They Do Ask Questions

How do children come to the world and who is to blame,
Why does a steak taste better on the BBQ and an open flame?
Why is ice cream allowed only after I have finished dinner?
How is it that father is so fat and mother is much thinner?
Why a dog barks, cat meows, bird sings and my brother farts,
Why the French have fine cuisine, fine cheese and fine arts,
Then she asked, why the sky is blue and the sea has waves,
Why does the good Moses invest and the good Jesus saves,
I realise her need to know grows as she grows older it is fine,
But for god’s sake in two months she will turn forty nine,

Stop Time

When you paint or take a picture, a moment in time,
You have frozen history, stopped life on a dime,
Your painting or picture like the story of Dorian Gray,
Will forever remain the same and young shall stay,
Around us, all will grow old, wither slowly away, and fade,
Some lazily, some fast, some even at a faster rate,
Only your painting or your picture will be unchanged,
As life and living, has been so methodically arranged,
Take picture and paint, stop time in its hasty course,
Stop time as much as you can, so you will have no remorse,

Afternoons through the Window

In the afternoons I watch through the window’s glass,
Over the park, seventh floor, the view is first class,
There are cars and motorcycles, children and mothers,
Bicycles and dogs, grey squirrels and at times fathers,
Birds fly above, seagulls and geese and the occasional jay,
Playful in their flight, wild, one may call it a horseplay,
Sitting like this in the afternoon sun, drinking my tea,
I came to the only possible conclusion, who needs TV?

Your Name

Have you ever considered the meaning of your name?
Do you fulfill a prophecy with pride, or maybe shame?
Is it traditional, biblical, ancestral, or just because,
After your grandpa, your grandma or trauma that was,
Maybe a bird or a sound, a day or a month, like May,
Named after the wild predator or you are the prey,
Be your name what it may consider it is yours to the end,
On your headstone to be chiselled forever my friend,
Treat your name well, spoil it, and make it stand proud,
After all, it is your name, so speak it out, loud



There are no banana groves on Yonge Street,
Nor grapefruit on Finch Avenue nor oranges sweet,
I checked to see, and there are no papayas either,
Not imperial nor in metric (that’s kilogram / liter),
For god’s sake, it is Toronto after all it is Canada,
We are on top, just above the USA, North America,
We have cherries, apples, peaches and nectarines too,
Apricots, pears and plums a plenty, of course berries blue,
What I cannot grow in my backyard or on my front door,
I go shopping once a week and get bananas at the store

I Am Not Normal, Thank You

If being normal, is buying guns that kill,
If being normal, is shooting people at will,
If being normal, is driving over people shopping,
If fun for you, is doing some head chopping,
If you kill in the name of your god and religion,
If you shoot children, as you would a clay pigeon,
If you enslave an eight year old girl as your wife,
If you explode in a crowd, for virgin filled eternal life,
Then I’m not normal I’m happy to say, not even a smidgen,
Spare me your gods, your beliefs and spare me religion.