believe

Want to believe
Did once
Long ago
Walking a tight rope
To the horizon
Tick tock

Lost in the Lies

Lost in the lies
Narcissistic lips in the frost
Toxic calls in the dark
Enduring not at all
Smiles in the end
Echoes on the line
Patience karma

The dream that woke me last night

The dream that woke me last night
The trees of fall were in full bloom
A single road in a middle of a forest
The trees tall on either side
The colors ablaze in reds, oranges and yellow
Contrasting with the cold in the air as the sun heats my face
The calmness I feel in my spine as I think of you brings joy
The road ahead although with curves is straight and true
As I look over my shoulder at the past which is dull and boring
This is when I woke only to desire to be back in the calmness of the forest
Wishing to see those colours again
Wondering what it could mean
Future is colorful and with promise
Should we travel down that pathway is the question

Mesmeric sunrise

Mesmeric sunrise

An avalanche of vibrant colours
Radiate from the horizon
Trespassing on the night
Pushing forward the dawn
Shimmering brilliance
Whispering promises
As the colours dance on the ripples
Like a vision of curiosity
The illumination from the heavens
Brings a promise of life
As the beams crawl across the sky
Shouting the with joy at the open sky
Voices echoing off the clouds
There is a mesmeric quality to a sunrise colours
Like the first kiss form a beautiful woman with
Only love in her eyes
Every morning is a kiss from the heavens
Be my heaven every morning

Paradise stare down

Perfection is hard to recognize
Imperfection everywhere
Paradise stare down
Share the heat
Wondering why

Hard to see the sky

Hard to see the sky


The truth is under
so many layers
it hard to see the sky
The calls that are made bleed with irony
Yells echo off the floor as the door lays open
The screams of the children can not be heard
The toys are in the yard as your lovers clothing hangs in the trees
Your heart is gone to another as I wait by the phone
And I know it will never ring for me
As the cost builds up be on reality
The music of the cellos rakes the ground
It sounds like the cries of bullets hitting the clouds
When will it finish?
No one wins in this position
More threats come form your people
As the lightening shots across the clouds
Players sitting with you at expensive restaurants
And children eat leftovers
You look pregnant with another mans baby
But it no longer hurts me
I wish you the best in your life

Narcissistic savant

Narcissistic savant
Clearly defined
A thread amongst the clouds
Seeing through shadows
Axiom distinct
Painted on smiles
Omnipotent Idealists step aside
Rivers wash away with the tides

Getting a PHD in reality

Getting a PHD in reality
A full moon over head
The air is cool
Not a cloud in the sky
Waking up from a nebulous dream
A nightmare to reality
So surreal
I hoped it wasn’t me
The idealism honesty
Shredded in the kidnapping of three
She doesn’t get her way
Every one pays

under heaven

Red sky at both ends of the day
seize it if you can
heaven under cover
hesitate and watch it drift away
end games mindless lullabies
I lied under a blanket
Called heaven
Wondering is this the day
Carpe Diem

It starts with a blank page

It starts with a blank page
Some times the words flow
Other times the words drag
If it feels right it turns to a song
And then the words can mean much too many
Like a relationship
It starts with a blank sheet
A perfect date not a place
But who you’re with
When time stands still pick someone new
If it fly’s by in a blink of an eye
Then you have found what is true
When some one brings tranquility to your spirit
Serenity to your soul
And composure to your life
Then it is true
And then your life will give meaning to one

Butterfly in a mailbox

Butterfly in a mailbox

This makes me want to do what is right
More then before
Your actions are hurtful
Mean and deceitful
Morals that justify
This agony is a crime
Morality will take it toll
At the gate
A religious person you say you are
yet issues of morals cloud?
Your reality like is an open sore
I hope that you can look at your own reflection
In a mirror and be happy
With the imperfections
Like a butterfly in a mailbox

Bye granddad

Bye granddad


Bye granddad
I miss you granddad
I am sorry that I never got to say good bye
Talks and walks just the two of us
Making tracks in the snow
Checking traps
Taking the dogs instead of
The skidoo
The smell of the fire
And making tea
Hours away
Stories about the wolf and the bear
The battle on the hill across the river
The sky so clear
The snow so high
No prison in the air
People flow in and out
But your memory remains strong inside
Your name Willie and mine William
A little on the wild side
You had fight and I had wars
But nobody died
You passed on fighting in Edmonton
I quite drinking
Took a bottle and poured it on your grave
Good bye granddad

