We are not cartoons

Choose your words carefully friend, you are not a cartoon. There is no bubble on top of your head.

You are not a penciled image on paper, or even a sketched doodle with ink, your words cannot be erased. If you look down, there is ground, not a messy desk. There are no pencils, or rulers, or any sight of a single eraser scattered around you.

I hope you choose words of affection, like love, adore, and admire. Those words last longer, they ignite desire. They find our soul, and set it on fire. A burning flame that brings out passion, and, probably, a few good ol’ fashion belly laughs.

Be careful then, where you step my friend, that pothole is permanent, it’s not made of scrape paper, it won’t move when the artist tips the page. He’s already applied the crazy glue, and trust me, you’ll fall through, if you’re not careful where you step.

Yes, this life has so many obstacles, it’s hard to know where to go, and sometimes we misstep. Trust me, I have, so many times. But those harsh words you say, you can’t ever take them back. One word may seem harmless, one step could deem worthless, but I’m telling you, or maybe I’m reminding myself, you can’t take anything back.

So I pleadenly say,

Choose your words carefully friend, you are not a cartoon. There is no bubble on top of your head.


The Space between Now and Then

I feel impatient in this phase of life, as if waiting for nothing. All the space between now and then seems vast, a black hole that color can’t even seem to blast. My mind writes in simple rhymes, ignoring recklessness, trying desperately to pass the time, not even willing to conjure up some brilliant phrase of made up intelligence.

I move in fast forward through these hours and minutes, filling the in between with urgency and anxiety, simply clinging to any piece of insanity, still silently waiting.

Making myself so miserable today, because I just want tomorrow. I just want the end of the year, I can’t wait until it’s five years from now. I can’t wait until everything is hunky dorey, when I can tell a different story.

I know what you’re thinking, I know what you’ll say. Stop moving so fast, and enjoy this day, this moment right here, just stay. Move too fast and you will miss it, just trying to stay in it. That lane where you were supposed to turn, your eyes were closed, you didn’t learn. Another moment ruined.

And I hear you.

I’m trying not to move so fast, you see, but this isn’t where I thought I would be. A wrong turn, a missed dream, distractions seem eminent. Confusion sets in, and now I wonder, what is really relevant?

Then someone said, our whole life is simple poetry… I wish you could see that.

I suddenly realize, that maybe I’m stuck.

Placed myself somewhere inbetween all the bad decisions made from heart ache and longing, that I’m dodging, neglecting the now, too busy waiting for then. Then, I’ll be great, then, I’ll be happy, then, I’ll have more money, then, someone will love me, then, I will be free.

In this misguided, unoccupied space, between now and then, the blackness in which the journey has yet to be sighted, maybe I am actually free. Free to be me, to be the me I’ve always longed to be, to see, to be a rooted tree. Able to build a foundation where the blackness can fade, and dreams can be made. Stop simply daydreaming, and start doing. Create the opportunities in which colors are prominent, and determination, is deviant. Reach for something that is beyond temporary expedient.


Happy Thansgiving!

What are you grateful for?

This question seems fitting, on the day of thanksgiving. I have so many things to be grateful for.

Yet, so often get lost in misery, I don’t feel very visionary. I focus on what’s going wrong, instead of turning to grateful chivalry.

Like when I look around this city, there are so many beautiful things to see, and I have a family that loves me.

I am fit and able, capable of so many things, and there is always food sitting on my makeshift table.

I have my wits about me, though very nearly, never went fully crazy.

Yes, the smoking is bad, but I’m grateful for the opportunity to be able to take a silent moment in chaos, and actually thank society.

Like, did you know? I’m super grateful for you. Yes, you, the one with eyes that’s reading free. See, I don’t say thank you enough, because it’s you, that’s actually teaching me to be, and sometimes that scares me.

Yes it might be cheesy, if nothing but cliche, I’m grateful for the sun and moon. For everyday, I get to sleep till noon, in a brand new bed with tons of blankets, even if there is no other spoon.

So on this day of Thanksgiving, the one that you are living, what are you grateful for?


Good morning!

I’m sorry to anyone who has to deal with me in the mornings. After two cups of coffee, I’m still sleepy eyed and tongue tied… even more then normal.

All you bushy eyed, wide smile, cheerful morning people say, “Friend! The sun is hope! A new chance, a slow quiet dance, put on your big girl pants, maybe today you’ll find romance!”

