X

Why, why...
Oh why 
bother to deny 
all that has been
laid by you so far?.

You have after all
the makings
of a specimen
which has
a track record

Displayed

as a string of lies

Played

like a violin
over
and over again

Till...
there is
no more
strings
attached.

From now on
you are my
X

this is
y

I m

Who
 I m

OPEN HOME

I had my doors wide open in downtown Toronto

when I had a big old house, at 106 Bedford rd.

Way back in 1971, such was yesteryear's dreams.

Thousands of people have been to my big parties,

just about every night, my fridge was wide open, full house.

Not that I was rich or anything, but that was the cool thing.

I had way too many friends, I stopped counting, loved them all.

All this lasted eight years, I shared my home with whoever.

You don't have to guess, eventually I had to give up everything.

This was very painful friends, not that everyone was abusive

but some started a hierarchy around me which was a pity.

They glued themselves to my home, called me their best friend

some turned out to be the fake buggers, and their entourage,

a cynical lot, they thought of me as a sucker, moochy mooo..

If you are a giver without a cause, this is what happens to you

unless you do not have a place, and only give anonymously

but then I had an address and a reputation... so to speak.

I was terribly bugged, those charmers were big takers

They made me a celebrity, Vensan la Grand, Vince the Prince.

I have had no place of my own since then, do not care for it,

what I mean to say is, if I did I would be the same way...

but no way, I do not wish to be the one to discriminate.

Though in cyberspace I can still share, be open everywhere.

I make no commitments, here and now is all I care.

Hereafter I'll most likely be, I do not even know where.

The only expectation I have, is not to have expectations.

I treasure honesty, morality, integrity and sincerity

I cherish freedom of expression, I stand for liberty

I vouch for anarchy if freedom goes with responsibility

I have spent my youth, I believe in good and pursue truth

I spontaneously share my verse and my art in cyberspace

I belong to no particular space, have no roots, just boots

I shall be globetrotting rest of my days, Earth is my place. 

PLAYING THE FOOL

Playing the Fool
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
The privileged fool 
is a fool through indulgence, 
the popular fool 
is a fool through capacity
the consuming fool
is well past necessity.

Excess is no proof of ability
abuse is no proof of extravagance
glut is no indication of greed
feed is a fetish when beyond need
the Moon is a conjurer of the lunatic
not quite a slant as mentally sick.

The string that connects
and separates the mask
to and from the puppet,
that social power line
that collects and dispenses favor
which distinguishes the king
from the peasant,
the line that separates
master from slave,
is madness itself!
to cross it is heroic,
to define it
is to play the fool.

ALONE BUT NOT LONELY

Let us face it, we arrive alone, we leave alone
in between if we are fortunate we are not lonely.
As life is on Earth today family, friends, love helps,
money is a factor, even more so is good health,
also the things we witness, experiences, chances..
To most it is about survival, a minority have a life
To live with joy, success and meaning is a blessing,
some dare escape, most out of fear, few with courage
however most will say there is a purpose in their lives
whether everyone mean this or not is anyones guess.
The majority take their cues from outside sources,
blessed are those who have a flame burning deep inside.

PARTICIPATION MYSTIQUE

Perceiving the actual & Invisible environment

The perpetual walk in the midst of obscure regions
in the process, discovering & illuminating hidden places
consequently projecting their reflection upon other minds.

At the edge between abstraction & psychic expression
the surface becomes a place for conjuring images.

We skin dive through our dreams
into the ocean of the mind
where primordial elements are prevalent.
here, our genetic memory is at our fingertips
our eyes are open
they guide the hands
there is no premeditation
not a single stroke is foreseen.

As hands move without conscious direction
over a blank sheet of paper
spontaneous imagery emerges.

The depth of our being encompasses
hidden forces
with the potential of increasing those
on the surface
a means of capturing them
in order to submit them if necessary
to the control of our reason.