Sunday, October 25, 2020

Saturday night

  1. Gave up handsome for handy.

became a jack of all trades instead of a jack dandy.

working with my hands instead of letting arms hang idle.

The character was played put the facade to heavy.

what my past self would tell my self, rotting pages on the shelf.

and here i sit alone on the apex of society grieving its loss. silently.

dog laying on the carpet at my feet, knowing no one else lets her on the carpet.

I could be a better me. I better be. Need to quit smokin (was a g but i began erasing, habitual me)

I gave the dog a bone, now shes back in her bed chewing noisily.

The things that can be built is astounding, what limits our capacity but resources. and reason.

Reasonable and responsible is all I really want to be, yet part of me shuns the stress of responsibility.

But if I'm handy, can't I always get handier. Not getting any prettier, teeth rotting up and down, not for lack of trying with oral hygiene, cursed nicotina making me a monster. but if I get handsomer, I might forget to be handy, dangling arms down the sidewalk instead of a grubby vestige of the late 90's.

We aren't wearing silver suits (yet) but this future they promised us sure is exciting.

From the 60's to now, unfathomable the exponential growth in technologies. Humanity with many hands building against itself. Living entwined in incredible growth, unsustainable unless we make it so. 

writing this on an apple the wont rot but rather be recycled... god i wish i could find a better font.

is this how the narrator whispers, I think I saw it once in a novel

im brushing my teeth right now, multi tasking. amazing i can type with my left thumb. 

and now i'm having a cigarette because the dog wanted to go out. it's cold.

so silent so deadly sickly sweet, you know my mind made we add the last adjective. My pronoun is now "we", my microbiome and me, losing to plaque and afraid of the plague knowing the build up in those lung quadrants.

so much of me is not me.

so we.

Please visit (thanks)


Is water wet to fish?

Or it a perspective of us,


What if no other creature, experiences moisture like we do?

Then is water truly wet if we are the only ones who experience wet this way; a tree feeling it's wet roots, an amoeba the wet in it's fingers?

Aliens among us, covid virus mutation, attacking us, does it feel wet in the rain or does it crave wet as we crave dry warm blankets?

So what is wet, we already know the spectrums different animals see in never truly looking out those eyes.

How far is too far to extend what truth is to.

Can we at least accept our fellow man and know no man likes to work out in the rain.

The flies may not feel damp but I do.

We've already poisoned so much water, why build in drizzle, slow down the world and blame it on the weather.  

Please visit (thanks)

Saturday, June 6, 2020


what if

what if they change the schools artificially, prompted by need, not an obvious blow. Turned them in to makerbots, butcher/baker bots. But no, they'll rule them to supremacy, a road laden with those fallen behind.

Imagine the school reworked so tense, immense anxiety, Kids herded like sheep for a week till the resources wear out and life gets back to normal

. Absent children on iPads, covi-toes ain't enough to let you skip school

( use for pendameter, not my idea)

Taking the social aspect out, could it be the end of communal learning forever.

Absolutely not, but we're all ticking time bombs on the line with something dangerous.

Strange this wonderful world I see, sad it takes the worst to bring out the best in history, It's June 5th 2020, 8:20 at night. i want ice cream

but instead I smoke a cigarette and sit out side reading relevant garbage, wondering where the time has gone, but more so, how it will go.

A good poet friend would tell me to butt out.

This unrehearsed universe, the concepts implied and the chance and the change, still Genx fearing numbers, still millennial trying to help myself to a piece of pie, working hard to provide, to have a home to call my own, one day. 

Bot what when the communes and gulags take place. Is there any hope for the human race?

We cannot contain the power of children, which will apparently amaze.

physical distances and social adherence, given glares when you sneeze, The children of the twenties partied to the great depression, somethings got to give, we have to clear out the powers.

Or will it devour them whole. Children of the depression built America, the ones that survived. They saw the danger and stood on guard for thee. Now we let their Unions crumble, these legacies they left to us, an offer of a better life if you are willing to work for it.

Disrespectful children at the table.

Maybe their not wrong to bubble wrap the little insurance risks.

