alive and well

Raise the glass to my sorry ass,
From the far side of the bar,
I stumble across and swipe that smile,
It crumbles and falls to the floor.
Stalking out, drunken louts,
A slap to the face, punch to the head,
Another in self-defense,
Or so I claim, all in vain.
Somehow made it home,
Vaguely remember shouting,
Arguing about six months prior,
Vaguely remember downing the pills.
My heartbeat represented by waves of light,
Went through various levels and rings,
Down to the very last one,
Reddish-orange and strong.
But then it stops, fades into nothing,
The heart beating in my chest,
The beating heart of the sun,
The burning center of the universe.
Still, still, still, echoes into nothingness,
The last beat the loudest of them all,
Echoing into endless tomorrows,
Fading beyond sight and sound.
Eyes half open, breathing labored,
Frothing at the mouth,
Face swollen, overdosed again,
Taken to the car and driven.
Couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t think,
Thoughts just kept going round and round,
Circular motion, endless loop,
Couldn’t finish a single sentence.
I kept repeating the same things,
Over and over and over,
Head spinning, words spinning,
Everything spinning outta control.
They stripped me down in the E.R.,
Hooked me up to I.V.’s,
Catheter to drain my bladder,
I was barely getting enough oxygen.
Ten hours later finally let go,
But I forgot to mention,
I was under close supervision,
And I was let go to another facility.
Telephoned up to use the elevator,
Walked me through double-locked doors,
Into the closed area, no escape,
No laces, no belts, nothing.
Nothing that anyone could use at all,
To harm themselves in any way,
No mirrors, no razors, no scissors,
Not even a TV, just six spare rooms.
Marcus in the padded one, all alone,
Talking to God, who lives in the ceiling,
Gina talking to herself, while wetting her bed,
And Jim—Vietnam Vet—disheveled and gone.
There was also the one-armed man,
Just out of prison, wasted the last ten years,
April with pneumonia, hair like Jim’s,
And Doug, always punching himself.
They fed us well, if you like American food,
Decaffeinated coffee and pop, no smoking,
Starches and canned fruit, drank lots of water,
Ate burgers and cold fries, and whatever else.
I spoke to doctors, nurses, techs,
Even social workers, explained to them,
Just as to everyone else, what happened,
At least what I could remember.
I blamed it on the booze, sent me over the edge,
But that’s not quite half true, less than half,
The fault lies with me, and my petty views,
Taking it out on whomever I choose.
B stayed with me almost all day,
That first long day in the E.R.,
I think I would have lost it otherwise,
No lectures, no anger, just support.
If she had cut me loose, let me go,
Would have fallen apart under lock and key,
She told me it would be all right,
And sometimes hearing that is enough.
I didn’t crumble, I didn’t fade,
Told my story, see how it played,
Pushed for release, little by little,
Put on my best face, blamed the booze.
So they let me go after two days,
Almost unheard of—minimum is three,
But somehow, some way, I stepped out,
And I have to work on fixing my life.
The things that I’ve done to myself,
The beliefs I cling to out of spite,
Somehow some way, she still believes,
Still stands by me, despite all the grief.
Selfishly doing what I selfishly do,
Putting the blame on so many others,
It’s me-it’s me-it’s me-no one else,
Doing these things to me every day.
And still she sticks around, still worries,
Won’t allow me to destroy myself,
Won’t allow me to throw it all away,
Just out of spite, out of anger, fear.
To that list of people I owe,
She is foremost forever more,
Can never repay her in this lifetime,
Might take me a couple, three or four.
I do love you, that I know,
And again, I hurt you beyond reason,
And hurt the children, again,
Seems like I’m only creating pain.
So here we begin anew, another day,
Another view of the same old thing,
But today is different, something changed,
Can no longer keep on staying the same.
I had said that I needed to go on retreat,
To fast or go to the temple and meditate,
It seems like life gave me no choice,
Put me in a place where I had to shut up.
I am free to come and go as I please,
No longer on lockdown, no longer being watched,
Laughing at everything, laughing my self,
Seeing things for the very first time.
Too much wasted time, too many wrong turns,
Living my life the wrong way, waiting for what,
“Do as I say, not as I do,” a negative example,
Try to explain all this to my children and wife.
I forgot to tell you about my dream that fateful night—
Was told to live my life for someone else,
Stop living it only for myself, focus on others,
Before I destroy myself living it as I do.
What’s not to understand, can’t be simpler,
Shut off the noises inside, doubts and paranoia,
Focus on that which is without, open to life,
Experience the here-and-now before it is gone.
Give up my daily meditations on hate,
Of the constant struggle to justify the self,
Live this life and let go of illusion,
Break free of all my delusions,
Make life better for my loved ones,
Before my work on this earth is done,
Toil for those have kept me alive and well,
Through heaven and all my self-made hells.

