick of the enemy, but I have no time to consider it further: the orange-and-blue monsters are upon us, flying into the air and raining fire down upon our host. There is no time to form a defensive position. I take cover under some rocks and look for The Spider. I see it approaching and I run to it, diving out from under the rocks and engaging in some seriously impressive acrobatics – cartwheels, tumbles, flips, and gravity-defying jumps – to dodge the fiery balls of rock and ash that are falling all around me. I get on the back of my battle spider and begin to combat their leader, who is on the back of a similar arthropod cyborg. But he is too cunning, too strong, and he is besting me. As my spider rears up on two of its hind legs, I am flung from its back and land on the hard earth, rolling many times and stopping on a large rock. I notice a wooden door beneath it, so I open it and jump through, closing it hard behind me and shutting my eyes as balls of fire hurl toward me.

 

I open my eyes on the other side of the door. It’s Monday morning on an urban street, and people are returning to work after the weekend. They wear suits. They carry briefcases. There are construction workers in orange and blue pouring concrete, doing sidewalk construction. People generally seem either bored of preoccupied by their thoughts.

 

Good.

 

I try to slow my breath. I don’t want any of them to know anything of the magic, devilry, and destruction that is all about them. I will keep it hidden. I walk on the road, acting as though everything is quite ordinary and peaceful.