Hal LOW ween

Well it is Halloween night here and I had my first weird experience. A gang of trick or treaters showed up at more door, many of them over the age of majority. I detected the faint smell of smoke and wondered if one of them had shared a cigarette with the group. Much to my surprise as I went to stuff some candy into one of the sacks a cigarette was dangled between the fingers of one of the ghouls. A trick or treater who smokes, that has to be a first for me. I thought the smoking ban would have taken care of that.

Well you can not smoke in bars or restaurants so I guess it is our fault - we have pushed the smokers to far.

Next year I should expect kids smoking ganja.

My Halloween changed quickly after that. A ring at the door brought a little boy dressed up as a goalie. He was a mere 3 feet tall and had to be carried from the street by his father. Thanks little guy you reminded me of why we have Halloween. We dress up to scare away the spirits and some dress up to exercise their own demons. This little guy dressed up in a dream. His candy bag was empty except for two other houses worth of candy. I was reminded that it is not all candy in the bag that makes Halloween it is the hour of the day that you return from work.

I will forever remember this little guy, his dad and his mom.

Happy Halloween

The next Da Vinci Code

What is the next Da Vinci code, is it going to be an obscure European book written by an intellectual? A book about Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan?

No, it is going to be a book about World War II and the Nazi's. Les Bienveillantes, by relatively unknown author Jonathan Littell will hit shelves in the U.S. and Canada next year. Littell, a native English speaker, wrote this heavyweight (900 pages) over the course of 3 months having spent 4 years reasearching. The book is published in France and has sold over 100,000 copies thus far. If the media frenzy surrounding this book and the author's obscurity holds up this book be the book to have next year.

more info...

prop‧a‧gan‧da

–noun

1. information, ideas, or rumors deliberately spread widely to help or harm a person, group, movement, institution, nation, etc.
2. the deliberate spreading of such information, rumors, etc.
3. the particular doctrines or principles propagated by an organization or movement.
4. Roman Catholic Church.
a. a committee of cardinals, established in 1622 by Pope Gregory XV, having supervision over foreign missions and the training of priests for these missions.
b. a school (College of Propaganda) established by Pope Urban VIII for the education of priests for foreign missions.
5. Archaic. an organization or movement for the spreading of propaganda.

Origin: 1710–20

Slept

What is beneath me on this

unmoveable night is years of

deer and elk and moose

trampling, bedding and being.

And I know now the satisfaction of my

pillow of fern my blanket of birch

my comforter of stars.

I’m allergic to feathers and polyester

but not to ferns.

Hay fever season hits hard

but not like the shock of never having slept

until I slept in Algonquin Park.

Cradled by the sounds of

scurrying animals, startled awake by falling branches.

I dream of the smoke and crackle of fire what warms one

side of my body and makes desire of the other.

The smoke sears my nostrils and makes me more

a man today and more a woman tomorrow.

© S.I. Shaw

Prophet Walking

Prophets are not made

they are stories told

variations of truths.

Complete inaccuracies

of people judged

by what they have done

considered new history.

Are there prophets among us?

non religious.

In between silence people

that move waves and hear echoes.

When they speak do their words

escape them before they have thought them.

Continuously chasing an escaping idea.

The light of day is their competition.

Self revealing heartfelt truths

of people they don’t know.

Strangers all up.

Strangers all down.

Here they come

thinking the truth

wondering where it went.

It was just here a minute ago

did you hear it did you see it?

There it is again.

Down in the middle of the road

sandals in hand

scarf around the neck

toe ring scraping sparks on the pavement.

As he walks

potholes recover

and gutters retreat.

He walks among us

© S.I. Shaw

Nature: A Love Story

Released from nature and captive to the city

I once was only confined by daylight

My seasons mean less and children only see red

I cry in the spring but only for the death f old man winter

Who has taught me stoicism and

Self reflection for it is he who

Has the clearest sight of the

Stars that appear closer

He cries with me to speed away

The snow to strike a match

To ignite our love and the candle

That will heat your life much like mine

It is sad to not see the children

Prepare for winter, with their processes

I know my work is complete

That my lessons learned and not just for a time

For you see every time they begin anew

They repeat

And

Life is repetition

I have done this before

Don’t take them away and

Cage them as you have caged me

Let them be what was once me

Watch and study them much the

Way you should be studying the wolves

Their cries are telling you something and

You are haunted by not listening

You have learned so much about so little

You explorers of technology

Your weapons will kill you I only mean to correct

I am not upset I only want you to know that I am

Not a creation or invention that you – try as you might

Recreate

I am an evolution that hears the cries of my children

And know what they will do next

© S.I. Shaw

Migration

Destined to fly and not just anywhere

She runs out on this cold dark night

Taken the path not learned

Not through the tunnels or the dirt roads

But marking the sky where children learn

That people can fly and not just airplanes

It’s a cold crisp night the joggers breath

Breads new light in the charcoal lungs

Of the city dweller

If I miss your line I will have missed your might

Not something you forget

Winter boots, mittens and a tuque

Do you all come back?

It must be such a finale the beginning of new

To take to the free and never question why

Continents were once this way and now we have lost our map

What happens when you fly straight in a circle and I in a box

© S.I. Shaw

Apologia

It's that primary destination

feet guided by a gilded mind

and a soul tested by time

Three stances made a man a warrior

and politics are in debt

to the people who believe that

not everybody lies.

Truth be told everybody lies.

Chasing the memories in my

mind I have never lied with my pen

and therefore my apology can not be read but only heard.

© S.I. Shaw

A walk through Baghdad

Bending alders in a forest lost

To find my way I memorize the trees

And smell the air the remnants of rain

My boots are wet socks soaked

With the days journey

I am full of history I am not alone

Warriors walked this line before

And left not a map but bent alders

I can’t tell if I a m walking in their shoes

Only that I feel different

My feet fit into the ground beneath me

Instead of on top

They conform now much different than when I was young

Not aware of the importance of my feet touching the earth

More and ore of us are leaving

Our home and moving to captivity

Linked together ‘centric’ concentric

And our feet no longer touch the ground

And nor do our lives

I walked this walk before

And never felt my feet

I feel the energy and the sadness and feel a rhythm

Tonal impulses they reverberate through each step

Each a different meaning

I only wished I walked some more

© S.I. Shaw