Thursday, December 23, 2010

Until We're Too Tired to Map

What are we to each other,
But a finger snap?
Drawing attention on a sketch pad
Careful cropping of a curve and shade
Memories reserved so to torture with later
And if not that later than a pleasant surprise
To which a fall brings it all back
To the breeze that screams "you can't stop the world a spinning"
And if by then we're too tired to map
New trails we've dreamt about
Then hand in hand until life is done
Hand in hand 'til life is done

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Falling of Gods

Fallen, have the Gods
From the wideness of our eyes
Our necks now relaxed
Trying on their armor for size

Because they're high in the sky
And don't know how it feels
To dig their feet in the soil
To get lost in the fields

Yet they tell us it's fine
That our shoes will soon call
And the rocks and dirt
Will make strong of us all

Writing scriptures of memories
That they believe they had
But the filters of time
Has diluted the bad

So now they lay in the heavens
Making even of the odds
While we hide in the trenches
Watching the falling of Gods

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Business of Life

I swivel ever so subtly in my work chair as I list the characteristics of the man sitting on the other side of my desk. “I couldn’t agree more Francis. You are assertive. You have strong social skills. You are a big picture thinker and you have that sense of urgency; all great characteristics of being a natural leader. The staff love working for you and you’ve gained trust from them that all managers wish they had.”

Francis nods. When he had started with the company there was nothing that he wanted more than to be the Practice Lead for his department. I’ve watched him grow as a professional; building the relationships needed for him to succeed; mentored by the best. His confidence complimented his humbleness in a strange way. He speaks. “The last thing that I want is someone to be hired off the streets with no connection to the company and the staff. They would have to start from the beginning; learning the business, building that relationship with clients. I mean, on paper they may seem great; 20 years of experience managing 150 plus staff, low turnover rates and all that. And I’ll admit that I don’t have that to brag about. I haven’t done all those things. But there are a lot of things that I do do. I love my work. I love my projects. I love my clients and my staff.”

The position that he speaks of is one that I recently posted. The former occupant of that spot is retiring and a successor is needed. I nod in the silence that takes over my office. I have no doubt that this man before me; in his late 30s has what it takes. His suit and tie shows that he is serious. His career development plan last year clearly states that he wants the role.

We sit here in silence, just two grown men with our suitcases and properly combed hair. I could smell the freshness in my white dress shirt, straight from the dry cleaners, thinking about all the years of schooling that has brought us to this conversation. We are educated men. Yes we are. Professionals respected by many. The one that will become the Practice Leader will dictate, not just the direction of the department, but of the direction of the city that we live in.

“You know that you just said do-do right?” I point out, giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Yeah,” he giggles back.

To The Seriousness They Crave

In a series of nests
I find seriousness
Quiet at best
But proper no less

And I rummage through all
For a fault and a flaw
That would loosen a jaw
So this empire could fall

My dance would do
And my words could too
But this act is in lieu
For my acts are now few

I bring blades to their ties
Diluting their lies
Break the shades on their eyes
Just for hopes of a rise

But they sit in denial
Enclosed in document piles
As neat as bathroom tiles
With our names in their files

Critique us they must
Even cents are a bust
Common sense becomes dust
Until my signature I thrust

And the rewards I slave
Are now forcefully gave
To the seriousness they crave
That will put me in my grave

A Whole in Me

These imagines will make rich and old of my soul
Pressing on my chest and never letting go
Words of the unfortunate grab and take hold
These imagines will make rich and old of my soul

The smiles and lies will make strong of my bones
Tuck stories in scars that I now call my own
The fears in my tears sprout the roots, now grown
The smiles and lies will make strong of my bones

Life it seems will make a man of me yet
These journal entries in pen, begets
And those that didn't want me, look back with no regret
Oh life it seems will make a man of me yet

But it's the ones who stay that'll make a whole in me
Fuel my laughter and feed my levity
Hear the products of my inspiration, see
It's the ones who stay that'll make a whole in me

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Too Good to be True

The sliding glass doors are barely open as I sneak through, slowing my sprint slightly; the plastic bag in my right hand screams in reaction to the content frantically swinging from the momentum of me fleeing. I can hear them calling me, “Stop! Stop! Thief! Thief!” Yeah, you read correctly. It was highway robbery back there in the Futureshop store. I blame it all on the feeling I got in the DVD section; much like the feeling I got the other day in the bathroom of a pizza joint in the north side of town. Need I elaborate? Ok.

