Skylight

Once upon a time,
a friend of mine
was dreaming of a new home-
a place of her very own

She drew what she saw in her dreams,
And in it, letting in sunbeams,
On days that were bright
was her very own skylight

Some dreams need only time to come true,
Others need time to fade away

Your skylight let in the sunlight
to bathe us one bright January day.
The warmth was welcome,
and I was glad I’d come to play,
under your skylight.

We decided to make up new games,
for which we brainstormed fun names,
and we drew one out on a sheet
with drawings and assorted things,
bits and pieces
that could be stuck on with glue-
I remember how fun it was to do that.

And we spoke of someone
layering sounds upon sounds on CBC radio.
Creative energy was buzzing in my mind
when it was time for us to go.

Time for dreams to come true,
Time for dreams to fade away,
Time in such abundance
flowing since that lovely day

Index

Oh Well

What do we do when
the meaning of things
becomes clear?
Where can it end,
this pretending
where we're
remembering
that we've been
here before?

Do I hold on
to win the war
after losing
every battle?

There's just one problem:
I don't want to fight anymore

Each one wants from the other
something that the other's
just unable to give,

There's no solution in sight, none that I can find,
but never mind, there's no need to fight:
We can always live and let live

Index

There is a War

There is a war. A war between right and wrong. How long must it go on for? Until wrong is no more.

There is a war. A war between black and white. By definition we’re right. Might we be saying that might makes right? There’s no "might" about it! Are you wavering in your conviction in the rightness of our cause? Can we allow ourselves to waver? Never! It’s black or white, us or them, there or here. We’ll fight forever- at least that makes things clear

We're fighting a war for peace. Until we get it, this war won't cease.

Index

Telling Stories

- Feel free to come and see me, and see that there’s no need for you to worry
- Feel free to come and see me, if you’re ever in the mood for another story

Do you want to hear a new explanation, a new story that could make things clear to you?
When I said I was lying I might have been lying. In their own ways all those stories were true.

I fell out of love with you round about the time I fell out with you,
out of a moving vehicle onto the street, where falling in love’s like falling on concrete,
a place where I don’t know what’s true any more, what am I waiting here for anyway?

I remember when this used to be fun.
Now I’m always on the run, run, running away

You didn’t understand what I was running from, I was running from what I thought I’d become, on the wrong turn where thoughts burn,
scorching earth,
still birth killing,
yet I’m still willing,
is this weakness of will?

It’s happening still, when will these emotions in motion be still, they just couldn’t be killed,
for the earth you seeded and tilled bore an unexpected harvest.
How do you expect me to resist it as I revise my statements in retrospect never knowing quite what to expect, oh what excitement!

As long as I still care,
Not going anywhere,
but in circles

Sorry, friend! Were you speaking again?
My mind was wandering lonely as a cloud- and about as substantial (for deep down I’m superficial)
It wasn’t evident- the evidence was circumstantial,
but if there must be someone to blame then I’m guilty all the same

My mind’s been wandering and I’ve been wondering,
Pondering philosophical insights such as:
"What is an ocean but a really big puddle?"

I’ve been muddling along, clear as mud,
Trying to dilute myself to be transparent as water,
To brighten up to become a sunbeam,
To lighten up to be the very air you breathe,
To become your sweetest dream

But the dream’s gone and forgotten
As soon as you awake

My mind’s been wandering and I’ve been wondering
when I’ll finally shake this feeling of being a fake

What will it take for me to finally see some kind of authenticity?
Where oh where is the real me?

The real me set off in search of the real world and never returned
I wonder, what’s the lesson to be learned there?

As long as I still care,
Not going anywhere,
But in circles,
In search of miracles

Sometimes only myths can get at truths we seek. Am I so weak?
Do you not know your own strength? I could go on at length, spinning lines that would soar,
Waxing meaningless, building nothingness
But in the end, what for?

