What if?

Tonight I would like everyone to take a moment and reflect on your lives and the people around you. I would like you to think of one person who has had a great influence on your life, and especially someone that you have a great connection with.

Now, really try to imagine that you never met this person. Think hard on the circumstances of your meeting and the people involved, and imagine that you’ve never met. Imagine your life with having never met the force that has changed you, for good or bad, and where you would be today.

Think upon the great chain of circumstances that brought you to where you are. If you never met “A” who brought you to meet “B” who introduced you to “C”, who you forgot until you met “D”, who, by coincidence, knew “B” and then later showed you “E”.

If you never met “A” to begin with, would you have eventually met “C” anyway? What is the end result of our connections? Do we end up with the person we are supposed to be with through pure random meetings? Or do we end up with A + B +C?

What if “B” never reacted the way “B” was supposed to react, and you were introduced, randomly, to “D” instead of “E”. Would the resulting equations change your life?

Imagine you live in a city and you decide to move for one reason or another. All of the equations that were available for that life have now changed, but a thousand more have now appeared. You get on a plane fully planning to begin a new life in a new city, and then you meet a perfect stranger on the plane who talks about where they are from and you fall in love with the idea of living in their city. You have just created a new life, even if you don’t live it.

You walk down a street and someone stops you and asks for directions. You are not quite sure, but you tell them that you think they have to take a left and then a right; what if you had told them to take a right then a left and they got in an accident that put them in the hospital? What if by telling them to turn right they witness a crime and stop to report it, and save someone’s life? What if, in the end, you gave them the right directions?

How random is life? How planned is life? For each and every decision we make, we create possibilities; we create new lives. Sometimes while going to work by metro, I start running when I hear it coming, and then I stop myself. I stop myself and ask: if I miss this train, and take the next one, how is my life altered? Is there someone on the first train I was not supposed to meet, or was there someone I will meet when the time is right? Will I see something on the second train that I would have missed on the first; or because having thought of both possibilities, did I just create two new lines each one as real as the other?

Standing on a street corner I decide to cross to the left and am hit by a car. Standing on a street corner I decide to cross to the right and witness someone being hit by a car to the left. Standing on a street corner, I cross and arrive safely at my destination.

So, back to the beginning. Think of the person who has had the most influence on your life, and imagine you never met them. Can you picture where you would be? Can you picture your life?

It's amnesty internationl's 50th birthday.

AMNESTY INTERNATIONAL - 50 years from Carlos Lascano on Vimeo.

I Wish I had music for my words....

Words with no music                       

I sit here before my piano with trepidation

I press the first key with tentative touch 

The sound surrounds me with unsung notes

With untold dreams 

The second key makes me shiver

In harmony with the first 

The words are so clear in my head

The melodies refuse to follow 

A moonlight sonata on paper with no voice 

Each stroke on the keyboard brings me closer to hearing

I am stuck between the notes of understanding 

I pause and listen 

With tremulous finger I strike the third and then the fourth

Like my piano, I wonder what I’m doing 

I hear the music so clearly in my imagination

It rises up to a crescendo and the audience applauds

It wraps around me with adulation 

A violin or two encourages movements

I write the words that sing so harmoniously  

But, alas, I only write the words 

I listen closely to hear the music 

It isn't there

This poem is for a wonderful lady full of love, who's son has severed all communication because his wife made him.

A mother’s love in a bottle 

The wood grain envelopes my bare feet

As I set foot on the morning deck

The sun just saying a gentle good morning

The potted flowers nodding a sleepy hello

I find my seat amongst birdsong

The steam rising from my coffee dances with my dreams

The lake is like a mirror of what is to come

The dock sways gently in family turbulence

Such beauty marred only by your absence

Children’s laughter rings merrily around me

I still remember yours

Where have you gone?

I walk on the swaying dock with wine glass in hand

I remember shared toasts to realised dreams

I remember the day you were born

Do you remember me?