See, romance is the longing, but romance is rare. As common as a bear, wondering the streets of this city. It happens, but only on a dare.

Maybe someone who is desperate, will wager a glance, but very few, will pick up the lance, get on the horse and all the heavy metal gear, wiggle the helmet tighter, be a warrior and roar. Lunging forward with all his soul and might, absorbing risk with action, valiant of a King. But most, won’t risk the blow.

Just let me sit here, alone, and drink another cup of coffee.

So I’m sorry to anyone who has to deal with me in the mornings.

Usually the grump in me is the first to be awake. Bringing out the worst, like devil stares and solemn glares. Just wants to curl up and protest, the whole damn way. When logic appears, usually after two cups of coffee, hope seems a tiny bit restored. Maybe I will get my chance, maybe I will find romance.

I guess there is no way to know, unless I get out of bed, put clothes on instead, and maybe down another cup of coffee.

See, it’s in the mornings where my insecurities live. Doubt creeps in, and I think I’m not good enough, that maybe I’m not pretty enough, or probably too weird. I sometimes have to wait for logic to awake, so she can tell me how beautiful I really am. That weird is good, and standing out in a crowd, is usually the best bet anyway. After two cups of coffee, I can look in the mirror with confidence, and see how awesome I really am.

Cuz we’re all beautiful, in our own unique way, and I said that weird thing because I didn’t know what else to say. It’s time to embrace each breath, each moment, take that chance, and give it all you’ve got.

So if you catch me in the morning, before two cups of coffee, I’m sorry, you’ll probably see the grumpy side of me. Just hand me some coffee, sit and wait, and it’ll all be ok.



Society is standing in front of me.

“Maybe you should try being a little less… you.” He looks at me with disdain. “I just don’t think people can handle all of… this.” He flips his hand to move alongside my body with a horrific facial expression. He huffs, and walks away.

I can feel the tears, rolling down my cheeks.

See, a second ago I felt like I was good enough, that I was pretty and tough. Enough, I thought that I was enough.

I heard you when you said someone else did it faster, better, smarter, longer, higher, cheaper. Someone else was sweeter. My words were a little harsh. Don’t get angry, don’t get mad. And laugh just a little bit quieter, and don’t wear that shirt, it makes you look a little bit fluffier.

I’m trying so hard to fit in. Well, that’s what I tell myself. Secretly, I’m just doing what I really want to do. I don’t really like city living. Or hate, I hate city living. Eyes everywhere, nobody giving. Don’t act too weird, someone can see you and snear, and your voice, they certainly don’t want to hear. I’m sure by now I’ve made it into at least a couple dozen security videos. Probably celebrity status by now. Though for most people, I’m just a little bit too weird.

Society gives me a weird look.

Because I don’t play by the book.

– Deej

MC-7 – camping and cows!

Got to do some camping this summer.

I desperately needed a holiday, a break away from all this city life. So, by chance, I checked Airbnb to see what I could find.

The photo: was of a campsite, tucked away in the backwoods, just outside of Vernon. My heart did a leap. The caption, “Free roaming cows and horses are the only traffic jam here”. That’s your traffic jam? I was hooked. Wild cows? Please, sign me up!

A private campsite called MC-7.

I backed my work van into this gorgeous little site, huge firepit, a jug of water, and nothing but the trees softly rumbling. All alone under the shining stars. So quiet, I could hear the stars twinkling, and my lungs breathing, the firepit crackling, and the coyotes howling. A few scattered fellow campers, but nothing like the city life sardine packed can. Here, I could find my thoughts.

Life was pretty good in that moment.

True to the ad, on the way up, I passed a couple horses along the side of the road. A little ways up, I caught a glimpse of the cow crew. A bunch of black cows, chilling under the tree right beside the road. Hey friends.

When I left, I saw them again. This time, there was a brown cow hanging out. Standing tall, looking at me all tough, like he’s the leader of this crew. I’ll definitely see you again, Slick. For a second, I held his gaze.

My second time up there, not one cow on the roads! I even went for walks to try and find them…sigh, maybe they forgot about me.

Then, my second morning there, I was blissfully enjoying a lazy morning in my bed, and I heard a ruckus. What the fuck are the neighbors doing? So I get up to look… and the whole crew of cows are standing right in front of my van! Hello friends!!

