The Conch

(courtesy of http://rateeveryanimal.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/conch.jpg)

They say if you put your ear to a conch you can hear the ocean.
They say you hear waves ebbing and flowing,
Back and forth,
And you can imagine lazing in paradise,
with the sun beating down on your face.

But when I listen closely,
Beyond the waves,
Beyond picturing warm sand between my toes,
and the distant cry of strange birds,
I hear your voice.

I hear you say,
"Come with me.
Come with me on the strangest, darkest,
Most amazing adventure you've had in your life.
Come with me on a daring, dazzling
journey that will challenge you in ways you've never known.
Come with me on the calmest, gentlest
stroll you will ever know.
Come with me", I hear you say.

I wish I could call back into the conch.
I wish I could say,
"I will leap with you
Into the canyon, the abyss, knowing we are falling together.
I will run with you
Laughing even though there are wild dogs chasing after us.
I will carry you
When you are hurt and need my arms.
I will", I want to say.

So I whisper the three words I mean most into the conch,
And lay it down in a bed of cool sand,
So that when the next person listens,
Maybe they will hear the words they've always wanted to hear,
And maybe they will say the things they've always wanted to say.
And maybe they will love more than I have ever loved.
And their world will be brighter and lighter
and full of the things I wish I could give you.

Midnight Blues

Peer into a clear night sky,
and you may catch a star winking at you.

Maybe it's a hero;
Off on another quest to save our world
From a fearsome meteor,
threatening to blast us into millions
Upon billions
of dusty particles.
Maybe he catches your eye,
and gives you that silent signal that
Everything will be fine.

Maybe it's another form of life,
And they're sending message after message
Trying to find some form of communcation,
but to no avail.
Maybe they're just trying to reach our wavelength,
to find out why we're turning our planet
Black with the stain of oil.

Maybe it's just a star
Bored of all it's other star companions,
it reaches out to another world.
It spies us, billions of lightyears away
And wants to make a connection,
be our friend in this dark and lonely universe.
Maybe it doesn't want us to feel
alone.

What does a wink mean anyways?

a letter from a woman you loved

Dear _______
Dear friend
Dear lover
Dear broken heart

Do you remember when we carved our names
into the bridge across the soft stream?
When we laughed and sighed
and skipped from beam to beam?
When I counted plucked petals
and watched you catch a drip rolling from your ice cream?
When you chased me in the park
and I let loose a childish, joyous scream?

Do you remember when I tripped and fell
And hated that you weren't there to catch me?
When I wandered onto my own way
Unknowingly into a forest of rusty debris?
When you called to ask if I was fine
And I only had the guts to say "Well it would be..."
When I let you go
And you felt like a body on a gurney

Do you remember how we held hands
Yesterday, on the dock facing the boats?
And we recounted the days past
Writing love note after love note?
When I could tell you how much I loved you
Making all your insides seem to float?
When our world was so real
And everything else was remote?




I do too.



Sincerely,

a woman you loved.

The Bull

The sun is hot.
It drives down onto my smooth, gleaming coat.
He steps onto the field.
He looks dashing,
His black suit beautifully embroidered
With slick lies and false diamonds.

The crowd roars in delight
As his feet are cushioned by the sand
With every flat-footed step.
They wave and cheer for him.
They spit and curse at me.
He holds his arms up in victory.

Silence falls.
He stands at the ready.
A distant quiver in the red cloth
I bolt from one edge of the stadium to the other,
The power in my legs urging me to fell him
Like a sapling to a great axe.

The red disappears and the crowd cheers.
I am a fallen jester
Being pelted with apple cores and gum wrappers.
He laughs and winks
Thinking his quiet smirk will distract me;
He is not safe.

I lock into his eyes,
No more do I see his flashy red cape,
I see into his faults
I aim my horns towards his heart
A rush of wind,
Nothing.

I walk proudly with my trophy.
I parade the circumference of my ring,
My triumph held high for patrons to ogle.
I am the victor today,
and he shall stay mounted on my horns,
Which shall remain painted red.

Being grateful

Something happened.
I'm missing the fire;
That piece that plays Town Crier
When you get in my face
Or out of place
Or annoy me to the point where I want to throw my shoes at you.

I'm fuzzy
And buzzy
And can't remember why I'm so angry.
Because all I can think about
Is when you let me spout
My problems like a 12 year old to her mother, too polite to say no.

Your kindness is overwhelming.
And it makes me horribly, sickeningly, unbelievably...


Grateful.

Speak Easy

Speak easy to me
Like a soft wind on the roses petals;
Like a gentle snowflake on my bare cheek;
Like a lover to the moon.

Speak easy to me
And ease my mind of doubts
Ease my body of cares
Ease my spirit of worries.

Speak easy to me
Like I am your only Muse;
Like you only see light in me;
Like you'll never see light again.

The Sand Woman

On the isle of Namow
When the breeze catches the delicate grains
Lying, lazing on the beach
She rises to meet the wave of the sea.

Carefully sculpted by a soft spray
She turns to face the water
Bidding the sun goodnight
And begin her inland journey.

The wolves sound with her first steps
Howling, teeth bared,
Desperate to take a piece of her
Back to their den for a midnight snack.

She strides forward, entering the brush,
The beasts squawking and barking in delight
Greedily greeting their visitor;
But her stride is steady.

She climbs the incline,
Bombarded by beaks and teeth and claws
Scraping, tearing, ripping
Leaving a sprinkling of sand on the forest floor.

The hounds break ranks and charge
Leaping viciously at her body
To devour what part of her they can;
But she continues, her face to the canopy.