Whatever you may do, may my words serve as a blessing to you,
following you in your comings and goings and doings,

- Helping you to feel free from worry
- And feel free to come see me when you want to hear another story

Index

By the Dawn's Early Light

As the dawn conquers the night
I set a pile of paper and rags alight
by the dawn’s early light

A closing of the ranks,
A circling of the wagons,
I’m in the outer darkness,
I’m lurking in the blanks,
that no one bothered to fill in

All I can do is witness
the flags going up everywhere,
Even newspaper cutouts
taped to windows

And somewhere out there’s
me, lurking in the shadows

All those flags are such a drag,
I steal those flags, patriotic swag
that I drag in bags to a park,
to dispose of in the dark
by making light of them all

But that proves to be
my downfall
This park’s not secluded enough,
Those Parks Police sure are rough,
Doing time sure is tough,
for setting stolen flags alight
by the dawn’s early light

Index

That Day

They sent me home early from work that day

On the way there I’d taken the subway. Going back there was only the bus,
but it didn’t seem to matter much.

It wasn’t as if I was in a rush

Woke up one morning to a beautiful day in late summer, went on my way, with places to go to and things to do, under a sky of brilliant blue.

Where were we all going to?

Imagine this thing I say: every day
millions of people are on the move,
going to work
to earn
to pay
to live

Except that on a given day, for some the trip’s one way

Index

Words and Worlds

Words can be used to build many things, including worlds.
A world is simply a variation on another world.
All you have to do to create a world is to tell its story.

In the beginning there was the word.
A word in no language.
A word from which all other words came,
An idea from which all other ideas emerged

And that word was the creation
By it all things were created, at least on paper
Don`t ask me how things are created in practice
Although they say that practice makes perfect,
One look at the world should convince us otherwise

For years I lived in the world of words.
Creating things with words
But then one day someone told me
that I`d have to face the real world

For too long I`d looked out
on the world from an ivory tower,
trying to understand things
by the to and fro of words

And so I went to another world,
That world being New York
You could say
that living in New York
is living in the real world,
That, or living in
a very expensive dream

But maybe New York is a dream,
and Montreal`s a dream
Things are not as they seem
and the images we`ve seen
we try to understand with words

And it may seem absurd,
Or we may think we understand,
Wielding the right ideology
Cathedrals of ideas,
Built with words

So where`s the real world anyway,
in this universe, amidst the many
worlds like layers of the onion?

Try to peel them off
and it will end in tears

But anything can seem plausible
when at last you`ve found
the right words to represent them
from a copy of reality

And where is the original?
Can we trace it back
to the word there was
In the beginning?

Index

Principles

Everyone has principles,
Some are to die for,
Some are to cry over.
Some, reinforced by iron will
are licenses to kill

Index

Hello to too much of nothing (Hello Silence 2)

Hello, silence, my old friend
You've come to talk with me again
With words that will remain unheard
and pauses that will never end
All I can do is wonder why,
Say "hello", and then "goodbye"
Goodbye

Index

Hello? Silence...

Hello, silence, my old friend
You've come to talk with me again,
With words that will remain unheard,
In a placid pool, shimmering, unstirred,
Immersed in icy silence,
A refuge from verbal violence,
No raised voice, no argument,
But who knows what this silence meant?
Who'll remember this non-event?
You'll wonder where the chatter went,
When evidence isn't evident
And the audience stays silent

Index

The Evening After the Night Before Valentine's Day

From a previous posting: February 14, 2006

What a romantic mood I must have been in that day.

Delirious dreams scattered somewhere in the haze, it’s twilight, I think, but I’ve lost count of the days. Had a look at the brochure, but what it’s about I’m still not sure, for things are all mixed up here and there’s not a thing that’s pure, in fact, I don’t know what “pure” means anymore.The things I thought I understood seem to have changed,

there’s a shift somewhere in this floor;

the furniture’s been rearranged;

how strange, I think, how strange.

