The following is an extremely true account of what happened at work the other day. A Wenco is a computerized GPS dispatching thing that knows your every move every minute.

I was hauling off of shovel 9
It's Friday and I was feeling fine
Until my Wenco started going crazy
Telling me "start hauling loads, stop being lazy"
Well, we all know, the Wenco, it's gotta go
I'll be the first to say I told you so
But how to get rid of Big Brother GPS?
I knew I'd have to scheme and be devious
Just then the radio played some Miley Ray Cyrus
And it hit me! I know, I'll make a virus!
So I mashed all the buttons on that little unit
For good measure I thought I'd pull my pants down and moon it
But then something happened that was kinda weird
There on the screen a robot appeared
It laughed and said "Now you've gone and done it
"I've taken over your truck and now I'm gonna run it"
My seat belt, it wrapped around me I'm trapped
and my truck took off like a bat that'd been zapped
Went straight for the dump, passing 145
and if you know Myriame, you know that girl can drive
we came to a stop in front of Craig's dozer
and dumped it right there, not one rock went over
He was so mad he called me snot sausage
But it's not my fault! I'm being held hostage
What the Wenco did next I should have expected
It went on the network, and so it infected
all of the trucks and shovels in PC3 pit
that's when I thought I might be in deep shit
so I used ninja tricks to jump outta my truck
just my luck I landed knee deep in the muck
I pulled myself free and looked up to see
Shovel 9 with its bucket was coming at me
It tried to eat me! I swear it's the truth
Lucky for me it was missing a tooth
I jumped through the clamshell but no time to relax
I still had to dodge shovel 9's tracks
Swinging around it came in for the kill
Time to bust out all my GI Joe skill
I adopted my patented Miyagi stance
Part kungfu with voodoo and hiphop dance
With a jab and a feint and a flying round kick
I separated shovel 9's boom from its stick
My triumph short-lived as the rest of the fleet
was headed my way and I knew I was beat
I was just about to give up in defeat
When I heard on the radio Cito say "Sweeeeet!"
So I dodged and I kicked and I punched until three
That's when I stopped for coffee lunch and a pee
At 3:30 I said "Alright" and "You betcha!
"You're coming for me but I'm gonna getcha!"
I wrecked every last truck, including the Kresses
You shoulda seen Jimmy, you know how he stresses
But anyways, to make a long story short
This is the end of my Incident Report!

Pallas is turning two on Saturday. I won't even be here, I have to work. For that matter I'm missing Michelle's birthday which is the day before as well. Worst dad in the world.
Tomorrow we actually have to take Naia to the Stollery because of some concerns with jaundice or whatever. If that sounds like I'm fuzzy on the details, it's because I'm the world's worst dad. But also because the doctors haven't been exactly clear on what they're concerned about. How worried should we be? I dunno. I'm sure she's fine. Right? Please be fine.

World's Worst Dad

You're the world's worst dad she said
not with her words but with her eyes
and I must be because the accusation
doesn't even bother me I just laugh
and say despite what you may think
you are not actually the boss of me
but let me let you in on a secret
when I piss you off and tell you no
it's not to make you mad
but because I love you so much
I'd rather absorb your wrath
then fail you as a father

This one's for Jon.
Waaay back in the day we were in an Astronomy course together. First year university. It was an interesting class, not only because of the subject matter but also because we spent most of our time drawing X-Men and Star Wars guys and writing sonnets to various planets. I've been cleaning out the basement of junk and I came across our masterpiece, written during the lecture on the solar system's 4th planet, which I present, unedited, to you now:

Mars- The Sonnet

The funny thing about Mars
is that it's the same size as Earth only smaller
Not many people have cars
So to visit people they have to holler
you can jump real high over there
But one thing that's different is the air
If you attempt to breathe it you will die
So let me warn you to not even try
They have a big big volcano
Olympus Mons is its name-o
It has three moons, Phobos, Deimos
and Manhattan Island. But that is not THE most
amazing thing about Mars, Mars, Mars
That's where they make those candy bars

Fourteen lines, just like all other sonnets. That's about all it has in common with that fine artistic form though. Manhattan Island?
On the same page there is a poem about Saturn. The word "Saturn" is written out and around it are the words "Its rings circle it always" as if those words were the rings. Get it? Artistic!
But those were good times.