Mesmerizing eyes

Mesmerizing eyes

I look over and see your head resting to the side
The look is so mesmerizing and your eyes are so bright
A lonely tear rolls down
You wish out loud saying can we stay here forever
The moon light reflects off the water and
The sound of a train can be heard over the music
It sounds so romantic as the words
“You can have every thing” plays in the background
Your lips quivering as I bite my lip
Mesmerizing eyes so bright
Looking up
As the words come through
The distance so far

test 2.1

Look to the sky

look to the sky and prey
were the words this day
what could I say
I believe that goodness
Honesty and morality come from within
But I remained silent
Serenity in ones on demise
The abyss of fear
Determines
The fingers of light can only claw so far into the fog
Before it fades
The rime on the trees
Lines the ghost of time
Karma it is said will be fate
We all walk and talk
I will not bag
Look to the sky and prey
Were the man words this day
A man of science
Serenity in another’s demise
The abyss of fear
The past
Determines inaction
I look to future
And smile
The sunrise was okay
A place in the clouds
Above an azure blue lake
A summit in the clouds
Were the fingers of light can touch one soul

Perceptive

One degree of separation
Eternal meaning
Manipulative

Where the truth lies
Hear one actions

Same words are heard above a whisper

Poems are just words
Some never heard
Some never understood
Some misinterpreted
Some without meaning

Others a glance
Through a window
Or an open door
Perceptive

In the morning before the storm

In the morning before the storm
The water is so calm
The birds all sing
The sky so blue

Slowly you smell the air change
Impending doom
Sky goes gray
The animals go quite

The wind picks up
The animals take cover
The white caps on the water can be heard
The trees bend down

test 2

test

Ironic though it sounds

Another snow storm drive and Three and I were on the road again.


In the back seat using his rock in roll voice, we hear “if I say go, will you run away, run away, run away, AHHHHHHHHHHH.”





Jet, M and I start laughing. Reverting back to his 5 year old youngest son voice E Bat says “Dad turn the music back up.” And then we all start laughing.



So the piano starts playing and we all say the words.

“When I first saw you standing there, you know it was a little hard not to stare and when I drove you home….” 3 minutes and 31 seconds later, we all laugh again.



Making happy memories in a snow storm,
With a fever of a 110,
looking for lighting in a November sky,
Forever soon knocking at the door,
Taking meds to relieve strep throat,
an unnecessary trip,
others say they have stuff to do,
life a drama
were characters can be chest pieces
Happy memories
In a snow storm
With a fever of a 110
forever soon knocking at the door



M says “play it again”

So the piano starts and we all singing. “All or nothing.”



Ironic though it sounds

On the way to a Rink

On the way to Bethune last night in a snow storm to get to the hockey rink Jet asked.

“Whatever happened to _____________ (place your name here)?”
Well son they are living their lives I guess.
Jet “you mean they don’t have time for a hot chocolate?”
Son “ I can t answer that.”
“Guess they are just too busy!”

 Jet thinks for a couple minutes and the silence seems long as the fingers reach across the highway.
A semi passes us and the windshield is completely white which breaks the silence.

Jet says it seems that you can hear peoples actions if you ignore what they say! Huh Dad?

An eleven year old boy seems to know people better then what it took me a life time to learn.

Yes Jet it would seem.
That is sad Dad!

Cause it feels like forever

Cause it feels like forever


The trees drop their essence
Getting ready for their sleep
The birds take provisions for their flight
We crank the heat
Wishing for the sand

Sitting at home alone
What are you thinking?
Cause it feels like forever

Were has the summer gone
The fire is out
The beach a distant memory
The sand on feet

It feels like home
Even though you’re gone
Cause it feels like forever

It’s ugly now
As the snow flows in the wind
The trees look dead
Although their in a deep sleep

It takes my breath away
Thinking of you
Cause it feels like forever

As the wind blows

Memories of the past

I sitting in a local drinking hole listening to tail of battles and my mind wonders to the distant past and an ancient times about the three….the three( two brothers and sister) who would battle each other at the drop of a hat.. the voice of the people wonder into and out hear shot as I remember the times….good and bad but never boring..