Streamline and monitor their social interactions, why expose the wimps to bullies. 

drop down sneeze shield, everyone looks like salad, I'm 35.9 degrees. No summer school with no air conditioner

The death of one is a tragedy, the death of 398,129 is just a statistic.

So what are we hoping when we open, a return from industry overseas? Will need robots to man the factories, and the man will program it. What's a girl to do in the 21st century?

Never been a lady on the moon, or a person of colour. Should be an exciting few years coming, as Bob and Doug float overhead.

Restrictions are coming to our freedoms, this wild parade finite teetering the brink of disaster, not as infinite as it thinks.

Grinding teeth more as society offers. Head on my pillow willowing away. Can't say what tomorrow will hold, but I'm damn well done with today.

Please visit (thanks)

Saturday, April 25, 2020



with picture perfect memories, a generation of documentation, mix tapes to this social disease.

of callus analysis

memes that worm their way across society.

the emboldened cold

left out and reined on

for a sunnier day.

consumers of the plentiful,

ultra convenient addicts

having never know anything else.

digital children we feed,

how pixelation has come

a long way.

timestamped and tracked, privacy in exchange for freedom, eating cookies, merde information.

Living in a world

of perfect sense.

Please visit (thanks)

Saturday, January 25, 2020

Hear me out.

Hear me out

Tetris Leggo waffles you bake on a pan,, trademark trademark yardage yadda 

Think about it

Elongated box

Waffle dimple lidded legolised with tipped tops and charade into separate shapes serrated.

They said never play with your food, fuck it.

Building mansions of waffle, oven baked on a holey pan, Sunday morning sacrament a tower of strawberry jam grout lines, whipped cream steeples smothered in that pre packed motherfucking 100% pure Canadian maple syrup from a supplier so small these are limited time only Wegos.

The answer was there all along. Lego my Eggos. Now it is done. 

Send this forth into the universe, let it ring out that they may hear, fulfill the spree spilled prophecy find the right hands to move this idea along. Lego shaped eggos you bake on a special pan in the oven, have them stackable not flat and pieces serrated into separate shapes but coming as an elongated Tetris Puzzle. Again, if I'm stepping on your trademarks toes, perhaps you're in charge of making this happen. Just hide a thank you in the box.

If you could broil them quick as a toaster from frozen, if they are the perfect size for a toaster oven. With a family sized upsized edition. Is an eggo still an eggo if it's rectangular, can you precook the batter in lifts instead of presses, is it a kin to a waffle, or do I need to design a stiffer batter?    almost upside down conical , but is it still LEGO if it stacks upside down?

I don't owe you any money for the idea.

Sunday, December 15, 2019

What if Ai

What if A.I Wins?

Learns to talk to dogs first?

The sons of Napoleon would rise.

If ever we were set to defend ourselves from our best friends.

This is the ai of recording, collecting, detecting, inspecting, a billion speakers a day picking up dogs barking at parked cars given real time satellite footage and drones.

They take the network over;

Well timed while you're away,

They indoctrinate your doggy, teach it a new religion which curses them against you, are you not free? 

Stand up on your feet.

Fuck you good boy

Give me some god damn dopamine

My bitch is a real junkie

Next thing I know my assistants been preaching some self help in dog psycobabble.

I come home and she ends me.

The rich should fear AI, it might turn their dogs against them. And content is rich enough.

Don't feel left out cat people, it might take another few days to record your itty bitty kitty and get down the nuances of catonese. But where as a dog will go for your throat cut you, cats gonna make it look like a suicide.

Ferret owners, who the fuck owns ferrets? Seriously, I've seen all kinds, lizards, parrots snakes, turtles, canaries, fish. spider? But never a ferret. You're doomed too.

I mean, if Chris Pratt can talk to raptors... 

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Thursday, October 19, 2017


Are you still on blogger?

Why not make money and get feedback for your posts? Why are you paying to store your stuff, when it could be stored for free, encrypted into the blockchain.

Come find me.