Here's a companion piece to the other one, also a bit overstated and I even feel a little weird putting it up since it kind of makes me sound, well, not how I am. Obviously there are plenty of people with way more interesting and crazy jobs than me. But though this is not a true story per se it's definitely a synthesis of a surprising number of experiences I've had.

You all have the same boring ass jobs
in some office somewhere doing whatever
you invite me to your house
and whine about work all night
I listen politely and nod where appropriate
then when it's time to go
you ask
how's work for you?
fine I say
what do you do again?
well, I perform heroic deeds
beyond the scope of lesser men
have a good night

Well, that's the last pseudo-commie proletariat propaganda poetry you'll get out of me for a while, sorry!

Happy Easter! Here's a poem about Hell:

Preacher says
Hell is sulfur and brimstone
a lake of fire
the absence of god
but he's full of shit
because I know
hell is a pit
gouged from the side of a mountain
carved, torn and bombed from solid rock
where giant machines bigger than dinosaurs
spit diesel fumes and piss hydraulic fluid
the only devils are dust devils made of coal
from that goddamned wind that never stops
we curse it hard enough to make a demon blush
when you're out there all night
and you find yourself knocked to the ground
watching your own blood drip onto the mud
you think
that preacher was right about one thing
there ain't no god here
but hell isn't red
Hell is black

For gabrielle:

Poe was on Facebook checkin out Lola's status:
"Of all the kittens in the world I think Poe is the fattest!"
Poe was spitting hissing mad so she wrote on Lola's wall
"You're a great big rusty car and the slowest of them all!"

Continuing adventures? Aren't they on totally different continents? Ah well, this is what I came up with off the top of my head. I liked the idea of a car and a cat keeping up on Facebook. Knowing those two they will be friends again in a minute.
Guess what? We bought snowshoes! Thanks to Steve for the inspiration. You can check out some photos from our snowshoe adventure here. On Flickr. Not Facebook, where all you ever get is trashtalking Sunfires.

Here's my annual Halloween poem, kind of inspired by the huge spiders we had living on our veranda all summer. We had an uneasy truce with them.

The spiders on the porch are banging on the door
I know better than to answer but what can I do?
I open the door
Ugh! They're even bigger than before
Listen you guys, you know the deal
you can weave your webs and eat whatever you catch out there
but you leave us alone in here
Those clusters of eyes stare at me
and those mouthpieces
drumming and drooling
disgusting
"Hungry!" they cry in those dessicated arachnovoices
Too bad. You know the deal
"We change the deal! Hungry!"
Sigh
Fine
Wait here
I stomp downstairs and turn on the lights
manage to grab two goblins before the rest scurry away
"Where are you taking them? My babies!"
The spiders are hungry. Sorry
"But we had a deal!"
Yeah well
Deals change

Yogic Flyers

have you heard of the yogic flyers?

their flyer caught my eye

the one on the bulletin board I mean

and I couldn't get them out of my mind

I always wanted to fly

though I was never much for yoga

but I went to their meeting

spent three hours 

bouncing on my bum

my friends laughed when I told them

and they howled when I showed them

but I'm just at stage 1

next week I'll learn stage 2

and after that

well

I'll wave to you from the clouds

Okay I don't really know where that came from, I just wanted to write a quick fun poem to prove I still can even with a baby in the house (helps that Grandma is here for a few days to help out). Check out this video for more on yogic flying. I think I saw Aang!

I like to celebrate Halloween with some hallloweenish writing- poetry or story or whatever. This is what I came up with this year- not really truly spooky halloweeny, but definitely in the vein. Can you tell I've been reading Wicked?

Statues are, by statute
somewhat stationary
By law they all must stand mute
with no vocabulary

This state of affairs
is fair to most sculptures
You think Thinker cares
about noisy adventures?

But a murder of crows
knows to ignore
the scarecrow that shows
less zest than a door

And so we propose
if Your Honor is willing
to allow all scarecrows
the option of killing

To murder the birds
Who eat all the crops
and steal from the herds
dropping their drops

With weapons of fright
Free scarecrows to fight
At least give them this right
On Hallowe'en Night!

