GIVE A LIFT CHANGE A LIFE
A DREAM — Coming Soon — a Bound Collection; a Book of poems some inspired by real dreams, some related to the breaking down process of love, others on a pendulum that hold on before letting go.
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Accompanied by a Yamaha G-50 classical MT is an intimate solo artist with a homegrown rhythmic style on guitar. Performing original music and unique renditions that cover the past indie folk alternative pop new wave rock music eras catching up to present day.
20 26 D A T E S
Thursdays @ The Legion Branch 302, Gravenhurst ON
Thursday May 7 @ The Griffin Pub 8-10PM / 9 Chancery Lane Bracebridge ON
Thursday May 21 @ Open Mic at The McKeller Community Centre 7PM
Saturday May 30 @ Lou Dawg’s 7PM / 167 Main Street West North Bay ON
Sunday May 31 @ The Legion, special event, Gravenhurst ON.
Thursday June 4 Open Mic @ Trinity United Church 7PM Magnetawan, ON
Saturday June 6 @ The Griffin Pub 8-10PM / 9 Chancery Lane Bracebridge ON
Monday June 15 Open Mic Poetry @ The Muskoka Way, 630PM, Bracebridge, ON
Thursday July 30 @ The Griffin Pub 8-10PM / 9 Chancery Lane Bracebridge ON
O P E N M I C
Mondays @ Sawdust City, Gravenhurst ON
Tuesday and Wednesday where @
Thursday @ The Legion Branch 302, Gravenhurst ON
Troubadour Thursdays @ Bracebridge Hall, Bracebridge ON
Friday & Saturday where @
Fridays Open Mic @ Smokin’ Hot BBQ, 5:30PM, 26 Station Rd., Huntsville ON
Sunday Freef’all @ the Piston or the Pilot, Toronto ON
—-- - - — —- —-- - - — —-—-- - - — —-
20 25 X
20 24 X
20 23 Live
If you saw her in the spring
you might have thought one or two things
On one hand she was in no shape no way near ready.
She bee-lined it too fast again only to crash
running on fading traces
long time gone self esteem
For whatever it was at the time she was sorry for it and she hoped that it was just a phase or best case scenario a breakdown before a breakthrough
It was all she could do to get up that morning and first thing start to get ready Knowing how long it could take to get just one thing done
There were No other distractions or directions
Nothing else lined up On purpose
No phone no nothing
Only get up get dressed and go.
She had more than enough
Time
a whole day
to accomplish this
easy
I opened my eyes and I thought
prayed actually
dear God let me get there please
for seven thirty
20 10
A O K
A long time ago
Banned from writing on paper a blog was published except for being organized into a few pages that contained poetry that was rather short and blunt not one long scroll such as this.
Time to transfer some of what is there to here
On earth …
Now years later being in a spot again writing nothing short whatsoever ..
in need of space
A few pages continue to be added to the blog not quite like this, not quite in the same pure boggling blind sided loss of innocence .. .
Yet the work continues to be refuge
The blog is a dimension
capturing and confronting the self as if on an enormous wall
A big screen
arms out standing
in the middle Drive in
out door movie theatre
no chains no bricks no armor
only space
Where I can step back
take a look at
and see all the contents
Healed and for healing
Writing on it like a string
Take a deep breath in
Repeat on every known synonym and morpheme into a stream that goes from winding to waterfall and into an ocean or great sea of sentences that break up and crash as waves on the rocks with no end or comma emptying into vast open spaces calmly toward stillness in no mind until again one no longer identifies with any thought or thing
considered positive in general
a voice on the radio
a wave length compressed
a leak in the wire or tube
>——--—»»»»»»»——-—>
For how and why the personality developed as it did or did not.