I remember so many of your firsts

Your first true smile unforgettable

A mother’s love undeniable

You made your choice without thought of me

You made your choice thinking of me

My love for my son still sparkles on each wave that reaches shore

Even in this drought

My tears keep this lake full

I send messages in a bottle on the tide

I step in the waves waiting for your love in return

Each bottle is empty

There is no one but you, even over the ages

I stand here before you

Gilded mirror calls to me with unknown reflection

I see you on the other side wandering in the green

I watch as you dream of me and you, without your knowledge

My hand presses against this glass barrier calling you nearer

My cries for you are only translated in whispers

You can’t hear me fully, but you wonder who I am

You sense my presence

I feel for cracks in the frame to become undone

I search for ways to reach you in your world

I want you to see me, the other side of your existence

How to make you realize there is more worlds than your own

I want you to come closer so I can touch you

My touch would be as gentle as your sleeping breath

As you breathe on my pillow

You glance over at my movements

I stop breathing

I have known you for so long before you knew me

My soul has been searching through the tendrils of possibilities

I have been left bleeding by many a thorn disguised as soft petals

The vines wrapped around my wishes have been cut away

I stand here before the gilded mirror

I stand here before you and my reflection

The mirror cracks

You look up at the sudden sound and you finally see me

With tentative steps you approach

Truth shines brightly in the shards of broken glass where they lay

I cross the threshold and stand gently waiting

I stand slightly swaying

A sudden smile welcomes you as you approach

Your improbability breaks all rules

I finally stand here before you

I stand here before you

Being dumped.

Dumped 

You walk along this cold street with arms rigid

You stare straight ahead, not looking sideways

You walk with purpose and cause

Your back will never bend again

You have become heartless

Memories of love hold you still

Memories of laughter leave you empty

You refuse to remember yesterday’s sun

Today’s shadow gives you cold comfort

You have become heartless

Old kindness stabs you in the heart

You bleed emotions without knowing

The blood runs freely across your smile

Your smile withers in the light of another

You have become heartless

Your silent tears mix with the rain

Your heartbreak makes a sound like thunder

Your pain lights the sky in bursts of agony

Your heart torn out by claws of indifference

You have become heartless

You have become a mirror

Life shown as it should have been

Hard as glass and as easily broken

You toss your pain like some well-worn stone

In the debris of shattered lies you find your heart

You can still breathe

You are not heartless

You just wish you could be

A brave young woman combined with my very arrogant opinion. To be read in the voice of Mrs. Brown.

As most of you, I watched the exploits of Brigitte DePape at the throne speech; and I for one was awed at her bravery and willingness to stand up for what she believed in, no matter what the consequences of her actions.

I have been reading the comments on the news stations’ forums and am flabbergasted by the amount of people who are already sitting in the shit pile that Harper made, and are happy to use their mouths in place of their sphincter muscles. These people are so willing to fill their mouths with shit; they actually think that adding conservative salt will make it taste better.

This young woman stood up for what she believes in, and so many comments condemn her for it; but this is typically Canadian: never stand up for what you believe in, it could lead to (god forbid) bringing attention upon oneself!

Why are Canadians so fecking apathetic; so fecking boring? Our international reputation used to be a very polite, clean society who would support the underdog and undertake peacekeeping in a world where we could wear the Canadian flag on our backpacks or jackets with pride. Now it is dangerous to show Canadian pride in other countries.
 
I have to laugh as I see European countries rise in protest over pension cutting or vacation leave being changed (and I mean country wide strikes) yet we here in Canada have no problem whatsoever with re-electing (to a majority government) the first party in the history of Canada to be found in contempt of parliament.
 
I laugh at all you pathetic arseholes as you get what for you wished for. I weep for all you pathetic assholes who never even went to vote; you are the ones who have condemned us to four years of conservative punishment. For all of you non conservatives that did not even take the time to vote: feck you and your lazy apathetic asses. And even more, for all of you useless Canadians who never even took the time to inform yourselves about the issues of the day and the consequences of your vote: I have some Kool-Aid to quench your thirst for ignorance. The first glass is free.
 
