Poor Danny boy he wears a frown,

Hangs his head real low down to the ground,

Danny’s world has been turned right upside down,

Been let down, ripped off, kicked around,

Danny’s mouth barely makes that begging sound,

Most people walk by, some look round,

Spilt milk turns sour in Danny’s cup,

Sits in the doorway with a smoker’s cough,

He’s never been well-known to lady luck,

Those poisoned veins can’t get him high enough,

That parasite will bleed him right enough,

He’s high and dry and not too tough,

Danny has no place to stay tonight,

There’s always someone drunk looking for a fight,

And Danny never walked so slow,

Among the shadows and the ghosts,

His shoes all worn through his jacket torn,

It doesn’t look to be all that warm,

I wonder if Danny has a light,

At the end of his tunnel, at any time,

Or a tunnel at the end of his life,

No place of shelter, you know it isn’t right,

Danny takes a drink of a cup of coffee,

That someone bought him from the nearby café,

It’s near the bus stops above the subway,

Same place I saw Joy every other Saturday,

But he couldn’t afford to sit at the table,

I know he’d be in there if he was able,

His hands in fingerless gloves clutch the plastic mug,

And Danny’s grateful as a thirsty dog,

He’s never been down and out before,

Living in the gutter, though he has been poor,

I wonder if he’ll last another night,

Looks like a rabbit in the headlights,

I wonder if Danny has a light,

At the end of his tunnel tonight

Or a tunnel at the end of his life.



This Page

Somewhere in the leaves of the pages in this notebook,

There must be some scrawl about you, that deserves a second look,

I saw you skimming over pages of untidy handwriting,

Missing every other word and message, so I printed you this book.


I know your eyesight isn’t all that good, but I can’t read it either,

There’s too many words crossed out, and occasional squashed spiders.


I’ll begin writing about you on page one hundred and nine,

You know our lives together have not been that perfect all the time,

But I love you sweet mother and I love you, dear old dad,

I’d like to thank you for the years we’ve spent driving each other mad.


Having a dad playing in bands always seemed so cool,

It was something to brag about to the other kids at school.


Though you cannot sing well and always played in standard tune,

I forgive every strained note, in your soundproofed music room,

And who am I to judge, I was raised on great music,

I tried to play guitar, I gave it up and I blew it.


Having a mother as beautiful as you,

I know where I got my looks from the gene pool.


You made all my costumes to dress up for school plays,

You’d pick me up when I fell, fix my knees that were grazed,

A mother’s magic kiss, to make the pain go away,

Wipe away the tears and send me back out to play.


Playing games of cards, laughing telling jokes,

A holiday highlight, weak Bacardi and coke.


Dad, you used to bury my body in the sand,

Thank you for leaving my face out in the sunny weather!

Exploring rock-pools, was a wild adventure,

Like drifting out to sea on a lilo together.


Dad taught me how to let things wash over me, keep the peace,

And deny true emotions and bitterly retreat.


He did something bad, and I won’t lie,

It broke my heart,

I still like to deny that it happened,

And if I’d had a pound coin every time I strayed,

In life,

I’d be a train wreck and a millionaire tonight.


Mother taught me how to gossip, and,

How I shouldn’t believe all I hear.


In our disagreements, conversations down the telephone,

I’ve never known loneliness like when she hangs up the phone,

Where would I be if she didn’t answer my call back,

I can barely imagine,

Living on the outside of her mind for any length of time,

Hope my mother’s love doesn’t switch off anytime soon.


Must have written a thousand apology letters over the years,

I haven’t sent one yet.


Mother and father you’ve been tearing your hearts out,

Beating them in my direction,

Most the time I was too blind to see,

You were falling apart over me,

The psychoanalyst said I came from a dysfunctional family,

I thought isn’t everybody; I was never neglected in my life.


Dim The Lights

Laid out on the couch in the afternoon, awake,

It’s become my favourite resting place,

Though I cannot get comfortable for my life,

When I was a kid, I had two bunks to myself,

So, I built a den and lay down on the floor,

And that’s where I’d sleep for the night.


Dim the lights on the day,

My thoughts are sailing away,

Turn the seasons away,

Lest another year older comes to smash in my door.


Don’t want to play my guitar today,

I can’t play that well anyway,

Singing off key,

Steals my soul felt words from me,

Songs about the absence of a love I never had,

Aching from the memories of old friends good and bad.


