empty

I can hear your footsteps,
I can hear your name.
You're standing over my empty grave,
wondering why I went away.

The space beside mine, lies hollow and silent.
The winter's night spent covered and violent.
No marks on my headstone, no body or soul.
The tears you cry won't make me whole.

saves me...

save me for a rainy day, when the sun has gone away.
let me learn your laugh and turn around.
I cock my head when you make a sound.

Your shadow I can feel, my second skin has begun to peel.
Angels rose up from the earth one by one. Last night,
you gave up your only son.

Heaven was lost in the fires of hell. The light at the gate cast on you it's spell.
I for you and you for me, back and forth the prisoners flee.
Over the hills and under the sun. The people had won back their chosen one.

Listen to you and lie corpse-like and still. I am moved by the spirits against my will.
Desperate enough and though I may fight.
The world is lost on me tonight.

your happy corpse.

Like desert wings and fickled feathers.
By bonded rust it's held together.
It rocks, it sways, it moves with the breeze.
It begs of winter for a deathly freeze.

beginnings

I can see you standing in the rain. Holding a telephone without a cord.
You were searching for something you lost, a photograph in a crowd. Shadows passed by left and right, all you knew was not in sight, there you were...alone.

The skys above seemed to sing your name. A life kept inside a fancy picture frame. We never saw you again, but we always heard your name.

spirits awaken...

The following was said, after the lights were turned down. After the night had set in, I closed the door and felt the draft. Of your spirit escaping me from within. I walked outside of your old house. Still trying to figure out all of your issues. You left your tears on a thousand tissues. They've piled up on the floor. Next to the crack in the door, where from underneath there was a light breeze setting in.

Don't fall down tonight. Everything isn't all right, but it's not the same as it used to be. You've heard them say these words before. They're just flash cards for you to ignore. Billboards and advertisements on the television set. There's never been a chance like this. It's too much, so much that you can't miss. All lies and camera tricks, smoke and mirrors and mannequins without heads. So close your eyes and go to bed. Dream softly and rest your head.

ships and stars

ships and stars, the view from mars
and all the astroids in between.
the earth looks so small compared to it all,
a boiling third rock from the sun.

hope and dreams, go up in flames,
with your smile they come back again.
though we may never be the same,
we can see the sun through the rain.

Death by mini-bar

Tiny voices in empty rooms,
black sheets cover the sun.
Windows baring crescent moons,
a battle with keys gone unwon.

Sitting on the bed,
little bottle in hand.
Head in the waste basket,
mouth parched like sand.

Look at the clock,
tick one, two and four.
Clothes strewn about,
headache raging, pills galore.

Out in the morning,
passing people stop to stare.
Lipstick on your teeth,
and yellow scrunchies in your hair.

It'll all be over soon,
you tell yourself while you smile.
Turn down the music, and the lights,
you'll feel like a human in a while.

Greasy food and a cozy bed,
some place soft to rest your head.
Across the room, sits the empty bottle,
soon enough you start to waddle.

Hour passes hour, the friends begin to call,
already plotting your next place to fall.
Back on your hotel bed and turn to the right,
the mini-bar sits, seeking its prey on this night.

along the way

you didn't see, you only heard.
you didn't speak, you turned away.
there were lies, and there were words,
and there was nothing left to say.

because it was the two of us it was harder,
because there was only war, and never peace.
two destinations on a troubled map,
roads never crossing, only bridges,
and all the water underneath.

only silence on the telephone,
no spoken words, only radio static.
I found your picture in the addic,
I wiped the covering dust away.

The face I saw, I used to know.
outside the world was layered in snow.
there was a ringing at the doorbell,
it was you,
you were on your way.

There's wasn't two of us, there was one.
We'd found eachother along the way.

Eyes open

I'm looking for an angel,
there's nothing left to say.
Didn't realize that you had wings
until you left the other day.
The world still spins around the sun,
the sun still sets in the west at night.
The lights of Vegas still shine brightly,
as desperate people place their bets.

They don't know about the spring time,
only promises washed away.
Like looking at that poor school boy,
asking how'd he get that way.
He was a brick sinking in the water,
waves lapping against his head.
He didn't have all of the answers,
liked to shake his head instead.

Marathon: field notes...