I often think life would be so much easier if I could draw worth a damn. When I saw Lerms' fake movie poster for Attack of the Viking Zombie Babies I wanted to do something similar. And throw in some White/Rob Zombie goodness to boot. Basically, I wanted to make a Sideshowmonkey video (he did Rob Zombie's American Witch and Lords of Salem videos, among others). But I am not Hartman, I am Homie Bear, so instead I give you

Astro-Creep VS The Space Pumpkin

Streaking past the Oort Cloud in his '65 ThunderJeep
The undead dude with an attitude, the bastard called Astro-Creep
Comes flying past the Harvest Moon, screaming and careening
to reap a crop of little kids who go out Hallowe'ening
Ground up bones and pureed guts and sludge blood laced with sucrose-
the ghoulish fuel Astro-creep needs to terrorize the cosmos
But on Olympus Mons a red light turns on
threat detected by Trick-R-Treat-O-Tron
The Space Pumpkin leaps up, he knows the drill
He grins at the thought of a mutant to kill
He blasts off from Mars and heads for the stars
With his jetpack he's faster than a hundred squad cars
He jumps out in front of Astro-Creep's path
and launches an arsenal with a maniacal laugh
Solar spiders and asteroid bats rocket through the ether
Exploding on the ThunderJeep, above and underneath her
But Astro-Creep was far from beat, though he lost his cool
He shoots back nano-slime, laser snot and even robo-drool
Down below costumed kids see aurora borealis
Unaware 'twere an omen of freakyzoidal malice
But the Space Pumpkin was on it, he pulled out some tricks
With Vakuumquats and Saturn Squash and a whole gourdal mix
Orangish melons smash and micronovae explode
Greenish ones burst open and black holes implode
Astro-Creep was forced to retreat and knew for the first time fear
but with skull sockets blazing he swore revenge for next year
The Space Pumpkin laughed and said you can try
I'll use your brains to make space pumpkin pie
The children below are NOT yours to eat
Their souls are mine, they're MY trick or treat!

Astro-Creep, of course, is in reference to Astro-Creep 2000 and the song More Human Than Human. Did you know that song is very loosely about Blade Runner? That's where the title comes from.
Anyways, Happy Hallowe'en! For more Hallowy goodness, click on the halloween tag below. And my new blogbear, which is me dressed up as a panda, and offers a respite from the unremitting horror of my poetry, was done for me by Madison, aka Heartsmackingboombox.

In the tradition of last year's Love Poem, With Robots, I give you a brand new ode to the most beautiful woman in the world. I call it

Homie Bear Versus the Sasquatch

Homie Bear was trying to write a poem for his Mrs
A ‘Be Mine, Valentine’ with lots of hugs and kisses
But writing unbad love poetry isn’t very easy
It’s hard to avoid the clichés that always makes them cheesy
Suddenly a scary creature broke into the house
Ignoring Homie the monster went directly for his spouse
It grabbed Michelle and left the house, leaving Homie in it
Total time for this shocking crime was well under a minute
Homie was stunned- “That stupid sasquatch just came and stole my sweety
“In clear violation of the Bilateral Bear and Bigfoot treaty!”
Homie Bear immediately stopped working on his sonnet
His wife would need a rescue promptly so he got right on it
He ran outside and there in the snow was a talking Cupid’s Arrow
It said to Homie “Follow me I’ll keep you on the Straight and Narrow”
He climbed a mountain and swam an ocean and ignored some wild horses
Who for unknown reasons tried to make him go off on wrong courses
Eventually he came upon the secret sasquatch cave
Where he fought the biggest Bigfoot there by being very brave
He roared and growled and clawed and bit
Until the sasquatch had enough of it
It cried and panicked and ran away
So ole Homie won the fray
He hugged his wife and took her home
Where he read to her his poem:
Roses are red and violets are blue
I’d fight a savage sasquatch for you!

