Joy of Life (day 2827)

What windows open up my mind
To whom I speak so soft?
What vision is, I cannot say..
For laughter washes all
Into a valley of design,
Making each symbol remain the same.
Seeds of which photosynthesize,
Cracks amidst the soil,
Teeth so eagerly chattering,
Rain so vibrantly,
Gaia, she knows all secret things
Our eyes are not our only sense
Oh Joy! Oh Life!
Cometh my way.

Unwanted (day 2673)

Backsplashes of humanity
Claim our paths;
We dictate the channel
But they: the message.
We drive their inventions forth,
Their shovels we work
Their dynamite blows up
What we never knew we didn’t want
And our earth
Becomes circumnavigated
With their asphalt
That inevitably cracks
Exposing all truths
That we’ve all chosen
To drive over.
But where does motivation arise?
How do we drag out
Our revolution machines
To fight each sublimality?

We wake at the crack of dawn
And march.

Should you sleep in,
Ahould you wish for warmer weather
Or a less hostile arousal,
Should you demand more luxury
In the face of destruction,
Well, for you in your warm socks
And pillowed existence
For you
The revolution shall end your pain.

Rhythm (day 2643)

About to burst from the seams
Of jubilance and mirth
About to overflow
Happiness and cheer
About to fully bloom
A season’s fresh outlook
About to hold embrace
Like a separated singular
About to miss a crack
For every seam’s been filled

And my moon holds your moon
And we watch our moons
Dance a dance our eyes wished they were
For separate they lock
Calloused rhythm of time
To fall in to
Equinox one day.

Ancient Ilk (day 2200)

This is my primitive shit
My unconditional
Motivated by another force
Called a different name
Hung with different nails
Wood of an ancient ilk.

This is the voice ignored
The silenced, betrayed
A crashing of stillness
That left cracks
Spreading to remind me
I haven’t changed
Just remembered.

Fresh Hay (day 1847)

I wandered into an empty barn, and couldn’t figure out why the hay still smelt fresh. My eyes adjusted with a twinkling daylight filtering in through cracks in the wooden walls, dust that may have once been settled was caught suspended in the beams of light and my eyes scanned the well worn floor, distracted by the antique tools laying about as if still in use. How could I know what had come here before? How could, with a flash like a blink, memories flicker through my vision as if my transistor radio had suddenly happened upon a past I knew well?

Ceiling Lines (day 1627)

Lines upon my ceiling cause me great grief.
They are not parallel.
Their asymmetrical zig-zagging
Cover up cracks that look like
Two dimensional waves along a
Broken shoreline
Which leaves me guessing the next time
One of those waves will come
Crashing into my bedroom
As I stare up wondering the cause.
Some of the lines have even
Made their way down the wall,
Like an infection yet to be quelled,
Striking through the crown molding
And into the mauve like a sealion
At a pebbly beach in autumn.
So I close my eyes and focus on breath.

Thug Dance (day 1577)

I’m an East Van thug
I’ve got dimes for your eyes
I wrote empty lines
For shoes your size.

Beats’n’bustin
And breakin signs,
I’ve locked this hood
On playing this rhyme

Crack crack
Break a ga-lack
Break your mother fuckin’ knees
Smack; my attack

From Hasting’s to Oppenheimer
To Railtown smokin’ crack
These pimps are all small time
Knock’n at my back.

I’ve got thugs in my pocket
From Strathcona to Clark
Commercial to Main,
Remember sucker, East Van’s the land

All you rebels cryin’ loud
My shit’s locked tight
Now strap on your booties,
Baby, let’s dance!

Nite Mare - Ned Tobin - East Van Candy Gangster

Wilfred Winslow, P.I. (day 678)

By Scott, we’ve got them!
We’ve finally solved it!
Mystery of the Seven Sins
It was a hard one
No thanks to lack of cooperation
But with your willing help, Newman,
With your clear logic and seamless wit
We’ve managed to crack them
By Scott! We cracked them good!
Did you see the look on their faces
When we surrounded them in that two bit diner?
They all thought they were free
Free as an eagle that soars…
Not a chance, not with us on their tails!
Ha! Those dirty rotten scoundrels
Locked away behind bars of justice!
Paying the price for thievery and cheating

Tell me Newman,
Did you think we’d get them
Did you think I was crazy
When I accepted the case
A private investigation case
From that half-wit Constable McLearan?
I had doubts, the robbery was seamless
Not a single alarm was sounded
Staff wasn’t alerted
Business wasn’t halted
No villains were filmed
No getaway car
No nothing!
Not even a transaction to trace!
But we got them
And we got them good

anOrca

Wilfred can be purchased here.