So it appears that I have not been writing weekly updates about the half-marathon training I'm doing. Well, two months, too many kilometers to count, and some minor aches and pains have past since then, with much to report.

It's Easter Sunday, in the am, just got back from a run. Today the faithful Running Roomer's and I set out for 16kms. 10 weeks into the training schedule, this is the biggest test, though not the farthest our group will run. Temperature wise, I couldn't have asked for a better day to run, though a little less wind would have helped!!

Today's course had us running from the corner of O'Connor and Wellington to down past the War Musem, along the riverside bike/running path, heading west toward the bridge to Alymer. (I forget the name). Getting to the bridge was tough this morning, the past two weeks I've had to keep the running to a minimum due to an ankle injury I can't seem to shake. I've been riding my bike alot to keep up the strength in my legs while I rest my ankle.

As I arrived at the bridge, I turned to face north to head across to Quebec, when I was greeted by a gale force wind!! Not really, but it felt like it. At this point my watch read 31 mins. I could definately feel the off time creeping up on me, as the bodies of my running mates ahead up me dipped below the horizon and out of sight. I was alone. However, training for something like a half-marathon is 90% mental, so you have to keep focused on the task at hand, even if it is getting across a damn bridge with 20km wind in your face!

By the time I reached the crest of the bridge, I regained the vision of my running mates, but that comforting visual quickly faded, as they ran behind some trees. Passing some bikers and a couple of runners, saw me reach the end of the bridge and head onto the path, to follow it back downtown. Running along the path was a great test of strength, as the terrian dipped and rose at several points along the way. It took me through marsh land, over some plank-covered bridges and through a small community park.

At this point, I could feel my ankel starting to scream at me, evidently I'd been ignoring it all this time. It didn't catch up to me until I reached a portion wherein, I had to cross a set of train tracks. One problem; a train was being loaded with extra cars, making ready for a trip. My watch read 67mins. An attendent working on the train told me to wait 5 mins, so I waited...and waited. I got fed up with waiting so I hopped a fence and continued on my route to the Alexandrea Bridge, past the mesuem of Civilization.

I stepped foot on Ontario soil, as my watch read 78mins. Before coming out this morning I set myself a goal, to run the 16kms in under 90mins. Though the pain in my ankle was increasing with vigour, I made it back to the corner of O'Connor and Wellington at 87 mins, and continued down to the store in a total time of 89:31. Not too shabby, for a guy with a throbbing ankle. Next weekend we run 12km, then two 18's, a 20km, and a final Sunday run of 6km, so hopefully i can rest my ankle enough to keep up my speed. Otherwise, I'll have to play through the pain!!

wishing well

make a wish,
throw a penny into the well.
I've wandered all around,
asking strangers what's your picture of hell.
the sun hasn't been shining in days,
need a ladder to escape from this purple haze.
is it door one, two or three,
this resting place is big enough for you and me.
a night like this so black and cold,
watch your step this dock is old.
bring your book, and we'll read aloud one verse,
she doesn't even carry a purse.
grab some wood and we'll start a fire,
let go of your earthly desires,
come with me and you will see,
we'll paint a picture of heaven.
Somewhere, away from this distaste,
landminds and toxic waste.
At night we'll look up and see the moon,
asking if change is coming soon.

Sheets over your head...

Help me out,
cause I don't know what you're looking for.
Put one foot in front of the other,
and walk right out the door.

Now and then,
could you let me be your friend.
If you're crying underneath the pillow,
let me try to make it better.

I'll be right behind you,
your personal fantasy guide.
You can trust me,
don't hold out your hands,
as you're following down.

fireflys

last thursday,
four years ago.
I saw your footprints
on the wet grass,
leading to the hill.

I went searching for you,
but never got that far.
The light outside was dim,
only shining from one star.

And I walked through the darkness
outside your house.
Screaming at the top of my lungs.

Ended up at the lakeshore,
staring at my reflection in the water.
Dad said you'd know the feeling,
when you have a daughter.

nonsense

the roses aren't red,
because the petals are dead.
and the demons danced,
at the foot of the poet's bed.

the hardest day...

it's the hardest day
some might say...when you have to say goodbye...
there's a candle burning,
on the table...and the wind comes and blows it away.