Index

You're Never Alone When the Stars are Out at Night

written in 1994, most likely

Looking into the starry sky,
I see hundreds of starry eyes
staring back at me

That doesn’t activate my conscience, though

For I am in the sea,
and I can feel
the undertow


Index

Of Tales Lost in Broken Time

I fought for the freedom to surrender, crushed by victory, consoled by defeat,
A play within a play within a life, within a dream
All I believed was that I should believe a bit of something, more of another,
true in every sense including nonsense

No more of more of the same thing,
Nothing from nothing, with nothing to say- blissfully oblivious to its non-existence
A question answered with a question, words without weight or meaning, soaring gracefully

Imprints are left by weighty words,
oppressing with authority
Impressions of hidden wounds,
onrushing crushing memory

Just about time for gravity
to be lightened up by levity,

Just about time for victory's
mirage to be left behind
for the peace one could find
in embracing defeat

Index

The Springtime

The springtime is not in the air- not yet. It is underground, preparing to insinuate shoots into the soil to pierce winter's shield. What is now frozen in place will melt, for the underground will soon be overground, and winter's reign will soon be over. Resistance to a reign may seem to be in vain while the winter remains, but remember how change comes: everyone sees the signs- in retrospect.

Index

Something of Beauty

Something of beauty bathes you in its splendour.
And you admire it and you let it be what it is.
Nothing stops it from slipping away from your sight,
Yet there it remains, staying within your reach.
But the thought that it could one day be gone becomes poison to your soul,
So one day, you grab hold of it,
And it breaks. Beyond repair. Gone forever.

Index

Some Thoughts on Direction

Just because it`s left doesn`t mean it`s right;
Just because it`s right doesn`t mean it`s wrong;
The folks on the Right have the right to be wrong;
They exercise that right, alright.
If they exercise that right promoting `might makes right' too often,
There might soon be nothing...left

Index

Childhood Lessons

“This soup tastes like soap!”,
I cried out to my Mom

“That’s because you swore today.
Wash your mouth and watch what you say.”

I guess I really shouldn’t complain
At least she didn’t wash my brain

For dirty words can be deterred
But dirty thoughts remain


Index

Slushy Love

written november 2002

Oh dear,
I fear
I'm falling in love again

Haven't felt this way
since God knows when

Oh, God's just reminded me,
It was just two days ago
Thank God, now I know

Ah, chilly romance
in the winter wonderland snow!
Won't wait until spring
to see a wondrous thing grow

Our love, so fine,
Our hearts combine,
This poem's getting soggy,
and messy, like the slush
I'm rambling incoherently,
Now's the time for me to hush

Index

Lives in Pieces

written January 19, 2003

The trauma of 'interesting times' and strife
and the mad rampage of 'leadership' ceases
What drama!
But now I see my life
lies broken in so many pieces

Take a look if you like,
there's not much to see
All that I am
is just so much debris

What a discouraging mess,
I really must confess
But what is there to do
but to once again try
my best to repair
my broken life?

I know that some day
you will feel broken too
Life is deadly, and will get to you
either sooner or later

When you find yourself
feeling in such rotten health,
feeling considerably lesser
where once you felt much greater

I hope I'll be able to do
something for you,
give up a piece of myself
to help pull you through

What else would there be
that I could do
To help repair
your broken life?

Index

Streams of Sunshine

I started writing this one very sunny, strikingly clear Sunday afternoon in August- which reminded me of the sunshine that poured down on me during my travels in maritime Quebec and New Brunswick, as I felt the wonderful sea air. After weeks of humid haze, the clarity comes as a pleasant shock. This is me walking around in a daze from too much sun, but celebrating this- at the seaside and later at home.

That Sunday afternoon, at the Tam Tam in Montreal, I saw a young woman selling brownies on a tray. I thought to myself "I wonder what's in those brownies?"