As the wind blows, the snow around in the field, the battle rages on.
Light sabers flying through the air slicing down in a flurry of action.

The combatants are three battling each other. One is a princess, who picks up a shoe and tosses it at the head of another fighter at the same time using her light saber to defend herself from our little super hero batman or Spidy ( who ever his is today.)

The target of the shoe is the rink rat that goes by the title of “cool man J” is getting into the fray at the same time he is flying through the air and slashing with his sword at the bat…

All three, look to attack at the same time, changing sides when opportunity for success is present in the others camp..
The bat giggles and attacks the princess and slashes at the cool man at the same time hitting the princesses, who scream and starts to running after the bat. The cool man jumps off the couch and tries to do a summersault ending up on is back on the floor. In the laughter that continues the bat boy screams and runs to find daddy-O thinking that battle has turned against him.

Daddy0 enters the fray unaware that he has become the target of their joined attack (the little savages). Any way the battle quickly turns into a fireball exchange as ball after ball are fired at each in turn. Cool man J is again in the mix jumping from one chair to the next throwing balls and laughing his head off. The princess is also throwing balls and having balls thrown at her.
The bat tackles daddy-o wrapping his arms and his legs around my knee making escape impossible…the others scream encouragement to the bat as they quickly attack themselves with swords and balls hitting me in the face and arms and chest and back…the giggles continue from all four as the bat goes for a ride on my leg..


The conversation continues now but many of the people have started to leave. Being replaced by a different crowd older and wiser…The waitress returns yet again asking if wished anything smiling. What does she want?

The bat sails through the air landing on a couch and giggle as he springs back up the at other two charge on me and we all land on the floor in laughter. My head snaps back as the bat lands on my forehead flying off the couch. Dam bat thinks he can fly and he just did..

Angels fall like drops of rain

Angels fall like drops of rain

Angels fall like rain drops from the sky
The heavens open up to cry
The sounds of the angels hitting the ground
Is like hail cutting the fields down

Angels have feelings to
And a job to do
Feeling they don’t know they are searching for
Are their jobs redundant?

One angel is all I am asking for
Catch her before she hits the ground
Hope she lands on my face
Runs down my cheek like a rain drop

To touch my lips
To taste the salt of the heavens
Just one angel please
To make my life complete

The drop to make me hole again
To share life as one
To lift me up
So my heart can touch the clouds

Angel dice que usted permanecerá.

Angel dice que usted permanecerá.
No se escápe.
Las alas son sujetadas.
Seré su distracción.
Vaya con el corazón.
Usted sabe lo que dice.
Permita que las garras de un tigre corran por el pelo.
¿Su mente dice la Parada pero el corazón dice qué?
¡Sus garras me han rasguñado profundo!
¡La vida es compleja pero llegará a ser una aventura!
Venga la risa su vida lejos.
Trato de encontrar nuestra playa.
Puede viajar por nosotros.
Por un país diferente todavía.
El fuego está en las conversaciones.

A drop of rain

A drop of rain

A drop of rain
As the sun sets on another day
I feel a like a drop of rain in the middle of a field
Reflecting the colours the sky
Deep purples to fire red
As a mirror does ones own image
The eyes stare back looking for imperfections
On the rock I sit nothing but a small sphere looking for feelings
As the temperature drops to freezing
My shape changes to ice
On the surface of the rock
There is no pain
There is no thought
Just a change in shape, space and time
In the morning the sun will rise to warm the rock
And I will melt to drop
The ground will adsorbs
The moisture is absorbed as the crowds will my memory

Gullible angels falling from the sky

We can write a song about angels
that cheats and have the claws of a tiger.
That scratch deep
Angel asks" Who are we basing this on exactly?"
Leaving scar tissue with laughter
Angel replies "that sounds so romantic
Stop it"

Watching their prey as they sleep
Playing word games that make them weep
Tears of sadness and laughter in the background.
As the angel moves on to a new den far away

Tears hit the ground
The Angel offers “I will lick the tears off of your face for you.”
Your free angel...
Fly were you will
Angel weeps in response "Maybe I don't want to go
My wings seem to be broken"
Your wings are well...u can fly if you wish.
Go

Dante’s Sunrise

Dante’s Sunrise

Every sunrise has a morning
Every breath you take has a beautiful sound
Makes me wish to be in your arms

