Color It Pretty

Many years ago, we had statesmen,
Like Churchill, FDR, Diefenbaker, Ben-Gurion,
Today we have politicians, most are bottom feeders,
Our choices are between bad or worse, not of leaders,
We are really in a spot, not a very pleasant situation,
Choosing between bad and worse as a head of nation,
“Every nation gets the leadership it deserves”, we are doomed,
No matter how much we cover up and have it perfumed,
Color it pretty, make it look nice, it still stinks,
This world will eventually belong to the nuts and their shrinks

Goodbye Mr. President

When the restaurant you eat at,
Serves you food that looks like a used door mat,
Food that tastes like road kill,
Something you found at the foot of the hill,
You don’t go around and change your clientele,
Because the food in your restaurant has a bad smell,
You go into the kitchen and you fire the cook,
Or the chef or whatever you call that schnook,
The same applies with countries and nations,
When the situation stinks, you check the foundations,
You don’t replace the people, they are the dupes,
It is you that screwed up you don’t bring in the troops,
You get up and leave, no forwarding address,
Just go away and may god bless

The Right To Be Stupid

There is no value to human life,
Today they shoot, and bomb, stab with a knife,
Today it’s a theater in Colorado,
A couple of days ago a party in Toronto,
Taking life is like a video game,
Object of the game is to kill and maim,
The more you kill the better you are,
The more you maim the bigger star,
“The right to bear arms”, a moronic concept,
Carrying a gun is freedom? – Totally inept,
What about the right to watch a movie unhurt?
What about going for a walk without being raped?
12,996 murders in the USA in 2010 alone,
USA I baptize thee – the stupid zone.

It’s Hot

It all seems like a Dali painting,
Everything around steaming and melting,
The days are hot the nights are humid and slow,
The street lights through the haze glow,
People are moving as if through a cloud,
Each engulfed by a wet misty shroud,
Your brain works in neutral just to survive,
Doing the minimum just to keep you alive,
Visions of beer cold and plenty,
Are on your mind nineteen out of twenty,
Everything becomes a chore, hard labour,
Don’t know if I am me or my neighbour,
I shall just relax today wait for the heat to go,
Maybe till December wait for the snow.

Back In Town

Back in town, the weather is hot,
Back to work connecting line to dot,
Streets are clean, people are kind, (well most),
In the morning at the door is the “National Post”
Back to the slow rhythm of the Canadian life,
Top news is “who is doing what to who’s wife”,
The news from Syria is somewhere on page four,
The slaughter in there – is not our war,
Tonight I will BBQ a nice rib steak,
Enjoy my special farmer’s bread that I bake,
Have a nice tall highball of double black Scotch,
Light my Montecristo Edmundo with my cigar torch,
Not much is happening on my nightly watch,
I’ll just enjoy thinking, not move one notch,
Yep, I am back to Canada alright,
I am just going to take it easy all night


It’s hot, so hot you can fry an egg in the sun,
Or even get a sirloin steak well done,
You can boil a cup of green tea,
You can only dream of ice, snow and ski,
Your brain is getting cooked in your head,
Your liver feels like pate’ spread on bread,
Your eyes wink left to right, on their own,
The sun is so strong you get tanned to the bone,
So I go to the beach and I lay in the sun,
Behold now I look like a lobster on a bun,
So if you walk in the mall and you see someone lobster red,
It has to be me, (assuming I am not yet dead)

I Bought A Hat

I bought a hat, a dress up kind of hat,
It is white and made of straw, fancy at that,
The kind you see in a film-noir the gentlemen walk in,
The tough guys like Bogart, Edward G. Robinson, and Borgnine,
It feels good and light in this summer’s hot days,
Keeps my shaved head protected from the sun’s hot rays,
I think I will buy a few more just in case,
I end up sitting on my hat instead of it sitting over my face,
I miss those tough guys, the old heroes from Hollywood,
Today we got semi-comics caricatures, and bollywood,
Instead of Bogart we get Tom Cruise, it’s a pity,
We don’t even know if he has a “PeePee”

Little Boxes

There we were entering the big city,
It was hot and humid, such pity,
The big condominium towers looming above,
Each with hundreds of little cubicles like a hive,
Reminds me of the 1962 “Little Boxes” song,
By Malvina Reynolds, yes – it has been that long,
Here too they all are living in little boxes, on the side,
Although you don’t see pink one and a green one, never mind,
And they are not made of ticky tacky everyone,
But of stone and blocks, they are not much fun,
They loom high you see them from afar,
There they stand cold stone towers that they are,
No distinction or personality, all is the same,
Not one can step forward with its claim to fame,
That’s the essence of the modern city, no personality,
Nothing unique, nothing special, the unfortunate reality,
I love little boxes, in different colors, different shapes,
That stands apart like oranges to grapes,
Sense of individuality, character and spunk,
Looking like they were put together by a drunk,
These will give you a sense of discovery,
By their mere presence their distinct individuality