Nameless poetry I wrote in the winter of 2001 in my cabin at the back of Spiderland Acres…joey
There were trees, but there was no nature,
there were resources all ours to plunder,
there was lightning but there was no thunder,
once had hope, before our long slumber.
There were untouched wilderness the indigenous inhabited,
1491 before white men grabbed at it,
Jesus preaching Vatican Catholic hypocrites,
when a man conquers a man,
what’s love got to do with it,
their brand of Christ makes me sick,
Jesus walked on water but nobody learned shit.
These plains could be full of buffalo,
like there once was a thousand years ago,
from here to Mexico, as far as you could throw,
there were herds and flocks of birds,
till white men shot them dead by the tonnes,
with DDT coated bullets from nuclear machine guns,
with a US Calvary of horse carried weapons,
with General Custer who died for your sins.
These woods could be old growth,
like there was a thousand years ago,
all over Ontario, before there was Toronto,
where the mighty waters flowed,
were giant pines and Iroqious family lines,
but profit cut them down in the name of the Crown,
built up a Navy to sail around,
forestry industries and mining towns,
made up the army to take over ground,
with twinned highways and smog that’s brown,
since they took over the values gone down.
The water should be drinkable,
like it once was a thousand years ago,
but that would be unthinkable,
the world’s greatest resources Ontario poisons,
pisses and shits in and dumps toxic shit in,
destroys it and ruins without any consequence.
Once there were women in the rivers swimming,
smiling and laughing and white water rafting,
everyone was happy but it’s crowded at the beach,
ten times the amount of tits than there used to be,
until there were pollution warnings that emptied the beach,
poison global warmings that increased the heat,
alarming trends spouting up again and again and again,
but the scientists said it was nothing,
to cancer patients awaiting the apocolypse,
who are ashamed at the beach cause they have one breast.
There once were spirits in the trees,
there were monsters in the seas,
exploitation and poverty fueled western capitalist prosperity,
while private property fueled a winner takes all economy,
colonialism is Christianity among the Hurons of St.Marie,
violence, greed and disease wiped North America clean,
globalizing forward, we no longer need the Queen,
that old bat is an overfed has been.
Red coat soldiers patrolled wilderness borders,
handing the Americans their surrender orders,
give the chief treaties when defeating his people,
expect him to die he becomes a mouthful,
take all the timber and eat all the gold,
mines Eldorado and north Ontario,
mail the moneys to corporate Joe Toronto,
this Canada has a heart that’s grown cold.
Sattalite guided outdoorsman of the 21st Century,
survival in a gas guzzling SUV sport humvee,
loads heat seeking bullets to promote accuracy,
night vision goggles helps hunter see,
and a bottle of whiskey is invincability,
he is the epitome of western technology,
with over priced plastic trash didn’t used to need,
and a bottle of whiskey for indestructability,
time to hunting, kill to feel silly.
Industry gracefully strangled the artisan out of business,
goods could be produced rapidly to increase share holders profit,
it’s the beginning of the new age visionaries have witnessed,
the warning becomes reality, the words of an old prophet,
fear lingers like the sweet stench of sweat,
stinks of men running from debt and from death,
no women do we have to regret and forget,
no love, no peace, no faith, no respect,
just silence that’s maddening cause nothing is happening,
it’s perfect company, let peace be like family,
before the first battle battalions and companies,
in a fascist march to Armegeddon City.
The American government has a goal of complete domination,
unstoppable giants terrorizing the nations,
the New World Order Trade Organization,
United Nations world government and political constepation,
the yawns of apathy from the young Canadians,
complete lack of interest from the future generation,
death is quicker than the change set in motion,
the planets nuclear fire, no show of emotion.
The people have chemotherapy to make perfect everything,
in the north cold winters confine so many,
the time is ending of the horn of plenty,
Thanksgiving families vegetables and turkeys,
now it’s so cold, too cold to invest,
when a new age blows in from the west,
radioactive snow fallout so hibernate and rest,
winter of cancer invades the chests of innocent assholes,
polluters of gas and coal with toxins and oils,
powers toys of little boils and angry old goils,
winter of cancer all over the woild.
Everything would be okay if we’d passed the FTAA,
rich politicians say the bad shit will go away,
they think they can be rich for another day,
we are their problems they just blow away,
we are the weak, too weak now to speak,
we are the poverty the system creates,
we are the result and the ones that they hate.
Christmas wish lists and Three Mile Isles,
Nagasaki, Hiroshima, it’s been a while,
the world is on fire, the world is on trial,
Here come the vegetarian cruise missiles,
the fair trade organic atomic shit pile.
In the forests I try not to worry about too much at a time,
I have survival related things crowding my mind,
chasing raccoons off my stoop, growling, stomping,
hooting, hollering, roaring and romping,
short time for thinking or money for whiskey drinking.
The state of the world makes me feel helpless,
all the events are too much to digest,
when the bombs drop you just die,
you just try to survive,
I’m just lucky to be alive,
makes me realize I am fragile,
it’s been so long since I have smiled.
Sleep the pain away forget the evil day,
off to work to steal and take,
traffic jams on peanut butter highways,
morning shows on toasted radios,
for those times we’re driving slow,
call in shows amuse the commuters,
those fucked up suburban polluters,
the ones Bob Barker should spay or may neuter.
Outback in my quiet spot,
I do not hear the people talk,
that’s why I don’t mind the walk,
quiet is a culture shock,
noise is noise is noise nonstop,
running over my quietest thoughts,
doing things that I should not,
quiet quiet and a healthy diet,
dig a deep hole and go and lay in it,
it’s not a sin, so why don’t more try it?
On the path where it forks,
some animals are hunting for,
a meal to make it through the day,
when I the human came on the way,
and in haste gave them chase,
I never saw their little face,
it was dark like night in space,
what creature lurks in such a place?
I am not afraid,
let me put it that way,
I never run and hide,
I never have a big flash light,
my boots have never shook with fright,
when it’s dark and I’m outside,
I did it almost every night,
I learned not to trust my sight.
It takes a certain breed of monster to get the better of me.
Whenever I come to the city I get a warm welcome from the fuckin riot police,
because I believe in revolution so much that it dominates my emotions,
not tear gas, rubber bullets, sprays or batons,
will stop the momentum we’re moving on,
we will live for a true and new democracy,
whether or not we’re blocked by ridiculous police,
arresting, beating activists of poverty,
criminalizing dissent, flashing painful weapons,
thinking they will beat the problem down,
will we truly drown without a cursing sound?
A better future is possible even when the streets full of cops,
cutting us off at every block brandishing batons,
thinking they can beat the problem down,
united the people will never be defeated,
silent we stand then attrocities repeat in secret,
I have no respect for their business interests,
how much worse can my life get,
how much more in debt can I bet?
They have earned these protests because they have no justice,
because they have no respect for the public,
their world is economic,
their world is demonic,
my world is harmonic,
numbed it with some gin and tonic,
singing songs perfection sonic,
the robot monster comes bionic,
beats me with his metal dick,
gives me something and makes me sick,
the world has come to the end of it,
I’m just glad that I was wasted,
when the smell of death I tasted,
I’m just glad that I was numb,
when the beast did finally come,
beast whose number was six six six,
I read that Bible and didn’t believe in it,
the rapture came and satan caused it,
cause Jesus loves the little lamb,
the Jews told me to not eat no ham,
would that little lamb be dead,
between Jesus pieces of bread?
It takes a certain kind of beast to get the better of me!
The end times are becoming a reality in the year of great uncertainty!