I push the public bathroom door open and revealed to myself urinals, toilet stalls, sinks and paper dispensers and made my way to the one that would clean my hands best. No, you idiots, I’m talking about the sink. As I was singing the happy birthday song (twice) I couldn’t help but feel that something in this washroom was off; not normal; and actually unexpectedly pleasant. This bathroom smelt nice. Yeah, you read correctly. It was like Fruits and Passions up in there! It was like the smell of a woman; of freshly baked cookies; of that burnt smell after you light a match; of that ex-girlfriend's perfume that was lingering on one of your t-shirts and you cry and hold it in bed but you’re so happy you didn’t wash it; of glue sticks if you’re into that; of masking tape; of, of, of…yeah, now I’m just smelling everything on my desk and listing them….My point is that it smelt good in that place! But despite the fact that I was inhaling this bathroom air harder than a smoker after climbing some stairs, it felt wrong and I anticipated the next inhale to be of disgusting crap, literally. But it never happened. I was confused, disturbed even and I forced myself to leave the bathroom. Well, actually, someone complained and an employee asked me to get out, but whatever.

Isn’t it sad though? No, not that fact that I was asked to stop sniffing the bathroom you damn blog hecklers, you’re fucken ruining my life right now! I was actually leaving anyways, FYI. It’s sad that as I was enjoying this nice bathroom smell, I was still expecting for the moment to go away, as if someone was just going to come in and shit all over my fun, literally. Is the idea of a great smelling bathroom too good to be true? And why oh why are things always too good to be true? I try and try to imagine something being too good and also being true but I couldn’t do it.

The feeling I got that day was something of insecurity, as if I was being set up, teased; like seeing a bag of money on the streets with a note saying “I’m too rich and want the first person who picks up this bag to keep all its contents.” First thing I would do is look around for a hidden camera. Then I’d kick the bag around a little to see if there was poo anywhere on the money. Then I’d run away out of paranoia leaving the bag as is. I mean, who in their right mind would pick up the bag of cash and walk away with a clean conscience??? Oh society! You’ve raised us to never get our hopes up!

I reach my truck after running in what seemed to be a never-ending parking lot slamming the door beside me. “Drive! Drive! Drive!” I command.

“What!?” Shouts my accomplice from the passenger seat. “You’re in the driver seat you idiot.”

“No time to explain!” I scream, starting the truck and putting the pedal to the metal, commanding my 4X4 to roar through the parked cars, weaving every which way.

We find a secluded residential area to hide my overworked truck and to catch our breaths. “What the hell was that all about??”

“I had to do it man,” I explain, still high off the adrenaline of such a clean getaway, “I had to. I had to.”

“Do what!?”

I grab the plastic bag that I threw into the back seat and dump the content into the puzzled soul’s lap.

“Knight and Day Holiday DVD/bluray combo deal?”

I nod with pride and a huge smile, “For $25!”


“They fucked up playah. Do the math! Bluray disc cost like $29.99 to begin with! But I got the Bluray AND the regular DVD for $25! That’s highway robbery son! Haha! Man, I was like running laps around them foo’s. They be all like ‘Stop! Stop! We’re calling our manager’ and I was like ‘errday I’m hustling baby!’ Know’wha’I’m’sayin?” I offer an invitation for the sweetest high five ever.

“First of, why are you talking like a gang banger? I’m your mother, have some respect. Secondly, there was no one chasing you. Thirdly, that’s the holiday combo deal. I saw it in the flyer. It’s supposed to be that cheap.”

“Nah man, nah. That’s WAY too good to be true. Holla!” I extend my hand; a second chance for the sweetest high five ever.

She leaves me hanging, “I’m disowning you.”

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Bonds Don't Break

Honestly this is honesty
The denial of attraction
Will break sincerity's integrity
So don't beg of me
To have the audacity
To spare sensitivity
With a catastrophe
To coat a truth for chivalry
In the name of nice
like the snow on ice
White lies on slippery

Think of me
As a man of good
Greater, so later
I'll be understood

Questions deserve answers
Not destructive cancer
Endless banter
Of promises on how
blindness is transferred
Emotions exclusive
Like religious chanters?

Well lets get it straight
Bait is bait
Hearts will wander
But bonds don't break