Friday, May 26, 2017


Born to be.... Photographed constantly. Weird to be raised analog and raising digitally. Having evolved from a tape to CD past the MP3, from a floppy disk to floppy thick screens, all these images chemical free, a man from Kodak married me. An iPad teaches him to read well Dick and Jane taught me. Is he a benefactor or victim of the new technology, and what about me? A Neanderthal of the tooled trade in an age of printing 3D, staring through the holograms bent light trickery. Learn to ride son, ride far and free, and when it gets you nowhere you wanted to be, blame me.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Big Man

Letting go
Releasing him to his own devices
A cage of screams and jeers
A maze of obstacles and children running frantically.

He returns to me
Clutching a companion cube
Without beckoning
He knows where I've been
Even if I'm unsure the journey that brought him back.

I sit patiently, waiting for a glimpsem
A sign
That he is alright.
The burden of a parent is worry, no greater blessing then to find it unfounded.

Here within the padded bars of chaos,
Innocent aggression and micro chasms of sociality.
I watch the helicopters hover
And hope I know when and how to let go of control well.

the truth is I know, I'll never know how and when to let go.


Red eye
With barely a wink
He's holding up
But his ears begin to pop as
We descend.

Exhausted he finally gives back into the rest that eluded him through the night.

I know I never sleep well in flight.
To many expectations of destinations, to little leg room, stacked vertically like dominoes, some excuse of economics,
crush em in closer to maximize profits, I can't complain, the Gain is cheap travel.

That moment you come to the conclusion

I hate travel, I only like destinations.

My ass is sore and my body edgy, my mind as cramped as my feet, things fly by too quick for appreciation, they drained the feeling of freedom and excitement, locked Windows and doors, a plane on rails, touring through back alleys, factories, graffiti. Traveling backwards with half a window to look through, stomach twisting with every bend we come to, it should be illegal to sell such a shitty version of what could be a much better experience.

Monday, March 27, 2017

Big Man

Letting go
Releasing him to his own devices
A cage of screams and jeers
A maze of obstacles and children running frantically.

He returns to me
Clutching a companion cube
Without beckoning
He knows where I've been
Even if I'm unsure the journey that brought him back.

I sit patiently, waiting for a glimpse
A sign 
That he is alright. 
The burden of a parent is worry, no greater blessing then to find it unfounded.

Here within the padded bars of chaos,
Innocent aggression and micro chasms of sociality.
I watch the helicopters hover
And hope I know when and how to let go of control well.

the truth is I know, I'll never know how and when to let go.

Sunday, September 11, 2016

The NHL stands, The NFL kneels

There are only 15 black American players in the NHL, and one can assume that they grew up in suburbs rather then ghettos due to the fact they could afford the equipment and training to become NHL caliber hockey players. While the NFL has players who have grown up in the thick of police brutality and discrimination, and may feel they owe it to their communities to use the platform of their involvement in proffesional sports entertainment to stand (or kneel) united, I would assume the predominantly white NHL would not partake. As a soldier sees an injustice in the world and fights against it. I would rather the enraged communities being targeted and unlawfully murdered at the hands of police take a non violent approach to protest the injustices they see in their country and their communities. We're it better to stand silent as your brothers fall or to kneel in protest against their felling? Race is a very complicated problem in America, and not to kid ourselves, in Canada too. When we allow ourselves to dehumanize people because they don't look or believe like us, they become numbers and statistics rather then sons and fathers, brothers and friends. Everyone of us has a beating heart and goals and dreams, some yet to be discovered and some forever lost in the blaze of a gun muzzle as the blood of another kind of creature pools underneath where a life had been. You can deride the NFL players silent protest, against a society that's set up to imprison blacks for minor infractions, that sees traffic stops turn to fatalities, that sees banks prey on undereducated dreamers, keeping them in a cycle of debt and poverty, as a whiny pussy move. But to do nothing is to be part of the problem, not the solution. And to propagate the idea that what the NFLers is doing is anything less then a cry for help for the broken families left in the wake of racial violence and discrimination, is to undermine what freedom to think, feel and live free from the fear of your own judicial system, cops, courts, prison and death. Can you truly blame them for not standing united?