old time hockey

Here's photos of Chris Simon--
I'm not sure exactly how they're related-- third-or-fourth cousins, I think?
He was an enforcer for the teams he's played for-- the Nordiques, The Avalanche, the Capitals, the Flames, the Rangers . . . I think there's one more . . .
He was raised in Wawa, Ontario--just a little ways north of Sault Ste. Marie--his father's reservation is on Manitoulin Island.
I only met him once, at the annual Pow Wow in Wiky--at that time Chris did a summer hockey camp for Native youth, which is really cool in my book. Not enough role models in our community and here was a guy who played professional hockey-- quite a few of his teammates also taught at the camp as well . . .
My wife is from a hockey family-- she and her brothers played hockey, her dad still plays hockey-- most of the cousins on that side played in the minor leagues and played college hockey.
My wife and I think that E is gonna be our hockey player-- we're getting him started on skating lessons soon, but he told us that the ice was "too ICY" and he didn't want to learn to skate. Jess, one of B's cousins said the same thing around the age of three-- told his mom Max that the ice was "too slippery." Jess turned into a pretty good hockey player and a really good kid . . .

damaged goods

damaged goods rotting on the tarmac,
plane bound for Bangkok despite a military coup,
no blood spilled in the transfer of power,
no delay to the big falang’s holiday in the sun.
left behind yet again-no rapture, no judgment,
left to fend for ourselves however we can.
caught up in the euphoria of adventure,
yet again the children are forgotten.
I should not miss what I never had,
their physical distance mirrors the emotional,
their lack of concern should be no surprise.
damaged and rotting kicked about and misplaced,
you left us alone—with family, but we were nothing to them.
Eurasian bastards that bore the brunt of their mother’s shame,
we were living monuments to your fall from grace.
used abused and ridiculed we had no one to turn to,
those we trusted took advantage of our situation.
we were only babies and could not fend for ourselves,
I have been blaming myself this whole time for being powerless,
for being damaged—not worthy of love or anything else.
damaged goods rotting and stinking up your middle class home,
not worthy of respect, kindness or any human emotion.
It was my fault, my fault, only five years old,
But it was all my fault . . .
everyone told me I had no father-I didn’t until I was five,
they told me my mother didn’t even love me—
did she? Why didn’t she live with me?
even worse was what happened when I met father,
starting living with my mother—
the beatings the yelling the walking on eggshells,
and she never stopped it never told him to stop.
I deserved it though—I didn’t deserve anything else,
Just rotten stinking garbage taking up valuable space,
damaged goods that someone forgot to discard.
I deserved it I was to blame I brought it on myself—
I should have been stronger I should have behaved better,
I should not have been so useless so deserving of scorn.
I am done with all of this, you are both dead to me,
not that you had been anything but—
you were both a dream and an illusion that could never be.
you abandoned your children and lived lives devoid of love,
I owe you the priceless debt of life,
but you are not my parents and never were.
you can take all your blame ridicule shame regret,
all your useless damaged selves back to Thailand,
and leave me the hell alone.