Her arms are shredded
Her frame wobbles and wavers
Ready to collapse at any moment
As chunks of her coarse flesh are robbed from her.

She reaches a clearing, and the moon disappears
Paralyzing the animals in the bush.
The gentle wind embraces her broken figure
And, grain by grain, carries her back to the sea.

Scattered among the ripples in the water,
She will piece herself back together
And when the sun next passes through the sky,
She will begin her journey again, whole.

Poor Me

Feel sorry for us Albertans.

While we’re dealing with piles of snow

Complaining about how it just won’t go,

You sit there with sandals on your feet

Begging for change on the side of the road.

And while we battle the cold and the sleet,

Freezing off our baby toes,

You beat the heat

Barbequing scraps of meat

In a cardboard house.

“Poor me!” We cry

Towards the sky

As fluffy stuff flies by

Not thinking of you,

Who can’t choose

Between red or blue shoes,

And can’t get in to see an MD

For an useless knee

Infected with gangrene.

Because brushing off our cars is so hard.

Lorax

Congratulations on your latest Destruction!
Welcome to the new ELW:
Extremely Ludicrous Waste

Untitled

I see you when the trees change,
As the leaves float like fairies around me
And invite me to dance in the streets.

I see you on a bitter winter day,
As the harsh wind whips my cheeks
And home seems far away.

I see you when the flowers bloom,
When everything is fresh and new,
Budding again after a long hibernation.

I see you in the scorching heat,
When it's all you can do not to run through a sprinkler,
Naked. Ecstatic.

I see you in the palm of my hand,
As our fingers lace together,
And our love lasts through passing seasons.

Where am i?

I'm sorry.
I know those words don't mean much now,
But I've had them inside for so long
They have to come out.
And I don't care if you throw them away
Or save them and keep them close to you for a rainy day,
I don't care if they mean nothing to you
Because they mean something to me.

I'm dumb.
I had a chance to learn
to grow and understand the tears and burns
in my now thicker skin.
But instead I turned around
And found
that it was more fun at the time to rechurn
all the shit that passed before.

I'm lost.
I don't know what to do
Feeling so confused
and used
and untrue
to myself and everybody else
thinking we were cool
when I should have had the courage to admit we were fools.

I'm ______.
I can tell you about my mistakes
And the time I've taken
to put on the brakes
to heal from them (next to none).
But I'd rather tell you nothing.
I'd rather say "Hey" passing down Gateway
than ever sink back into the hole.

I'm here.
I don't know what's next
Or what will be your last text,
Or if what we had was the best
and we'll never get it back.
I know the past, I feel the present
I know I'm piecing together fragments
just to be here. Now.

Staples

Pens.
Paper.
Binders.
Office lamps.
Labellers.
Calculators.
Daytimers.
Highlighters.
Elastic bands.
Post-it notes.
Tape.
Glue.
Scissors.
Colouring pencils.
More pens.
Whiteboards.
Corkboards.
Staplers.
Printers.
Scanners.
Shredders.
Laptops.
Tablets.
Furniture.
Storage bins.
Even more pens!

Staples, you are a magical place.
But I don't like the patronizing jerk that works for you.
I hope we can still be friends.

In honour of Angry Arts Week 2013.

For Coy

I'm fuming,
like a volcano, stewing;
these stories stir the pot
and the hot broth splashes
on to our mouldy kitchen floor.

Why can't you let us be us
And collectively
we can come to understand
it's not 'her' and 'he'
it's 'us' and 'me'.

A fluffy skirt doesn't mark a fairy,
Or a fruit,
Or a fag.
It marks an individual
so original
I hope they scare you right out of your pants.

And into a dress.

Expedition

Call into the deep cave
And you will receive no answer.

Voices that reach into the dark
do not spark,
do not light the path to the iridescent pool.

Shining, shimmering, rainbow water
Will attempt to make you falter
Drowning you in bliss.

But on the unlit road
you lead a heavy load
of offerings, deposited along the way.

Silently slinking a-ways behind
Picking at your peace of mind,
A thief plays your heartstrings.

And with a glance back
Your precious cargo has been attacked
And you find you are empty and alone.

Call into the deep cave
And you will receive no answer.


But go with light, and go with chains,
And make the thief know your pains,
And listen to the echo of your breath.

Happy International Women's Day!!!!

Welcome to International Women's Day!

Here's a recent conversation I had with a very good friend of mine

A: Oh! Today is International Women's Day!
M: Oh cool. When is International Men's Day?
A: It's been International Men's Day for the past... I don't know how many years. Let us have our one freakin' day!

True, it seems a little strange to be celebrating International Women's Day when we don't have an International Men's Day. It makes me think that there really is no push for equality. Why don't we have an International Men's Day following IWD? Besides, I have a hard time believing that the countries, the people that should be celebrating IWD actually do. I doubt that women who are oppressed have a completed day of freedom today and will go back to their regular lives tomorrow. Maybe they do. But what is the goal of today? Is it to celebrate being a women here and all over the world? Is it to educate ourselves and other women of all races, ages, and religions about the hardships that are endured? Is it to look to the future and hope that the suffragettes haven't sacrificed in vain?

To me, today is a day to be thankful for what I have because of what women before me have gained and taught me. I have the right to get on a plane and go to a different country unescorted. I have the right to wear  shorts and not be penalized for it. I have the right to paint my fingernails. I have the right to talk to men in public, un-chaperoned. I have been taught to stand up for myself and what I believe in. I have been taught that I am a strong and independent person. I have been taught to love and care for people, not matter what their gender or sexual preference is. I have been taught that everyone has a value, and it is a shame to diminish that value.

In lieu of all of this...

Thanks Mom!