breaking free

you must break free now
the way you mold your haiku—
so perfect, so clean

grab hold that language
sculpture it with broken hands—
leave a little stain

what soft warmth is there
in pleading like a robot—
siezed, failed, & grinding

these gears within you
do they weep, are they mourning?
are they imagined?

bring me your tremble
bring me your quivering jaw—
suckle me on tears

let me taste this salt
let me hear the tremble of
cracking voice & soul

let the pain pulse forth
let me feel what is within
let me crack the code…

what tragedy lies
in this inner wound, gaping
what lies there, scraping

down the bones of your vertabrae
within the neck of you
what are you gasping about? what
are you choking for? what
kept you tossing through this
anguished night? have you felt
any softness touch to that roughness? break free that gaged cage
quell the rushing tide, breathe,
like its a last breath, or perhaps, the first
find what is lost & grip onto it
hold it, with both bleeding hands.


Psalms 12-14

Today’s daily reading for my schedule is Psalms 12-14. Wow! Well timed. 

There are so many little gems in this reading. It bolsters faith in Jehovah acting on behalf of the righteous. It shows the way we can feel, asking, “how long, O Jehovah, will you forget me? Forever?” Then it shows Jehovah takes note of each of us individually, noting “the foolish one says in his heart: “There is no Jehovah, ” ” pointing out that Jehovah is looking for those seeking him & that he will become a refuge for them, and stating that Jehovah is with the generation of the righteous. 

A short but worthwhile reading for sure. 

One Last Thing for Today’s Memoir

Tom Petty. I was mostly introduced to Tom via The Travelling Wilburys. Those couple albums shaped my love of British & American rock. Tom was proof you don’t have to be good looking or have the ‘perfect’ voice to be beautiful. His lyrics seemed to always have this raw conversational quality that defined a perfectly ordinary moment’s poetic potential. 

There are much bigger fans than myself out there, I’m more an appreciator than fan, but he was one of the ones I’d hoped I’d see perform live & never did. 

This Is So Mind Boggling

Ever since I heard the gunfire in the footage, and then heard the number of killed & wounded, all I can think is—how? How on earth are there weapons out there that one guy in a window can shoot that many people in that small amount of time. How? 

I am a political neutal, live in a country with significantly stricter gun laws, know nothing about weaponry, or crazy people really, but how? 

Can one guy seriously all by his lonesome own a weapon that can do that much damage? 

That is messed up beyond what my mind can process. It seems fishy. It seems foolish at best that these weapons are available to the public. I mean really? You can walk into a gun shop in the States & purchase multiple weapons that are literally designed to kill people? Not hunting rifles, but weapons of war? 

That blows my mind. I always have an unease about visiting America, this just confirms I should be uneasy about it. 

Edmonton just had what is being labeled as a terror attack. A guy rented a uhaul and ran down four pedestrians & just previous to that had rammed a police officer & then stabbed him multiple times in the face. No one died. Here, we were stunned & horrified tho I think we’ve come to expect that this is the state of the world we live in. It’s ‘terrifying’ but what are we supposed to do? ‘Be vigilant’? Seriously. What am I looking for? 

Frankly, I don’t fear any one race or nationality more than another. People seem quite equally prone to badness regardless of their beginnings. 

If it truly was, a white guy with no warning signs or criminal record who committed such a devastating & abhorrent crime in Vegas, and a dark skinned guy who committed the crimes here in the city I live in, who was ‘known’ to police & expected of extremist views, who am I to fear more? By collateral damage, the white guy with no criminal history or extremist views. 

I just have such a hard time believing the world we live in keeps sinking lower & lower. Just when you think it can’t get worse, it numbingly does. 

Of the victims in Vegas, my heart instantly aches for what strikes closest to home, the four kids of one of the Alberta women killed. Those poor kids lost their mom that night. Because why? I don’t know. 

In the Aftermath…Care & Love

One thing I am incredibly proud of is how Jehovah’s organization truly tries its best to show love & support to each other. 

This latest information on the relief work in Mexico, the United States & Puerto Rico is so heart warming. To know that there is real help getting to people through our organization is such a relief. I saw it here with both the southern Alberta floods & the Ft McMurray wildfire, so I have full confidence our spiritual family is being well taken care of & showing love for neighbour whenever possible. The extend of damage in all these locations is staggering, and I pray Jehovah will bless all the efforts of those there. 