I've got your image in the mirror
the picture couldn't be drawn any clearer.
As I walk out of this house...I turn to say...

it's the hardest day
some might say...I think I found something out about you.
When the rain is falling...you're name I'm calling...
I've got something else to say.

You packed the car
and drove down the street...I could hear the radio.
They were playing sad songs,
about boys and heros...

I think that they were talking to me.

you and I today

Are you out there,
are you waiting for me...did this happen
can you come for tea...
and I'll be sittting,
out by the tree...I'll see your shadow underneath the door

I'll put my head back,
and you drive the car...foot on the gas
taking us far...
Away from the nights...out past the lights
out to the place where they don't know our names...

signs of life

The world is waking up again, the sun is beginning to spend the day beyond the reach of cloud cover. All over the city people ride their bikes, walk their dogs and meander through rows of sidewalk sales. The grass is beginning to show signs of life, as blankets of snow retreat to puddles and slowly, they evaporate into the sky.

ad for cheap cigarettes

I need time to help create.
To sow the seeds of love,
in the fields of hate.
Spoken words are a beating drum
next to a pile of broken bones.
The world is watching as you climb to the stage.
Looking people straight in the eyes
to expell your rage.

Ghosts of the fallout

When she closed her eyes, her mind always returned to the crying and the deafening screams. She walked carefully, taking each step slowly as she made her way through the thick blanket of smoke and screams, that blurred her vision and dulled her senses.

She could hear the sharp, high-pitched cracking of the fire as it moved through the concrete and fallen timber of the once proud homes of her neighborhood. Like a cancer it spread, from one house to the next, and almost as quickly as her eyes could blink, the neighborhood vanished. Nothing was left but the soft sound of smoldering ash and the dark, drab colour of soot.

There was no laughter, there were no children playing capture the flag in between the rows of homes. She kept walking, and, willing the sunlight to break through the sufficating layer of smoke covering her head, she dropped to her knees.

She could feel her pulse rise and fall, and rise and fall...it repeated itself for several minutes. She couldn't hear the birds, nor see the sky... she was lost.

Marathon...I'm running for.

Presently, it's snowing outside. The wind is coming from all directions and it's causing a burning sensation on my face. The first few minutes of running in weather like this is tough, something most people, even runners won't think about. I must admit, I usually head inside to the nearest treadmill, as insipid as that sounds. No trees, dogs or people to watch as I'm running by, blood coursing at a steaming pace through my vains. But today isn't about running outside or inside, in bad weather or on a sunny day...it's about running.

As I communicate this to you, I am training for a half-marathon, that's 21.1kms folks!!! It's my first and hopefully not my last, baring any unforeseen injury I might sustain along the way. No, no, so far it's been good, week three of a sixteen week training schedule. I have always been athletic, so this comes sort of naturally to me, not to toot my own horn! But, even with prior athletic experience, I'm learning the joys of having to get up on Sunday morning and run.

At least I'm not alone, I have the rest that fill out the Running Room clinic on Slater street. Every tuesday we meet for a talk and a run, usually a short one that I try and run too fast!! Last tuesday I noticed a sign on the front door of the store. It was an annoucement for a breast cancer run, 'Run for the Cure'. I started to read the poster, a date, time, the distance, all the usual suspects that pertain to advertising an event. Then I noticed something else.

Though it wasn't hard to miss, sitting in the center of the post. They were little cards, like name cards at a wedding. Each one had writing on them, and each one had something different written on them. One said, 'For my daugher, my hero' another read, 'For my father'. On everyone, there was a dedication of one form or another, in memory of people's loved ones, who had either died, or as one read, 'For my sister, keep fighting', for those who were finding the courage to live on. On the bottom of the poster there read a single question- who are you running for?

Seeing these cards left me thinking of a few different things for the rest of that night's run. One was my loved ones, my grandmother fell victim to cancer ten years ago this passed year. Another feeling I got was, what I'm a running for? Though I'm not running in that breast cancer race, I must be doing it for a reason. On a basic level, I'm running because I want to get back in shape. On another, I'm running it to see if I can. Then there's the 'cross it off my life's to-do list' which is a good motivator.

As I sit beneath the glow of a candle flame, outside the snow still falling without hesitation, I'm wondering why I'm running this marathon. There is another 13 weeks, so this won't be the last I have to say...