Now Playing Tracks



The junk is piled between the buildings
and the fences that face the railroad
motionless and forgotten like
flies trapped in a window sill

The buildings themselves are rundown
where once great factories created industry
there remain only mile-long stretches
of derelicts and dead ambition
the ghosts of the workers haunt me

What worlds have disappeared here?
What momentum had there once been?
When noise and light once filled these places
the clammering of iron
the orange hue of fresh steel
the thousand steps of a thousand workers

All thats left now are these industrial corpses
and the industry itself has mutated
mutated into parasitism
Its no longer about bacon and brow sweat
and consequently something in mankind
is gradually dying

Where is John Galt?

Elbows and Knees


The wind gnaws my rusted flesh
all the cuts and scrapes of the day
I savour it with every breeze
no amount of that pain will ever bother me
it could never hurt - it can only pretend to
the feeling is sweet
affectionate and

would that all of life’s problems
could be taken in scabs and scars


All day long
waiting at home
here I sit
bored and alone

This old window bores me
as does the view
the scene is quite charming
but I just want you

these clouds can all blow me
those birds can shut up
that rainbow can fuck itself
my cock needs a suck

All the children are laughing 
and driving me nuts
I just think about you
and the ways that we fuck

No one can admit it 
or nobody knows
but life is just sweeter
when I’m sucking your toes

Yes this world may be lovely
that much may be true
but it doesn’t mean dick
when I’m not with you

Driving with Dad


The sunlight fell generously on the open highway as the wind seemed to sing of the journey’s end and all its subsequent new beginnings. ”Just a sec,” said his dad, pulling his truck off the highway. “I just wanna make sure everything’s strapped down back there….. stay in the car.” 

Yes sir” he replied, only too amused. While he wanted nothing more than a short graze in the spring soaked fields at the side of the highway, it pleased him to reciprocate his fathers protective instinct- no matter how obsolete it had become.

Content with it, he rolled down the window to get as close to the beautiful Ontario countryside as he could - while still remaining in the car. The view seemed to reflect every time he’d ever been in the car with his dad; all those times he’d stare at the countryside and think about… whatever he wanted to at the time.*

The sunlight seemed to just roll off the vibrant grasses, as the wind tickled the trees into near hysteria. On the horizon windmills twirled and danced as if to say: “come and play with us.” It made him want to join a circus someday.

His father re-entered the truck and observed the rear view mirror: “Oh! that’s a lot of traffic behind us.” Before the words so much as left his mouth the truck was pulling forward and at the moment his first two wheels met the road, he revved it (and it was quite exhilarating). It had always been a family trait to drive a little too fast. 

As his father accelerated he felt the wind on his face and remembered the excitement of those strong gusts from his youth. He recalled that his hair had parted in the way it did because of windy car rides with his father, like this one.



The room
and everything in it
turns to tissue paper at your mercy

Your swipes tear through the walls
the furniture

Water boils from your eyes
Your blood is a torrent
painting you for war
while your eyes disarm me

your roar is a toxic flame
it sears my lungs and chokes me
I check to see if I’m melting
somehow I’m still together

the sweats
these shivers
this shaking
Makes me feel like a frozen dinner
in the microwave
that sad and ugly image
that poetry never wanted

Shit Show


Something something…

Carving feelings out with words
hidden anonymously in a digital world
where refugees of human ignorance
can share art and words of love
before returning
to more diluted surroundings

Showing your face at the watering hole
amid those gossiping birdies
They tweet…



He was an ecstatic baby dragon
ecstatic to be a dragon you could say
he had trouble playing with others
but he always got his way

In tantrums he’d spew fire
make a scene and fly away
they said he had his troubles
but he always got his way

His roar grew ever stronger   
and left most in dismay
many heroes tried to stop him
but he always got his way

He loved to plunder riches
and eat a maiden or two
he never admitted shame
this, he said, is what dragons do



Above the waves are crashing
while I drift deep below
light fades from the surface
and time begins to slow

My life was worth a penny
so I sold it to the sea
yo ho… yo ho…
a pirate’s life for me

Her lips are sweet and salty
her eyes are greater still
the nectar of ambrosia
denying water’s chill

In the deep she starts to glow
the ocean starts to thunder
I give the air inside my lungs
to the mermaid who pulled me under

the silence


It was his only thought, as from the roof of a parking garage he gazed at stagnant, lifeless metropolis. How could any form of purpose ever be found in such quiet, unloved space? The silence, the stillness, confirming his suspicions that life held no meaning whatsoever. Indifferently he looked at his shoes, wondering why they carried him at all. 

We make Tumblr themes