A Letter to the Editor

August 29, 2011

I was just wondering why you  let so many people suffer?Is it because you are too busy up there?Have you lost interest in this little experiment of yours?The other day I watched someone standing in front of a congregation actually say “You love us and there is nothing we can do about it.” Are we to bask in the warmth of your love?Lately,your love hasn`t helped too many people.How about a little divine intervention.Stop some of the suffering.I know your manual says “spare the rod and spoil the child”but this seems a little extreme.I hope you don`t think I am being out of line talking this way.Could you please get back to me when you can spare a moment.

Disenchanted

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Not quite a sonnet

August 29, 2011

Turtle like I sped to the fountain`s edge

to swallow water sweet,but parched my throat.

With broken feet I marched nigh to the glen.

Ten years,it seemed,had passed me by.I did dote

upon the evening star;chide,muse,and hope

upon the evening star.Heart interloped,

forced craving for a hearth.Head over-ruled.

don`t be a fool to wish past remedy.

Fast must heart and rearrange grim melody.

Dull fuming days drawled crawling by.Crazed man

was I,with yearning soul,that tried to hide

his blistering foal,and later whined and raved.

Dusty

August 26, 2011

This is Dusty.He is my little buddy that I rescued from the SPCA.

October 13, 2009
Museum piece

Museum piece

Slammy Gets a Christmas Gift

December 26, 2007

Slammy McCrae was a klutz.He was the type of guy that would always drop his books when he came into a classroom.Other kids in the neighbourhood would always laugh at him.They called him Slammy because he always slammed into things-like walls.Or he tripped over curbs and fell with a loud slam.

His parents told him that he needed to be more organized.His room was always a mess.He could never find things-like his pencils or even clean socks.Slammy lacked self-confidence.

He was so self conscious that he ended up having accidents because he was constantly worrying about having accidents.Even hanging Christmas lights was a hassle for Slammy McCrae.He was so worried about falling off the ladder that he fell off of it just when some neighbourhood kids were walking by.They laughed of course.Slammy was very embarrassed,especially since one of the kids was Francine Juniper.

He had a crush on her since elementary school but couldn`t even look at her,much less talk to her.Now this!Not only was Slammy embarrassed,he was angry with himself.He tried to get up but got all tangled up in in the string of Christmas lights he had been hanging.

Francine didn`t laugh at him.She secretly had a crush on Slammy.Francine actually thought his clumsiness was kind of cute.Francine saw that Slammy was struggling to get up and struggling to get himself untangled.She went over to help him knowing the other kids would say some nasty things.

Slammy was obviously in some pain.When he saw Francine running towards him he tried to get up fast,lost his footing,and fell straight onto a string of lights.Several lights got crushed and a few shards of glass stuck into his backside.He howled like a wolf.

The other kids howled in laughter.Francine held out her hand to Slammy but he felt so foolish that he wouldn`t take it.Francine`s face turned as bright red as a Christmas bulb.Those cruel kids began to razz her mercilessly.They said Francine was Slammy`s girlfriend.Tears began streaming down her face.

Poor Slammy,sitting in the snow with a rainbow of glass stuck in his ass.He didn`t even want to try to get up until all the kids were gone.Afterwards,he gingerly pulled the glass out of his agonized derriere.

Slammy realized that Francine was trying to help him and knew that his reaction to her offer was really dumb.He knew he made her look bad.Yet he felt elated because Francine wanted to help.Slammy was determined to make it up to her.But how?

If only he could build up the courage to talk to her.Slammy decided to drop a Christmas card in her mailbox with a note in it inviting Francine to his house for eggnog and home-made Christmas cookies.

Unfortunately,while walking up her driveway to put the card in the mailbox Slammy slipped on some ice and fell on his butt again.The card flew out of his hand and went under an evergreen tree.Slammy got on his hands and knees and crawled through the snow looking for the card.

Just then the same neighbourhood kids that laughed at Slammy earlier showed up and started pelting him with snowballs.One of them said”Look!Its Francine`s boyfriend…Is she under the tree waiting to be unwrapped?”Another said”No.He is pretending he is humping Francine in the snow!”They laughed even louder than before and started to cover Slammy with snow.

Francine`s Mom stepped out onto her front porch and hollered at them to”Get the hell outta here you rotten kids!”The kids took off.Francine ran out her front door and knelt beside Slammy.She started brushing the snow off of him.

Francine asked Slammy why he was crawling around in the snow.He reached under the tree and pulled out the card.He said triumphantly”I was looking for this.”Francine took the card from Slammy`s outstretched hand,opened it,and read the note.Slammy stood up.

He looked at her bashfully as he tried to gauge her reaction to the contents of the note.Francine turned to her Mom,who was still standing on the front porch,and yelled”I finally got me a boyfriend!”Slammy was so startled that he fell backwards into a snowbank.Francine threw herself on top of him and they both started laughing.Slammy said”And I finally got what I wanted for Christmas!”They saw the other kids watching them from across the street and threw snowballs at them.

