Other titles by Corey Hamilton

Keep Left Society’s Grip Exit Is A Safe Place No One Shall Be Spared Open Up Mash Notes Mash Notes: vol 2 Too Personal Lonely Night Songs

2 Days
It was 2 Days Before He Died But 2 Days After She Was Born.

Copyright © 2010 Corey Wayne Hamilton All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission from the publisher, except for brief passages quoted in review. Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication Hamilton, Corey, 19712 days : a collection of poetry / by Corey Hamilton. Poems. ISBN 978-1-926623-01-6 I. Title. II. Title: Two days. PS8565.A5347T88 2011 C811'.54 C2010-906920-X

Front cover painting, “After The Young Bully” 18” x 24” acrylics & canvas © 2010 Corey Hamilton. Back cover painting, “Lungfish” 18” x 24” acrylics & canvas © 2010 Corey Hamilton. Author photograph by Anna Rambow © 2010 Design/Layout by Corey Hamilton Second Printing Published by Dramatic Situations P.O. Box 696 Edmonton, AB T5J 2L4 CANADA www.dramaticsituations.com

Text printed on 100% post consumer recycled FSC-certified paper.

2 Days
It was 2 Days Before He Died But 2 Days After She Was Born.

A book of poetry by

Corey Wayne Hamilton

The following is long overdue, but better late than never, I guess. A sincere thank you goes out to the following:
Thanks to the Raving Poets founding Fathers: Mark, Mike, Thomas, Randy & Gord (and not to mention the readers at the Raving Poets who come out too) for putting up with me on Wednesdays. Thanks also to Tammy and all of the rest of her staff at Yianni’s and The Kasbar for putting up with me on Wednesdays too! Thanks to Anne Bussey and everyone at Priority Printing for the quality work you all do! Special thanks to Andrea Baeza, Arthur Fafard (for the spiritual advice), Jeni Fitts, Steve Fukushima, everybody at Greenwoods’, Tom Holliston, Wanda Schmidt, Rachel Sentes and Stephe Tate for the unwavering support! Thanks also to YOU for buying this! You keep the roof over my head and food in my belly!

On the cover of this book that you are holding right now it says, “A book of poetry spanning nearly 20 years of work.” Originally I was going to put, “...nearly 25 years of work.” but I could not find any good written work from the 80s. The earliest piece from this book is from 1991, but I have included some drawings I did in my notebooks from the 80s. They are all reallydark except for the illustration on page 4. I was a very sad teenager so I will spare you anymore of the teen angst shit that I have left from that period. You can read the good stuff from 1986 to 1990 in some of my other books if you wish. As for the sketch on page 4 it is a drawing I did when I was doing work experience at a comic store on Whyte Avenue in the spring of 1989. In the month or so that I worked at the store I met Evan Jones, the original drummer of Edmonton’s legendary punk band, S.N.F Evan worked at a car wash on .U. the avenue and we took the same bus east. While I went farther east to where I lived (Sherwood Park) he went somewhere else. I remember him inviting me over for drinks a few times but I was embarrassed to tell a hero of mine that I was 17 (Evan was probably in his mid-twenties) and living at my parent’s place in the suburbs. One day I had my notebook and I asked him if I could draw him, he agreed and so there’s the drawing’s history as well as a little history of my own. I doubt that Evan remembers, but I still do. Around 1988 I started getting out of my funk and by 1990 I moved to Edmonton and I have lived there ever since. Anyways, that’s the skinny and I really hope that you like the book!







SLEEPING TO WAKING UP At the end of waking up It should have been A long hard day of work A long hard day of Going hard at work And a long hard day of Completing everything That had to be completed And thinking about What should be started Tomorrow Because today is over And tomorrow is just Around the corner So now it is time to rest So now it is In the beginning Of going to sleep

This piece was written on Friday July 23, 2010 at 10:53pm in Edmonton, AB.



WARHOL’S LEGACY I believe That you should Live in fear Fear of never Being able to work again So Draw some poems Write some photographs Photograph some paintings Sculpt all of your work Out of others Just talk talking promises Because most promises By others Are made by their egos And that makes them All hollow So You Don’t just talk about Working Don’t just walk to Work Do the work Talk, walk, eat, shit and breathe The work Your work And let all others fall behind So Don’t just be a dealer Don’t just be a trader Don’t just brag about it

Don’t just write about it Because There are a million possibilities And you should take One of them And as fast as you can Move onto the next one And the next one And so on and so forth So You say presence Does make a difference And so does no presence You say apathy or protest I say protest apathy AND protest people Who just add their presence To be the odd man out Or just to be heard Or to just to be heard As being just I don’t care about Burning and looting Raping and pillaging That does, is and Will always be NOTHING You want to be Impressive Build your own movement Out of your own Work And then Burn, loot, rape and pillage Your own work And then

Start all over again So I have created My own G8 And while you Pick your nose And scratch your ass And cut your toenails And burn a car We of the NEW G8 Sentence you all to death A NEW death We of the NEW G8 Sentence you all to Obscurity We of the NEW G8 Sentence you all To go back to your Homes, communes, businesses Jobs, slacking, careers Staying clean or Getting dirty Whatever, whichever Or however it is with you And your OLD G8 So We of the NEW G8 Sentence you to go to your home And do some of your own Work That surpasses We of the NEW G8 And when you do this And only this Not that old other thing Then I will be impressed

Enough To give you the time of day A nod and a tip of the hat Because You of the NEWER G8 Have brought down Your own sentence on Us of the OLD G8 And it is a hard sentence But we of the OLD G8 Will comply We will surpass You of the NEWER G8 And be a conductor of fear Fear of never Being able to work again And thus never Being able to live again That is my fear That is my belief That is my mantra And that This or the other thing Is my work So Now show me What you have got Because soon Everything will be stale again And I will be just waking up And not just going to Work I will be doing And last but not least I will be My work

And that is my belief And this is my life



ON YOU My art pushes me In directions That I have never been And the hooker took me For all I was worth So I create my dreams And somebody please call somebody I am having a terminal let down Make me forget About her touch That never was Her breathing That never was Now I look in a mirror And I see a dead man A corpse Sunken eyes Taught ashen skin White with dust Dusty paper thin skin And I know what direction My art pushes me in I have to end this For I wish to gouge My eyes out With my writing utensil So give me the crumbs From your snacks And later on If you wish Just abandon me And leave it in writing So that I know for sure

That another has left me alone Because I push on Far too much Because I push Far far too much



I am going To come to your workplace And tell you a blatant lie Once an hour Until one of those lies Comes true I will cry so hard That my tears will put out Wyatt’s Torch And for my next trick I will go home peacefully And go to sleep Until the end of the next millennium Or until my body revolts And I expire Whichever comes first Because time is of the essence For the next millennium Is next week And I don’t think That I or any of my work Does anything for you And I can only think That my work Only matters to me And that Only matters to me And that Only matters



IDEA INBREEDING The group stains The individual’s movements With its own noise The group has Its own identity Which sometimes Which most times Overpowers the individual’s I can get my plans On my own I don’t need Someone guiding me I have to guide myself And that is my job If I can’t do it On my own Then I should be dead What I really mean is I might as well be dead I knew this years ago But I never realized it And never wanted to admit it Until I saw A group business card Stapled to a letter of complaint And I thought to myself, What if someone In that group Did NOT agree with the rest? Would they walk in line? Or would they speak out? Maybe

When I get older I will need a crutch Right now I have to say That I truly believe that if Do it on your own It will make you A stronger individual



SELF HARM He always has to have The last word Personally I think it is better To have the first few words Than the last few words Because I find that the last Are not as original So attach you and your leaches To what’s left of me And bleed me dry Bleed me to the bone I am left alone Standing In a wooden box On a ledge Of a cliff Overlooking a valley With no originality In sight Even in me I just lost it after Number one But I know that I can I just know that I can Hear her sheets rustling In the night Even though She changed her number Can you balance Your budget without me? I can’t without you So I waited for her to call

But it never came I guess I should have Expected that From someone who Would rather walk by Or walk behind me Rather than in front of me Oh well I don’t remember love either Anyways His last word Or my first word Or whatever I am now bled out Like a dry bone Laying in a wooden box On a ledge Of a cliff Overlooking a valley With no originality In sight It must be in hiding And it must be my job To find it So I must get up Before I die here Because I am laying down On my job And I know that Because I have seen it before That just won’t work For very long With the last words And laying down on the job For it just sounds Too much

And too close To death To me And my liking


#856 July 15, 1998

I just woke up from a dream. I was in a large cafeteria and my psychologist was at one end of a table and my psychiatrist was at the other. I went up to my psychologist and put my thumb up and pointed my index finger just like a gun to his head. I pressed my index finger directly in the middle of his forehead and yelled at the top of my lungs, “BANG!” Then I said, “This was a test. In the event of a real emergency you would be dead.” I then went over to my psychiatrist and did the same.



