Category Archives: Poetry

NUDITY

tunickinstallationphotography10Nudity, oh nudity,
Shunned due to practicality,
But I can’t help wonder if we,
Could gain by losing our false modesty,
If then, and only then, we’d see,
A oneness and a unity,
Of course we’d see a little more, 😉
But more than that we’d see the core,
Of what we are,
Were meant to be,
A vision of humanity,
Naturally and beautifully,
Alive in our diversity,
Not afraid of our own nudity.

Ennui: a little light self-pity

I haven’t done a ‘Word of the Day’ analysis/discussion for a very long time, so I won’t bother labeling this as a ‘WOTD.’ Ennui is a great word, though, because it describes my situation so perfectly. It’s defined as a “feeling of listlessness and general dissatisfaction resulting from lack of activity or excitement.” Yeah, tell me about it.

I broke my knee a couple of weeks ago, had to have it surgically reconstructed, and spent five days in the hospital. Now I’m home, basically a couch-bound cripple. I can move about with the help of a walker, so I can get myself to and from the bathroom and kitchen, but everything just takes a lot more time. I no longer have access to the upstairs area, so I have to have clothing and other things brought to me from the bedroom upstairs. However, once I have them, I can dress myself without any help. I can shower without any help, but I have to sit down, as I’m forbidden from putting any weight at all on my knee for at least six weeks.

I was given a nice little stash of strong painkilling and mind-numbing opiates when I left the hospital, but I stopped using them after the first week. Right now I’m coping using only paracetamol/acetaminophen. The knee hurts but it’s tolerable, and to tell the truth I sort of like the pain. It’s distracting.

The worst thing about recovering from this kind of injury is the all-consuming boredom that sets in after a little while. One does what one can to occupy the mind. I’ve got a huge library of films and TV shows at my disposal, and I’ve got my Kindle loaded with hundreds of books, and I’ve got a brand new laptop computer, upon which I’m typing this update.

All this has helped. However, I still crave sensation, stimulation, challenge, stress, and not the kind of stress that results from not having any of the previous things.

The ennui of recovery.
A lack of all activity.
Try not to think,
About the things,
You want to do,
But cannot be.
Try not to think,
About yourself.
Just embrace,
The lethargy.
Try not to care,
And be aware,
That all you’ll get,
Is sympathy.
The one thing,
That can save you
From this ennui,
Is apathy.

Roses are Red (Shakespearian version)

(inspired by M’Lady Gwenyth….. 😉  )

Those fragrant blossoms red that are the same though they may go by any other name,
E’en indeed those enchanting violets blue, yea verily, I include them too,
That dextrous sugar, of questionable fame, which can hide poison in evil’s game,
Forsooth, anon, this much is true, none of these things compares to you.

The Time Is Now

The time is now,
The Walrus said,
Not some abstract
In your head,
“Once Upon A Time”,
“Happily Ever After”,
That shit just
Fills me with laughter,
“Just a fairytale”
Well, that’s another,
Because let me tell you something brother,
Fairytales aren’t harmless,
For they lead you away,
From the truth,
That the only real thing is today.

The Sunshine Fisherman

I’ve got a way with words,

They say.

But words,

Are merely platitudes,

They communicate,

But can’t convey,

My feelings,

And my gratitude.

But I will try,

To say goodbye,

With these few words.

This lullaby.

You were the summer time,

To me.

Sand and sea and fun.

You were the sunshine,

Sharing all your love,

And all your warmth,

With everyone.

The one last time I saw,

Your face.

Looked in your eyes so blue.

You looked at me,

And knew my face,

You told me,

I was beautiful.

So goodbye, Grandpa,

Goodbye you sweet,

And lovely man,

Goodbye.

It’s time to rest.

To cast your line,

Into that lake,

Up in the sky.

44 Degrees With The Humidex

Having flown a long way the day before,
I realize I need exercise,
So I head out my sister’s door,
To the wall of heat that’s there to greet,
This Scandinavian, no longer versed in,
The nuances of the humidex,
How the temperature never ever reflects,
The actual heat and its affects,
So off I go onto Bartley Bull Parkway,
And I stick to it because I figure that way,
If the heat starts to melt my brain,
I can still make my way back again,
And walking my reflecting mind sees,
In Stockholm it’s 18 degrees,
But not here, as I start to sweat and totter,
And find myself searching somewhere for some water,
I buy some in a dollar store, to keep me alive,
(though I notice a dollar’s a buck twenty-five)
And as I wander on further in heat and in haze,
I’m amused by the thoughts my mind has in its daze,
For I observe as I go on my Bartley Bull track,
Italian & Chinese grandmas look the same from the back,
Soon I’m growing concerned, for odd as it sounds,
My mirage is a mailman doing his rounds,
Though it seems he is real as we chat about heat,
And the problems he has with the dogs on his beat,
He says when he was in Cuba last year they got snow,
I ask “Are you serious?” he laughs and says no,
Then with just a few steps I’m back at my sis,
Sweat from my brow greeting pavement with hiss,
And what North American wonder greets me?
I open the door to a wall of A/C!

(July 18, 2013 I travelled from my home in Stockholm to Toronto in my homeland of Canada. I took a walk through my sister’s neighbourhood that first morning, Friday July 19th. This is a true and accurate reflection of that walk.)