Hunting Ground

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Lights shine artfully from towers that stab the night sky. That’s the key. The fill light seeps from lamp-posts and taxis and pedestrian cars. The darkness becomes the subject that’s framed in heroic personification.
Alley-bound prowlers become protagonists in the urban ballet of apathy and compassion. Smoke emits from gutters to languish. Ambition puts root down on street-corners, seeking to sprout adventure.

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The Korean joint in the square vomits superstars into the downtown air. The courthouse leans on Howe, and around happy-go-luckies still desperately preening to the twilight chill.
Everywhere pulses with desperate desire. Everywhere thrusts. Men prowl the street. Women seek the light and warmth. Downtown is darkest jungle.
-BSB

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A New Understanding of Trauma

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Trauma. The word lands heavy, evoking thoughts of a fragile mind subjected to extreme instances of devastation, violence, brutality, and depravity.

Googling the word itself yields this definition: “A deeply distressing or disturbing experience.” It goes on to offer a tangible example in a sentence: “A personal trauma, like the death of a child.”

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Considering a Perfect World

All right. You got me. I’m no political scientist. I’m not a law student, or some government employee.

I’m just another human being. A private citizen. As such, I have what you may call “common sense.” We all have this. We all use it. And sometimes, when you look at the world around you with your common sense spectacles on, there are lots of things that don’t seem to make sense.

That’s because a lot of the world we see every day (by that, I mean western, urban society – by the way, did I mention I live in Canada?) was not constructed and shaped with common sense alone in mind. It was also carved by greed, weathered by whimsy, and built on lies.

But what if we did use common sense to shape the society in which we are a part?perfect-world-paint

What amazing possibilities abound, in a world built on common sense?

I propose a thought experiment. Call it an exercise in imaginative reasoning. Let’s say that we could make any changes we wanted, to official policy, law & order, the media, the prison systems – ANYTHING. This is a perfect world. It lives in our minds, and nothing can ever corrupt it, if we don’t want it to. Continue reading

this tragedy is almost comic if it weren’t so sad

Some great mind conceived in moments
self-obsessed upon creative genius
the story which now unfolds moment by moment
around us. We all
from the chattering masses of giggling girls
adorned with glittered cosmetics,
cosmopolitan branded attire, handbags and clutches
and fingernails
to the brash and brazen boys
with wooden smiles and plastic, remote controlled
personalities
we all bounce and bound off walls in attempt
to wrap mind around the big picture
to little avail. We cannot see
the forest entire
in all the clutter, noise and business.
The message is lost amidst the crossfire
of orders given, driven, shouted and whispered
with varying degrees of urgency.
The point is not here, not present in this chaos.
One might feel half-compelled
to lament to loss of meaning
in a fragrant, expensively eye-catching
mushroom cloud
that mars the landscape of modern art.
Too busy comparing
summer vacations in Vietnam and
winter trips to Vegas,
cellular phones and websites and stylists
or expressing opinions on the artistic merit
of the series finale
– which was, of course,
the most important piece of fiction
ever captured on screen and will
no doubt live on for eternity.
We won’t bother shedding tears for this
latest lame horse
saddles and whipped and loosed
from the gates of Hollywood
to batter itself against track and fence
to gain praise and favour,
we won’t waste worry or care for the car wreck,
loud and destructive it may be,
for we know that soon the cacophony will cease,
the horse will die,
the wreck will be cleared and
we can go about our lives
until the next catastrophe goes to camera.

the rats and I

The rats become more than just pets alone
but an analogy for the human experience,
and I become nothing more than a caged animal
continuing to bang my head against walls
both real and immaterial
as the very scent of far-off lands
morphs into the most
enticing thing in the world
and a part of me
simply desires
above all else to run,
to escape, to play, to roam,
and come home again.