Tales From The Happy Monkey

Flatline whispers
It’s quiet on the lake
Pull the plug
The grid flickers
Darkened down
Like the shadows
Beneath + between
Misty wisps
Dancing across
This fading light of day
Where tall trees
Eat the sun
The light devoured
As night sets in
A soul goes free
Now solace in the fade
No rage
No age
No cage
No stage
A simple return
To a kinder place

Banner day yesterday. On Thursday night a complete guitar arrangement with melodic structure came tumbling out almost fully formed. Writers out there will appreciate this confluence of awesome. Sat down at the local yesterday morning, composed lyrics. Went to the park, wrote the words for another, the home for grub and a third set of ink laid down for a third tune. Went to bed with that sense of rewarded exhaustion only a honest day’s work provides.
CJR Lyric (CD FaceBed)

After a welcome delay to compose my submission for the CBC Poetry dealio, here is O2, the second piece from Tales From The Happy Monkey.


The show goes on
From dusk til dawn
The brand new day come rising

I feel the turn
+ soothe the burn
Of all this realizing

The dream it seems
Has swollen seams
Prolific in the drowning

I went to clear
The misty mirror
+ saw that I was frowning

Some brand new lines
From troubled times
Connected to the lifeline

The pictures
In the storybook
Reflections of a lifetime

Hot + cold
The tale that lives between

These legs
That carry moments through
The time that lives between

Seeing things
The red bell rings
The sound of the alarming

I reach down
Below the ground
+ settle the disarming

Sifting and the filter
Of the passion
+ the jive

The prospect
Of the project
Of people all alive

May we run
Around the sun
+ settle on the rising

Soothe the burn
Each in turn
Of all this realizing

I am pleased to present the first piece from my collection of poetics, Tales From The Happy Monkey. I welcome your dialogue and hope that the work connects with you and that you’ll join me as the series unfolds.

I Am Not Given

Jesus, when did this room get so small?
The walls have crept
My shoulders rub on either side
The man on the hill
Screaming into the night
I thought a stranger
With unending valleys
Cut down and across
I see is me
The scream is here
On my tongue
In my heart
Should I open my mouth to let it out?
It might not stop
The muted given unending voice
Will you try to reform
The ragged lines
Into soft shapes
Of what you call beautiful
At this meeting of roads
Where the wreckage spills it’s terror
Onto gawking passersby
I am not given to your mirth
But the truth that murmurs
Inside you by day
Wailing + ripping
When sleep won’t come
I am not given to your ease
Nor mine
I hear your voices
Pooled in the air
Telling tales of things
Lost + forgotten

I’ve come to remind you.