Sunday, January 10, 2016

a bit of prose — small child

He is a small child. Even to himself he feels small. Everything seems to loom down from above. Outside, the few steps to the sidewalk seem like a cliff, a steep cliff. The steps touch one side of the sidewalk, the roadway the other. Cars whiz past not ten feet from his seat on the top step. Walking up the narrow street the row houses tower over him on both sides. All are old and shabby looking. Even as a boy he can feel the dullness of this street, And to the boy, the neighbourhood is this street. This street is his whole life. And there are no trees, no flowers, no living thing. Not until the street ends with the paved school years at one end. To the side of that yard there are a few scarce trees. Tree that are thinner than the boy.

Thinking back on this childhood moment brings forth no bursts of colour. Only black and white, and grey. Lots of grey. There’s no memory of the sun shining. The only thing that has colour is the brown leather barber’s strap. There was a big man in the house. He held the strap and smacked it on his hand constantly. Walking back and forth behind the boys on the couch. Threatening, begging for a reason to use it on them…any reason will do. There was no movement, no sound. There was only fear.

lines from lyrics — C. Vasik

Breaks these chains.

On the run from everyone

Take me to the healing well

It’s gonna get cold soon

Just when it’s handled, it ain’t handled anymore

I’ll know happy when I get there

Stone cold afraid of himself

Can’t find another direction

It’s more than I’m willing to pay

You’re already digging the hole

Bang that drum a whole lot faster

Beg for mercy and you make a deal

If I leave, I’m dirty water

It ain’t so easy

Throw me a smile cuz it really makes a difference

Doing my best but it really does matter

Wash me in the perfect rain


notes taken December 30, 2015

a few lines — still holding on

I remember all my life...

I see memories in the eyes of people as they pass by...

I’m still holding on...

There ain’t much left of me...


January 5, 2016

Unfinished Poem — I lose myself

I lose myself and time
in a mind that drifts along.
There’s no reason or rhyme
when you search for where you belong.

I’m adrift in a river of hope
that flows through and endless sea.
Only memories to help me cope
until my journey sets me free.


January 2, 2016 

Saturday, January 09, 2016

a few lines — pulling at my heart

Life is pulling at this heart of mine.
It seems to feel another’s pain all the time.


December 11, 2015 

Unfinished Poem — saw me at the bus stop

I saw me at the bus stop,
outside a run down bar.
Didn’t look like I’d last long,
hoped home wasn’t all that far. 

My face was cracked and red,
from years of lonesome ales.
My eyes were glazed and dead,
I’ve succumbed to my life’s fails.


from around December 7, 2015 

Unfinished Poem — driving for a living

I’m driving for a living
and I’m driving cuz I’m lost.
I’m searching for some answers,
don’t care what they cost.

I’m running from the demons
that followed from my past.
I need to find a real friend
before I breathe my last.


from December 15, 2015