And for all of you who have something negative to say about this brave young woman, who for the first time in modern Canadian history stood up in a very European way, I say the circle continues to turn. I would advise to look at which direction it is turning and make plans accordingly.
 
This brings me back to my original plan where you have to have a certain IQ score and you have to pay income tax in order to be able to vote. If your IQ score is below 100 (the lowest average) and you pay no income tax because you are on welfare, well I'm sorry you cannot vote.

In my opinion, you need the intellectual capacity and financial ability to change society. If your IQ is below 100 and you don't pay income tax, then you are a burden on society and should not have a say in how things are run as we are stuck paying for you and your brood of money sucking, useless, uneducated, society killing leeches.

If your IQ is greater than 100 and you don’t have a job that allows you to pay income tax, get out of your parents’ basement.

If your IQ is less than 100 but you pay income tax, bravo!

If your IQ is greater than 100 and you have a job that pays income tax, get off your fecking ass and pay attention to what is going on around you.
 
I'm just saying.......

Just amazing.

I set you on fire 

You left me alone here in the freezing

You took your love away without thinking

My thin shadow gives no shade in the light of your reason

Your parting remarks left a scar that runs deep

My imagination runs wild with unsaid rebuttal

I set you on fire

You burn while I laugh

Once we danced together letting sparks fly

And then you decided to lie to me

The steps changed as the dance became hidden

I questioned and you laughed and you lied

I set you on fire

I cry as my flames surround you

Memories of trust fell apart in truth revealed

Whispers in the background fell hard on my ears

Your sincerity filtered through the wire

Your empty love echoes in his smug mirth

I set you on fire

His laughter melts in the heat

My faults are my own and accepted

You could have expressed opinion in time

You chose not to

You made me believe that I could be loved

Oh, I set you on fire

I dance in the ashes

Not all gay people are afraid to stand up for themselves. Personally, I would rather die than be treated differently by homophobic closeted gay men. Studies have shown over and over again that the most virulent homophobes are closeted gay men who cannot accept themselves.

The evolution of gay bashing

We left for the dinner bringing wine
Laughing as we walked to the subway in the evening sun
Watching people as we rode talking lowly
The escalator raising us to an evening of fun
Friendly insults met us upon arrival
Hugs and kisses all around the food
Jokes abound in familiar atmosphere
Talk of local violence done recently ignored
Drunken laughter changes subject
The time to leave comes too quickly
Promises of brunch on the morrow ring around
We walk to the subway in companionship of lovers
We walk in ten years of love
Hand in hand we remembered the evening
Approached by someone asking for a cigarette
We continued on saying we have none
His friends gather around us in a multitude
Twenty feet from the entrance we tried to run
I turned at the flash of a knife and muttered threat
I turned to you as you yelled in frustration
Back to back we faced discrimination
Back to back we protected each other
Neither willing to give in to this treatment without question
Both willing to die for the other
Without question
In the face of courage weakness was easily seen
In the face of fighting back they backed off
In pride we walked on

A trip down memory lane: who does not remember childhood hopes?

Going back 

Dust blows around the cracked sidewalks

The branches around me are stiff and brittle

The leaves have long ago said goodbye

This dry summer leaves me parched

My shoes are covered in dried memories

I walk through my childhood

Wearing my old sneakers

I use to play here so long ago

The merry-go-round is rusted still

The teeter totters protest use

If only by one

Even the sand in the sandbox seems tired

Where have my dreams gone?

Sitting on rusted swing I remember competitions

Who could fly the highest?

I used to fly so, so high

I picture the school yard full of hopes and wishes

Today it is all empty

Old songs swirl in the dry air of yesterday

Where is the imagined tomorrow?

I want to try the slide as I climb with childish hope

My adult ass too big for smooth memories

I get stuck

The school yard is full of yesterday

Today is nowhere to be seen

I chuckle to myself as I walk away

A dusty wind follows me

This is for my catholic husband....I love you...

