june 2020 wow

sunday may end of may

yes still may and still too many 'ellos' my way
brain needs more time to process than everyone thinks
including me
thanks brain

the honestly in me has to remain silent
completely silent
on a day where i'm inside out
and the world spins through ringing ears
after driving in a rainstorm
and not finding a lake

and a long conversation in a car was penetrating and tiring
useful and required and inevitable but difficult and exhausting
keep reminding yourself that things move forward no matter what;
with death all around me, the only certainty is that time keeps on going

so there's no point living in the past
i am sorry Boots that your past was so nice:
but at least you had it.
i am sorry it ruined the remainder of your life:
i thought i was part of the improvement:
but i guess not.
i guess not.

so those are the veiled and not so veiled thoughts i have on this cold sunday morning
with a mind zooming from the past to the end
and circling around the current in betweens
trying to make a perfection that doesn't exist
that's me, ENTJ, caught in real life.

Friday may 22 2020

what to say when there isn't much to say
when only misanthropic ideas come to mind
and you, yourself, are on the list;
how does a depressed person continue on this world
with such thoughts battering them constantly:
the empathy within me is too strong to ponder this
hating oneself even for a few hours is a pain i could not live with
but for me the day ended and i can do other things;
pursue other thoughts;
dream other dreams

not sure men actually "love" you:
i think they just "need you"


Thursday may 21 2020

Bury Them Deep
V. Millar 1991


Bury the deep under the flowers, lay them down to sleep

Lay them under the morning dew, witnessed by the whispering trees
The silence is gently swept along, like the ghost of bygone times
Bury them deep, under the flowers, in order line upon line
For over these grassy mounds but a century before, screamed musket balls, sabers clashed, the angry cannon roared
What has changed in the years that past, only the way to kill our fellow man, to leave their bodies broken and crumpled on the land
The ability to spill more blood to drench the shifting sand
Bury them deep beneath the flowers, let their bones turn to dust
For in a few short years their memory will fade, their swords turned to rust

So bury them deep beneath the flowers, let the breeze blow gently over the mounds, the final bed of these men who sleep beneath the ground
Bury them deep under the flowers, in valley Forge, Gettysburg, and Dieppe
In battles fought so long ago I confess to forget, what they were fought for
Gold, beliefs, or land, the take the lives of God's children by our mortal hand
To leave the loved ones bathed in grief, and they to share these graces, silent morose and cold
Not in flesh, but in living death, the heart and the soul

Bury them deep under the earth, let the flowers feed,
for in the end a plot six by two, is all that man does need
Now listen softly to war song, the muted bugel note, that flows across the silent flowers, like whisps of autumn smoke
It cuts again into the wound that left scars upon the heart for the only thing that has really changed,
is the number of mounds just two feet apart
Bury them deep under the flowers

maybe if all my friends wouldn't have left town, I could have saved you.

In the very misplaced words of Nora Mulroney,
"you didn't think he was going to die, did you"

 may 20 2020

7:33 am

this. is not a methodology.

 may 12 2020


i move with you, this flat "device",
such a cold name, star trek people
we don't name our devices
do we.

tepid, stale, coffee, on the sink, sip sip

wakey wakey. slowly fakey. brain achey.
dreamy dreamy - a party at my mother's house, she was checking the bags for alcohol in the driveway
and a reuinion with someone i met at the start of a long dream what a dream
no boldy.

you are gone; and in your place; are many;
this hole is filled with people who disappeared;
precisely two; do they make up you;

theories abounded yesterday:
sensors behind firewalls;
thinking we all have the same view;

life is quite flat without people.


monday, aka lundi in rimouski

 may 11 2020


where did the morning go,
sensors come
sensors go
a message from Helsinki brightens the day;
as the lady upstairs shakes her pain over the balcony
tries to clean her heart;
with every dirty rug she beats;
her frozen emotions scatter themselves on my patio set.

i weep for her.

may 8 2020

8:48 am

you know there's a story
there's always a story
and this time behind a waking brain
is a story i might never tell
which might die with all the other untold stories
from this storyteller

but she's got them; they are here;
behind walls of sleep;
and walls of fear
a certain tale, of three men, three very similar men, in fact,
the first one spawned the other two, being my role model for a man.
soft, humble, kind and gentle
every day.
one born in 1932, who moved to a big city to raise a family,
as one did in a depression.
one whose parents fled a country in 1957, over mountains,
as one did in a revolution.
and whose youngest son, came into a gentler world than they
with only good intentions for a crumbling world around him
until he crumbled with it during a pandemic.
as one does in a pandemic.
and one whose parents fled a civil war while I was falling in love with the Hungarian boy.
who appeared in my office three times a day for almost ten years
until he didn't.

may 7 2020

a sunshine in my eyes;
a ringing in my ears;
a scar in my heart;
a penny for my fears;

"you didn't think he was going to die, did you"
"no, i really didn't"

eight am in a pandemic
while i wait to awake
tepid java in hand
long nights abound

this brain and this heart
race around the past present and future
trying to connect
with something

it is failing this week

"you didn't expect a pandemic, did you"
"no, i really didn't"

life comes.
life goes.

getting realer.

may 6 2020

may may may you go away
may month by day day
may i sleep and may i pray
and may you all please go away

may 6th and mothers day
and may the fourth and cinqo may
around the poles another day
on may in may
just go away

a Wednesday starts a day in may
the wrong font types
just go away
with sleep comes thoughts
of things you say
and silence comes
this month of may