Giving Silence a Voice

I could give this silence a voice—it’s anarchy upon the soundstage of that inner world. 

There’s a mad flailing, like tentacles, foamed in black ink & I notice death has both a particular glare & a particular smell. Both are putrid. Both are hot & cold all at once. 

There’s screaming from those to the left & to the right; I can’t tell if they scream at each other, or the sky, or the earth below their feet. I have a deafness coming over me, followed by a breathless swallow as commotion spins down this swirling drain. I can only consume so much of these silent moments—the one inside the eye of the storm, before that next hail begins; the one after the fact when silence, well, silence just won’t do. 

Silence is the shock. Silence is the doom. Silence is the stunned disbelief. 

Silence is the hungered child who finally hasn’t the strength to cry one more sob. Silence is the hope teetering upon hopelessness. 

Silence is the stench better known as death.  

I tire of silence. I tire of death. 

I tire of screaming soundless echoes where there are no walls or valleys or canyons to bounce upon. 

So there I sit—in chaotic meloncholies of agonies & deafening reverberations of sickening anguishes, howling & wailing—yet more & more, this wild wild wind storm. 

The silence falls, heavy on my heavy chest, crushing what breath remains, choking my heart, subduing my lungs, flung to the ground while running—

How long do I lay here, am I playing, or am I dead? 

Just Another Day…

So there it was, some dream-like agony with a fresh dust of snow—you screaming agony…you poor screaming agony. 

You go, severing life & echoing blood from flaring nostrils, & you cannot love. You cannot. 

You keep gripping needles & guns & knives, plunged deep, and you’re the widening of hate. You’ve got guts in your gills & sorrow strewn upon your hills. You’re anguish—full & raw & slaughtering & empty. 

You’re not even taking a step to slow. You keep coming. Your face is fueled with things I’ve never known, never understood—never have I wanted to. 

With all this death you come dripping, & I’m not listening. You spew another vast hail of hate, & I’m not listening. I won’t. 

You’re nothing but a curse that will fall away from memory. You will fade. You will die in your vast vats of  sticky tumultuous blood. I’m not watching. I’m not listening. I can’t feel you nor see you anymore. 

Gender Neutral—Awkward. I’m So Politically Incorrect. Sue me. 

So, there’s this old theatre on 109&87, used to be the Garneau. They’ve decided to be all trendy & politically correct and make both bathrooms gender neutal. Now, as far as gender whatever goes, I couldn’t give a flyin flip. So, my daughter & I go in the first washroom, two stalls, a wall of urinals—hmmm. Awesome. This gender neutral bathroom thing, I’m cool with it. I got this. No one is in here. No problem. 

I’m standing outside the stall guarding, as I do in non gender neutral bathrooms, when in walks an old guy, who, ya, looked about as comfortable with this as I was. Why he didn’t use the other stall versus the urinal, no idea. But, perhaps it was his own version of attempting to be cool with this. 

Anyways. That topped the charts for awkward experiences lately. No doubt for all three of us. Yay progress?

Later in the movie, she needs to pee again, so opt for the other “gender neutral” bathroom, previously known as the women’s, & out walks a guy. Seriously. Ya. I’m super not cool with it. I really would not be okay with my daughters using bathrooms with guys standing at urinals while they’re in stalls nearby. Call me cautious, suspicious, inconsiderate, rude, old-fashioned, a bigot, prejudice, discriminatory…I do not see grown men and young women sharing this space without some major concerns in a world filled with child porn & whatnot. Nope. I say, keep it the way it is. If you have a penis—here’s your restroom. If you have a vulva—here’s yours. 

If you’re a guy, but feel like a woman, well, if you act like a woman, dress like a woman—come on in. I’m suspecting the old guy felt the same about my daughter & I hanging out there while he was peeing. I mean, generally, women with their kids take extra time in bathrooms just standing there, waiting for a free stall, waiting for kids who seems to have not nearly enough fear of the germs in bathrooms as they sit there humming long after they could have gotten off the pot, while mother gets annoyed, so really, this doesn’t mix well with guys using urinals. Nope. Uncomfortable. 

Anyways. Guess now I can take my pee-style (google it) wherevs & stand & pee with the menfolk.