I had my own little circle of Hell.
Demons prodded me with needles.
****** souls invited me to their homes
filled with smoke and treason.

I was sitting in a burning throne of lies and addiction.
With piles of broken glass pieces and hypodermic syringes as a foot rest.
Then one day a hole opened in the sky above
and a single blue jay flew down
and rested upon my boot tip.

He said "Why do you choose to live here, so washed out and broken?"
"Because it is the only place I feel at home, Blue Jay" I replied.
"There is sunshine just beyond your fingertips!" He countered.
"The only light that beckons me is the hellfire surrounding us, bird" I retorted.

"Come with me" he sighed.
Suddenly the blue jay grew ten times his size and sprouted incredible wings.
He made me climb upon his back and soar out of the pit I had become so accustomed to.
"Look at what the sun has to offer," said the blue jay.
there were green fields and rushing rivers,
Playing children I had forgotten existed.

In my place, my personal hell,
I had forgotten about the sun.
the skies were smudged black
And the painted clouds rolled down in grey
Like oil on canvas.

When you're in hell, it's so easy to forget
About the world above.
Seeing past yourself and into the setting sun
Becomes an impossibility.


" Do you see?" said the bird.
"I do see, but what is it I am looking past?" Said I.
"The little things." blue jay replied.
"The little things that used to please you, before you became a monster."
"The rivers used to make you feel whole as you skipped stones across their uneven expanse.
The children reminded you of your innocence before you became what you are. The fields were your home, where you would catch sun and ponder things before you became this."

Suddenly all my cravings vanished.
The black cloud that hung over me stopped pouring rain
And started beaming light.
The portal from whence we came had closed.
I had come home.

The blue jay flew to the ground and let me off his back.
"Now you see," he said, "You see what you had been missing."
He shrank, and flew away into the trees
Leaving me at home,
in my fields,
again.

Where will you be,
when the sun sets on me?

I've got no plans,
And nothing to do,
so I'll just hang around,
And dance with you,
Ms. Lucy.

We'll play our favorite bands,
and get lost in paradise.
I love to hold your hand,
But it's so hard to say goodnight,
Ms. Lucy.

This feeling comes bubbling from the center of my soul.
It's warm and embracing and makes the cold feel like home.
I'm not walking on sunshine, it's emitting from inside me.

to my good mate steve grigor

i know all i know is that he rode a big scooter and he was a writer

but he was a great writer, so much in facr he taught people how to write

you see steve wasn’t in the mood for staying in his body

he wanted to leave that body and enter in to another body

he was a nice man who enjoyed bowling and writing

and he used to drive his scooter all around the town

you see he taught me how to write and he taught me how to live life to the full

he probably enjoyed a beer or a coke

you see i liked saying hello to him when i saw him

and he said hi brian hows it going

i know steve grigor wasn’t this perfect little angel

but he was a man who taught us through his writing to have a joke about life

now i will give you a little jingle about his passing

it’s a shame it’s a shame it’s a shame

we lost a fine man in steve

it’s a shame it’s a shame it’s a shame

the man who teaches has passed away

i will miss him driving his scooter around this city

who knows he will probably go off to his next life with a lot of of creativity to give

this man was nice, you see he was very nice, but he had a load of body problems

and that is what killed him in the end, i will miss his howdy doody face

goodbye steve grigor

I don't want to be a clone,
With no thoughts of my own,
As if created from a mold,
Always to be bought and sold,
Never truly feeling whole,
Having just an artificial soul,
Like a mindless puppet on a shelf,

No, I would rather be myself.

If i could, i would,
Disassemble your malfunctioning thought processes
And rewire them back together again,
With a spanner, in the manner,
That meant you were not
Classed as insane.
I'd unfold and rearrange,
The chemical imbalances
Within your brain
So that the years of disdain,
And self blame,
Where a thing of the past,
I'd put you back together,
In a way, that showed you,
You were meant to last.