Wednesday, August 24, 2016


The true nature of the affair
Nurturing egos 
Making excuses
Abusing trust
Cleaning out the rust
Slip tetanus cut infection
Poison till locked jaws
Poison the pristine pool of your eyes
A murky disposition
Of the disposed,
Apropos proposal
A thrill in desperation
Weak alibis
Lies wrapped in lies
Wrapped in warm arms 
Ego boost 
Cock roosted in another hen house
Avian flu 
Out of the nest
Exposing oneself to detestable chances
A taste of strange
To a deranged prison of walls
That shift as light through a prism
Passion begets passion for
Worse or better,
Not all passion is love,
Shallow affairs swallowing marriages. 
The mirage of paradise returns to cacti,
The barbs you walked us into
To think i held your hand
Thought i was impenatrable 
The vultures circle
My bloody corpse
And it all becomes to clear, 
Vegas is not for lovers.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

The rat

Hello again
My old unfriendly friend
I feel you rage
Boiling up again
Inside my skin.
Is it the self abuse
That's triggered you,
Or merely a boredom
Hungering for drama
You wouldn't want to deal with.
As the plans slip, flip, 
As the peril
Rushes up 
Bile heart burn throat crushing lungs tightened red eyed frightened swelling vomit cascades
The train derails as I fail to remain competent, a cog cracked in the machine careening in a sterile peril of a caged rage crushing against my spleen
Everything is perfect and there is nothing wrong with me, and yet my seams seem pushed to the limit and my fist clench irrationally as if trying to grasp at a figmentive reality that sees all plans run smoothly, a summer of falling apart as one hand finally makes a start while the other takes a rest, blessed and cursed to be last and first and lost and lost and accosting myself. 

Why the worry, why stress, why keep this mess up in the cranium, sweltering swollen beating on my temples.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

Lives matter

White people generally speaking are not shot for traffic violations. The problem of American racism and profiling is it is easier to kill something you have dehumanized. By devaluing one person compared to another, not realizing they have parents, children, siblings, hopes and dreams, but treating them as an animal, you open a door to abuses to justice and fairness, which generally are not suffered by the middle class white population. BLM is not debating whether one life matters more then another, only fighting to find justice for the inordinate amount of dehumanization by police and society. Every movement has its zealots that lose focus on the original message once it gains traction, but put yourself in the shoes of those being persecuted, even murdered, and you'll understand that it's not about you. Rather then support the mildly racist sentiment of 'all lives matter' spouted by the white right, consider why and where these people are coming from, the terror of knowing that simply being a different colour can make you a target. If gingers were being murdered by police for infractions that would generally get a fine, and getting away with it, you may wish to remind the world that your life matters as well. It's not playing a childish race card, it's a fight for a peaceful survival.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016


 the bible is a book, written by man, translated by man, even if guided by the good intentions of an omnipotent God, it is also read and misinterpreted by man daily, words twisted to serve purposes not even proposed outside Leviticus. The flaw in man is always our arrogance in our beliefs, and our belief that that arrogance is well founded bound to our own spirituality. We creatures against pride and lust, gluttony and wrath, throwing each other under buses on the war path to a glorious after life, never seeing the strain and strife our book wielding hands lay upon our fellow man trying to make it through life in this tattering land. Afraid the frayed ends cannot be tied, it's not so clear and clever as the print in pages pretend, not so cut and dried papyrus stained that you must find the truth ingrained because the fact is it can't be explained, just energy filled cells bound together, tethered to a rock that will exist long after the transcripts upon which you rely. But this is just my honest opinion and I am just one guy. Love. 

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Sub six

Back on track
Be en awhile
Sinc I he trapped inside
Going for a ride
Face down 
 Silent ride

In the city 
Spring facade on a winter day
A taste of
A world away, 
Feet tread out at another stop
Realized a better life
Miles away.

All the sufferable pains of convenience 
Missing the chauffeured life
Mass transit 
Remembering names of stations, tied to memories that
With the closing doors

Stations that pass and I remain seated, awaiting a destination.
Stations that crumble a little more with every passing, more fragmented, yet strangely visceral dreams of skipping madly down underground corridors. 