Awesome, what a way to start the day!

So I get up, put on the slippers, glance down to make sure I’m at least dressed half way appropriate, go say good morning, and chase them off the property. Cutie lil cows. So, I wrote this….

I made a friend today, I call him, Bear, cuz, well, he looks like a bear. I met him on the drive up, he didn’t look all that tough.

But I have to admit, the cows caught my attraction first. I wanted to stop, offer some salt sticks, and give them all names.

Something ridiculous like, the brown one would be called Slick, he was prime of the pick. Solid, though a little bit sketchy. His mooing is a little bit derogatory, and despite being warned, repeatedly enters hostile territory.

The black one beside him, the one with the attitude, always nodding her head like she’s protesting gratitude, her name is Slim, though it really doesn’t describe her physical aptitude.

The rest of the crew have names that are normal for cows, like Cassidy and Harry, Gloria and Jim. They’re just the support crew, following along with Slick and Slim.

Welcome to Man Camp, lot seven, where the King is in charge. Please check out by ten, and yes, please, do come back often.

Phenomenal place, phenomenal host. Best Airbnb I’ve ever been at. If you’re ever around the Vernon, BC area, I highly suggest checking it out!





Standing in the middle of a crowd, in the middle of this city, I feel like a simple shadow.

Glanced at, barely recognizable, indistinguishable, a walk by, a dot, something so unimportant, each glance is inadvisable. A shadow in this world makes no difference, and once the world goes dark, I am no longer there. People walk by, I am seen, but virtually invisible.

Some days I crave to remake this life, these choices, these steps walked, each decision that got me to this exact moment in time and space.

Maybe I would have made better choices.

I know what you’re saying, and if I was still praying, I’d probably believe it too. “Trust me, you won’t be a shadow forever!” And “this too, shall pass.”

But see, my words come out all jumbled, and I never say the right thing. I sometimes stumble when I walk… trip over giant nonexistant boulders, that sort of thing. Do you see me? Yes, I’m here. Maybe my voice isn’t loud enough. Maybe that stranger ran into me because I didn’t say excuse me. Or maybe I’m just walking through bear country, quiter than a mouse, creating this fake illusion, of a shadow unseen.

But I hide when people see me, and run in the other direction when there’s a simple connection. Like there’s a misfire between my thoughts, my mouth, and my soul.

I’m tired of standing still, waiting for the sun to warm me, waiting for this shadow to become tangible. I’m tired of crying, of lying, of this feeling of slowly dying.

If you see me, will you take my hand? I long to feel the tingle of your embrace, and I am so exhausted from running this race alone.

– Deej


My week has come to this.

As I stare down the silver can of red bull, waiting for the sugar, taurine, caffeine and vitamins to hit my system and give me promised wings, I sigh.

Life is not supposed to be this way. Days fueled by fake energy… caffeine and candy. 35 hours of work, and I’m only half way through thursday.

The clock ticks like a metrodome, steady and constant, but some days, it feels like it slows.

I don’t remember eating breakfast today, or even leaving the house. I know I had eggs, because the dirty pan is still on the stove. Then, half way to my destination, I realized I forgot my phone. I found it tucked into my bed and almost said “fuck it”, I wanted to lay down with it, and bury my woes.

How do you write about a janitor job and a borrowed car? It’s not like I’m a star, a borrowed car, a bottle in a jar. While everyone goes home and undresses, I head out and clean everyone’s messes.

Lifes current aspiration, be a damn good janitor, and drive the company car!

Today, in total, I cleaned 15 toilets. On bended knee, like bowing to a king on his throne, scrubbed until I was a drone. Removed the brown and yellow stains, and called it a day.

I wish I could hurry up time, need the dime, but feel like a mime. I want to fast forward to the end of this year. But doesn’t feel like I’m getting anywhere near.

While some people strive in all this chaos, I like to take it a little bit slower.

Island time, mountain time, the small parts of the universe that time, is just time. The places where you go, and simply sit and watch the trees flow, sit, and wait for the snow, go slow, take time to grow.

On shaky legs, I walk this land, creeping pretty close the edge. Working hard, but I guess I’m just searching for the right motivation. I know I’ll get there, but need to keep the daily dedication.

I think the wings are here, kinda feels like I’m flying. Ok, back to work, toilet number 16, no, I’m not lying.