Dim the lights,

Dreams are a picture show to view,

Turn away history,

Before it catches up with me, and before, it catches up with you.


I remember their names, but never their faces,

They’re lost to the same haze that united us in those places,

We never said hello and never goodbye,

We just drifted into and out of each other’s lives,

They pluck the wrong strings of my heart as I wonder,

When seeking out honest emotions became my thunder.


Dim the lights,

I don’t want to shed light on those days,

It might turn the bones in their graves,

It might wake the ghosts of yesterday.


I hope to catch the sunrise tomorrow,

I’ve known too many sunsets, too many dusk’s,

Too many false dawns, seen, not enough day,

I don’t think my eyes have seen a four-leaf clover in years,

And the lottery of luck is running errands for the rich,

I’d be satisfied with being poor if being broke wasn’t such a bitch.


Dim the lights,

My eyes are closing again,

Turn the season,

I’ll dream of springtime rain.


And I’ll fill your half empty cup,

With my teardrops again,

I’ll give you some grace,

To swallow it down,

Or throw it in my face,

I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning.


That sounds like I remember it,

It resonates with the chill in my bones,

Takes me back to the moment,

I first heard the news,

How I didn’t wonder why,

It didn’t shock me,

Guess my trust in human nature,

Had already taken several blows from Tyson,

You’d never see the damage from those punches,

Till you observe my lack of big reactions,

Zoned out,

My numb words, my dumb mouth,

Eyes rolling back toward the ceiling,

As I’m knocked out for the count again,

Completely unaware.

Scenic Route

If I’m alive today,

I died a thousand deaths along the way,

If I’m here with you today,

I took the scenic route,

The devil packed my suitcase for the journey,

Hell gets hot if you don’t know,

Whenever I fell from grace,

I knew about it,

I have more than an inkling,

It’s always been this way,

If I’m still alive today,

I’m a few incarnations away,

From being wise,

If I’m here with you today,

I wonder what the hell I do,

To win a prize.

If You Think You Understand Me

I’m just hanging on,

To the edge of reality,

Within a fingernails grasp,

Of sanity,

I’m just hoping that,

You can take it on the chin, again,

That, I’m not living up to expectations,

I know,

I’m just wrestling with,

The demon inside of me,

That’s making a bid,

To break free,

I’m just hoping that,

You think you understand me,

And if you think you understand me,

You’re doing better at this than me.

Whispered Words

I don’t want to hear your shouting in my head anymore,

Don’t want to watch you smashing ornaments, slamming doors,

Don’t want to see you throw your weight in anger,

Most of all, I don’t want to see you sad.


I’ll take the whispered words you neglected to say,

The whispered words you wish you’d said today,

I’ll take the words that whispered just to say,

I love you, don’t take me for a fool; anymore.


I don’t want to hear those same recycled arguments anymore,

Don’t want to watch you fighting with the past, it’s not listening,

Don’t want to see you waving your hands in frustration,

Most of all, I don’t want to see you sad.


I’ll take the whispered words, you forgot to mention,

The whispered words that come well-reasoned,

Considered, softly spoken,

I’ll take the whispered words, and listen,

Catch your breath for a moment.


At every doorway you hesitate,

These doors are open,

Sunlight rushes in to kiss your face,

The world outside awaits,

They ask you what you’re waiting for,

As walls you build around you,

Move in closer every day,

You find comfort in restriction,

Close the blinds, hide away,

Inside your prison, familiarity,

You hold the keys to the cage,

Even as you wander,

The corridors of your mind,

The world hurries by without you,

If I could tear a slit in your comfort zone,

Let the light flood back in, I would,

So, you could remember how it was,

When you were free,

So you could remember,

When smiles came easily.


This is a pretty-ugly world,

On the surface, I fear,

It’s pretty-ugly under the ground,

Beneath our concrete gardens,

Our glass houses and towers,

It’s where we stow the bones,

It’s where we stow the bones,

Keep them out of sight,

From the pretty-ugly world,

The pretty-ugly women,

The pretty-ugly men,

All the pretty-ugly disasters,

That are invented by them,

Making pretty-ugly decisions,

Choosing pretty-ugly words,

Being pretty-ugly to each other,

Underneath, I fear.