Proclaimed sunshine pouring forth
and pouring into consciousness
saturated into bliss
sophisticated, dazed and elegant in its simplicity

Stunned by sudden clarity;
shouting sharpness in things I see;
vividness in colourful dreams,
simplicity’s never what it seems

Swimming through streams of sunshine,
Revived by sea winds, feeling fine,
Brightness and colour proclaiming themselves,
Peeking in where the shadow dwells
Through these streams and waves I’ll wade,
‘til I find the shore of shade

The sunshine today is rather loud
I'm wearing colourful clothes,
and dancing in a beautiful crowd,
as the answering wind blows,
but I've forgotten all my questions,
and I've lost track of my friends

A girl in a twirling dress
was selling brownies on a tray
I thought that odd,
I must confess
I ate one and I blew away
upon a dandelion wind,
from which I reached down to spin out the remains of this tale,
which got away, they set sail on green waves of grass, beneath a sky of stained glass

Waves of electricity somehow got to me
from someone I thought I knew,
who I thought might just be you

And I became the role I played,
‘til I heard the applause fade
It was one of those places
I could see no faces
But somehow I could recognize every pair of eyes
reflecting the points of light dancing on the nearby water,
for eyes to witness, proclaiming sunshine,
poured forth and pouring into
consciousness

Sheer Oblivion

This was written on July 14, 2006, soon after Israel began attacking Lebanon. This goes out to all the people here in Canada who supported that abomination- you inspired this. There are worse atrocities that have happened and are happening than what Israel just did to the people of Lebanon (not to Hezbollah, which emerged stregnthened), but it is unusual to see people here who really ought to know better actually actively supporting atrocities.

It's me or it’s you,
so what I’ll have to do
is utterly destroy you,
in several easy steps leading down into the inferno,
the hellfire you’ll cross to reach your promised land
-sheer oblivion-

You cannot win against my power,
yet you continue to defy my will,
How many of you must I kill before you learn?
How many of your cities must I burn- raze to the ground?
No peace is found except in the ground, in your promised land
- sheer oblivion-

How dare these people glare at me, looking scandalized?
I don't like the look of the look in their eyes.
Have they got something against my people?
It’s us or them, so you must hate one or the other.
They are the other, the fanatics who’d destroy us all if they had the chance,
just give them the right circumstances and they will destroy us and all you hold dear,
The choice is clear:
We shall grind them down into
-sheer oblivion-

Yes, David has become Goliath- but is more insecure than ever.
He'll never be totally sure that he's safe,
so just in case- time to lay the surrounding lands to waste.
More people dispatched to
-sheer oblivion-

Weigh those lives in the balance, between people from the two peoples.
A dozen of them for one of ours seems about right, for we have the might on our side.
Put logic and morality in the balance against might and logic and morality will fail,
for superior might must necessarily prevail.

And in the event
that logic and morality get too defiant,
they too will be ground down,
into the ground,
dragged down,
down the steps to and through
the hellfire, into
-sheer oblivion-

Index

A Ceremony

What I lessons have I learned?
There are illusions to be burned
Let them rise like smoke and disappear,
ending this foolishness and fear;
the dreams from which I at last awoke
I see they were never more than smoke
and mirrors, delusions and fears
sliding, intriguing, raging while tears
were choked back in the latest attack

But I’ll be getting back on track
liberated from a heavy doom
My life will resume as flames consume
every illusion posing as a solution,
cluttering my mind like so much pollution

I'm enjoying the dawn of this day
Watching illusions blow away

Index

Lies & Life

I`m dying, But very slowly I hope, Was I lying, No it was just the softest soap, A comfortable clean, Must be believed to be seen, Must be seen to be believed, but the things you saw decieved

I`m lying, down on the ground. To see if someone comes around, to bury me, to hurry me to my final destination, a morbid situation, but no morbid action, so I feel satisfaction, once again I see, the life fire still breathes in me

A life built on lies, crumbles and dies, when the power denies, denies power to the other, when money denies, denies money to the other, when one cuts off the other, ends up being cut off forever, raises himelf up to take a tumble, thought sleeping dogs would surely lie, but the lies crumble and life starts to die, the life fire departs from your eye, no longer does it burn, will it ever return?