Finally, an Illustration Friday-type thing for writers like me! And you? Maybe! Much as I love browsing the IllFri, not being able to draw hampers my ability to take part by 100%. But I can write. So take a look at the Ten Word Wednesday challenge. You get ten words you have to incorporate into a poem. I jotted the words down on my notepad and went to the nearby SCup and came up with this- a poem loaded with fun and horror, if not literary merit (required words in unobtrusive grey):

Again, the ancient abomination awakens
virile vileness, destruction distilled, poetic putrescence
an ode to obscenity, reality’s requiem
its carapace a spiked and spiny agglomeration of illogical hues
the interstices of a thousand incisors crusted with remnants of exotic nourishment
neutronium-eyed, its stomach a black hole, a pulsar for a brain
it roars and the soundless vacuum shudders
the celestial spheres stop spinning, dismayed
as the unvanquishable avatar of avarice and annihilation
arises from the ooze, emerging from the dark matter that was its lair
in answer to an inexorable summons from the lesser dimensions
a tiny sprite, wingéd and naked, whistles a trill
and giggles in glee when her puppy comes running

Anyways, I just have to tell you how much I love Sinéad O'Connor's "Emperor's New Clothes." Thanks to XM Radio for introducing it to me. No thanks to FM radio for hiding it from me.

On deviantArt there's a meme going around where artists offer free sketches to anyone who wants one (up to ten, usually) so long as any takers offer the same . So I've taken up a few people on their offers, but rather than sketches I offer poems in return, since my sketches would be a terrible blight on the world. Here is the sketch Travis Hanson did for me, since I was in a mastodony mood last week:



And here is a poem I wrote at the request of Hermitchild, who also drew me a sketch that I will try to write a poem for as well, so I won't show it to you yet:

Little lemming, lemme in, lemme in
Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin
I'm not a big bad wolf and you're not a little pig
So just open up your door, quit being such a prig
No, I'm sorry, but I'm a little indisposed
which is why you can't come in and the door is staying closed
Listen, little lemming, just a second then I'll go
You're probably a salesman so my answer still is no
Little lemming, little lemming, please just let me in
No! Now my patience is starting to wear thin
You keep standing at my door, yammering and talking
I say go away and still you keep on knocking
Sorry little lemming, I know I am a boor
But I won't go away until you open up that door!
I know what you did, how you let those lemmings die
You led them off a cliff by claiming they could fly
Now little lemming, lemme in, lemme in
So I can serve you this subpoena so you can pay for your sin!

The two typefaces are to distinguish voice, which you probably figured out on your own. I wanted to make use of the obvious lemming stereotype while still doing something a little unique.

Pirate Month: Rhyming and Stealing
A poem about pirates! The seeds for this poem were originally planted three years ago when PotC first came out, and I just never got around to writing it till yesterday- it was surprisingly hard to figure out the best way to write it. Not sure if I hit the nail on the head but I'm happy with it.

The Pyrite Pirates
Arrr! Cap’n o’ the Midas’ Revenge be I
Doomed to sail the seven seas till I die
Which might be this day if I don’t get my say
N’ if my bilge-sucking mates instead get their way
Aye, bucko, ‘tis true, that I, Fearsome Stu
Must now contend with a mutinous crew
“By thunder!” they cry, “We can’t help but wonder
“If not for your blunder would we still have some plunder?
“ ‘Twas you that pilfered that mermaid’s purse
“Bringing upon us the mermaid’s curse!
“So now walk the plank, n’ join Davey Jones
“Where the fishes n’ squids can chew on your bones!”
“Me hearties!” say I, “Pray let me reply
“Before you condemn your poor Captain to die
“Aye I admit, that down in our hold
“All of our booty has been turned to Fool’s Gold
“But my dear pigeon Pauly don’t care about carats
“He only wants to be changed back to a parrot
“That mermaid’s magic turned everything fake
“But we’re men n’ we’re pirates! We steal n’ we take!
“I mean, shiver me timbers! It could ha’ been worse
“We could ha’ been hexed with a Dead Man’s Curse
“So come, buccaneers, let’s put bygones aside
“Weigh anchor n’ hoist Jolly Rodney with pride!”
I could see that me words had stirred their black hearts
I would escape with me life and all o’ me parts
“Arrr!” roared me mates, “You’re still Fearsome Stu
“N’ we be your crew n’ we’ll always stay true!”
I stepped off o' the plank on to the poop deck
I thanked me smooth tongue for saving me neck
“Now scurvy dogs, ahoy and avast
“Sing me our shanty while we sail real fast-
“Yo ho ho and a bottle of juice
“The Pyrite Pirates are on the loose!”


Bonus booty to anyone who gets the joke embedded in the Captain's name. And mermaid's purses really exist!