Russ Storms

August Rain Pours

November 9, 2007

Mind soaks

with yesterday.

Rain stops.

Silence…is

deafening.

Quiet

solitude remains,

listening for

anyone at all.

A Work In Progress?

November 5, 2007

It was a needless death.

A child no one knows.

Blame public debt.

Found face down in the snow.

He got really cold.

Where is his mother?

Will his story get told?

Its not my problem,why bother?

Laying Awake At Night

October 28, 2007

Laying awake at night unable to sleep,having drunk too much coffee,I remember tasting musty year old hardened dust crumbly shortbread cookies and mouth watery sweet orange cake Mom baked.Cake baked with orange peels when Mom had the patience.I remember the taste of gluey porridge smothered with brown sugar and drowned with watery Carnation Powdered Milk.I remember the penicillin green mouldy sawdusty muffins found in that weatherbeaten woodshed out behind our house where the old man was found already dead ten months.Eating them was like eating cotton.Greasy salty pig chops smelled good-tasted even better.I remember eating sweet clover and bitter bitter bayleaves.I savour the memory of so sour unripe grapes found near the rusted corpse of a car when we would wage the dandelion wars.I almost feel my tounge burning with a mouthful of apple pie fresh from the oven.The dirty plastic taste of grimy poker chips invades my memory but quickley dissipates as I remember smelling steaming new potatoes smothered in marjarine just before supper.I can nearly smell those musty damp old magazines found in the basement beside the water heater.Mostly Cosmopolitans Mom had collected for years and had forgotten.I remember choking on chalk dust clouds banged out of erasers after school.I held my nose.I also held my nose because of the heaping kitty litter ready to be changed-it stunk.I might roll over and happen to remember feeling the heartbeat of a kitten in my palm as I feel my heartbeat against the bed.If I scratch my head I remember rubbing my scalp after a crew-cut.It tingles.In the warmth of my bed I reflect upon the cold cold waters of Lake Ontario.I swam in it one April.My memory swings to the tantrum day.I tempermentally accidentally pierced my hand with six nails-ouch!Laying here on this soft bed with soft sheets beneath me I am thankful Gramma`s plastic sheet is not under them crinkling and sticking.Silence.Echoing in my mind is the sound of Grampa`s whistling resonating in every corner of the house-soothing.Heartwarming-kittens mewing for their mother`s breasts,purring when they finally suck.If I press my ear to the pillow I hear my brother loudly gulping milk from the jug before Mom catches him.Sitting up I swear I can hear the accordion of Harry Hibbs blaring on the Sears record player.Mom clanking in the kitchen.Laying awake as a boy I would allow air to escape from my mouth in(what I thought anyhow were)rythmic bursts that drove my brother crazy.If I stare at the ceiling long enough the jolting image of a dead boy laying in the street appears.He was ruined by some fast car late for dinner and all of us stood around looking for blood while his mother cried.If I press my hand against my eye the afterimage looks like the floating Great Pumpkin Moon on Hallowe`en.Hallowe`en makes me think of Christmas.Gifts from Santa under the tree for two weeks.I snuck down and opened them all,not just mine.If I hear a train in the distance I drift…drift into the memory of Mom and a sailor I thought was Steve Mqueen sipping something from a paper bag on the train bound for Winnipeg to watch Greatgrandmother die.Tubes in her nose and countless other spots on her poor withered frame.Her calling and calling and calling my Mom`s name until I was taken into the one-hundred-foot ceiling hallway.Thinking of death reminds me of acres of stinking crusted pools of animal fat baking in the July sun.I remember one July sun beating down on us making us sweat as the fifth kite in a row struggled helplessly on the roof of City Hall.Before the kites we would walk to the lake,at least two of my strides to equal one of Mom`s.Fast.Faster when dodging my brother`s well aimed beans.But I had the disc gun.More accurate and more shots per minute.He would resort to tougher measures before Mom intervened.One day both guns mysteriously disappeared.Some nights memories just won`t stop throwing themselves at me.I try to relax all of my muscles in order to clear my mind and go to sleep.Then I remember…

Untitled

August 31, 2007

It is you I miss,

because of

words I never said,

and because

we had never kissed.

You`re gone.I feel dead.

I`m a fool.

I was/am a boy

wandering

lost.Why did I fear…

you?You were my joy.

I must have you near.

Cliche

August 25, 2007

What I wanted to say

was all cliche.

But I didn`t speak,

I was too meek.

Instead I stared,

I acted impaired.

I behaved like a fool,

you became aloof.

A rueful smile on my face,

I imagine your embrace.

Do you wonder why

I didn`t say goodbye?