Forgive me father for I have sinned
I love another man
We have loved each other for many a year
Forgive me father I know it is true
I adore another man
We will love each other until our dying day
Come hell or high water
With or without your prayer
You will not deny our love
Hail Mary till I’m numb
Deny me confession until it pleases the lord
Deny me confession in the face of the lord
Your closed door does not hide the light
Your refusal of communion is expected
I look upon the stained glass windows
They shine down upon me
Their reflection laughs upon my arrival
I make a bow in holy water
With bended knee I respect you
With straight back I defy you
Oh God, I love you
I know you will not deny my love
I know you will not deny me love
Your priests are mistaken in their observance
Your goodbye is final
Halleluiah

God forgive Christians, for no one else will.

I have been reading the gay news again (something not good for my blood pressure), and I have to say that I have not been surprised at all. These are some of the headlines:

Illinois diocese ends adoptions over gay rights law

U.S. house passes 3 anti-gay amendments

Schools adopt “don’t say gay” policies

Police in Granada arrest man for having gay sex

Brazilian leader suspends anti-homophobia campaign

Assault on Oregon gay couple “could” be a hate crime

Tennessee governor signs anti-gay law

And many more, ad nauseum, just in the last week.

So, I was thinking about all of this and I decided to get the bottom of all the hate against homosexuals, otherwise known as “gays” (by the way, gay is an adjective and not a noun, so “gays” is not correct; it should be” gay men”, “gay woman”, “gay dogs”, “gay rain”, whatever), “fags” (which, according to Merriam Webster, means “to work hard, to tire by strenuous activity; I know, being gay is a lot of work!), “fairy” (who would not want to be magical?), or many other pejorative names in many languages.

I speak three languages and I think I know more insulting names for gay people than how to properly conjugate verbs in the imperfect tense.

I looked up the word homophobia in the Merriam-Webster dictionary and this is what I found:

Homophobia

: Irrational fear of, aversion to, or discrimination against homosexuality or homosexuals

If you look closely at the definition, it does not say “the fear of”; it says “the irrational fear of”. Now if we look at the definition of “irrational” by the same dictionary, it says:

: not rational: as a (1): not endowed with reason or understanding (2): lacking usual or normal mental clarity or coherence b: not governed by or according to reason <irrational fears>

 So, if we follow this definition of “irrational”, and combine the two definitions, it would seem that homophobic people are not endowed with reason or understanding, are lacking usual or normal mental clarity or coherence, and to top it off, they are not governed by reason.

Well, this clears it up very well for me.

I think the Catholic Church had it right when they wanted only priests to be able to read the bible in Latin. But of course, Martin Luther had to stick his big nose in papal affairs and translate the bible in to the common language (german at the time) so that any lack wit, idiot, moron (Mormon), and your bigot neighbour next door, could interpret the word of god for themselves. So now, basically anyone could become an interpreter of scripture. Thanks Martin.

I just wish that these religious slaves would read up on history and realize that all of their religious holidays (as well as gospels deemed appropriate for the political atmosphere at the time) were decided upon the First Council of Nicaea with Emperor Constantine, and that it was pure politics in order to gain the support of the so called pagans of the time.

But I digress. It amazes me today how sooo many people can hear a fire and brimstone speech condemning everyone to hell unless you’re a Christian, and actually believe it. Yet these same people, who supposedly believe in the word of Christ, are the first to spit hatred at gay people, non Christians, and anyone who happens to live outside of their very small, very narrow universe.

If I were Christ, and I had died on some mythical cross to make human kind better, and I had asked my BFF Peter to spread my word of tolerance, I would be so pissed at him. I would be saying: WTF went wrong? I leave you to make a better world and you did what??? I taught tolerance and acceptance, and you created a church in MY NAME that tortured and killed people in MY NAME, and still propagates hate over 2000 years later??? WTF where you thinking? If I were the CEO you would be fired.