Every sunset has a night
Every smile you make takes my breath away
It has be ten years now and we not spoken it two
It is sad that time stands still as the years drag by

And yet your hatred burns me deep
Like being shot by a 38
Your last words slice me clean through
And the salt you rubbed in is still on fire

The first year went by in seconds
The next four you said you could not take it
As you ran off with another
The last two have been Dante’s hell

Every sunrise is the beginning
even as the sunsets on Dante’s day
Life is beautiful even in Dante’s hell

I hope the reflection does no scare you
When you look in those eyes

A Kryptonite cross

A Kryptonite cross lies heavy on my soul.
Where the river flows
As the wind blows
I run by the fields
Each little flower holds a tear from the sky
Thinking about the mountains I climbed
And the rivers I crossed to get here
In the middle of no where
You walk across my soul
Without looking my way
It breaks my heart in so many ways
My spirit is twisted
You laugh and cry and it reminds me of
the way it could have been

a couple minutes in time

Talking about the weather with some people I have never meet before. Jasmine and Quin are just passing through town on their way to Alaska to serve in the Air Force. We met in line as we were trying to place our orders and conversation about traveling the world evolved. We ended up sitting together for a lack of table space. Quin had served in Iraq and Jasmine was his nurse when he came in was all they offered. The pain of their conversation interrupted their thoughts as both fell silent in memory for several seconds. Both gradually returned to Tim’s on Victory East and their drive to the air force base in Fairbanks. They had been married for less than two weeks and this was their honeymoon, so to speak, driving from Pensacola, Florida to Alaska. A quick friendship developed in Regina over swirl and a breakfast sandwich. The line up at the till goes out the door and yet we timed it very well hitting the till with relatively few people in the place. Our conversation slowly crawls to awkwardness as we try to break away. We exchange addresses even though for facebook both parties thinking there is relatively little chance of that happening. Jasmine says thank you as she leaves to my surprise.

I get in my car and head towards work wondering why Jasmine said thank you. I most likely will never know. Life is interesting just with the people one can meet as we our path dissect for a minute in time. Where do these people end up and what happens in their lives. Do they change the world in some small way or just fade to black like good rock song.

The Busker arrives in his Acura sports car just as I get out of my vehicle and we walk into the building together chatting about the outcome of last night’s hockey game. Chi town leads the series three games to two heading back to Philly. We both liked the coach’s decision of splitting up his number one line. The games the generals of sports play in the sub plots of pro sports and we like chatting about to distraction. I was called a sports freak over the weekend by a close friend when I texted requesting an update. They always text asking for weather updates at the beach and I always respond. I will have to rethink that one I guess or get a t-shirt that says "weatherman" on it. Luckily, there were people in the stands with blackberries and internet access

Difficult Topics

I heard an Amber alert this morning on my 35 minute drive to work and tried to put myself in the parent shoes. It was just a news item about how the alert system was changing so that it would be faster and hopefully more effective. We hear these things all the time and they are always from someplace else or about someone else but what would it possibly feel like,even for a short a short time beside the fear, the questions, doubt, and later the anger. Empathy is an emotion unique to humans they say but this is a hard topic to write about and follows the concept outlined in last blog about writing being hard work. So why not try a difficult topic?

A call came this morning that I feared would one day arrive. Once before, I received a call stating that the children were not in school and have been pulled. The day after thanks giving how ironic is that. Six hours of waiting wondering if they were safe, wondering if they had been taken across the line to the states, where some of her family lives. The brain takes you places that are ugly in situations like this. Thinking the worst and pleading for the best. Hoping beyond hope that it is just a surreal dream you’re about to wake from and knowing it is just your brain trying to cope in a rationalized way. Looking back I saw the signs. No wedding band, parties that went all night, phone calls from unlisted numbers, hang ups in the middle of the night,personality changed over a period of time. Then a business trip to Trinidad without a hotel room coupled with working hours from 8 pm to 4 am. New start up Computer Companies often have those hours I was told, but do those people working in those companies look like they dressed for clubbing I asked. Anyway, papers arrived by courier soon after, then court dates followed by a Doctors baby, born in early spring. This was followed by more court dates with the Doctor I have heard or was told when she asked if I would sign an affidavit on her behalf. Life is different on a big screen T.V. So flash forward to this morning when the message was left on my machine saying two of the children have not showed up for school. Thoughts of six painful hours in the near distant past and reflections on what I read somewhere said by an University lecturer about predicting behavior based on past behaviors. In essence if someone has a history of doing a certain action they will continue that behavior in the future. Some people who are always late with plausible excuses tend to be late in the future. This relates to children being removed from their school and their home and then in turn, don’t get to see their father for three weeks. The chance after this incident occurring more than once is greater than that with her words echoing “I am a flight risk too”. All that in less than five seconds as I wait for the school phone to ring. Hello Mr. Wright! They just walked in the door. Your children were 16 minutes late. Thank you for the call as the tension drains form my system and I hang up feeling like I run 26 miles against the wind in a very hot day.

