I wrote this in 1988 on a Via Rail train, going from Toronto to Québec City. I don't know what inspired me to write such a thing, perhaps it was something I ate.

“A Step from Reality” https://outofexileidr.vivaldi.net/2024/11/11/a-step-from-reality/

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It only takes a small object, to direct the path of another, much larger then itself. Consider the a rudder of a massive ship, or the tongue.

A poem has been posted.

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“Inside My Spinning” https://outofexileidr.vivaldi.net/2024/09/09/inside-my-spinning/

It only takes a small object, to direct the path of another, much larger then itself. Consider the a rudder of a massive ship, or the tongue.

A poem has been posted.

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“Inside My Spinning” https://outofexileidr.vivaldi.net/2024/09/09/inside-my-spinning/

Winter's Ground

Sometimes stepping out of yourself
is harder than the words to say.
Sometimes you're outside
and you just can't find the way.

Wondering...
My reflection stares back at me
from the bottom of the cup.
No longer can you block it out
with laughter and with song
Look up...the appeal is gone.

Emotions flare
and you must listen...until the end.
Only when their strings have played
will you be moved again.

Emotions rage
and tear my roots from comforts I had found...
Now dangling in shock with no place to grow
in the winter's ground

Spring... so far off,
the journey far too long
Will I soon hear the sparrow's song?

OutOfExile_IDR © 1990

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I was sick, and you said "You look fine to me".
I was sick, and you cast me off.
I was sick, and you used it against me.
I was sick, and you took my health care.
I was sick, and you battered and killed.
I was sick, and you fought for a wooden hammer.
I was sick, and you fought about blue and red.
I was sick, and you fought as the nations watched with disdain.
I was sick, and you fought the "wrong" while resembling it.
I was sick, as you fought for "all" but, forgot about us.

OutofExile_IDR ©2023

Click here 🧠 to expand.

My adaptation of Matthew 25:39 inspired by the work below. (Not an endorsement for religion or church)

I was hungry, and you blamed it on the communist
I was hungry, and you circled the moon.
I was hungry, and you told me to wait
I was hungry, and you set up a commission.
I was hungry, and you said "So were my ancestors".
I was hungry, and you said we don't hire over 35.
I was hungry, you said God helps those…
I was hungry, and you told me I shouldn't be.
I was hungry, and you told me machines do that work now.
I was hungry, and you had napalm bills to pay.
I was hungry, and you said the poor are always with us.
Lord, when did we see you hungry?

Adaptation of Matthew 25:37 by Anonymous – 1971

Image by Alex Velazquez from Pixabay https://pixabay.com/users/alex2171-3560452/

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Enfermé - Shadow's Night

With each word you say, lies always more behind

Love dies swelling in the past, time and again

We cannot step into the light while dead

Lurking in shadow's night gone by,
never looking in my soul

Ive been left alone to echo thru the sky

Winds of change blow promises

as drifting banks of snow encase me

In a tomb of soft, sweet lulabys

Out of Exile IDR 1992

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Harbor of Bitterness
(Seeds to be Sown)

In the Harbor of Bitterness
drifts a boat going nowhere
Like a sail with no wind
and a soul unaware

With the key in your hand
the way is revealed
With eyes off.. the air around
your mind follows...your fate seals

The blame lies not in anyone
and the blame lies not in you
But the way that is yours
you have known before
Use the door...then follow through

Nothing happens by chance
There's no such thing as circumstance
The things that you live
are the fires you must walk through
Have faith...dont take a second glance

I have had a fated road of occurrence
the way I have traveled was always my own
the lessons I've learned were destined to be
the winds I have sailed
Are the seeds I have sown

OutOfExile_IDR - 1989

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Inside My Spinning - poetry

[Spinning" is not the political or media kind but, does require a pen. No hand to hand occurred. This is a concept about the power of words. Choose them wisely.]

"Inside My Spinning"

Here to pass the time,
I hide inside my spinning,
away from all the nettles fenced around.
Somewhere far away are all the saplings I have trampled under foot,
wailing for recompence,
thier recompence not found.

So, to mend the wounds of conscience,
I hide inside my spinning.
Battles hand to hand yet rage,
though I have not a part;
twas, the rudder of my ship's the cause.
The foolish prose of mine disperse,
as words of anger start.

So, I seek the theraputic,
my spinning through the time.
Deep inside the lion roars...
the wheel squeaks...
searching for compation,
there is no peace of mind,

The lion yet has much to learn,
in the jungle of the meek.
Tread softly, carry no stick.
For thunderous steps cause doves to fly,
and weapons kill the peace we seek.

So, the lion journeys on,
a shattered dream,
a broken train of thought.
Yet is is written, someday he will find:

Compassion, peace and understanding;
all the things that he has sought.

But for now to pass the time,
I live behind a spoken mime.
Adrift aloft this swirling rhyme,
For now to pass the time...
I hide inside my spinning.

Out of Exile - IDR. 1992

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The soliloquy of a man's inner self is the reflection, not of what others perceive, but what he truly is.

For in the cool of the day, sheltered by the fog, for a man at peace with himself; there is no other.

Out of Exile - 1991

I've always thought about artists rendering their impressions of my poems. What would this look like?

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