I think that if rapture was to come (sorry Harold Camping, didn’t happen), and I was the pope, I would be shitting on the papal throne, because if Jesus ever came back, there is no way in heaven I could explain the centuries of abuse and intolerance.

And if I were a Christian, I would be shitting my pants for supporting the same abuse and intolerance. I would not be able to face his forgiving smile, and especially not his forgiving frown.

I would finish this little tirade with “think about it”, but then I realize that Christians, by past proven experience, are incapable of independent thought.

As my mother would pragmatically say, “Oh well”.

Hurricanes in the American south are becoming really scary!

Photo credit: Eric Nguyen

When Mother Nature comes to dance

Her dark dress spreads across the evening sky

Decorated with night blossoms

Flowing over the horizons

The brisk wind whispers of her coming

Horses made of rain speed her arrival

Riding in a carriage of ebony

She comes wrapped in swirling debris

Her train lightly brushes the earth as she alights

Looking for companionship she visits every town

Wanting to dance she puts down pointed toe

She wears a tiara set with gems of lightning

Her gown sets the ground on fire

She comes with hopes held high

To the ball she arrives in all her glory

With rain tossed hair she witnesses the destruction

Her throaty laughter rolls across the land like thunder

With as twirl of skirt she erases lifelong memories

With a flick of her braid birds are set to flight

Her silver chased belt carries pockets filled with dreams

Her great ring holds the world in silver claws

The night sky a beautiful pendant between her breasts

Looking for a partner she turns ‘round and ‘round

Adding ornaments of steel and brick to her costume

She reaches down and chooses new jewellery

She wanders still looking for love

 Giving up this night’s search she stops and looks back

A bridal path strewn with rubble

Light steps regain her carriage

She laughs at her folly

Before you think you know someone, think.

Photo by Andreea Oana

A hollow girl

She walks through shallow pools of rain

Her heart strung out behind her

A glass doll dressed so prettily

The street light falls on the cracks around her mouth

Dark puddles form beneath her smile

The rain slides off her emotions

Her eyes, beautiful blue beads, reflect nothing

A backpack carries family expectations

Childhood memories stuffed in the side pocket

A perfect smile in porcelain

A hollow girl

Street friendship sees her through the night

Bitter laughter covers unwanted pain

Fatherly love can’t reach her here

A father’s touch shouldn’t hurt so much

In an empty alley she runs through green grass

Lies down amongst the wildflowers and moss

She counts the stars painted in the heavens

Dreams of an attentive mother

Waterfalls cascade and she wakes in the rain

Her ragged fingernails trace a pattern on the bricks

An empty smile in porcelain

A hollow girl

Approached by a shadow offering safety

She timidly follows the promises

A warm bed and company of young girls assures her

With a hot meal she ignores the empty eyes

Feeling warm she does not see the empty smiles

Refusals repaid in bruises

Acceptance shines on the edge of a knife

Her backpack hidden in a small corner of yesterday

The streetlight falls on the cracks in her makeup

She lies down counting the stars painted on the ceiling

A smile as hard as porcelain

A hollow girl

There have been a few deaths in the families of colleagues recently; this is my reflection on saying goodbye.