STROKE YOUR ENGINE Let me stroke your engine Stroke your super model engine Oops! I am terribly sorry I forgot that you won’t Get out of bed for less Than ten thousand dollars Just so you are perfectly clear You are just a high priced whore And I don’t remember asking you to Get out of your bed And I just remembered that I don’t need Your kind of salvation I’m gonna sit on your chest I’m gonna drill a hole in your head And hope that your Meaningless life Dribbles out onto the pillows And sheets And the mattress And the mess will be as ugly As you really are I thought that I would stroke your engine But I changed my mind For I wasn’t sure what would happen When your engine ran dry But since money gets you out of bed I am afraid that money is what It will take to get you back in bed And when age kicks you in the ass You will see what makes Your engine run dry

And now So do I



I WISH THAT I COULD HAVE HAIR I am standing On a miniature chess set Thinking about An unfortunate situation And thinking that I will never know good If I didn’t know bad I just wish that I would stop Waking up so late In the night I wipe my nose On the back of my hand And think about What I don’t have And I try to avoid using Product names As I try to avoid Playing any more games



OVER CONFIDENT? I flew out of my apartment With my new glasses Into hope I saw myself living in a small house And working on my art Every hour of every day Nobody bought any of it But that was A.O.K. Because it was all for me I didn’t see you with me But I wasn’t sad about it Maybe because I have been alone For most of my life I was also financially secure for once Things were tight but I got by I guess just like I always do Except that everything was A.O.K.


#940 7:30pm, Saturday April 10, 1999

I am drinking chamomile tea in The Russian Tea Room. I am going to the Latitude 53 thing tonight to see some unnamed people who said that they would come to my show but did not. I know that people are busy but it still bums me out. I am not sure what to expect. I have never been there before. I think that I will stay there for a couple of hours and then go catch the third period of the Oilers’ game. Maybe there will be more later.
10:24pm, Saturday April 10, 1999

I felt so out of place at “Attitude 53” so I left around 8:45 and went to New City Likwid Lounge and watched the second period of the Oilers’ game. I then went to Funky Pickle on Whyte Avenue for food and now I am home. What did I expect to find? A place to fit in? Not likely. I am going to listen to the rest of the game on the radio and then go to sleep listening to Mississippi Fred McDowell.



ENEMIES OF VICTIMS I am not the enemy I am not your enemy I am my own enemy To push myself farther And harder than ever before And I am not a victim I am not your victim Because being a victim Means accepting defeat And I refuse to accept defeat By you, me or anyone else

This piece was written on May 18, 2009 in Edmonton, AB.



I have got nothing to lose Or prove I am one And all I see myself In a crouch Getting up From years of laying down I am finally learning to stand With nothing to lose And nothing to prove



ADVERSITY My heartbeat felt as if It was shaking The whole bed Send in the reserves Because I am having a Hard time Keeping it all together Like an instrument Just talking to itself I realized that Jealousy of another Is just a symptom of One self’s insecurity They were words That you probably Considered to be friendly Just like your Room is to remain your province And no one else’s Just like you Not being able to see The difference between A doctor and a locksmith You make me feel as if I am just a canker sore In someone’s mouth Because you haven’t Learned that Actions speak Louder than words Will you ever learn?



GRAND FORMAT You’re always thinking about something You have no control over It just makes you an enemy To yourself You always do a job And then it fails And now I will write a letter to prosperity In the hopes for a response But after the tension has evaporated I receive my letter back With, “You are no longer needed or wanted anymore.” Written on the outside of my Plea for a helping hand And that is the part That I want someone else to say I would like to believe in heaven But I haven’t see anything that good yet Because when I think of strippers I think of mass production And they both just depress me And I am just waiting for myself To write something about you Because I have got control in my hand Which is also in my pocket Just waiting for me To throw it in someone’s face Machiavelli unintentionally spoke to me In a dream last night I never understood what he said Except that he knew that I knew That I would get it soon I would get it all eventually

It is just that while I was asleep People were complimenting me But I was told about it later In a very bitter and angry manner By the same people who Hoped that I would place a mask over my face And just go away



EVENING SICKNESS All this negativity Is getting me Down in the mud When you consider it As a possibility You can accept it As a reality And when I find The word that fits I will feel warm and happy As a reality As my reality And when I am Alone with you And we kiss I touch you And you touch me I put my hand Lightly on your swell To feel your heart And how it reacts To my child-like advances And then as the daylight Cools to night time So goes my confidence Yes I have no more control No more do I have control My strength is gone And I am so tired But I can’t sleep For the nightmares Hurt both my head and heart

And everything else That means so much to me Including you And I am losing so much weight That I am getting sick And my family Doesn’t believe me or worry So I fall victim and prey A minion and slave To negativity And everything else That hurts so much That I feel helpless That I could go out And sleep in thirty below Freezing weather And it just wouldn’t matter This waiting Is getting me down And I feel that I am Letting reality slip away If I could just Get to sleep I just know that I would be better In the morning



BE DIRECT You have not seen serious fighting yet But the battle is almost decided It inhabits a different confronting world We reign impotently supreme all around Restricting our own hands because of pride Our own freedom of speech is about the same Containing ourselves for fear of inciting someone That is how all of the wars begin Not speaking what we truly feel Because of fear or of pride in ourselves A small misunderstanding and it all appears We trivialize the other’s emotions It is a confronting world that steps on being open And embraces all of the small phrases It is no wonder nobody knows anything About anybody and about themselves



BLANK PAGE FULL I just got a new notebook With lines and bright white pages Some see the blank pages As a scary open war field I see the same pages As a challenge To do what you do To the best of your abilities Whether I paint Or photograph Or write I see the blank page And I have The uncontrollable urge To fill it up with work That challenges You, me and my last piece You To do something yourself Me To express myself And my last piece To improve upon So now I have This new notebook And as of this moment The hope is there Along with the challenge To do better Than the last time I have accepted the challenge Now

Will you?



INSIDE JOB They are just words To me They are just numbers To me And they are just colours To me Until I make a combination That upsets you Your combinations Put me in hand-cuffs Leg-cuffs and mind-cuffs All the while I am flat-lining In the Hospital’s Dark side of the room And again I look up to the sky Above me To see that the scaffolding Looks like a spider’s web Above me Above me Is a strange place Because to me My combinations Swim to me And to you They cut like a knife Right to your bone Things will be worse now That the open pool Is now closed for the season

And the webbing Above me Is threatening to come down Around my ears, eyes and hands All because I wrote and I added and I painted That good and bad luck Do NOT exist And that everything You need Must be taken Until all you have Is your final breath And a combination That makes you sleep easy And a blueprint Of what you learned here Because once and for all Your work should be First and foremost For you and your needs And everyone else’s wants Should come in A very distant second



INHERITING MY TURN I inherited my birthday From my parents I inherited my name From my ancestors And when it is my turn I will show you that I inherited my life From my hands And my senses And when it is your turn You will finally understand me Unfortunately It may very well be too late Because my inheritance Needs no validation From you and your kind



ONE IN ONE HUNDRED I am going to drive All the way to Where my Dad’s family Is from To try and forget The unforgettable I am one in one hundred And you make the fact Very clear to me By the tone of your voice And how you directed Your sarcasm at me I don’t know what I did To deserve this I didn’t even poke fun at you For wearing a dress Over your pants Or for being so skinny That it looks unhealthy I don’t know what I did To deserve this But when you are outnumbered Ninety nine to one You don’t stand much of a chance Unless you be yourself At all costs And don’t let anyone Out of the ninety nine people Get to you Because by being one You are a limited edition They are ninety nine out of one hundred And when I pass on I can’t let anyone

Out of the ninety nine people Get to me And in my Dad’s home town I will then know That I have made it Without the help Of the ninety niners And I now see That I have already succeeded Where others in my position Have failed



PIECES OF A MIND I could fade away Just like the rest of them But that is far too easy If you won’t befriend adversity Then you are taking The easy way out He said to live life Like a Roman Candle Anger, sadness, happiness, Alienation, confusion, secularity, Isolation and much, much more Are all pieces of a mind Painting, photography, writing, Reading, listening, watching, Learning and much, much more Are all pieces of a mind Pieces of this mind That moves on Just so it won’t fade away And that That is peace of mind to me

This piece was written on May 12, 2009 in Edmonton, AB.