a dream i dreamt

I dreamt that I was dreaming a dream
About you, me, and everyone we knew
All the same as here in this plane
But yet different somehow.
I dreamt about the children but they were older
And I was still skateboarding,
Looking for my gear before heading out,
I stopped to tell E that I loved him.
But he was so much older than he is now,
Maybe twelve years older and much taller than me-
On his way to high school I suppose.
The older kids came home later,
Dropping in to visit their baby brother, mom, and dad.
In twelve years, I will be just shy of 50,
You still in your mid-forties,
Lots of life beyond that I hope,
But I looked and felt old,
But yet satisfied somehow.
It’s been fifteen years since we first met,
So hard to believe—
So much has passed from then to now.
Some good things have happened in between,
Some other things I would sooner forget I suppose.
We have changed as individuals, as a couple;
But that has to be expected I suppose.
I find myself wondering and questioning,
But I realize that life is just like that sometimes—
Paradigms, viewpoints, perspectives have all shifted,
Life has not turned out quite the way I had imagined.
I am not the person that I had imagined.
There is the rub—how do I relate to life now?
I have blamed it solely on the outer universe,
But it is the inner universe that I am angry about.
That is the journey that lies ahead for us both,
Coming to terms with what is and what we had wished was,
But I can tell you nothing of what I will discover inside—
That is all foreign territory to me.
So what shall we find, how will we respond?
I suppose we will know in fifteen more years—
Whatever we find, I hope you are there to share with me.

Shiloh was in my dream as well—
Smiling and doting on her kids as usual,
Not sure what message that was supposed to convey.
I thought about it for a moment as I sat in the car,
Mind cluttered with wants and needs,
Suddenly something sliced through the haze,
The trees in front of me came suddenly alive.
Crystal clear sight of nothing special—
Just trees, but it was miraculous all the same.
Cutting through the haze and living in the moment,
Paying attention to the life that is right before me,
Has always been a struggle.
Living as I did as a child,
fantasy saved me from facing reality—
it was a way of protecting myself.
I cling to that way of relating to the world,
Afraid to face the everyday with a clear and open mind—
Co-workers, mortgages, bills, any and every conflict
all chase me back inside my shell.
I only recently started paying attention to the weather,
Cognizant for the first time because of skateboarding-
A young man’s game perhaps, but liberating all the same.
Atop the board on an ten foot wall,
You need to be paying attention—
Failing to do so can result in serious damage.
My joints and muscles are all aching,
But I feel good for the first time in a long time.
The concrete occasionally jumps up to bite me,
to remind me to pay attention—
a gentle reminder to let me know that I am alive.

petstory

I was never a big pet person--take em or leave em; but:

when we were living on my wife's reserve in Canada (Wikwemikong), we inherited a german shepard/labrador mix named Waub. Like all dogs on the rez, he came and went when he wanted-- no leash, etc . . .
my wife was preganant with our daughter and she gets a crazy craving for some chocolate and a Coke--insists I go to town to get one. It's 10 km to town (6.2 miles for the metrically-challenged)-- we lived off on the family farm, in the middle of nowhere, neaeest neighbors are about half a mile down the road, so I start riding this mountain bike someone left propped against the barn.
the dog comes trotting out of the woods as i start down the road-- wants to go with me-- i yell at him and throw rocks at him to make him go home-- he refuses so I just start pedaling, ignoring the stupid mutt.
all along the path, every time I come to a driveway, all these mangy unleashed Rez dogs come tearing after me-- Waub takes on all the dogs, keeping them away from me-- he does this the whole 10km to town and the whole 10km back. Damn dog saved my butt.
some idiot ran him over after we moved back to the states and broke his back--one of the neighbors shot him dead on the road "to put him out of his misery." lucky i wasn't still living there, might've done the same to the neighbor . . .

another time;
i fall asleep on the couch and my daughter gets her finger stuck in the VCR-- i hop up, try to get her finger out-- our cat, Littlefoot, apparently thinks I'm hurting her, so the damn things starts pouncing on my back, hissing the whole time--
I'm trying to calm my daughter down, get her finger out of the VCR while the damn cat is attacking me--
the cat has always insisted on sleeping with "the baby"-- it would always curl up at my daughter's feet, but started sleeping at my 4-year-old's feet soon after we brought him home from the hospital.
she used to get right up in our face whenever the babies cried, meowing loudly, as if to say, "hey, do something, dammit!"