– Deej



Is not always

For the faint of heart.

For some,

These expressions

can be kind of



It’s only a fraction

Of a second,

In a mind

Full of traction.

Don’t waste your time

If you can’t read

Between the lines,

Or handle the rhymes,

This expression is truly


So turn your head


Just go to bed.

I know you can’t handle

This whole

Loaf of bread.

Critizice, demonize,

It really doesn’t matter,

I know

Your soul can’t handle being so


– Deej

Soul on fire

It’s the challenge of putting words together, in a combination, that no one else has.

It’s the thrill of finding a sentence, with words that will only likely pass.

Make it rhyme, and you have a fun time, filling every line. You giggle at this, and in that, find your bliss, this ones a hit, not a miss.

String words together, hopefully it make sense, other times, I wonder if I’m dense. I hope you’re not sitting there, perched on the fence, I hope you’re not sitting there depressed and all tense. Life is supposed to be fun, so let’s go sit in the sun. Don’t get all caught up in the pre – tense.

Maybe sing a song of sixpence?

Don’t just sit there, looking all mad. Life, is supposed to make you glad. What is all this crying, and shouting, and fearing? Is there some way I can make you un – sad?

Cuz I don’t know what I’m doing either.

Sometimes I’m great, and I know who I am. But other days, all I can manage is a stamm – er.

So just do what your heart desires. Baby, let’s light those fires. Will someone please grab the wires?

We’re going to spark this one up.

Sometimes, I miss love.

I have been single now, for two and a half years.

Dying alone, is amongst many – of my fears.

So in true society linger, I download the popular app called tinder, and I’m chatting with this guy. Suddenly I thought, I don’t ever want to meet him, this was only a whim, (I think his name was Tim?) – It was Dave actually, but Tim just rhymed. The name of the ex, ya, that took away the flex, perplexed, I sit here mystified. I sit here with my brain all fried. There’s no way I want to be tied – to this one. A name is a name, individualized, it’s never the name to blame, but how do you date a guy with a name of the flame that never brought you – sex?

I deleted my account, rudely, fast, without saying goodbye, I knew it wouldn’t last.

Sometimes, I miss love.

So much sometimes that I create stories in my head. I literally bumped into him while I was running, and he was absolutely stunning. He ran a hand through is hair, showed his teeth with a smile. Instantly, I feel like I just ran 20 miles. It’s that instant connection, the one I’ve been talking about. We went for coffee just down the block, because he didn’t want to wait to call. Oh yes, it only took me five minutes to fall.


Or when I’m out for a coffee, taking myself on a date, I imagine my life with the gorgeous guy down by the gate. Holy attractive nation his deep voice booming with admiration…oh shit, here he comes, will he notice my exaggeration? Will he feel the vibes as I stare him down looking for the words. Crap, sorry dude, not looking at you, I’m admiring the birds. It’s a tell all for the story, but your part is imaginary.

Its so bad sometimes, I get disappointed when my “one” doesn’t appear. I go out expecting, and whole heartedly accepting, but alas when no one draws near, my mind goes into perfecting. Stop looking lost, you are the boss, if no one comes forth, it’s truly their loss. Get rid of that moss, its definitely not helping, oh right, they can’t see that, well, that idea just toss. Now jog down this street, that guy there looks cute, just be careful, and don’t miss a beat. Before I even get to him, I know his shoe size, and feel giddy because he is the prize. Oh look, he’s got a girl on him, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.

It’s getting ridiculous, can’t even walk because of this, veering off here and there and all I can do is stare. I’m wondering so aimlessly, and daydreaming so shamelessly. I feel like a tiger on the prowl, east of eden, coming for you now.

So single I’ll remain, until I’m finally detained.

I’ll keep my mind busy, and explore this new city. I’ll fill each line, and make them rhyme, just to pass the time. I’ll drink Taquila, and add the limes, and let go -of any expectation.

Sometimes single sucks, but sometimes, it’s amazing.

– Deej


I don’t want to be a zombie.
With no thoughts, on my legs.
My phone is more important.
I won’t be that person,
Who trips
Over a log on the beach
I can’t peel my eyes away
For a second
From everyone else’s business.
I do
Want to be the girl
Who can’t stop staring
At the sun
And observe the sky
Fading into darkness.
I do
Want to be the girl
In the moonlight
And maybe oddly
Counting each star
In the sky.