For too long in and out of whack off track in some way or other traumatic but didn't know it at the time relationship
succumbed to
unplugged from herself in the end
switched off
stitches split and stuffing out
For losing a great part of the will to live
her gifts fully like the rose
almost lost entirely
from giving
to giving up
Spokes and threads were replaced
recoveries happened
but I was never quite myself again
For the world and for seeing how it works
For how some people break ya
even ones who are close to ya
the head split
cotton on a stick
I am two eyes blinking on a rock
boggling fear and amazement
overwhelmed at the outset
startled by something the eyes cannot see
Wired to perceive
at least two sides
black and white
dark light
creator and destroyer
both to be always
to exist equally
as powerfully as the other
neither ever extinguished
>——--—»»»»»»»——-—>
What does it mean to alchemize yourself?
You change yourself from who you were to who you want to be — One who can achieve your potential and fulfill your purpose. One who can transmute fear and succeed.
>——--—»»»»»»»——-—>
Going back to a time when I banned myself from keeping a journal ….
It seemed the only answer solution strategy that might begin to make a dent in the same old and break through the narrative ..
Sincerely becoming outdated
painfully growing out of it
easily bored of it
frustrated at the stack
adding to it
one journal like wood on top of the other ..
—
fear
absorbed
hiding in the womb
everything makes sense now
what’s there to get over
make the switch
I could not Slay the Fright
Racing blindly
opposite of presence
not yet able to slow
pin down the wire
catch it fast enough to stop .…
.. It could squeeze through the cracks in the walls or in the floor just as well and in reverse to get out.
At least aware of it was I looking for a way to split.
If I’m going to split let me split like (an) atom
wounded
warrior
breaking down
growing at the same time
Split am I like wood O lumber from a tree
>——--—»»»
Years later not that long ago finally I skimmed through the last of the journals for any gems
>——--—»»»
I had burned some of them in the kitchen sink.
Living in the top floor apartment of a three story house in Toronto.
Back on land after life at sea the city felt like home or somewhere close enough to it where I might find my way back to normal.
I found the studio Downward Dog and began taking yoga classes mostly with the late pioneer Diane Bruni several times a week.
A year later money was soon on the run and I started to work as a server at a nearby Italian restaurant on St. Clair avenue.
It didn’t last long. The manager was verbally abusive, the owner was menacing, people said he was a coke head and the owners father made a totally unexpected move on me in the basement of the establishment on a quick run down the stairs for soda. After I grabbed what i needed from the stock room i turned around and he was there.
FFWD observation later I never remember the transition where I escape or the time between the event and being at the top of stairs that I don’t remember taking. The time or transit in this event is the shortest gap I have experienced. It was a short flight of stairs out of the basement. The longest one I have experienced a couple of times was about 2 hours.
One time I remember arriving at the top of the stairs to my room on the second floor. but I don’t remember collecting my things and leaving the friends house, it was past midnight on New Years Eve. I must have walked to a bus stop and walked two more blocks home and took a bus in between; and obviously I let myself into the house. But it was only once I got to the top of the stairs on the second floor outside my room did I regain consciousness so to speak.
anyway having shaken it I moved on to indigo on Yonge while I waited to hear back from HMV across the street and I also hoped to hear from a great Canadian outdoor co-operative located in the city first on Front and by then had moved over to King.
10 years later
had to get out
Me on a one way down
No way near normal
Further away in fact
Wings won’t open
But before leaving for a trip I wrote some songs and during the trip I wrote more and shortly after a few more.
Being more awake now
Having just been through it
I thought this time I could pull the other out ..
But later it would be me
my head
broken in three pieces
>——--—»»»
I remember the years i was in it
and how long it took to get out
never ending
expanding glowing
dark green and light
in labyrinth
one could walk forever
looking for the way
This page and that blog are my light, a way in as an outlet, a portal or pathway a doorway a voice.
at some point I am out of the way and the message writes itself
at some point I listen and the music takes over
This page and that blog give access to all my heart, previously muted and unavailable.
That blog along with this page and medium are home and foundation for my song music and poetry.
—-- - - — —-
stone rolling slowly
moss with momentum
—-- - - — —-
From the journals lost wires like a native melancholic Sous La Pluie were found.
—-- - - — —-
In the quiet insulation of freshly fallen snow
a heart once on paper is planted online
—-- - - — —-
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