Index

Cool, Cool Water

This originally appeared (in slighly edited form) in a McGill University student-run Chaplaincy magazine called "Radix', in November or December end of 2004. The theme of the issue was water. My other contribution to that issue was the name-"Just Add Water".

I`m going down to the cool, cool water, away from the raging fire, away from the strife and slaughter, away from the raging desire.

I`m going down to the cool, cool water, to lose more than I find, to leave that all behind. Let it sink into the mire of its own ambition, its feverish ignition its very own perdition

I`m going down to the cool, cool water- I`m trying to start anew. I`m not sure what to do. I look to the water, can it inspire when it offers a reflection? Does it offer me protection- a cleansing, a connection to all the places water touches- each little drop, at least such is the idea floating in my head, or rising as steam like words I`ve said as the water`s met by fire

Where does this river go? Is there any way to know? Will I be dragged below by the undertow?

Is there no way out of sin? Is there no way for me to win? I`ll drift away with a heedless grin down the waters of oblivion

Let its waters close over me, although I don`t want to drown. But let its cleansing set me free- by losing myself I may be found

Index

Less Than You Think

It's nothing less
than nothingness,
Meaning less
than meaningless
That vertiginous distance
that becomes an abstraction,
defining things by absence,
all else being a distraction

Index

Impressions

This gentle wind is whistling,
This gentle wind is whispering
something gently in my ear
What it is I can`t quite hear

A river`s ripples run into the sky
This sea I`m seeing seems to sigh
with the fading light of the sinking sun
I fear that all my work is done

Index

Doomed & Delusional

Sometimes I seem to be doomed to pursue my own delusions
Sometimes I wonder where my freedom could have gone
How could I be taken in by beautiful illusions?
- from which I’m never disillusioned- I keep hanging on, hung up on a dream, let down

When I seem to awake, I awake into a dream that’s opened up inside this dream
I even dream of escaping the dream, and that’s when I make some things out of nothing, note: not quite what they might seem
Sometimes I hear the roar of emotions at war and want to scream

Have I lost touch with reality? Could I reach out and touch the real?
But I feel that I miss it instead. The book I read
planted dangerous ideas germinating in my head
There were a bunch of ideas there, and some of them I took
and adopted, and if all else fails, I can always blame that book
for leading me astray. As rays fade and I wade
through wondrous words, I wonder
You won wondrously once again
And the circling birds above me seem to say that you love me
You love me not

There could be a memory to unlock this door, but I forgot
that pattern tattered and worn I wore for too long- now it’s gone
All I remember are these delusions that keep me hanging on

Index

Consolation amidst Desolation

This was written, appropriately enough, on Good Friday. It was written for the same event as "Subversive Creation"

What developments have you seen
in the lands were you have been,
burned by the corrosive breath
wind wielded by the hand of death,
sweeping fields devoid of seed,
robbing people of things they need,

A wind that`s planting land mines,
Land fills with junk of modern times,
Laying living lands to waste
with greed that leaves a bitter taste
in the party`s aftermath.

"And few were even invited to
this party", reads the epitaph
that ends "So now what do we do?"

We`ll mourn but not despair,
Our world is torn, who can repair
the damage? Who will soothe this rage?
Who`ll turn the tables or the page
on the rulers of this heedless age?

Better now to be revealing
a reality that sends us reeling
to find the power to bring healing

Resisting the dizzying desolation,
we`ll see it subverted by creation.
We`ll feel the joy of springtime when
we experience life renewed again

Index

Subversive Creation

Written in the spring of 2006 for an environmentally themed storytelling/performing arts event. The opening line was inspired by a remark made by a friend.

My roots longing
to be free
have been stirring,
Wish I could see

my way to the rich soil
where I could live and grow,
My roots are a tightened coil
of nerves that never know

anything but the dark ray
pouring forth like tar,
smothering the words you say,
Will I need to go far

to find my way to those dazzling eyes?
I hope for, yet fear, their surprise
bursting forth like lightning,
seeming to change everything

Eyes of inspiration,
shining in all directions
Globes of flowing light
have made my day and night

Rooted in imagination,
reaching for the sky,
Sharing in conversation,
where there’s nothing to deny

I didn’t know I had that choice
How can I describe the elation
at finally hearing the voice
of subversive creation?