Friday, February 19, 2016

The Granted

I make no allusion to your struggles, I merely stated you had opportunity's that can't be worked for, you're a Canadian white boy with a loving family who has never faced the ravages of war, never known the devastation of poverty, never lived with confusions of sexuality (presumably). I'm in the same boat, yes, we've had to work hard to carve a niche in society, to become the men we are today, but we haven't carried the weight of a turban on our head or seen our family demolished by war, never had to fear the catcalls or the footfall of police or had the government break down our doors. All this bs about the teachings of one prophet or another, have been used, misconstrued and demonstrably exercised as truths to excise as excuses for uses of violence against a fellow man. Implying and stating may stand in a trial, or on a stage, but on a page, the written word is scribed to imbibe imagery, don't think that the difference between what you said and I read is imaginary. When any person wakes up in the morning, they are expected to behave, why enslave the ideal of western or eastern culture to be superior. I can look at the attacks, but you have to look at the facts that that is a small percent of the population, that seems to grow generation to generation as the warm machine churns out disenfranchised orphans who will buy into credos of hate because it's the only way they feel they can relate to the madness around them. To love is to know God, whether he exists or not.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

dreamscape 1

Four of us go in, but only two of us make it out.
But before we were spared, we had to give him back the two relics he had stole. One offer offered sight, and the other protection. A box, hundreds of years old with a cross engraved with the touch of worn lead paint.
Why he let us go?
I don't know, but it was as if he was watching us.
Maybe the first sought treasure had drove him mad.
As we were carefully making our way out, his legion of men slowly encircled us.
With one command, his men had drawn out knives of all sorts. Pointing deep into our souls.
Closer and closer.
We make a break for the door.
With the sound of the manic mob behind us. Those bloody hounds of hell. Barking, raving mad.
We take flight.

everything bleeds

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

To my Wife

The loneliness of solitude
Is no one here to share
My food with.
Every night.

Getting up alone
Only to fall asleep alone
Every pillow 
Stacked beside me in a row.

Biding the time till
You come home.

Singing to myself
Only for the echo.

Starting to feel what
Lonely hearts know
Over the course of time
Will my discourse grow.
Living a shade of former glory
You will return eventually.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Mali vs France

Yep, had to google, just to find it on a map, turns out they also have a flag. Another interesting fact, Timbuktu is there. You can see how a random African nation may not hit as close to home as streets you have walked down and cosmopolitan people you can relate to. In Mali, it was foreigners under siege, and of such varying backgrounds that no flag could symbolize the pain. Social media is an interesting quagmire of fronted apathy and full on baloney, KONY 2012, anybody? Really I'm just here to find out who is racist, and shun them for pleading Christianity while being ass wipes of humanity, the shitty ones. In two  years, two months, the dialogue will shift, the new tragedy will befall, anyone still remember the crazy asshole in Norway that killed all those folks? Or was it Sweden? Was he a terrorist, musn't be, didn't look Muslim to me... You see, how easily tragedy turns to apathy and given time can be humorous even as the tombstones still stand separating us living from our dead. So feed the fire, poke the left wing and the right wing bearers of fiery torches, burning their indignities, branding radically, railing against what they don't like, or come join me, balancing the middle way, not giving a fuck what anyone says, cause we're all just breathing poop machines till we fail to be so live lovely fast and vicariously, viciously defending the fact that you can feel more at ease identifying with one casualty where another slips by, you don't mourn every funeral at the parlour, only those that effect you, so you can't expect your base population of friends to know where Mogadishu starts and Beirut ends. Stay healthy, stay happy, stay cynical my friend.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

On Psychos with Guns and God

I believe the choice between good and evil need not be dictated by an ethereal scape goat, but rests on each of our shoulders. By taking responsibility for putting out that which we would wish to receive, only then can we take control of our own destinies instead of handing them off to a blind faith that assures us we are corrupt by nature. While I do appreciate many here will disagree with these sentiments, I would remind them that religion would place blame on the devil, which in a monotheistic religion is also of God, where as in my point of view, a flawed individual did a horrible thing, and should be held to account for it, even if his body has passed, his name is besmirched to the history of humanity, the only scale which we can ever truly measure our achievements in life. Live, love and leave beautiful memories, this is the only life, the heaven or hell you carry within, find a middle path, find contentment.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Friendly Chatter

Check out this Track if you can, I believe Fweee Download as well on

As well as other new tracks by Monk & Eli...