"Double espresso please", as I place my order. That is as strong a drink that I will have at this Java Bar drive through. The song on the wolf playing is I will walk alone by Greenday. I sense it is going to be a long day. After a long wait, the evening before, sometimes people have to stand up and be recognized. Stop letting others treat you like the remains left in an outhouse. The song on the radio changed as Amanda puts on Voodoo!

writing is hard work

Writing is hard work sitting here at a South Albert location in a parking lot sidewalk coffee bar. A wire stool is my seat at a round table looking north at an Earls restaurant as cars drive by on a very busy street. Writing paper hanging over the edge of the table fluttering in the wind and without words or even concrete thought waiting in anticipation for even a doddle and looking to white. The smell of the food being prepared makes my mouth water. The coffee is a treat at the end of a long month; Cameral Macchiatto’s flavor will have to last as the cost is low on my priorities. I sit here thinking how I can make these words into short stories that make sense and flow from one chapter to the next with character development and insight. From one coffee shop conversation to the next. Meeting people and connecting with ideas as this world seems large yet everyone seems to know one and other in some way. Put it up to social networking were you can have two completely different chats with two different people from totally independent and isolated parts of this earth and feel that they are sitting by you.
Yet I sit here alone drinking Italian coffee made by made be an Australian student who fallowed her Canadian boyfriend from England in a shop sandwiched between a drugstore and a nameless designer eyeglass outlet with terrific fumes drifting over in a blue haze.

Someone said that the Salzburg story was too disjointed and poetry hiding as pros which in a way is heavy on my mind this day in June. Could not resist that one!
I am simply a man with stuff on his mind. I meet friends from time to time in coffee shops in and around this town. When I look back over time, that being my time here, the pattern was set long ago. Hanging with friends at a shop that is warm, most times I have been there early waiting for them to arrive. I grow up in Northern Canada were the winter s are cold and warmth was important. I now live in a place of extremes. The temperature can vary from minus 40 in the cold months to plus 40 in the hot mouths and the wind feels like it can peels one skin off. What is important I think is family, honesty and integrity!

Writing and these stories is an outlet of sorts to pass the time. An idea being that a story can be facts interplayed with fiction. Not that facts are the truth only that they are an illusion hiding in reality diluted in folklore. Wow that one hurt.
Coffee is a metaphor for life waiting to be tasted. Some bitter others sweet and always better fresh but stale better than nothing. Superficial as that sounds, if all else fails than have tea.

Still I am sitting here waiting for Dan to call who is a friend from high school who just came on facebook. What is the number of your phone he asked? The last time I chatted with Dan was one year before when I was coaching baseball. We spoke for a couple seconds that day. The time before that he visited for a couple hours refusing to stay the evening saying something about needing to get back. Throughout the years there have been few friends that have been there for everything. Dan is one of those few. Conversation just begins from were it left off. Thinking back to the time when Dan signed me up for the military because he had signed up. Joining the airborne almost like the French foreign legend going off to new worlds or countries similar maybe to the movies we enjoyed watching as kids. He sent me a t shirt from Cypress once where he served with a sniper rifle. Who would have thought going through those barrels of 22 bullets as kids would turn into a job as morbid as that sounds. Neil say hi as he passes by the table with his guitar in hand ending my though process for now.

The past is the future!

The past is the future, what an opening sentence or in this case a title.
I am here at the Blue bird and I find myself drifting back in time to a place where Mozart was born and a coffee bar made of stone hundreds of years old.