UH OH Holy shit! I am not the only one Who has their work Interpreted wrong By acquaintances and/or Friends and/or family Today I felt like Crawling into a shallow grave Today I felt like Going into a shell For the next century I have said it before I guess I have to say it again This you Is me That you Is you And the other you Is them I talked to you And you told me that It also happens to you All of the time Even though I now know That it is universal With artists and/or Writers and/or etc It eases my pain only slightly

Because after all That is said and done I still feel sick To my stomach That I may have to censor Myself To now please others As well as please Myself

This piece was written on May 6, 2009 in Edmonton, AB.



PISS IN THE OCEAN I had the feeling That I should sleep Sleep under your window And hope Hope that you will see That we don’t have a monopoly On racism or other irrational Thought patterns over here If I went over there And I asked However politely Or however loudly For them to change I would be laughed at Until I left With my tail between my legs That is just fine At least I know when and where I am wanted Or when and where I am not wanted We need your voice To counter balance All of the irrational thought patterns Over here Over here where I would be missed Just as much as you would be missed If you or I went away I don’t propose to know The solution Because there is blood On my hands Just as much as your’s

I would hope That one day You will not need To pull that card That one day You will be comfortable In your skin That one day you will comfortable Wherever you land on your feet And you see other’s weaknesses As your strength to put up with Other's weaknesses Because that is a start And when you don’t feel That the cards Are stacked against you Wherever you may roam Is a start too Because there will always be Someone better off Than you and I And someone worse off Than you and I Maybe everything is relative Is all I know Because the law states That I take the blame Over here And you take the blame Over there This is pretty raw right now So I am not sure If I am completely off Or if I am off and on Or if I am turned on So I will go to sleep Under your window

Calling it a day And sleeping it off Until you poke me in the ribs Saying, “Move on, nothing to see here.” And then I will move on Sadly shuffling my way Shuffling all the way home To write all of this rawness down Hoping (There’s that word again) That you will forgive My tribe my work my rant My self Myself calling your bluff Calling my bluff Calling our bluffs And seeing who folds first In this lousy game of cards Cards of the centre of the city Where shadows play On our hands Where shadows play With the light and/or the dark Until one sounds Broken down Until the walls We all make Are broken down And no one here or there Them or us You or me Lose the cards of play For cards of nothing To cry about And despite this public display Of crying and sadness We all still hold onto our hands

Despite our differences Which is what We have in common Our different skins But the same blood Can we hold hands again? Despite our differences? Or did we never hold hands In the first place? And was it just a naïve dream That I dreamt up under your window?



MANY FISH IN THE SEA Just keep on knocking Till your knuckles Are bloody and worn to the bone And they finally let you in And when they finally let you in Don’t be a victim Of your own doubt Don’t be a prisoner Of your own doubt Don’t give into locked doors either Someone will let you in Finally And when they do You accept graciously And don’t act Just do it Like you were supposed To be there all along Because After all of those sleepless nights And so called “friends” Who doubted you You were supposed to be there And now that you are there Be yourself and Take no prisoners and Leave all else victims Of your work



DISHONEST GRUDGES After the very last War has finally ended The parameters must be set We all must define ourselves With peace and love Not war and hate Once the hundreds of years Of grudges have been melted away Then we can look ourselves Honestly in the mirror And say “The war is over I have no more hate in me The peace has finally started And all I have to give Is love” And then all of the movies Will be documentaries On our past weaknesses And we will all laugh At how petty we were And walk into a new day Where we all get along By moving past of our Dishonest grudges



COLD BLANKET She was a young Asian And she said that Everyone in her neighborhood Is a racist She was a middle-aged Dark skinned African And she said that The CBC is racist Blanket statements Like these are cold And are blatant lies Because not everyone Discriminates or is a bigot And if you believe That everyone around you Is racist Then you should look in a mirror Because the real racist Will be staring back at you



THE LEASH You have a dirty halo And that is exactly why I wish I had lazy eyes It is no longer An isolated incident When it starts raining Silver and blood So the more I hear All of the laughter That follows me It makes me realize I am living to forget But dying to remember that You get passes made on you And I get passed over Even though We are both at fault Glancing left and right To make sure that I can cross And to make sure that My lazy wishes Have evaporated I pass by our past That has isolated All of the blood But mine So I wander into the traffic With a nickel in my pocket And an old photo Of your dirty halo And realizing that I will get over

All of this Even if you don’t



SKEIN The tangled thread of birds Flutter above my head With no end in sight I let myself be Followed home Late at night And late at night Is when you started Quoting lines From a friend’s song Once you were just Another drunken drug addict Begging for change On The Avenue of Fools Now that I am Moments away from solace And you are still At my back All bets are off All pleasantries are flushed down The sewer’s gaping maw And as I wait for you In an empty parking lot With a little light I wish you to meet me Here So I can justify To all who are still awake (Including you and myself) Your punishment from me For your stupidity and gall At coming this close To my home

But alas You turned yellow And at the very last moment You vanished Into either the Cold, dark night From where you came Or the sewer’s gaping maw Which could also have been From where you came And now that You have evaporated I go into my solitude To unwind with my friends My recorded friends And like your disappearing act So have the birds gone The night has digested You and the birds And left me with My recorded friends As well as this A long diatribe About no one in particular But someone Wanting out of this town That this someone Feels has caged them In the vice grip of their jaw And left them The same way The drunk drug addict shadow Has left them To fend for themselves In the darkness’ solitude And the pang of self doubt That they, he, I

Shall never get out of here To where the birds Always flutter above my head No matter The surroundings And/or the time of day Thank you Avenue of Fools! For pushing me A little farther away In the hope Of landing somewhere That my solitude Will no longer be A burden on my body And mind Thank you!



THE CONTINUAL TRADITION There are men With instruments Beside and inside my brain I would like to like you I would like to love you I would like to touch you But most of all I would like to respect you Because I ache when you cry And I cry when you ache But one thing is for sure I am not going to stop Being a man So if you put it all out I would like to ask you if That is all you have In your life And I would like to warn you That I will look So if you do not want Me staring Then don’t place it out In the open If this sounds sexist Then you are naïve And I am being pragmatic I only hate hate I only love love And myself And a few others I only like Looking at you I am not saying

To wear a burlap sack I am saying To have some common sense And respect for yourself Putting it out all the time Makes as much sense As making your sole life mission To find a word in English That rhymes with orange I can only respect you When you respect yourself Until you respect yourself There will always be The men with instruments Inside and outside my brain



HALLOWEEN Am I a good citizen Listening to your sex talk rant? Or am I a bad soldier When I point out The double standard That assaults my ears? You talk of sex Like it is an ongoing war Ranting ranting ranting That because you have Tits and a pussy To talk of sex Is empowering But when I talk of sex Like the infatuated Child that I am I am sexist Because I have a dick Well It is Halloween And we all have Our masks to wear I will stay at home Punctuating the silence With my Ranting ranting rants About your double standard Which say more about you Than your partners But I am quite sure that You will let off some steam At some drunken party Where you and your friends

Will try to rationalize Your hypocritical bullshit Now Am I a good soldier For fighting the good fight That puts me in a corner? Or am I a bad citizen For fighting this fight That labels me a pariah In the ruins Of another night of Masks of poetry? Of another night of Masks and poetry?