Life will soon be bursting,
streaming forth beyond belief,
Surging, singing, shuddering
half in ecstasy, half in relief

Explosions of sudden colours,
Sounds and scents charge the senses,
The undergrowth undermining
all these walls and fences

Land reclaimed, the one who named it
is the one who claimed it
And set upon it the machines
that injured it and maimed it

Powerful machines reshape the world
in someone's image
And fires within that powered me
erupting into rage

then threaten to drag me down
below the surface of fiery conviction
and corrode me as I drown,
and an apocalyptic prediction
thunders out from between my lips,
with scathing words that sting like whips,
And the love inside me dies,
And the life inside me dies

Distracted by destruction's seduction
and the endless negotiation
of a compromising situation
and a glittering production,
Life became a place of frustration
where nothing seemed to matter much
How can I describe the elation
at finally feeling the touch
of subversive creation?

It’s your imagination
that’s been giving out good news,
pointing to possibilities that
I didn’t know that we could choose

When I’m finding myself quite lost
in a situation and its cost
I see that your imagination’s
been planting seeds
of subversive creation
somewhere deep in me,
sprouts of dreams and information,
animated by love,
love for people and creation,
establishing firm connections
between divisions, between sections,

whatever they meant
How can I describe the elation
at finally smelling the scent
of subversive creation?

Life will be bursting,
streaming forth beyond belief
Surging, singing, shuddering
half in ecstasy, half in relief
Explosions of sudden colours,
Sounds and scents charge the senses
The undergrowth undermining
all these walls and fences

From underground the spring seeped out
to pierce the winter’s shield
And somehow it sprang through me,
and I was unprepared, I reeled
at what was then revealed,
for what had been worn and torn
and desolate and dying
had somehow been reborn

Yes, this was the place
How can I describe the elation
At seeing the face
Of subversive creation?

Index

The most recently posted poems:

A Bad Reaction
Well, I Just Don't Know
Patience
'Tis the Season
What I've Been Up To
Celebrating the Inevitable
That Four Letter Word
Waterflow
It’s All Good, I Guess
to end to begin again

Poems organized by publication


A listing of all the poems posted:

A Ceremony
A Clarification
By the Dawn's Early Light

Celebrating the Inevitable
Childhood Lessons
Consolation amidst Desolation
Cool, Cool Water

Doomed & Delusional
Evening After the Night Before Valentine's Day
Flow
Forever and a Day

Hanging out at the CLSC
Hello? Silence...
Hello to too much of nothing (Hello Silence 2)

Impressions
It’s All Good, I Guess

Less Than You Think
Lies & Life
Lives in Pieces
Memories

Of Tales Lost in Broken Time
Oh Well
Out of the Blue

Patience
Principles
Pure and Sure
Revolution in Circles

Sheer Oblivion
Skylight
Shattered
Slushy Love
Some Thoughts on Direction
Something of Beauty
Streams of Sunshine
Subversive Creation

Telling Stories
That Day
That Four Letter Word
The Springtime
There is a War
This Guy
The Way Forward (Rant No. 378)
'Tis the Season
to end to begin again

Waterflow
Well, I Just Don't Know
What I've Been Up To
Words and Worlds
You're Never Alone When the Stars are Out at Night

Write to a_mtl_paul

Pure and Sure

We will keep ourselves pure
and sure of ourselves

by keeping the others out:
Those who’d put their water in our wine,
They’ve no clue what we’re about
Ours is the vintage that must prevail,
and will if we have the will

to keep ourselves pure
and sure of ourselves

Welcome to my Poetry Blog

Yes, welcome!

Feel free to write to me, a_mtl_paul, if you want to.