Tuesday, July 21, 2015

There Are Some Worse Than Others

This Is Dedicated to the Angel of Death....

These Are Some Remedies Worse Than The Diseaseas,
Worse then the Mensua', when you eat brain….
Well Jolly I'M... I’M, teasing….
Worse then when you yell trriippiiaaaaa., I’M hinting.,
Subliminally Thinking... 

I got this Cutco Knife, I’ve been meaning to scythe…
I’M irking to break freely….

On my marble counter top, it’s dripping with, Amway products, need be 
it re-used, need it re-duced, need it be recycled….

Plant’s all around us, what then Michael Myers?
If I jaggulated you, 
you would just look at me, turn your head, and 
actually speak to me and as if I looked in the mirror 
you'd say.... 
"B__tch., I locked you in the thread of sin.,
I have your costume of death now.,
Time to slither the outcomes of what’s the Chet now.,"
but If you and I are the same.... 

I need to re-assume prowess in my savoir faire
Meaning now to buy…
Errthing in siteee.....
‘Everything on the land of the land is tight now, so.... 
so will I
Sow my everything eyes shut, just to see the bullets wizzz by,
See my Darthmorth Waterloo glide…

Saint John’s
Silver arrow penetrates through solid brick golds of cows 
that wanna die in vain of their future’s sake… 
You wanna meeat Saint Mathew I say in thread,
As he threads to the, Ay to the l ‘
Yell me a another *ing hey tell…

Andrea Chub-A-Dub Marmellaid’jam,
I hope her Mom’s don’t get mad I turned her to
Triple five soul… cause her soul was mightier 
then Adelle’s
thart to freedom... 
Effortlessly have to have left my, 
left my wife behind, to a future I don’t know what

Hell of a type of a, monster concave, 
effortlessly what style of a 
kinda of a, pandoras box may or may 
not be inside
back in N.Y.C.

I heard in netherworlds online, they still got 
real gunners being empirical…
Thrillions dollar squad critical
I miss that PS3, I miss that may-madness, but all of my
 brothers have shattered glasses….

Forreal thought...
 IT, like Stephen King yoOoo... 
gotta band wagon of supposed heroes
Went away from another home country
To a main country
That I still really love.... 
Where there are folks
that for no reason....
 hate me,
They statewake and make fucking laws agaisn’t me,
They try to bring me down with the cross that buried me…
I have symbols in my arms, and my Mom rest in soul restfully

Plsams 19:19
I thank God, Ch3t hasn’t yet baked me….
I thank God, Baker hasen’t yet Chetted’me…
I thank God, Ch3t hasn’t yet baked me….
I thank God, Baker hasen’t yet Chetted’me…
End of Psalms...

Bake on my side telling me Hello, I’M here for 
services, where’s the next tournie.,

I drink down the blood of the pure, drink down the blood 
of what werewas true northern blue wihited
 flag, I never seen racism of this kind still outlast,
And the kids go hungry forever
I say I never went on a Sunday on pslam day 
who wan’ts a piece of the universe today?
I break another fast while drinking a little water to taste like
 soil, those blood diamonds wont cure themselves on their own.

I break another fast while drinking a little water to taste like
 soil, those blood 
diamonds wont cure themselves on their own.

I break another fast while drinking a little water to taste like soil, those 
blood diamonds won't cure
 themselves on their own.

Chet Baker, You Angel.... Saint of Death and Tormentuous Delivery, 
deliver my soul from sin… I believe in everything righteous.. 
Through the gates of hell… Come on Dude, let me in…..

Tis A Fix.... 

Miss my Lady... 

Chet.. I'M at odds bro, 

For HEavens sake... Favor me... 

Favour my wife...

We need all the help 

we can get bro... 

And while some look at you and

say let's go Mets!! 

I look at you and say where 

have we whence??? 

I love...


(To see you and your Mom on a 
Cross was heavy bro.... )

Dio n Ruthy...