PLEASE SHOOT ME I don’t want to get shot But quite frankly I don’t care If you call yourself a woman And then say You have a vagina and a cock And again Quite frankly I don’t care about you And your sexuality And the sex you are having Or the sex you are NOT having You are still a drunk Dope smoking moron Who needs to see a therapist I changed my mind Please shoot me

This piece was written on May 14, 2009 in Edmonton, AB.



SNOWBIRDS Here’s a newsflash For your information No matter What you wear No matter How expensive Your cell-phone is And no matter What you do You can never look cool Riding on a bus And just so you are Perfectly clear On this matter Of your hipster foolishness When you are acting Like you are too cool For everyone else On the morning bus run You might as well Go to a beach On a hot summer day Wearing a snow suit Because in both cases You look just as idiotic And one more thing Thank you For riding public transit With the rest of us Working stiffs



20 YEARS OF INDEPENDENCE I am a militant individual I am an antagonistic painter I am a hard-line poet And my photos Are never ambiguous I am dropping it all On a community Made of games Of tic-tac-toe stalemates Forget about my movement And I will come after you With a Molotov cocktail And to remember That my aim is always honest Infringes on you and your So called freedom To procreate I am a militant individual I am an antagonistic painter I am a hard-line poet And I am an unambiguous Photographer of alienation And if you believe All of my chest thumping Holier than thou Only I am the one Who can do it all Public should be private Politics Then I have a small lake To sell you That you can

Conveniently jump in At your leisure



LONE DARK SKIN MIRROR When thoughts go astray In wide open fields In wide open spaces When feelings get torched In enclosed cages In enclosed boxes Look in my mirror And see what I see For once And you will understand What I am scratching My skin off of my body for My own tool can’t even Scrape up my own dirt That is going astray Do you feel that See that When my own legs Won’t support me anymore That is my enclosed cage That is my enclosed box Closed and personal This is my open field This is my open space Lonely and alone Growing in my mirror Is that skin I am Trying to scratch off

My spirit of darkness



TWICE I am looking through a keyhole Or I am looking through an inch It makes no difference at all I am still emotionally blind So what I see affects me not So what I see effects my knot



ALBATROSS This is my organ What can I do I feel uncomfortable Like I am caught In a bad dream And I can’t get out You want a conviction? Then I will give you one alright But you don’t want to know What I am thinking Because I tried to pay the world To treat me with respect But there were no buyers Only thieves Who stole everything That I loved from me And I hope That it all won’t affect me But I know that it will If I listen to that one song So I try not to But the urge is so strong That I feel like A junkie who hasn’t had their hit For days And while I was trying to get to sleep I wished that I could read Sheet music Because maybe That could put me back to sleep Because I was sleeping briefly Dreaming of dreams

Of the one who makes me Feel so at ease But the alarm But the radio But the smells From the next door Woke me up And kept me up And there was my anger about What was going on next door That didn’t help either But the whole problem Was that I forgot That when I get upset I chose to get upset I didn’t have to make that choice My emotional response So after a year of rest I found out that I still need to think that “I choose NOT to be Affected in a way That upsets me.” I choose no longer To be upset By the things that bother me I choose to move on And forget it Because no fucker Is going to change for me So I shall have to do All of the changing For myself



MISTRESS OF TIME I sleep When I am not tired I walk When I am tired I work When I am tired and Should be sleeping I wait for you To come into my life And for once Someone like you To work out and To stay For once and for all In my life And for once and for all In my life I have turned off My electrical fence I have lowered My steel curtain mask All in the hope Of letting you know that I am open to you Of letting you know that I am open For once and for you And of course I am open For once and for me


This piece was written on January 1, 2009 at 4:44am in Edmonton, AB.



YOUR GNOME Emily Dickinson Once said “I do not ask so large pleasure, Lest you might deny me.” From this position That profound speech Shall be this poem’s epitaph Epitaph For I get knee deep in myself And neck deep in someone else And the someone elses Do not usually like my tunnel vision And I’d like her to know me And I’d like me to know her Her You How you work your body Is like How I try to work my mind Work my mind Work my mind up Worked up my mind So much so That I couldn’t get to sleep Thinking about you And how after barely knowing you I can see in your eyes That you need something gentle To hold onto To hold onto you I could do it I could be it But I am afraid

That you would forget my name I wish I wasn’t so obsessive How do I cure this obsessive ailment? Any E.T.A. can’t help Because I would sit there At all of the times Until they disappear and New ones appear I am too much in myself To open my mouth To open my mind Lest you deny me


#866 (This is the opposite of #870)

IMPRESSIONABLE Hit me and Go running Don’t make eye contact Or you will have to Respond to me or Ignore me Both lead to the same Woman walking away Over and over again And I often wonder if I sign my name to So many prints If my signature Will look like Everyone else’s The evening The afternoon The morning Are all an uneventful Lonely failure Always walking away Looking away And walking away Hit me and Go running


#870 (This is the opposite of #866)

AILEEN’S IDEA Touch me gently and Walk with me Make eye contact And always Responding pleasantly to me and Never ignoring me Both lead to the same Person that I cherish Over and over again And I always know that if I sign my name to Every print you own of mine (There are so many prints Of mine that you own) My signature Will remain as Individual As the first Evening Afternoon And morning Are all eventful As long as you remain By my side Touching me gently and Walking with me



ASH CITY I wish that I knew how to play guitar Teach me how And I will sell you What you need and What you want Will come in time I hope that this Sounds like a fair trade To you I know that you are beautiful And you deserve more In any sort of deal But it is all I can give I often wonder if you realize That I wrote This something about you I will place it in The middle of the pack So that maybe You will forget about it And you won’t Ask about it later For it will embarrass me To answer questions About this And about what I want to learn from you It will embarrass me too For I brought it all on myself For I am the one Who asked for it In the first place


FOR THE LOVE OF FEAR I should write more About the birds Struggling to eat a piece of bread Partially frozen in the springtime snow I should have this sort Of thing patented Because the young woman singing Right now Is driving me to do this But what good is a patent In a room full of volunteers I can feel it When you can only think it I can touch it When you can only dream it So I just can’t stand the “If I can’t get what I want, Then I don’t want what I get” Attitude So much attitude Yes He should be coming over Right away Right after I have spoken To the guy I knew In high school Who hasn’t changed a bit And somehow that Makes me feel good So it should be right away Wait a moment Because I should write more About it


JUST A LOVE SONG Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Misogyny Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism



JUST ANOTHER LOVE SONG Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Misandry Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism Racism



A DYING BREED I am being put through Hazing rituals By all of the hope That I write about You scowled at and You criticize The newcomer It seems to me To be sour grapes Or jealousy For her being your kind And her being young and beautiful Now I am being put through Ritual killings By all of the insecurities That you write about Standing alone With a long shadow We both know That our time Will end soon Because we are One of a kind And the kind That has been through The hazing rituals And ritual killings Your language is A cheap imitation Of mine (And not to mention her’s) If you continue to scar My back

(And not to mention her’s) So Tease your hair Not me, bitch Because now the sunrise Makes so much noise That I can’t stay sleeping So I try to block All of it out Just to relax And just so I can move on At daybreak



CRUSH Looking over my shoulder I see you Entering the elevator With a smile So I wave And you ignore my gesture A few days ago I told you that I had a crush on you Your exact response was, “Not cool. Not cool.” Maybe it was not cool because I am almost twenty years older than you? And yet Days later You go out on a date With another guy The exact same age as me You had to know that He would blab it around And that I would find out Now what am I to do? A riot? Not worth it Cry? Save my tears For my Grandfather Who has weeks to live Confront you? Why bother? Obviously You are not looking over your shoulder To worry about my feelings

I used to think that You were mature For your age I should have known better Than to open my mouth Again About a crush Your type has no respect You all just want A puppy at your heels To stroke your ego And I guess The door that I opened Leading to my corridor Did not look Inviting to you I guess I should have known better



