"It's about words, and words are all I have…"

purplehaze all in my brain ..lately things don’t seem the same..

this poem not sure what it wants to be

sitting quietly  flummoxed by opaque

dreamscape   scraping scraps from

begging bowl   *a pot induced lack   of soul

(*SOMA by any other name)


evil pot doc – the main side effect is psychic constipation

near dead poet – sign me up!


but i am making a comeback  through

the mundane  chopping wood  watching

screens   calls to  BELL  TDCANADATRUST


ground a once proud flowerchild  to dust


but don’t cry for me argentina  i commit the

pact of faust daily  with an e.coliridden samsung

capturing + nailing light to my wall    little immortalities

+please do excuse me while i fuck the sky




Winter 2020

*Soma – the happiness pill of the brave new world..


“Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the

overcompensations for misery. And being contented has none of the

glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness

of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt.

Happiness is never grand.”   (Aldous Huxley, Brave New World 1931)

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