The smoke wafts up and the smell of the different coffees are over powering in that corner building. We five students took refuge here to get out of the rain. The rain the one constant it seems from this last weekend in May, from one Coffee shop by a beach landlocked to the birthplace of Amadeus. We sit and chat and watch the crowds as we five friends are the strangers here and all eyes follow are every word. Two singers sing softy in a corner by the bathroom door. One is on an Africa drum and the other on a Banjiter, wondering that their folk style seems interesting in the birthplace of Amadeus Mozart but somehow complimentary.

A trip to Europe in leather coats and long black hair sitting huddled together trying to fight off the rain and the cold. We landed in Amsterdam than a train to Munich followed by a bus ride here to Salzburg. As my mind, floats back and forth between the present diner with its smells of French fries and the rich memories of the past draped in history. Their faces still clear but their names are gone now except for one. I met them in Victoria when I lived there for under a year so long ago. Three of them had to wear uniforms as they attended Andrew's College or something like that. One of their names is very clear though as I meet her in Calgary not so long ago. In an airport lobby, she was catching a flight to Texas and I was waiting to connect with West Jet to Toronto. She walked up to me and asked if I had ever been to Fort Nelson B.C.

She looked at the four of us and asked if the children were mine saying perhaps they were too beautiful to be. She then introduced us to her Pro hockey player husband. Then asked if I was married? I said not anymore which brought an awkward silence only broken by the announcement that flight 698 was departing and that William Wright and family make their way to gate 7. That is another story for another time.

Interesting thoughts over coffee as a detective calls from the major crimes unit that brings me back to the present tense and asks if I seen her today. I have not seen or heard from her in weeks. Tom says he will call back if he hears differently. Two minutes later the phones rings again from the same unlisted number saying they have got her and to have a great summer. Funny how the past connects to the future and future connects to the past from a stone coffee bar in Austria to a Blue bird at a beach in Saskatchewan. There is a question there some were I am sure and perhaps one or two answers.

Sat. Coffee in a Dinner 82 years old.

The coffee is hot and seems even hotter on this rainy, cloudy Saturday. The water sliding down the windows give the landscape outside a surreal futuristic look and the one or two people that are brave enough to come through this water fall appear as they have survived two weeks in the Amazon. The staff stands around waiting for customers in a battle against boredom; their blue t shirts, with a smiling bird ion an apron on the front all clean and new contrasting with the eighty year old décor in a poetic way. The steam from the coffee floats up with it rich aroma as the sound of the rain beats the ground. What has placed me here thirty miles North West of that drowned island overlooking a street were buckers play and people hardly ever stop to breathe. The coffee has been filled four times now and the staff keeps asking if I wish for more. I waiting again for time and striking up conversation with the restaurant staff. One asks were three are today. I look up with my mouth open and no words will come out. Memories of a time when we all three sat with me here at that table over there. For some reason we don’t sit there any more even when we come together anymore. I wonder why?

If coffee was a Metaphor for Fridays!

What kind of coffee would be a good fit for Fridays? I have an opinion but look forward to hearing suggestions!

Thoughts on Life!

Interesting starting point, "Thoughts On Life" and why E Bat you may ask. From nothing to a couple of words just to test the waters and punction in between to let the thoughts flow. Deep thought in a coffee shop watching people come and go. Each person that walks through the door has a different story yet somehow predictable. You can read in their expressions the worry in their eyes and the way they move. The phsyology of body language that humans read more from then the writen word. Each person at a different stage of their lives some worry about lived ones or the future others with their faces painted on. The coffee is bitter and strong waiting like you to see who walks through the door.
The coffee shop could be any where in the world from Ibiza Spain to Victoria B.C. Canada or even Milan Italy, yet it is not. It is in a land locked in Regina on the corner of Victoria Ave and Rose Street at a place called Altantas. Ironic name to justify sitting at a table on street corner making up stories about people in my head. Across the street I see a busker chatting with a Montreal fan. Both look familier. The Montreal fan has a Tattoo of a killer whale on his leg done in the Haida style found near Vancouver and Vancouver Island which some how is so Canadian in that it does not make sense. Wearing the symbol of the west coast on ones skin and team product from the east on onces clothing. The Buster looks like a guidance councilar I work with at my day job. Buster and Montreal walk towards me as their cups wait cooling in the afternoon heat. The metaphor of the coffee waiting to see who walks through the door as I do to start life a new. I think to myself maybe tea next time.

.