NO FEAR I was reprimanded at work AGAIN This time For telling you that I had a crush on you And after the licking I felt depressed For 24 hours And after the depression Is over I go to the hospital To see my Grandfather Who has weeks to a couple of months To live Because of the Cancer That is in him He lost his wife Of almost 65 years Last month And now he is going to die Now I feel like a fool For getting depressed Over a bratty little girl When My Grandfather Told me that He is not feeling that bad And I am the fool Because He is the one Who should be depressed

And I should be the one To move on From the negativity Of a bratty little girl’s Neurosis Letting it wash off of me Like water off of a ducks’ back So If my Grandfather Shows no fear In the depth of Loss and death Then I can certainly Show no fear Walking in life



YOU’LL BE THERE I can’t read you But I want to take a picture of you She rushed to serve me And then stopped to talk to me I wanted to dedicate Someone’s song to you But I wrote my own And dedicated it to you I got all dressed up And forgot the address Of where I should go Now they are all making plans Without me Don’t forget To look for water I want you To look for water I want you To look for water With me I am Looking for water When I come to see you And I would like Some company But I can’t read you So I will come to see you With my willow stick in hand Looking for water Hoping that you will Find it with me



A NEW TRADE And I hope that my words Were of some help to you And I hope that what you Used from me Is what you had planned all along And I hope that my words Were of some help to you But like a regular in a bar You didn’t know when to stop I had it all along And now I lost it And I rush out of my chair At the prospect of my great things Still being great With or without you This is redundant My words are redundant Me getting used is redundant No I am a regular in a bar And that is redundant And now I have tripped over my chair At the fact That me and my great things Will still be great With or without you

This piece was written on April 8, 1995 at 7:15pm in Edmonton, AB. 86


FIRE DRILL In the 20 years on my own I have been glued And I’ve been unglued I have been tethered To someone But mostly the tether Has been cut by myself Of the yous, hes, shes, them all I have done some growing up On my own But there is still room For improvement I have learned not to become Involved with teenage girls I have learned not to become Involved with 20 somethings I’ve learned to become more picky With who I fall in love with I have discovered that Drugs, alcohol, tobacco and flings Do not agree with me And I do not agree with the Drugs, alcohol, tobacco and flings I have become more comfortable With myself And now I look for a woman Not a girl The light went on Right after

The new light went in It all changed because You always learn something Between the short time that It is on and When it is out and When you are forced To change From using your fire In your belly To drill into Others’ heads To using your fire In your belly So that others’ heads Will start their own fire So right before the song ends I finally get the beat And every time after that I will get better Because if you don’t learn Then you don’t grow But all this and that said The funny thing is I still feel like that kid Who has just moved out On his own For the first time And he doesn’t even know How to get his own Phone number



MECHANIZED Make adversity and fear Your respectful friends Make change and improvement Your respectful lovers Constantly improve Constantly improve On your best Don’t change just for Change’s sake Make your changes Improvements in your eyes Never fear change Never fear adversity Change adversity into improvement And fear the tag-alongs Who think you are The flavour of the week The tag-alongs Will fear you and your work Because your work Is your last will and testament To adversity Out of fear To fear Out of change To change Out of improvements And one last thing Make sure that honesty Is in your work And your work Is in you And be honest

To yourself And your work And your colleagues This should matter most Because With an honest day’s work Behind you Then And only then Can you rest Knowing full well That even if You are an unknown soldier You stayed true to yourself And that is all That matters in the end

This piece was written on May 11, 2009 In Edmonton, AB.



SHADOW AND VICTORY We lost them all But they were victorious They once said The only way out Is death or victory They all created And created And created Until they were victorious And right after There was their last breath Ron Asheton Lux Interior Mordecai Richler Charles Bukowski There was more There is more And there will be more We lost them all And we will lose some more But we will remember them all The final question is Are you brave enough To come out of their shadows And create your own Shadow and victory?



WHAT A DRAG At sunrise You will drag Your hollow body Through the emptiness Of your city’s streets When you finally realized That your emotions Your passions Your wants Your needs Have all become obsolete Life is slipping away From you Like the snow Melting in the streets of springtime You can’t force it anymore When you face Your futile mortality If you do what they say Then you feel like a phony On the other hand If you do what the others say Then you feel like a whore At sundown You will sleep Reviving all of your fears And again And again And again You feel like a criminal In a school of saints Or You feel like a saint

In a school of criminals Regardless You go to sleep Knowing full well That when you wake It will all start over again Until your shadow gives way To your beautiful work No matter what “They” say Because when your work Is complete And you have retired Your futile mortality Overnight will become A shining star of immortality



JUST SLEEP Good morning Hey man You had better close the store Because It will take me At least an hour and a half To clean up the vomit That is all over The garbage can The magazine racks The wall and The A.T.M. Yes miss We do have an A.T.M. But someone just threw up on it So I can do cash back With your purchase Thank you Come again Sir sir sir You don’t need to yell Or swear at me Why yes We do have an A.T.M. It is in the back On the left Thank you Come again No

We don’t have a public washroom No I can’t make an exception No you can’t use it Even if you buy something No you can’t use it By paying me for it No I still can’t let you use it Even if you let me Watch you pee No my dick won’t shrivel up And fall off Just because I wouldn’t let you Use the washroom Thank you Come again Hello officer There is a man In the store Who repeatedly threatened my life And has been barred From this store Yes he’s the one yelling at me No I don’t know his name He is some meth-head Sorry officer He just corrected me He is a crack-head NOT a meth-head I guess that I forgot That it was a badge of honour Yes it was him Who said that He is a crack-head Because of assholes like me Hello officer

There is a man in this store Who said that he was supposed To meet the police At the 92nd street and 82nd avenue store Three hours ago He is here At the 101 street and 82nd avenue store And he is angry that When he stepped out of the hotel At 102 street and 82nd avenue For a smoke The police did not respond To his call about a break in At 108 street and 82nd avenue Yes I will gladly tell him to go home Hello officer There is a woman in the store Who has been barred Because she was caught shoplifting Yes that is her yelling at me She has long grey hair Missing teeth and she is very skinny She just told me that She is a drug addict And a prostitute She just left the store And she left a note With her name and phone number No I can’t make out The phone number Her name It looks like “Cootie” No I am not being a smart ass At five in the morning

“Cootie” Is what she wrote And after seeing her It is an applicable name for her Yes Now I am being a smart ass At five in the morning Thank you for your help officer Have a good morning Good morning Sleep Good morning



THE STATE OF ART It is the art of the state When I am at a punk rock show And almost everyone here Is drunk and/or stoned One guy comes up to me and yells “I am going to get a girl pregnant!” Another guy is pissed off At the band For stopping the show To break up a fight When did fighting become cool? Later I ask a few friends Who are older than me And have been around Longer than me If this attitude was cool When they were these kids’ ages One of the friends said NO And that he was always Breaking up fights So that the venue Wouldn’t be shut down And that these events Are now more than ever For jocks and assholes A few years ago I went to a show Where the influential band Opened up for a band That emulated them No one Save a few like me Understood the older band

And when the emulators Hit the stage I counted five bleeding noses Within the first two songs When was that ever cool? I know that We all have to let off steam But to do it At someone else’s expense Really bothers me I get home thinking Maybe it is just me and my friends And that we are of an era That broke up Like most of the bands We once watched I go to bed thinking to myself that Where I once felt at home I now feel like I should have never left my home For shit like that And that I should never leave my home To participate In the macho bullshit Or the state of the art Art of the state

This piece was written on May 19, 2009 In Edmonton, AB.



