There is a silence in the Shadows.

No room for words, just freaks.

And the balance from the light of day.

Where only darkness speaks.

There’s a rumor of forgiveness.

But it’s not a solid lead.

They say it’s written on pages.

Where few can talk or read.

There’s a dancer spinning lightly.

Silent music they can hear.

If you hear the dancers steps.

Then you know the road to fear.

I’m old and growing tired.

My thoughts are grey and worn.

I’m waltzing in the shadows.

Dancing where the love was born.

Lately I’ve been very hard on lawyers: Which is low hanging fruit at best and… Being bound by some semblance of honesty I must concede that my own preconceived biases are contributing to a lack of trust and fears that are no doubt compounding the problem.

As much as I don’t like admitting this; these problems I am having with my lawyer is quite possibly more my fault than his.

The pace here could be breakneck and hectic if we can ever get started… And ‘If we are lucky’can actually stand up to the hype this might be a good one. However little is actually happening yet.

Abandoned Lawyers are shuffling to get into the starting blocks and yes the gates are closed and we’re off and flying.

Unanswered Prayers are breaking through on the inside rail for the early lead.

Unsigned Agreement is stuck on the outside and seems to be falling back.

Much Ado About Nothing is making a move to the inside and is being blocked by We Have A Settlement.

We are at the half way mark and Fuck You And The Horse You arrived On has come up lame and has left the track.

We are coming down the stretch and the pace is hectic. All Apologies is making a move!

Abandoned Lawyers is fading. We Have A Settlement is gaining ground!

A late change by Will Miracles Never Cease…

They are neck and neck at the wire and…

It’s We Have An Agreement!!

That was one hell of a race!

This thin veil of civility got leaner in the night.

We had the morals of the damned and a view that’s out of sight.

We are living on the inside, deep tunnels in our heads.

The safest place we’ve ever had are the dreams above our beds.

There’s a lesson in this history that the fears are sometimes fraud.

And all sinners loved the saints just before they fade to nod.

It happened at a party, the day after her 50th birthday…

They did have a celebration the night before for such an important milestone, however clearly not Grand Enough!

Her mother and sister were there laughing and dancing the following night, oblivious to the rage their joy and fun were causing.

No one could have known that the smiling woman at the round table who chose to sit with old childhood friends instead of her own family, was raging inside, that her mother and sister had such a wonderful happy loving relationship and that she was not part of that.

One of the most overlooked triggers in people who are miserable is the horror to be discluded. To be separated from; to not be included at the party.

Oh the hell there was and is to pay. They would know what wrath has brought!

Days later she was filling out a report at the police station, citing murderous intent. There must be justice! A warning of the danger to her and her daughter. Her daughter was not to be in the presence of her grandmother.

The fallout from this event has been nothing short of a tragedy.

A mother and daughter who have not spoken in 3 years.

A Sister who feels that she doesn’t have a Sister.

A father who said, “I am not saying my daughter is not welcome in my home however, whenever she is there; I won’t be.”

A child physically and mentally abused.

A mother losing custody of her child.

$100,000.00 in court costs!

A child who has not seen her mother in a year and a half.

False accusations of abuse.

All because of siblings jealousy over a mother’s supposed rejection.

And not a fucking scintilla of accountability for all the harm caused.

Negotiations are over.

Line is drawn in the sand.

Nothing ventured, and so much gained.

All or nothing and little planned.

In retrospect…

I NEVER remember the faces of those people who told me the truth. The cold hard difficult facts about myself, that I needed to hear in order to grow.

I block them out and take the message; it appears…

They are the Gateways.

Seems like a thankless task… so THANK YOU

Monday came early.

The year had began.

I decided on closure.

As a way to a plan.

Monday was surely.

First day of the week.

The sunshine did shine brightly.

On the brave and the bleak.

I recognized Cheryl from my time at the School of Fine Arts. I was working as a short order cook at ‘Bobo’s Bistro’ at the rear of the Cascade Tavern.

She smiled at me and approached. I am the furthest thing from a lady’s man as there is. I refused to use flattery as a matter of principles. I was stuck at the truth. I got that from my mother. The woman who told me my father was dead; when he was alive and well.

We ended up at her place which was the palatial log home of some absent nameless millionaire.

After a few drinks I found the courage to kiss her. She smiled and led me to a bedroom.

I settled in for a few nights until I blacked out, not remembering how I made it back to the rooming house.

Cheryl showed up at Bobo’s a week later and hissed at me. “You bastard! I was in pain for 3 days. I could hardly walk.”

“I’m so sorry Cheryl, what did I do?”

She dropped her fake rage when she saw my real confusion and hugging my neck, she whispered.

“It’s all good dear… You just gave me the fuck of my life.”

I was still apologizing.

“Stop it! I want you to come over tonight… can you?”

Cheryl had numerous lovers and I was too needy to tolerate that. She also seemed to get off on making her other lovers jealous. I didn’t play this game either.

Cheryl faded to memories… In my weakest moments I wished I had tried harder.

In reality I realized a relationship was not possible. I didn’t know how. I feel to hard. I wanted to much. No one could tolerate that much weight. Solitude wasn’t the answer however it would do until something better came along.

I knew I had to find my father. I knew he was alive. I knew he was in Toronto. I was born in Toronto. It would be like going home; I told myself. I had $500 when I arrived and headed to the nearest Tavern.

1980.

I lacked the confidence to shut up and listen. 

The drink helped with the paralyzing fears I was always dealing with. The reliefs came in short bursts of drunkenness and hangovers. I instinctively knew that one day, someday, this way of dealing with fears, would have to end. I just didn’t know when or how.

I feared almost everything, however what I feared most of all was humiliation. The drink always brought humiliation; which accompanied the shame which was followed by the drink. It was a vicious cycle.

I sat transfixed on the most gorgeous of women I had ever seen; an art student, early 20’s, with shoulder length brunette hair.

I feared I’d get an election in front of the class and refocused on someone less appealing.

A bizarre mix of art, horror and dread ensued.

The nude modeling gig came with $900.00, a room at the school for 2 weeks and an unlimited pass card for the school cafeteria.

In 2 weeks it was all over and I was unemployed again. I got a room in a rooming house in town, paying for a month.

During a question and answer session with the Artist in Residence, the brunette shared. “I thought the male model would be more masculine.”

My fears of getting an erection at the modeling gig ended there. The Artist in Residence smiled and said, “Dennis and Jackie have the same body types with the obvious differences of male and female.”

I looked over towards Jackie the female model to see she was still ignoring me

before returning my attention back to the teacher who continued.

“Recognize tone. Dennis is red. Jackie is green… if you get nothing else from this course, recognize tone.”

I looked at Jackie and her large beautiful green toned breasts. I saw tone for the first time. I saw my own red hues. Color was everywhere! My eyes were opened.

I left the mountains and traveled east. I bought paint and left the bars. Eventually the fears faded…