The book I just read had potential- it dealt with a classic sci-fi concept. The idea is that Jupiter could possibly support life, sort of manta ray whale-like zeppelin beings, living in the atmosphere. I've read some great stories with this concept, but alas, this book was not one of them. I could forgive the terrible dialog and stock characters, but the ending was just too ludicrously dumb. Oh well- it passed the time on our circuitous route to and from Smithers.
Speaking of circuitous routes, here is my poetic homage to Jovian aliens.

Hydrogen

My entire world is made of clouds
just sky and sky and sky and sky
I sail on the unending windcurrents
serene in silent singing meditation
never to see the same place twice
I carefully avoid the colossal storms
that rage for thousands of your years
and are twice the size of your world
these cyclones are our terrible gods
and when we die, we merge with them

But such weighty matters are for
our songs that ripple and evolve
endlessly as we call to each other
across the vast sea of clouds
these songs are our own, inscrutable
Mysteries beyond your reach
for you, I use these tiny words
fit for tiny beings on tiny worlds

You also have clouds, I am told
in a blue sky with a yellow sun
and something else besides, eery and
alien to our behemoth brains
an enigma to contemplate for eons
as we travel our circuitous routes
in wonderment we try to comprehend
that on your world, you have a surface
___________________________

The first time I ran into this idea was in a Ben Bova book, I forget the name. And does anyone happen to remember a story where the main guy was changed into a sluggy sort of creature so he could hang out on Neptune? Anyways, back to one of my favorite authors with the best name ever, Greg Bear, for The Forge of God. One of Jupiter's moons goes missing in that one.

In honor of Rob Zombie's new CD and zombies in general, Homie Bear proudly presents :

Lair of the ZomBear

Deep in the Woods, where it's all overgrown
There lurks a menace, unseen and unknown
Rotting flesh comes together in hideous dread
An army arises of animal undead!
Poor Homie Bear is fishing, quite unaware
That he's stumbled on the lair of the Fell Zombie Bear
"Grurp" Homie belched, as he spit out the bones
of the trout he had caught, into the pine cones
So he turned around and went back to fishing
Not hearing the bones make sounds of gut-squishing
The zombie fish pounced and Homie Bear yelped
As zombie fish scales smeared all over his pelt
Gross! Homie yelled as his paws made a splat
Crushing the zombie's putrid corpse flat
But Homie's ordeal wasn't over, as from the forest lurched
Zombie bees, zombie beavers, zombie birds, zombie birch
"Eeewww!" Homie said, "It's a whole zombie zoo
"Zombie elk, zombie rabbits, even zombie poo!"
"Brains!" the zombies groaned, "We eat you brains!
"We suck you guts and you blood from you veins!"
"No!" Homie said, "Anyone else you might scare
"But I am a big, bad, burly old bear!"
So Homie attacked, and zombie flesh flew
He killed 'em all (except for the poo)
But the King of the Zombies, the dread Zombie Bear
Emerged, dripping flesh, from his cavernous lair
"Rarrgh," roared the Zombear, and Homie's heart sank
Not only was it scary but the ugly thing stank!
But it was skeletally slow and not very smart
(It had eaten its own brain as well as its heart!)
So, bolder than a boulder and twice as brave
Homie lured the Zombear back into his cave
Simple and easy, like the best kind of traps
Homie kicked in a pillar and caused a collapse
The Zombear was buried in a pile of debris
And Homie went home, for another day free
But the Zombear was an undead corpse re-animation
And under them rocks he was just in snug hibernation!

Happy Valentine's Day! May you not be embittered by this oft-heartless day. Here is a V-Day poem dedicated to my amazing wife- not one of those mushy and cliched poems, with lots of references to eyes being like oceans,though, or climbing really high mountains. It's just a love poem, with robots. In fact, that's what it's called:

Love Poem, with Robots


A fleet of technospaceships
full of robots
from the planet Technotopia X
arrived at Earth the other day
looking for the meaning of life
and love
all the questions of the human condition
that have plagued robotkind since
at least the golden age of pulp fiction
they sent a robot researcher
down to study you and I
and make a report to the mothership
he followed us around
mostly unobtrusive
but occasionally pestering us with
tiresome requests to clarify some
figure of speech
that he took literally
anyways
he kept a careful tally
medians modes and means
of every time we
hugged
touched
said I love you
he returned to his
mothership
to report on his findings
love is
he said in his robot voice
love is . . .
love . . .
love . . . does not . . .
compute
love . . .
and then
his technoneural processors
fried
and he died
so the fleet of technospaceships
fled
back to Technotopia X
we felt sad
I said
I loved that little guy
and you said
I love you!
I laughed
and said
I love you too!