WHEN TO GROW UP When the drugs and alcohol Become your personality When your ball cap Is still on backwards Well into your mid-life crisis When your drunk girlfriend’s Left boob comes out Of her top and You are stone cold sober When you feel fighting Is necessary to make friends And impress people When going to school Is now your career in life Because after years of attending Post secondary education You are still scared To go into the work force When your grudges take over your life And your life takes over your grudges When you can’t mind Your own business and You think your business Is supposed to be in others’ minds When it is really none of their business either When your womanly instinct

Constantly attracts you to macho jerks And finally When you pass judgement On the small people Who have passed judgement On you and your Ridiculous scornful eyes



I HAVE SAID IT BEFORE I GUESS I HAVE TO SAY IT AGAIN “If the kids are united They will never be divided” That is if the kids And their dumbass friends And their even more dumbass Role model parents Can stop smoking dope And drinking alcohol For just two minutes Of their pathetic life I write this as dope smoke Filters from the apartment Above me like a ghost Down into my bedroom The smoke is from a 40 something Hippie wannabe douche bag’s reefers You can wear your tie die shirts And your hair in dreadlocks All you want But it doesn’t change the fact That your recreational fixes Are involving others Who don’t want to be involved Like me for instance I don’t like you much And I have even less respect For you Because the world is on fire And while I try to find a solution You have crashed in your bed Wondering if you can get up enough energy To go get some nachos

Contrary to popular belief Killing your central nervous system Is NOT cool You sit idly by While the world is burning to ashes And all the while I wonder If the kids will ever Be united With these dope smoking morons To look up to In time to do some good In this world Never trust a hippie Or a hippie’s family Or a hippie’s friends Because their free love Spread S.T.D.s like wild fire As well as spreading Their incompetent genes Because nothing is free And there is no free ride On this planet To quote MC5 from 1969 “I want to hear some revolution The time has come to decide You are either part of the problem Or you are part of the solution You must choose And it takes only five seconds To testify” Now Are you going to testify A solution? Or are you going to testify A problem? Oh! I am sorry

You weren’t paying attention To my final prediction That when the world has crumbled And you can’t remember Where all of the time went I will have kicked out the jams And made a difference While you will still be A dope smoking moron



MY WINNINGS, OUR WINNINGS She is talking so loud About nothing That her nose is running And My ears are bleeding She says that she is not Going to miss this city “Physically” And I think to myself That this city is not going To miss her Mentally, physically Or even metaphysically I have no idea why So many people blather So loud in public places About nothing So She is exactly what This city needs less of By the way Don’t let the door Hit your fat ass On the way out



BY YOU When you deal with me You give me a limp handshake You never smile Your heart is wrapped In razor wire And your brain Is full of poison I often wonder If in years to come When it all ends Will you grudge me away Or will you rip me off Or will you decide Not to acknowledge me Normally Time is supposed to heal All wounds But with you I am not sure You deny me of your life Telling me that “We aren’t close” And I mumble to myself that “Your actions are supposed to Make us closer?” You have your blinders on And I can do no right By you I no longer Wished to be the whipping boy And that is why I walked away

And it seems to me That you locked me out Because I didn’t need Anyone to come and get me At one time I said that I loved you And at one time You said that you loved me But it would appear that Your words Were as hollow as the earth itself And your actions are Attempted assassinations Of someone you no longer know And I guess Because of this You are someone I never knew



LATE AFTERNOON BAR BLUES 3:52 in the afternoon Waiting in a bar With all of the lonely drunk men And the woman who lost 100 bucks And the barmaid With the revealing top And when I see the barmaid I think impure thoughts And when I see the woman Who lost 100 hundred bucks Yet now she buys a beer I no longer feel sorry for her And as for the lonely drunk men I feel pity and embarrassment Because I was once like that too Then I realize that At this time of the day Sitting in a dirty old bar We are all waiting Waiting for something To happen To change To happen to change In a good way We are all waiting For the loneliness to die So we can get out of this place And make something of ourselves So we all won’t have The 3:52pm bar blues But what can you do When some of these people Do NOT want change

Some of them seem like They just don’t want change They just want to bitch and moan About change But they just can’t get it up With the late afternoon Turning into evening blues



ABOUT CARE I am careful With what I care about But I am even more careful About what I don’t care about But what I should be doing Is being as careful with one As with the other Thank you Tom Verlaine For helping me out With my carelessness And my careful cares In these times Of careless dependants And careful independents



SIXTEEN After a walk Through the abusive riff raff After a cold soda I read your words With their youthful exuberance For life and learning I am old enough To be your father Even with this knowledge You found something in My work that moved you I read your potential too At your age Computers frightened me So most of the time I kept my nose In my spit covered note book I think of how big and ugly This world can be and is to you Yet you persevere And are able to find role models Through the shit parade And even though you get down You persevere (There’s that word again) And even though you are Half a continent away from me You have my respect Again At your age I had already tried to end it all Because of the scars and bruises And you use make up

To cover up your scars and bruises Of a broken home And again You persevere through it all And even though I only know you As a fake name with “Rabbit” in it There is nothing rabbit-like About you You have the strength and tenacity of a wolf And your prey is life And your powerful jaws Have locked onto This good or bad world This is something that I never had the strength to do Until I was almost twice your age And though we may never meet Face to face Or shake hands as outsiders alike And I may never be brave enough To tell you all of this You have my respect From one outsider To another outsider You have my respect



AN EPIPHANY OF SORTS My year end is where The warmth of the sun Should have been Six weeks ago I saw you in the bank Yesterday We were in the same line Together I was in front of you And I suddenly wished To have a wedding ring On my finger On my left hand The one you used to hold I wanted this ring This object of divine love Just to mock you Because I always said That I would never wear one Later on Standing at a bus stop Watching the pretty women In burqas walk by I was thinking Of why I stopped talking To her And at the same time I was wondering Why you stopped talking To me Suddenly Without warning

On this cold, cloudy, dreary day The sun came out It was so bright That the clean white paper That I was looking at Blinded my eyes And I now know that If these Muslim women Can live with me Staring at them Then I should be able to live Without the her and Without the you Not watching my expenses That I couldn’t can’t wouldn’t will not Be able to afford At the time we were there Or what we could afford At the time we were here So a heartfelt thanks Goes out to the clouds That moved for that instant So that my eyes Were blinded clean And my mind was Blinded clean too However briefly This cleansing was A well deserved thank you Is definitely called for So I say emphatically Thanks again clouds Thanks again



NAÏVETY I don’t want to see Your dreadlocks Because you are white and Not a Rasta I don’t want to smell Your cigarette or dope smoke Because killing yourself Is NOT cool I don’t want to hear How much partying you do Because it is boring I don’t want to taste Your tongue in my mouth Because you are too young And lastly I don’t want you to want me Because I may show weakness And return the favour

This piece was written on May 10, 2009 In Edmonton, AB.



NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION How much Do you change In the New Year? How much Do you charge In the New Year? Listening to music and Drifting in and out Of sleep All night Thinking that I heard My door bell ring Being woken up A couple of hours ago By the apartment Below mine Being broken into Getting emails From a couple of nice people One in the U.S.A. The other in Japan Thinking how lucky I am To know such good people I am glad That some people Do NOT believe in Changes or charges In the New Year One is always Flexing with the time I realize that

You are right I don’t know how much You appreciate me That is one thing I love About all of you How you stick it out With me Even though I am hard to change Even though You are hard for me to charge But I am a simple person If you respect me And stick it out with me Then I will do the same For you and With you So Don’t change for me And charge me The same as everyone else And I will stick with you Until the end And if I haven’t said it Before and/or enough Then I will now Thank you

This piece was written on January 1, 2010 At 6:55am In Edmonton, AB. 117


A 1988 ENCORE Got home from the show Saw Rob, John and Tom Of the band Nomeansno Chatted with Tom Told him how much I liked The new stuff And after all of the bouncing By the band and the audience alike And after seeing nice people That I haven’t seen since the early 90s And after meeting some cool new people The friend I dragged along And I agreed That it was a great time Back in the summer of 1988 A bunch of friends and I Piled into vehicles And burned rubber Out of the suburbs To see Rob, John and Andy Of the band Nomeansno I remember Andy saying at the start “We’re back like a virus.” And near the end of the show When they were doing the song “Victory” Rob sang a line into my face When I was dancing in the front row I remember thinking how funny but earnest they were Jump ahead 21 years to last night Andy is gone but Tom is here And he is great too

And along with the other two guys I have to say thanks To these three young old guys To those three great guys Because for a few hours It was the summer of 1988 When I had one of The best times of my life And by the way guys Thanks for showing me Another great time



FROM UPSTAIRS She said to me, “She could marry my man And it wouldn’t scorn me For he is just like A burning cage to me.” And she was a cynic In a field to me No love No hate Just a stare that said, “You’re just a friend Not a mate.”



