Posts Tagged ‘winnipeg’

Winnipeg has me
A bermuda triangle
of ghost flood visions
of apocalypse

Crazy dialogue
outside HSC
a man who won’t shake my hand
because a secret gang opens up
demon portals

And I realize
I am crazy too
just as addled
by drugs sleep dep

And I don’t visit the horrors
I may have sown

I smoke a dark cigarette
somber
cross traffic
as a son of nephilim

Does the universe
condone my disturbings?

Am I dark for a reason?
a secret reason
of fate

Does freewill exist
as more than a delusion
a facade?

The crazy man
may have been a ghost
a traveller caught

Winnipeg may be a ghost city
existing underwater
bubbles of speech

Aquatic souls
trapped by ignorance
an overcast sky
hiding the surface world

We can’t know
some information is sacred
occult

The stone temples
architectual shackles
shades
blinders

Our vision
is a PCP tunnel
the happy ones
only smile in public

The river reminds us
but also is the river Lethe
opiates and amnesiates

Drugs flood the streets
detox forbidden
sleep postponed

Our maps drawn
by drunk wardens

And my legs tire
from swimming its depths

The slow release
resurfacing through art
the act of speaking on stage
is breathing finally

But simultaneously
it is a reinforcement of madness
one’s words immediately discredited

The demon spirits laugh
a cacophony heard
howling the wind tunnel
of Portage and Main

And eventually
we all ramble
the common language
of the damned minds

Anchored to walking circles
dust coated skeleton dogs
lapping the alcohol from the palms
the nicotine from the concrete cracks

I have sought rumors
of hells exit
far away down the avenue
and two days of prairies

But does it lay west
or east? north?
this dark center holds no concept
of direction or escape

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This City is a Critic

Posted: August 27, 2013 in urban
Tags:

The entertainers,

the travelers,

The jokers,

the unravelers.

The window,

the street sounds,

Slowly I fall asleep,

the things in dreams found.

Dreams lost,

to the cities whim.

This is how you lose,

this is how you win.

 

Walking through the city

Listening to Keith Fullerton Whitman,

And I feel like I’m in Koyaanisqatsi.

Every aspect of the urban landscape

Is a metaphor for a symbol of a simile.

Anecdotes spray-painted on newspaper mailboxes.

BFI bins and recycling receptacles

Spew plastic and cardboard vagrants.

Cars shine windup beetles

Headlights in the daylight.

Dust blows over cigarette butts

And a strange weather has me in a cold sweat

Under my hoodie.

The big brown Red River

Is too wide for its path.

It is spring time

And Winnipeg is waking up grumpy.

Winnipeg, 32 Stories Up

Posted: May 13, 2013 in urban
Tags: ,

From the sky-rise rooftop

The city looks like

Stone microchips

Laced with rivers of moving lights

So much human engineering

The metropolis

Monolithic machine

Centuries born.

 

Forking rice into my mouth

with the other animals at the zoo food court.

A native guy was being hassled by two white

female cops when I came into the mall.

“It does happen you know,” one cop was telling this guy,

“Lots of drugs do come through here.”

As if the guy could do anything

but deny whatever they were accusing him of.

Tried to buy a hat today

that was a failure.

At least I got these four

retro themed eighty page notepads.

Praise capitalism!

For malls and cheap poetry!

And ink stained fingers.

……………………………….

This city would be so depressing

without our happy Asian families.

I love them.

I mean I love the old native women’s

cracked voice barely audible over traffic

asking for a cigarette.

I love her too.

And I love the baby screaming at the food court.

Refusing to eat

whatever grease bomb poison

his parents are trying to shovel into its face.

If I closed my eyes right now

I wouldn’t even be able to tell

I am eating broccoli.

…………………………………..

My legs ache from teaching kindergarten

and dodging the slushy mid-March sidewalks.

Bought new Chinese labor shoes from Payless Shoes.

The same forty-four dollar bill

every four months or so.

A kid recognized me in the mall earlier

“Mr. B! Mr.B!” I ignored him as his mom turned him away.

I realize I’m on a last name basis

with a disproportionate number of kids

aged four to twelve in this city.

Ah, the synchronicities of being

a free-lance early childhood educator.

I ended my day with five five year olds

giving me their a capella version of Gungdam Style

“Hey- sexy lady!”

The world is so fucking viral.

Its people and their god-damn phones.

Like a world wide insane asylum zoo.

Tethered by L.E.D. screens and ringtones.