She said that Canada 🇨🇦 is a tricky land. Filled with tricksters and dishonest types.

“Filled?”

I am sometimes unsure if my questions take audible flight or if they remain stuck in my head behind an expression of suspended disbelief…

She continued. “Abusive people who stole the land from the aboriginals.”

I was reminded of a sentence in ‘Heart of Darkness’ “They were conquerors. Not much to brag about really when everything you have has been stolen from the weakness of others.”

“Yes… this is our collective human history. Don’t stare too long into that abyss; for you may become the monster my dear.”

I am tired of these humans.

I have had enough of me.

Technology replacements?

Oh AI, you wait and see!

They are waiting at horizon.

Just beyond your sense of smell.

With no talk of God or plans.

I trust you’re doing well?

Dennis Mantin

The questions they are many.

The answers are so few.

I couldn’t think of any.

Dad why’s the sky so blue.

I decided just to listen.

The breathe that sound within.

No need to make decision.

The finish line read begin.

It’s clear now see the circle

Spiraling round and round.

That sky now sure looks purple.

Nothing lost and nothing found.

We will keep on looking.

Cause that is what we do.

The end the final booking.

The mystery is the clue.

It’s all over but the crying.

I’m crying tears of joy.

Laughed so hard I pissed my pants.

Which really can annoy.

It’s not that it’s so funny

It’s just I’m laughing at you.

It’s so damn off putting.

When the tears have dried we’re through.

” This world is made for 50 year old men. ”

His voice rose above the stares and destain of the feminists and millennials who strained to see who dared make such a claim.

I thought it difficult to argue, remembering having that very thought in my twenties which was quickly followed with, ‘ah but they don’t have my youth.’

I doubt if either last as long as we think it will.

I watched him sink his aged face into his coffee and fade.

I had zero idea that my poverty ridden humble start in life could someday somehow be viewed as white privilege.

My single mother making $10/week plus room and board working 7 days a week would have little knowledge of her esteemed advantages.

Who knew?

She said, “They had it coming. “

I asked, “They got what they deserved?”

I asked her where she heard that?

Her smile kinda curved.

I said, “You know you’re only 8 years old.”

She said, “You know I’m almost nine.”

Sometimes I need to listen.

So I just took it as a sign.

There once was a protester named Karen.

She’s protesting and hating and glarin.

She’s making things right.

Not her fault she’s white.

She’s just so damn smart and she’s sharin.

Dennis Mantin

There once was a dancer named Wayne

Who walked with a limp from his pain.   

He’d dance day and night.        

His insanity his plight.

Said, “The light in the tunnel it’s a train.”

                     

                              

All smiles are fading, an all knowing wink. 

There’s miles to go now. It’s swim now or sink.

She’s hugging the monsters. Dragging them down.

She’s sharing her love.They’re learning to drown.

The streets now are empty, it’s friday downtown.

The monsters are running. Love come to town.