FROM POINT B TO A Just so you know I can’t write about Anything else But the beating and Swelling of my heart Just so you know The groundwork Will be done soon As soon as The roadwork starts Then When the construction Is complete There will be one final “And” To this puzzle To make it fit So Let’s start the practices And leave the theories To the verbose teachers And leave the eloquence With us to care for Because it was two days Before he died But two days After she was born So I will have the sane one You will have the same one And they will have the plain one

And now I am good So how are you? You are great With this first greeting And the next meeting And the final war painting Dries to the first piece Dries to the first peace To become a timely hug And a gentle kiss And we’ll just have to start over With all of the theories, Breaks, hearts, patience, Groundwork, planes and Tears for the risen Flowers for the fallen And money for the ones Who are here all of the time Because When the chips are down Count me in If you are in And if you are there for me Then I will be here for you This is the distance Between point B and point A Just keep this in mind That all of this Is just a theory Just like evolution And all of the religions Are just theories too Your guile My guile Their guile Just remember to hate All guile

Because Soon I will give you A break And hopefully Just as soon Your family will give me A chance And you will give me A break and a chance And I just hope that They believe us too As much as We believe them too So be patient And soon I will be with you And as soon as I wake From this solo flight And as soon as The plane lands And as soon as The sanity starts All of the theories Will fade to dust And the snow will melt Into tears of joy But now I am rambling That it is Just one of those days To rearrange everything Because lately I have been moaning That we won’t Be young forever Because the tears and Flowers and money For everyone

Who wants to be sane In a crazy world So There you go There you be There you are and Bob’s your Uncle To the upside And be damned To the downside Because when it is time To start We will get an award For our finish Thanks for listening You are all so kind For putting up with me For so long Thanks again You are all so special to me Thanks



YOURSELF BEING ONSPRING We are quiet in our rage We thank the sheep In our lives For blaming us For not wanting to Play the game So we stick to our guns With a truce A young one spoke of that Art is war So fight! So we stick to our guns No truce will be made Now Because the sheep On both sides Make all of us Look like lawless Morally bankrupt jokes The three of us Hold onto our passion Hold onto our strength Hold onto each other Even though We are miles away From each other And even though We are miles away From each other We remain quiet in our rage Unfortunately because If we fight the sheep They might very well win

Because they out number us Even with this in mind We console each other With the fact that With our rage With our morals With our laws With our love We will stick to our guns Because we are “onspring” Not offspring And with our rage Morals, laws and love We also have each other And in the end That is all that really matters



I would like to lay On my back without my shirt on In a wide open space Like a field of grass Or on a gymnasium floor With her lying next to me With her left hand On the center of my chest To make sure that my heart is Beating correctly on time To make sure my life is correctly Beating I am not sure why this is So important to me But I just need her close to me To make sure that I can go on To make sure that I will go on Can will still go on Lay still while she heals me



ARM BAR I want you to see My failures I want you to feel My victories I want you to hear My sadness And I want you to taste My pleasures It is all in my Lonely hands And if I give it all to you Will you accept it graciously? Or will you throw it all Back in my face? This is not Christmas day It is when Vic Chesnutt Passed away And your smile And what I just spoke of Sticks under my fingernails And it may very well Take months to wash it all away Because I want so badly To be with you That you smolder Inside my dreams And cause me to wither In your presence Failures Victories Sadness Pleasures

I just wanted To let you know that There is friendship If you want it And there is love If you need it



GET YOUR TENSE CORRECT If the past Is was will be Hell And the present Is Limbo Then why shouldn’t the future Be Heaven?



I love the back Of women’s necks But with her I loved her eyes And now they are A continent away



NEVER FAILS Sometimes I will cry At your laughter And other times You will make me Laugh at your crying Because all along You made love Like a war And I cry At your laughter Because there was a time When you would Make a war Into love But after the argument All I could remember Were all of the fallen soldiers Of war Who at one time Were rising caregivers Of love



LOVE IS BLUES You don’t know what So Light the matches Light the candles And light the fires In your belly And turn on the heat In your home And stick your nosey neighbor’s head In your oven And run away Before the evidence destroys What’s left of your dignity Looking at the street My frown Keeps the photographers And all of the other Sudden leeches away Just like all of the snotty Over middle-aged cougars Not reading the “Please wait to be seated” sign I will have a good time When your country Lets Farley Mowat in Because After Mr. Mowat was rejected It raised some doubts in my head About me getting in Now I know that It was not your fault

It was the fault Of a narrow-minded government That succeeds in buggering Foreigners and sometimes even Its own countrymen Sometimes I just hope That after all We have gone through Just to meet each other That I am not turned back Maybe I worry over nothing I discovered that after all of this I don’t know what And now you don’t know who But we both know that Sometimes Love is blues



FREEDOM FROM SPEECH I figured out my speech And threw it out Because a sonnet Is more appropriate Than my confrontational edicts I had to let you know That we are one more day Closer To holding each other In each other’s arms That we are one more letter Closer To writing our own novel And that we are one more Desperate love phone call Closer To being closer I told you first That I loved you Like a friend Later You told me first That you loved me Like a lover I feared that When my reaction Was less than your’s I would forget That neither of us Were ever counting Or in a race to first I would forget

That when it is over I really believed That it is over But now Being over scares me more Than telling you That I love you Like a lover Being over scares me more Than telling you that I would like to Make love to you And I truly hope That I can take my time So that my words of hope Scare you more Than me telling you About my freedom Freedom from speech Freedom from speeches Freedom from my speeches And making you catch some Of my rushing sonnets Of how close I believe and hope we are And of how close I believe and hope we become



LEAVE THE CHECKING TO US I came here To leave you I came here To leave with you And no one else I came here to leave Without anyone else Because I was checking you out Because I was checking out Because I was just going out Because I was outgoing Especially In the last century When we last kissed While in the middle Of a time lapse Photography experiment So would you please stop Looking at me? Now would be great I nod in approval And carry on Out into the cold, cold night Where the fun and spending Only end When the bell rings The last call I think about you Every day

I talk to you Every week I see you Every month I can relate to you Every year But I have never Touched you I waited all of these Years Decades And centuries To feel the warmth Of your body Under the tips of my fingers But even when I just think of you Words tumble From the tip of my tongue To the dirt Under my feet Where one day I will lay my head And so one day You will too But I have never learned How to write Words for children And you will have just learned How to read The words from children And maybe at some point Our paths will cross again When people realize That music did NOT die With Buddy Holly The Beatles

And Elvis Presley Music died With the Ramones The Cramps And Ron Asheton And when people do realize That there is more to music Than shitty 50s and 60s pop It will be a glorious day Because You and I will embrace And laugh With each other That we knew this Long before anyone else And why did it take so long For the rest of the crowd To figure this shit out? Because we are getting Lots of compliments And even though it is all Just hot air We will move Through the ground Where all of the good people lay Leaving them to check us out As we were outgoing And as we were going out Hand in hand Slowly digging ourselves Out into our own opening Where We can laugh with each other At all of the beautiful Sunrises and sunsets Until The only worries we have

Are keeping our lives honest Being honest to each other And letting everyone else Worry about how to forget Their insecurities and lies



THE THOUGHT OF POISON They are another Somebody’s words With a thought of poison You pogo to a band That broke up Before you were born Waving your bullet belt In the air Wearing your anarchist slogans On your back And a smug smile On your bare face You never made it And you never realized That all that matters Is not taking yourself So seriously That you take no one else Seriously And even though These are another Somebody’s words I can see the immaturity In your smug smile And your insecurity In your angry stance And that is why These words Are now The thoughts of poison In my eyes And now They come out

Of the tips of my fingers Onto the pages Beneath my pen And this is my discovery of The youth of today Gathered at a confrontation of People of yesterday Which all worries me about The world of tomorrow



POSER If you say the word “Like” Unnecessarily In a sentence again I will cut your right arm off And beat you to death With said arm You P artially O rganic S hit E ating R eprobate



HOMECOMING Maybe If I looked like that frat boy Steroid monkey drinking beer While walking on The Avenue of Fools I could see it But You never gave me A chance And last night Was a homecoming Of sorts Drifting in and out of sleep Listening to the radio To get my mind Off of you Just like I was In high school again Drifting in and out of sleep Listening to the radio To get my mind Off of The hers The hims The thems And the yous Just two more Questions remain At the lockdown Will you remember me? But if the doors re-open Will I remember you?


