GoalieGoalieI see this young man;Sullen, swollen, and sweaty,My son.Scattering equipment everywhere,Filth piling on the floor;The laundry room.The clutter a disaster,Needed to balance himFrom his focused hockey life.Bruises, welts,Part of the game;His existence."Is it worth it?" I ask."Yes," he replies."I love it."Summer and fall drifts by,Toning becomes his world.It's all for the game.Overwhelmed by despair,Throbbing and discomfort a constant;Practice.Fans think he's invincible,Teammates agree.I know the truth.An adult too soon,Failure happens.,Seasons fade.Ice cold bleachers,Coffee in hand;His greatest fan.He ignores me,Absorbed in the game,He plays.Memories flash,My child once more;Laughing, shouting, smiling.Time flies byRealizing he's good,Humiliating whoever he faces.Skating comes next,Equipment adds on,Skills increase.Game after game,Time after time,He starts to lose.Separated, miserable,Blocked from me.No one can help.A glimpse into hi
FallenFallenAcross the dark, foggy landLies an icy, still hand,Cool to the touch,Blood drained from one,Gone from anotherLife within lifeThe cycle is not fulfilledMother and child both wasting awayAmong the slimy maggots and wiggling earthworms.Love is only a memory,Faded among the blatant silence,Faces blur from color to tints of greySlowly fusing together producing pure blackness,Falling into a pit of despair,Enclosed in darknessForgotten to those that count the most.Immobility describes this fallen bodyThis woman in this shallow graveNo longer knows the loving glances that awaited her,For all of her life and dreams are vanished into a deep dark chasm; a void.They were to live on in her offspringHer son or daughter….But the innocent child is no more….lost to those who would have cherished her,Along with her motherWhose body is forgotten,Across the dark, foggy land.
I am CanadianI AM CANADIANI'm not a seal hunterFarming has never been my occupation,My vehicle runs on pure, 100% petroleumIt's not an endangered species,It is not an Ice Age here 24/7And an igloo is not my "home sweet home,"I don't talk slowBut for you I just might have to,Our country's celebration day is every July 1stWhile America has it on the idiotic 4th,Our guns are used for animalsNot people or small kids,Running water doesn't come from the great outdoorsBut in fact, from our own kitchen sinks,Our cows are the bestMad cow disease is a crock,Saying "a boot" is not correctThe word is "about,"My teeth are all accounted forMy dentist will say,Red and white are our colorsWhich I will wear in front of you "eh,"Our motto in politics is not "I'll be back"War is not a priorityThat is for surely a fact.Hockey is a part of this nationMaple leaves and beavers too.For this country of freedomWe stand for straight and tall,Is something I'm proud to be a part ofAnd will sing f
DepressionFrustration fills my whole entityAgony and pain envelops meOne thought, one actionCould make it all go awaySadness is a part of lifeDepression subtlety cuts like a knifeIt feeds off the dark emotionsGetting worse every day, every secondBlood runs thick through our veinsIt flows and trickles out our painsIn truth it is a cowards escapeBut instinct says it's the only wayOur mind slowly plays tricks on usIt messes our circuitsFills up with pussHearts become coldUndoubtedly shatteredIt no longer shinesBut that doesn't matterFor these emotions will not disappearJust keep tearing me up insideTil I vanish into nothing more than thin air