Life of a Smoke

I’m lying in the dark for what seems like forever. I know I exist, because I feel movement and solid mater surrounds me on all sides. Suddenly a light shines on me, I’m grabbed large soft things squeeze me too hard. In a single movement I’m transported between a pair of soft, warm surfaces that … Continue reading Life of a Smoke


Frustration Oh, so cold, very cold Cold enough to spread Out of my centre. Cold enough to raise The hair on my forearms. Cold enough to cause My hands to loose grip of my pen. Cold enough for respite To be found solely in a fetal position. Oh, so cold, very cold Frustration by M. … Continue reading Frustration

Lack of Inspiration

A collection of words… Insensible A jumble of thoughts… Non-sequential An abomination of emotions… Unreasonable All from lack of inspiration. by M. Perron (Originally written March 16, 1992) Notes: Well, this is amusing. I was writing about having no idea what to write about. Kudos to me for sticking to it!


sad… the clouds are lonely… the birds are depressed… the beer is alone… the chair is unmoved… the ant is unamused… the clowns are bored… the people are horny… the teenager is unemotional… the painting is listless… the dog is drunk… the party is sober… the shirts are dry… the pants are cold… the girl … Continue reading Sad


Streaking through the sky The wind in my feathers, I weave and bob on the air currents. Forever listening for the songs of other travellers, Companionship On the road of the muse, the watchman in my head is looking after my creative heart finds it’s release of passion. Oh, blissful… by M. Perron (Originally written … Continue reading Nirvana

People I feel sorry for

There she sits, unremarkable Blue jeans, white shirt Looking through bric-a-brac papers A salvage From the junkyard of a too big purse Head bowed Disheveled in insecurity She glances and retreats A shell of shyness. Poor girl I hope she has a good life. by M. Perron (Originally written May 16th, 1992) Notes: Wow, I … Continue reading People I feel sorry for

The Catchphrase On My Sleeve

The precipice has walls Decorated to an abundance With murals of unimaginable history Which chance has yet to write. To dream of dreams yet underrate When reality is morose and ignored Postpones everything but my imagination And cures the mundane routines. So like a heart on my sleeve The catchphrase of my life, Broken and … Continue reading The Catchphrase On My Sleeve

Where I live

I’d sit at my desk My black cork bulletin board covered with dated notes I found impossible to remember I’d sit in my easy chair My natural white pine bookshelves adorned with living volumes I found endlessly enthusiastic. I’d sit on my carpet My fish filled aquarium surrounded with fingerprinted glass, I found watching me. … Continue reading Where I live

Old News

If the news isn’t the news anymore What do you call it? The names change, but The actions are always the same. Isn’t that plagiarism? This one dies That one dies It gets in the news And everybody sues. When did they decide to place The obituaries on the front page of the newspaper? The … Continue reading Old News

I see a wool hat over my coffee

There he sits, wool hat Smoking a cigarette Between index and fuck finger. The hat, like the one an old fisherman might wear. Funny, he looks a bit like Harvey Keitel, the actor, But he doesn’t seem to share his sense of humour … irony? by M. Perron (Originally written January 18, 1993) Notes: Hmmm... … Continue reading I see a wool hat over my coffee