DIVISION TOLL You call me brother United We stand Divided We fall United We fall Divided We stand United We divide Stand And we fall You call me brother But You are sick of me Not knowing that I am sick of you too But You are the one With a stripper girlfriend And in desperate need Of a thesaurus When “fuck” is Every second word Out of your mouth But You are the one Getting drunk Every second night Bragging about Your dumbass girlfriend’s

Sexy gown But You are the one Stealing oysters From a convenience store And threatening to kill me But You are the one Running away When the police are called You call me brother But You are the one Being vocal to your friends (And not to mention me) That you are sick of me Well that is alright with me Because In your time of need In the future (Hopefully sooner than later) You will be the one Posturing and being a poser To the wrong person And You will be the one That if you are not smart enough Will be made to regret Your stupid Junior high school act But If you are still Ignorant in stupidity Or stupidly ignorant You will be the one Not understanding why

You are the only one around In your time of need And this is just one Of the many reasons I hide behind my silent smile You call me brother United I stand Divided You fall Brother



NOTES FROM A FIELD On this past Halloween Before working The graveyard shift And running on Two hours of sleep I spent seven hours Arranging my records I put them all In alphabetical order And once in awhile I would pull out a record That I hadn’t listened to In over twenty years I would put the record On my turntable And listen to the needle In the groove magic And it was like seeing A friend that I had not seen In a very long time So I do not go out on Halloween I believe that Halloween Is meant for kids Twelve and under And I figured that I would do something That should have been done A long, long time ago So I would listen to my old friends

Thinking to myself that All of you bar stars Can wear your masks And kill your central nervous system And I will gladly stay at home With only two hours of sleep Very tired from this lack of sleep But not being able To wipe the smile From my face All the way to Remembrance Day So Fuck you Halloween Mask wearing bar stars I will gladly stay at home Listening to all of my Old friend music And by the way Thanks again old friends For helping me out Another tough one You saved me yet again



HIPSTERS OF YOUNG AND OLD If you make fun of me For asking What you would call “Dumb questions” Then I will make fun of you For your ignorant replies I am listening to The band Hot Water Music And reading Anthony Burgess And I am wondering Where you get off Poking fun at me (Or anyone else For that matter) At not being As well read as you If there are Rhetorical questions Then there should ideally be Answers That never needed questions And an answer That defines that Would be Where and when Elitism’s work starts Only pettiness and ignorance Will finish such a half-assed job As putting oneself Above everyone else


BRAVE NEW WORLD? In your not so brave new world With your tick tacking On your computer About someone’s failure In your eyes Just shows how brave You really are By not signing your litter That calls someone out You Like the rest Of your Petulant backers Tick tackers Hypocritical hackers And dumbass slackers Just show your true colours In this modern age Of falling apart Breaking hearts Close ended art And all in your online Shopping cart If you want to be A real Flesh, blood and bone Human At least sign your Ignorant put poorly Street obscenity Graffiti calamity I often wonder If you ever meet the people

You call out In your immature Raging storms And if you do Are you as brave As your tick tacking Would suggest? Or do you just melt in With all the other Negative ranters? When you all fail To even put signatures On your blemishes I will use your Print out papers To wipe my ass And flush them all Into the sewer Of obscurity All this that And the other thing Being said I must thank you For showing me Again and again Why blogging, vlogging Ranting, raving Racing, pacing And tick tacking To all those who think That they are just as Important As the people they call out Really just waste their time Watching you waste your time Making me waste my time And making me realize

At the same time That sometimes Freedom of speech Is more of a burden And/or vice Than a real opportunity To finally show What remains after A night’s fall And to also show How the new day Should make one grow Instead of just being Another clown lined up On tick tacking row Brave new world? Nope Not even close Not even close



SACRIFICIAL LAMB Whenever you apologize to me There is always a but There is always a condition And the but and the condition Are always my fault So your apologies are all hollow I drop like a stone And into the shower I go For days on end To scrub myself clean This is why I do NOT keep a diary Or at least on any sort of Regular basis Because it would Humiliate me to death Do NOT apologize to me again Because it would Humiliate me to death



THE UNUSUAL USUAL I saw the usual bus driver Today He was happy and talkative as usual We chatted for a bit And I told him that I was going out to the suburbs To get my teeth checked And when he dropped me off at my stop I waved goodbye I waited for the suburb bus And as I waited I thought of you Even on the suburb bus And even as we took a detour On the suburb bus I thought of all the detours That we had to take And as my mind wandered I remembered some graffiti Etched into the back Of the seat in front of me That I could not move My eyes from earlier that day The graffiti wasn’t Obscene or offensive Just a simple statement that said “I will never forget you” It made me think that maybe I should have said that Before our last detour Before our last second Together

I am not sure That it would have helped But you never know At the very least It maybe would have made me Feel better about our Current positions in life I will never forget you I will never forget you



I JUST HAD TO Twenty years ago The Chinese government Crushed freedom fighters And now it is back To the normal oppression In China Today I go on the internet And I see freedom fighters In Iran Fighting with much Passion and vigor And fighting with much Pain and even death In my selfish way Earlier this month I decided to be silent Until my reading Later this month But Iranians struggling To live free And even dying for freedom Made me speak up To myself And anyone who hears this From my safe home in Canada Thousands of miles away I just had to Wish the Iranian freedom fighters Good luck You dream will come true This is just a short note From far away Good luck

Your dream will come true

This piece was written on June 22, 2009 in Edmonton, AB.



FREEDOM OF SPEECH My last one Was Is And will always be A love poem And from now on My next one Will always be A love poem So Let us say that This one is A hate poem And was Is And will be My last Hate poem It is about China And everyone else Or should I say The Chinese government And everyone else And how much I hate the Chinese government And how much I hate everyone else For not standing up To the Chinese government And for not standing up For the Chinese workers And other Chinese citizens

Livingunder A Chinese military dictatorship This piece was sparked By seeing that The U.N. censored Part of “The Gun Sculpture” Because China was offended I am angry and full of hate Because no country (And now the U.N. too) Stands up To the Chinese fascists Even though China Is the biggest polluter And human rights violator In the world The Chinese Workers and citizens Are helpless Because they know that If they speak out About working 20 hours Everyday of the week Every month of the year For a dollar a day Then they will go “missing” And every nation (And now the U.N. too) Will not stand up To the Chinese fascists Will not stand up For the Chinese workers Because China makes everything Cheaper than anywhere else And more of everything Than anywhere else

I have made a personal vow To go to China twice The first time will be To hide all of the Chinese workers, citizens And Tibetans In my luggage And smuggle all of these kind people Out of their living Hell Leaving behind all of The Chinese government assholes To feed off of each other And when there are Only dried bones of the assholes left I will go to China For the second and final time To parade all of The Chinese and Tibetans Back to their homeland So they can have a party And a family reunion In the once bloody And now beautiful Tiananmen Square And when the party is over They will run the country Like a real nation of lovers Instead of a nation of oppressors I know that This all sounds naïve But it is a dream That keeps me going In my dark times My final parting words In this rant Fuck the Chinese government.


If you don’t have The world By the balls Then you will most likely Be taking the world Up the ass



WAKING UP TO SLEEPING This is just The end of waking up And now it should be A new day Of hard work Conquering The unconquerable And delivering the goods At all costs in another day closer To the end Of the final chapter Of your epitaph So do everything today And when you have done everything Do more and then Rest your weary head Because this is just the end Of going to sleep

This piece was written on Friday July 23, 2010 At 10:55pm in Edmonton, AB.


Corey Hamilton is the author of 10 books of poetry and prose and has been writing, painting and taking photographs for over 25 years. He is the author of the books “Keep Left,” “No One Shall Be Spared”and “Lonely Night Songs,” to name a few. He was born in Winnipeg, MB and raised in Sherwood Park, AB. Corey currently lives in Edmonton, AB. His website (www.dramaticsituations.com) has been online since 1999.

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