He’s a mover and a shaker.

A real man about the town.

Spectacular difference-maker.

A center stage prime spotlight clown.

All ego, gall, and arrogance.

With that winking sort of eye.

He will dance and leave you breathless.

No more truths; it’s all a lie.

The headache faded slowly.

Sleep was hard and fast.

Went somewhere down a rabbit hole.

To a dark and faded past.

There’s no need to be alarmed now.

I know it’s just a dream.

And the monsters feel so damn real.

With their hopes and kerosene.

I wait for her eyes to open
Patience while she dreams
I will hear about it all the causes of the twitches.
It’s the best of times
Who was there… Who said what…
“The purple berries were sweet, Dad. I taste in my dreams, you know. A boy was telling me which way to go, I think it was Jolani. I said nothing back, and you know what that means… I am not going to do that.”


DENNIS MANTIN

There’s a sandbar that stretches 12 miles into a Great Lake, and if you walk far enough down that sandbar, approximately 8 miles, is where you will find a nude beach. It’s a paradise of nature…
I have seen the sky here filled with Monarchs by the thousands, for here is a migration point for things that fly, like monarchs and ladybugs and many types of birds. However, the migrations are later in the year, in September, and this story was under a much hotter sky.
I took a woman who never experienced this and was curious and after what could only be described as a perfect day of sun and nature, it was time to walk back into the real world where people wear clothes.
She was happy and beautiful and relaxed and free, and I even saw humor in her inability to stop staring at the other nude bodies. The sun began to set on a perfect day, and I suggested we go back.
There’s a sign in the sand that leaves no doubt that beyond this point lies civilization and where I put on my shorts.
A mile on and several strong suggestions to the point that it MIGHT be time to put some clothes back on went ignored. Several people gave glances her way and returned their eyes to the sand.
By the time we reached the parking lot, I had reached a boiling point, and this is where that relationship ended.
On the drive home, I ranted and pined.
“What the fuck were you thinking about!?”
“How do you find it necessary to turn a perfect day into me yelling and wondering if it’s safe for me to take you anywhere, because I don’t know what the fuck you’re going to do!?”

Later in therapy in an attempt to understand my rage, and her behavior my therapist said.
“You may owe her an apology… your anger is understandable however I suspect she didn’t want, what you described as a perfect day, to end.”
Dennis Mantin

The passion of Kevin Clark was apparent and written in charcoal black letters at his sidewalk home at Adelaide and Bay in Toronto in 1999.
“You’re standing on my home.” Kevin said to me as I waited for the light to change with the others.
“How would I know it’s your home?” I asked.
“Because my name is written right there.” He pointed to the letters written on the sidewalk.
N.I.G.G.E.R.
Kevin smiled as he watched the look of shame that crossed my face…

Rising from some ancient conscience.

He said, “What nigger means to me is probably different than what it means to you.”
“What does it mean to you?”
“Never is God giving evil respect.”

Dennis Mantin

Jack was a career criminal at a time when him and his associates lived by rules and codes…

He was north of 60 when I met him and he swore he wasn’t going back inside.

Jack told me, “Everybody thinks they can go through life and not live by any rules. I’m here to tell you that you’re going to have to live by at least 2 rules.

Everybody knows knows rule # 1; however, very few know rule # 2; and… Rule # 2 is never shit in your own nest.”

It’s been 40 years since I’ve seen Jack and I like to think he managed to stay true to his rules.

I learned to meditate in prison from an old convict named Jack Miller. When I could melt the bars away, he taught me the rules of life. He said.

” Everybody goes through life thinking they don’t have to live by any rules…
“I’m here ta tell ya, yur gonna have ta live by 2 rules.
“Everyone knows rule number 1. However, very few people know rule number 2.
“Rule # number 2 is never shit in your own nest. ”
“What’s rule number 1?” I asked.
” I’m glad you asked.” He answered.

“It depends on what you are. If you’re a criminal like me, then it’s never get caught. If you’re a civilian, then it’s some version of do no harm to others.”
I confessed. “I think I’m a civilian. ”
Jack smiled, ” For you, my friend, I think that would be wise.”
Neither one of us ever went back. I was 20, and Jack was 60.

Dennis Mantin

A rich man drives a taxi.

A poor man drives a Ford.

But my old man

Goes down the street

With four wheels on a board.

MARGARET MANTIN

I have a rule at home that goes something like this. I don’t care what you tell them out there in the world, but here at home; you tell me the truth.

If I find out that I’ve been lied to, then I usually react in a frothy emotional outburst.

I have noticed that my reactions have neither slowed down the rate of the lies or changed anything.

Therefore, I am beginning to believe that truth is a myth we tell ourselves. If you try to remove the comfort or feelings of protections that these lies provide children, then maybe you are removing a vital developmental tool that is required in the absolute disingenuous adult life that hopefully follows.

Clearly, I don’t know the answers for certain. However, since I used to be physically beaten as a child in an attempt to stop me from not telling the truth; I see this development as steps in the right direction.

Hence, the frothy emotional outbursts have ceased…

An old man was meandering up the sidewalk with a cane, and the button on his tweed hat read ‘ Peace begins with a smile ‘
I thought to myself, “So does deception; but it was early, and I hadn’t had my coffee.”
Dennis Mantin