Flowers

I got this basket of flowers
in a photo album I bought -
it was there to be framed
on the front page, then replaced.
But when I took it out and changed it,
I had to pause and think.
It was quite a pretty picture,
throwing it out would be a waste.
So I'm sending you some flowers
(cuz you know I love you, babe)
And I really hope you like them,
though they probably weren't made
                        to be used this way.
                                            Serp

I made two copies of this homemade 'postcard', because there were two identical pictures of flowers, and I have sent them to two people who are very dear to me.

Hey.

I thought since I've been thinking about trying to blow the cover way off of my unintended internet secrecy, maybe I should write a greeting to anyone who clicks in search of more information.

I grew up in poverty in rural Ontario to a narcissistic mother and a father who was, and remains, a resourceful practitioner of simple sciences (heating, plumbing, welding, building makeshift insulated chicken shelters for winter out of old freezers and other junk, you name it) and a natural hermit. They've been split up and lived in two different places since I was, I think, two years old.

For most of my childhood, I split my time between their two households: one an old house on a hill on the outskirts of a village of 700 people, at least according to the sign; and the other a farm of sorts in a swampy wood - or a wooded swamp, whichever you prefer to think of it as, 10 km outside of that town.

I was bullied horribly through elementary school and high school, and grew up longing to travel and tell stories, to inspire and to educate. As soon as I graduated high school, I left home on an airplane and went overseas in search of love.

Since then I've traveled around quite a lot. I've hitch-hiked, and I've also taken a week long bus trip that stretched a great big diagonal line across Canada including a two day layover in Winnipeg, where I spent the night on the roof of a multi-level car park with a drunken hobo sleeping on my clothes.

For the last few years, I've settled a little bit in London. I guess I'm trying to find some sanity and repair the broken parts of myself so that the next time I head out, I won't be running away so much as charging out into the fray. This time, I hope I'll be leaving behind a safe, happy home base that I'll feel comfortable coming back to.

I know what it means not to have an established place to go, and I can tell you that having no place is better than being trapped in a terrible place. I know how it is to scavenge and scrounge, to keep a supply of water bottled from public fountains and bathroom sinks, get food only where I can get it for free, and I can tell you that you might be surprised the good food and respect you can get for nothing more than a little humility and the willingness to ask for help.

I have never begged strangers for anything, except directions, change to use a payphone and a token to ride a bus or a train.

I have sat with an instrument on a sidewalk and played for tips, though.

As my day job, I work in a thrift store operated by Goodwill.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing with my life yet. Hopefully, whatever it ends up being, it will involve a lot of poetry.

Pubic Hair

written on August 7th, 2014
& inspired by Ani DiFranco

When I'm in the bathroom
I have a way of wiping myself
that has a habit of plucking out pubic hairs on
just one side of my groin
And I could probably learn to change it
if I could see what I was doing
but for now I guess I'll live with it;
It's not important,
It's just annoying.


When something is pulled away
Oh time will ease the pain
When something is pulled away
Oh time will ease the pain


Ain't it funny how the little things
in life just get passed by
like the hangnails you pull off sometimes
and the crusty stuff that gets in your eye
There are some things we don't talk about
Things we would rather not discuss
And the silence just fades into the background
-until somebody has to die
!

Then suddenly all of the silence
comes crashing down around your ears
and you can scream and wail all you want to but
Nobody wants to hear
There are some things you don't mention
except alone and in quiet prayer
While lives get plucked from the human race like
Just so many pubic hairs


And every time we do not speak
We fill our world with silence
And every time we turn away
We fill our world with silence
And every thing we don't discuss
We fill our world with silence
And the silence will cover our graves


So when I'm in a dark room
I have a way of crying to myself
that has a habit of making the skin
around my eyes feel raw and burned
And I think we could learn to change this
If we could see enough to care
I just hope to god we learn
that some things are more important
than a hair


When something is pulled away,
(Every time we do not speak)
Oh time will ease the pain
(We fill our world with silence)
When something is pulled away,
(Every time we turn away)
Oh time will ease the pain
(We fill our world with silence)
When something is pulled away
(Every thing we don't discuss)
Oh time will ease the pain
(We fill our world with silence)
And the silence will cover our graves


And suddenly all of the silence
comes crashing down around your ears
and you can scream and wail all you want to but
Nobody wants to hear you 'cuz
There are some things you don't question,
except alone and in quiet prayer
while screams are brushed aside
like so many stray pubes on our underwear


Ain't it funny how the little things
in life just get passed by
like the hangnails I pull off sometimes and the
rash that crying leaves 'round my eyes
There are some things we don't talk about
Things we'd all rather not discuss
No matter how much or how little
they quietly affect all of us
And the silence just fades into the background
along with the best of us


When something is pulled away
Ah time will ease the pain
When something is pulled away
Ah time will ease the pain

~~~P.S: My own thoughts on presentation...

The parts in purple should be sung or spoken more quietly, more like a whisper,
and ideally blend into a sort of musical break between the sections in black.

Would like to have guest backup voice/s for
"We fill our world with silence" and possibly for all of the parts in purple,
while still singing/speaking solo the parts in black. Or white, as it generally appears on my blog.