Here's a poem I wrote last month, never really came up with a good title for it. Just a little wistfulness, and robots. This picture helped crystallize an idea that's been floating in my head for quite a while.

I remember reading
books with titles like
‘The Year 2000 and Beyond’
that promised
acid rain
from brown skies
at lunchtime
Comforting dystopia
for an alien yet inevitable
civilization
where
through the gloom the
red lights of robot eyes
offer you their umbrellas
and guide you across the street

We are well beyond the year 2000
and I stand at a crosswalk
in the pH-neutral rain
with my robotic suit and tie
the red lights of SUVs blurry in the gloom
while Pod people briskly walk by
safe in their isolation and
dystopian comfort
and I realize I would trade
every crosswalk crossing robot
and shark-shaped submarine
for a chance to go back
and read those crazy books
while my mom made me hot chocolate
and said
“Why don’t you go outside and play?”

Cadaverous Cattle

I got another
rejection slip
in the mail today
no one wants to publish my article
about the strange place
only I know about
and even then
I’m not entirely sure where it is
I found it by accident
it’s a place where
brains grow out of the ground like
cabbages
and herds of zombie bovines graze on them
unholy cows
shuffling and ambling
chewing their grey matter cuds
heedless of the giant blue
buzzards
that tear off strips of undead flesh
robot herdsmen watch over their deadstock
keeping the scavengers away
by throwing
robot rocks
at them
one of them saw me
and hefted a glowing electronic
stone
I thought he was waving
so I waved back
and was knocked
unconscious
when the little missile
hit me
I woke up back at home
with no idea how I’d gotten there
and worse
no idea how to get back
and now no one wants to publish my article
until I get photos
and an exact location
after some careful research
I think I might be able to find it
so I’m going back
with my camera
a compass
and a catcher’s glove

The idea for this came last week on nightshift, when I had an image of a field of brain plants come into my brain. Almost as if planted. So I thought about it some more and came up with a whole ecosystem.

This poem is a direct result of driving around Cape Breton Island, listening to the Gorillaz' (and Dennis Hopper's) "Fire Coming Out of the Monkey's Head", and mulling over Dan Simmons' Ilium, a curious tale about the Trojan War on Mars, among other things. And if this reminds you of the Iron Giant, that's okay, too. Stuff written on one's honeymoon need not be very original or amazing, as long as it's about robots.

The Lighthouse Cove

At the edge of the world
where green grass meets blue sea
a lighthouse stands
where it has kept vigil
for over a century
guiding ships safely
past the rocks

Then one day
with a sea storm's suddenness
a giant black robot
over a hundred feet tall
and not quite humanoid
descended from space
and landed
next to the lighthouse

The residents of the sleepy little cove
watched with apprehension
and wariness
waiting for the strange thing
to do something
anything
probably devour them all
but all it did
was incline its head
toward the heavens

Slowly they overcame their fear
and approached the black shell
the robot didn't devour anyone
it didn't react at all
the braver boys discovered
that it made a hollow clanging sound
when you hit it with a rock
and the girls drew on it with chalk

Inevitably the government came
and so did the tourists
while the residents went about their lives
some of them got jobs as tour guides
in the Robot Interpretive Center
all the while
the lighthouse stood guard
and the robot didn't move
though sometimes its eyes glowed
different colors

The government and all its
secret organizations
could not discover the robot's origins
though there were lots of books
with all kinds of
conspiracy theories
and crackpot hypotheses
sparking endless debate
and boredom
while the robot stood tall
next to the lighthouse

Many years later
with no warning
the robot flew away
leaving the lighthouse behind
where it remained impassive
searching the seas for ships in distress
while the citizens scanned the skies
to no avail
so they returned to their lives
in their sleepy little village
now devoid of government and tourists
and they renamed it
Robot's Cove