Ques?ion

Note to self:
Fucking stop it.
Now. It.
Stop it.
Idiot.

Disappear into the abyssmal
ocean.
Surf or be swallowed.

Slow down.

Dont poke the Grizzly Bear.

He's fuckin' angry.
Slumber here, eat there,
don't poke the grizzly bear.

Black bears climb trees
grizzly bears cleep
but don't piss of a bear, idiot.

Though Uncharacteristic of
bear pokers, unless there is love
don't poke the grizzly bear.

I've been tagged enough,
I've been spotted enough,
I've lived in a fucking aquarium
looking for myself
looking at others,
as food.

I've lived in a cave forever,
now,
I'm growling in my sleep,
fucking angry.

So don't poke the grizzly bear

Fuzzy Red Eyes.
Swirling and blinking,
with black pupils.

Insane smile is making me feel uneasy,
he's yellow,no,
he's black,no,
she's... she's...
she's mexican.

But why are you worried?
it's just a smile,
which will turn,very soon,
into a frown, or
a gasp?

I taste water,
I smell weeds,
corroding flowers,
one flower burns,
my mouth waters.

Fuzzy red eyes
look outwards,
a tool of government
oppression.

or not.

Why'm I twitching?
I don't usually twitch,
I see clearly
on most days.
And laugh.

so hard I cry.

That's sand in my throat.

What's natural about this canada?
you fucking hippie.
Nothing's organic
nothing's organic
Nothing's organic
Nothing's more organic,
morganic,
than plastic.

It's getting drastic.
Your fuzzy red eyes
which you have made MY
fuzzy red eyes,
(as a form of oppression...
remember?)are throbbing.
I can't think straiter
or more obscurely

what the fuck have you done
to me?
you fucking hippie.

Yeah, I'm angry,
I can't feel my fingers.
My legs are gone from beneath me.

Oppression and depression are
a slight price to pay
in the pursuit of freedom
and happiness.

You're happy when you're fuzzy Canada.
So am I.

I am a transtextual.

I travel across man's lands
from the Philippines
to Romania
to Bogotá
to Trinidad

I can take many shapes, and forms, and rhymes,
My influence also travels through time.
Born in Europe I travelled 'cross the sea,
now I possess Transtextuality.

an enigmatic prophylactic
causes resistance to
the disease of death
there's no such thing as extinct text.

I can start wars
and stop breaths like presto
change-o
Example for you:
the communist manifesto

But change grows
naturally, but I'm unnatural in nature
So I can form to nature
if I ever
feel the need

And if you give me the chance to breathe,
I can geminate inside
A child’s brain, just as long
As a parent plants the seed.

Growth is inevitable,
From poem,
To fable,
To short story,
To novellas,
To novels,
To volumes.
Which speaks volumes
about my story.

I am a Transtextual

What am I?
I am the word of God,
I am the word of Man,
I am the word of men,
Women,
Children,

And transexuals all alike
Because I am
A light
Between the dark unknown
And Midas’ thrown
I am a transtextual alike.

This looking glass window is mine,
from within it I look out,
and without it I look in,
the wind blows through time.

The wind blows under there,
where underwear leaves stains of
blows, the come out
of looking in.
Indecent, incidental, mental,

Ejaculation,

results from masturbation
to cancer patients
leaving lacerations
in my soul
as I look in.

And so I continue my lookout,
Out at those looking in,
In at those looking out,
I shake the glass.

I WANT OUT!
I WANT OUT I SAY!

that looking glass is mine,
it protects me,
though proven to be an obstacle at times,
most times I just turn it away.

I am on vacation.
The window is on leave.

I am free,
free to look into
others' glasses as
the wind begins to blow.
lo,

Their glasses are half empty too.
They to have broken their frames.
But their plexiglass is tempered,
whilst mine is on leave.

And so I look out,
without the looking glass.
A forward trudge,
a freedom, the freedom,
of hollow protection.

I indulge in sin,
looking in, without
vocation.

Aghast,
untouchable,
because of their glass.

But the wind still blows,
I welcome her.

It's getting colder.

I want my protection, but
she doesnt want me.
It's colder, she haunts me.
I look in
-to a mirror.

slaps and lacerations
have two results.
They catapult aggrivation
and mental masturbation,
when self induced.

I'm wholly in control
of this unholy matrimony
between poems and
freedom of emus or emos
and emoetry.

for driven foreward
and updated monthly,
it takes four words
to cause more words.

cram clevage,
and leave unclean leverage

Smile.

Yes, Canada, you've raised me.
You took me from age nothing,
and if nothing but age has become of me,
You accept me.
I've wiped my tears, Oh, Canada,
With maple leaves.
I've showered in the sweet stench
Of your divine maple syrup.
I've bathed in the lush pools of the
Canadian Club.

But still, Canada, I dispise you.

Oh, Canada,
Our home and clothed land.
I am not native to you,
and you are not naked to me,
for in y0ur Rockies,
in your Praries,
in your Great Lakes,
your true essence is hidden.

I was taught to see you
as a natural beauty,
Canada,
But I see that your leotard
is the most natural thing
about you.

I've heard them telling me,
Canada is in the people.
But who are the people?
Is it the Quebeceurs?
The French Canadians,
Abandoned by France their mother,
and abandoning the people who made,
manipulated, and even forced
them in to their country?

I feel your pain,
but believe me,
you need Canada,
as much as Canada needs you.

What about the Maritimes?
What about the fishermen,
many French Canadians as well,
unwilling to leave, but unwilling
to fight for the English?
What do we do with them?
The English shipped them down south.
Killed half of them,
those who survived are now Cajuns.
But the ones that stayed.
What of them?

Oh, Canada,
what woes hath thou
brought upon thine self?

Vancouver,
the Olympics are coming,
clean up your act.
You have the best weed
The world has ever seen.
You have the most beautiful land,
the most beautiful surroundings,
and a beautiful University.
You are healthy people.
You are loving people.
But, what does Canada mean to you?

Oh, Canada.
What of Toronto.

I live in this city.
I love in this city.
I grew up in this city.
This city is who I am.
But Canada, why, I must ask,
Do you shun us?

You've shitted on us, Canada.

We will visit Montreal and love the Habs for you.
We will visit Winnipeg and cheer for the Blue Bombers.
We will scratch the clay grounds of PEI just so we can take home,
a bit of the real Canada.
But why?

I ask these questions,
not because I feel uneasy,
or ungreatful,
or even understanding.
I ask these because I want to know
what happened to the dominion.
we can blame this on
trade routes,
culture,
hockey,
or television,
but what it really comes down to
is that we ARE the Dominion of Canada,
and if we don't start acting like it,
our flag
will die.