The end of your song

The stars came out tonight in full splendour

The moon shows its best side gently glowing

The earth slows

Together we stand in sad ceremony

Everyone quietly listening

As your song slowly spirals ever upward

As it unwraps itself from us

As we are forced to let it go

The strings on your violin are cut

The binding undone

Your song in this life has ended

You are free to wander

You are free to discover

Our sadness is our own

Our anguished hearts grieve for our loss

Even as your remembered smile gives warmth

Even as past laughter echoes over us

The stars came out tonight in full splendour

Joyful as they welcome you home

Sword and Lily

SWORD AND LILY 

Walls crumble with a thought

Divisions become mist

Distant pathways lost today and yesterday

Sword and lily stride between

A multitude of doors are sealed 

The forgotten corridors remain empty

Firm footsteps echo an unknown road

Decisions forge crossroads in the middle of nowhere

Remove one brick and see a future

Remove another and see nothing 

Worlds revolve around worlds

A multitude of bridges span the distance

Stairways lead to the landing underneath memories

Everything leads to nowhere

Nowhere the destination

Two ladies stand face to face with lilies in their hair

Each one smiles not knowing the other has a reflection

The shattered mirror reflects a thousand smiles

A thousand lilies fall to the grass

A fire spreads across the ocean

Two kings standing back to back with braided beard

Two swords held high in combative ignorance

The rope strains to the point of breaking

The strands of civility unravel

The anchor falls crashing down 

The waves wash up against a door frame standing alone

Glimpses of green promises call across the threshold

The wet portal beckons

A singular flower on the doorstep begs attention

Its imaginary petals bend perception 

Sword and lily stare at one another intently

The battle for the summer wind bends banners

The green grass sways in agitation

The full leaves quiver on their branches

The very roots tremble with expectation 

The sword and lily dance eternal

Soft petal against cold steel

Each looking for a crack in the armour

A clash of light that burns the world

The spectators still with bated breath 

Tomorrow stops to take a moment

Today marches in time with the wound clock

The gears turning slowly

The pendulum moves between decisions

The cuckoo decides the hour

We have all had a moment of pure loneliness.

Scars

Scars created in happiness
Scars like a masochist’s grin
Scars like a summer picnic
Like the blanket beneath the warm sun
I want no clouds this day
Like the sweet breeze through dead leaves
The cool grass leaves green scars
Scars like memories never forgotten
Like memories never lived
Like an imaginary knife
The rose petals cut so deeply
With the sharp edges of memory
My scars will never heal
Scars left from restaurant conversations
Like the waiter‘s sincere smile
As he sees my happiness
His confusion as I leave alone
The golden candle sputters
The cracked pavement underfoot
Meets my every step
A mirror made of cement
Scars reflect the moonlight
No emotions reflected in the pool
The fountains remain indifferent
Memories flow easy as cool water
This is the perfect loneliness
This is loneliness made perfect
My tears join the rain
Scars shine brightly
Scars clearly seen
Scars clearly invisible
So many scars
I am covered in scars
Yet I no longer bleed

This is dedicated to my friends in New Brunswick. A new experiment: play this wonderful music by Adele while reading the poem. Read with the rhythm of the music. Take your time.

Open Windows

A house painted in white

Peeling shutters slightly askew

The front steps a little crooked

The chimney in need of repair

Structural faults inherent with time

The foundation is sturdy

The fireplace is always warm

The photos on the mantle also

The gardens grow in season

The grass is brown only in patches

The well worn sofas are inviting

Pictures on the wall tell stories

A cup of tea makes things normal

The sound of the ocean sings a lullaby

Old laughter sings the melody

Old friends make the chorus

The piano in the corner is well used

If only slightly off key

The table is set with love

Each dish placed with practice

Each course made with expectation

Every course eaten with appreciation

Ribald jokes abound

Sincerity takes a bow

Memories grow roots in the cellar

Memories that can be heard faintly

The sound drifts through the open window

The curtains part with salt covered laughter

The slanted sunlight comes uninvited

And politely knocks

Searching for open windows

Political feelings on a warm spring day

My spring of hope

 

The spring sun shines on my confusion

The new born sun warms my lack of decision

The sunny heat makes me lazy

It’s not that I don’t care

It’s just that I feel the pain of leaves blossoming

My smile grows roots in the unknown

Black dirt beneath my fingernails accumulates with every truth

The very feel of the earth meets me

It reminds me of what lies beneath

It reminds me of what is to come

With every handful of soil between my fingers

The roots of tomorrow spread in the dark

Sending hope through green branches

The winter that froze me will end

The sap rises nonetheless

This spring will be bountiful

Conservative estimates be damned

A bright red flower will blossom

No need to sing the blues