You see a marble
I see the moon
You hear a garble
I hear a tune
You hold me closer
Without a sound
I’m life’s composer
Writing it down
Owed To Joy
Category: human
Dressed to Empress
Laughing, blue-eyed girl
Reconciled to fate
Ermine laced with pearl
Elizabeth The Great
A Reptile Dysfunction
Explorers who first reached the Nile
Soon came upon a crocodile
Whose improprieties lay steeped in lore.
The wily reptile would beguile
An out-of-towner with a smile
Belying a betrayal at its core.
Dear friend, I wish to welcome you!
How was the road from Timbuktu?
Come near that I may hear what news you bear…
In truth, the beast had had its fill
Of horns and hooves and ibis bills
And thus, resolved to seek more tender fare.
The wayfarer, now curious
Despite all signs injurious
Would take the bait, not wishing to be rude
Recounting tales of spitting snakes
Of feuding sheikhs and salted lakes
And bartering with Bedouins for food.
Then we must feast! the creature cried
If you will let me be your guide
We’ll cross to where the spoils are most exotic.
It’s just offshore, a pleasant ride
Do climb aboard and sit astride!
And voyage with me into the aquatic.
To eat one friend is impolite
To eat two speaks of appetite
To eat them all may lead to the odd question.
But be it large or small amounts
To some it’s what’s inside that counts
A thought our croc is currently digesting.
Mass Hysteria
In Physics, nothingness has weight
Which leads to some disquiet
Among the more dense who debate:
So, why then do we diet?
Star Spangled Boner
A lot of people ask me the difference between Canadians and Americans. Well, first the facts: our country’s larger, our population’s smaller, Canadian men liked wearing clogs in the ’70s and we’ve never considered testing the viscosity of spray cheese in space a worthwhile scientific endeavour.
I noticed while working abroad that colleagues soon began substituting American with North American in conversation. Such gestures are certainly appreciated but only serve to remind Canadians that while Americans have fifty states, we have only one: self-consciousness. Every Canadian feels guilty knowing their new co-workers are constantly bricking it lest they should inadvertently refer to us as American, a situation which can only ever lead to our greatest export: the apology. We’re famous for apologizing – we even apologize for it. I recognize that, even close up, we look and sound like our U.S. counterparts to most people. The differences are subtle, even to us sometimes. It is, however, my belief that the best way to differentiate between our two cultures is to study America’s greatest cultural icon: Barbie.
America has Malibu Barbie who likes strolling along the beach with the ocean breeze in her hair… Canada has Seal Hunt Barbie who is a crack shot.
Malibu Barbie drives a Dream Camper Van with built-in kitchen and fold-out tent… Ice Road Trucker Barbie cooks roadkill under the hood and homeschools three kids in her sleeper cab.
Prom Queen Barbie comes with her very own makeup and accessories table… Lumberjack Barbie’s sporting a Leafs toque in her wedding photos.
American Barbie hails from Wisconsin, studied in New York and now lives with her parents and younger sisters in California… Canadian Barbie was taken into care after her parents became addicted to online bingo and were caught trying to sell their own kidneys on ebay.
American Barbie dates long-term boyfriend, Ken… Canadian Barbie’s best friend is an orphaned bear cub whose mother was shot dead by two tourists up from Oregon for the weekend.
American Barbie is cosmopolitan and culturally sensitive… Yukon Barbie saw her first Sikh last week and asked him for three wishes.
American Barbie is a role model for her millions of followers on the internet… Canadian Barbie is completely unaware that a video of her bathing in what she thought was a secluded watering hole has placed her in Pornhub’s Top Ten.
Vegetarian Barbie only buys food from locally sourced producers… Marijuana Farm Barbie patrols the perimeter of her property in a JLTV.
American Barbie spent a fun-filled New Year’s Eve with Ken in Times Square… Canadian Barbie pointed out Ursa Major in the night sky to her orphaned bear cub – and apologized.
Creature Feature
When dining out we’re well aware
Our manners are on view
We open doors like Fred Astaire
Insisting… After you!
Which silverware to use and when
And how to hold a glass
While tackling pommes parisienne
Delineate one’s class.
But not so in the cinema
The difference is stark
Because it’s hard to be bourgeois
And crack nuts in the dark.
The lighting’s low so patrons know
When they’re not being watched
It’s fine to eat an Oreo
Retrieved from off your crotch.
You eat out of a bucket
Like a hog out of a pail
And when you’re done, you chuck it
Like a Molotov cocktail.
Wonder what life’s like inside
A real safari park?
Round up loads of humans
And then feed them in the dark.
Sleep Over
My love swears I snore like a bear
This is a husband’s fate
A wife’s is to give thankful prayer
That men don’t hibernate
Constellation Prize
The figure on the mountain knew
Far higher than the eagle flew
Beyond the sun and past the light
Were men who crossed the sky by night.
Soon after dusk their fires appeared
Then slowly, once a course was steered
Their caravan set out en masse
To make its empyreal pass.
Like beasts migrating on the plains
Like swarms that form to greet the rains
He found no word for the amount
Of travelers he sought to count.
A gallery would pass him by
Whose outlines seemed to signify
Proud emblems of a noble clan
Led by an even a greater man.
The bearing, always east to west
Suggested they were on a quest
Or maybe searching for a door
They’d passed through in a time before.
Each night the figure danced and prayed
Around the fire he had made
In hope his kin might see its glow
And teach him all he wished to know.
Then with the last beat from his breast
Great Spirit granted this request
And drew his outline in the sky
That men as he should never die
Time Lapse
I brush your hair and talk of things
You still remember
The torch that lit the songs we’d sing
Now just an ember
I pour the tea
You study me
And wonder why
I still come by.
I dig out photos of the boys
More reminiscing
Now in a house devoid of noise
Each night you listen
A vigil kept
While fear has crept
Into a mind
That’s been confined.
Sinatra’s on the radio
And works his magic
This world which you no longer know
At once, less tragic
It was our song
You hum along
Then understand
And take my hand
Beached Wail
The great white’s famous for its size
So when you see its dorsal
It shouldn’t come as a surprise
You may be its next morsel
Don’t try to swim or duck and dive
From Carcharodon carcharias
It views each move to stay alive
As utterly hilarious
But be aware some do swim by
For quite another reason…
Just hope you never catch its eye
During the mating season
Mr Ormsby At Large 