space junk

i sit here contemplating what will happen
we don’t get paid to think yet
waiting for the drones to plant trees
waiting for the gates to re-open slightly
peaking our way on to moonlit paths,
only brush sets us apart from the spiders’ webs
stumbling quietly so as not to upset the killers
distracted from the reality of uncertainty
and the naming of the enemy
that goes on in lovers’ lanes
over right-of-way arguments
where the sun never, never reaches
parks emit light pollution
and waterfalls spread foreign fires
thru forests of builders,
seeking an alternative to concrete
while plastic bricks rescued from ocean trash heaps
stare bleakly from lofty ideals
making great green blog posts
that might get read by most
before the 23 tons of steel & glass
pour down on our next emergency.
2021 by a.i.heeds

for the times

i can pay you from my profits
but the profits never come
the major airlines will get seven billion
but I am only one,
person
running a trade
turning the page
on a life of no change
we walk the streets talking
the girls and guys gawking
and all the while hawking
our most precious and divine
there is no time
we lost it all in storage
the landlords’ drama bored us
the winds and rains poured on us
and we were left in tents
we had no money for rents
we wanted to be nomadic
but we were constantly held by cabinet
to a rock on a road’s hard place
a locked ransom not in concrete
i cannot stand it
i feel they planned it
and what ever happens
i am going to be fucked
it’s enough
this is fucking rough
all the sheep are lost
and the boy, lonely on a hill,
has cried wolf
and wolves are killed
but there are no thrills
like taking back the homeland
re-occupying the highland
generating the skyland
i stand in sinking sand land
dunes richochet in

the most contraversial thing I’ve ever written, ha ha

they infected our minds one by one
i must be careful, i can’t get caught
wash my hands, watch the clock
wear a mask
don’t connect, we forget
when we can’t read faces,
the expression of the lips, the moth there is nothing, because we don’t look in eyes, haven’t done for a while
this is denial
of our human self
we are becoming robots, we are becoming self

digital age

we are in the age of the internet
the digital explosion
social media storm
we can all relate
to wifi free zones
cellphone pocket crutch doesn’t mean much
cuz its filter and mask
busy and task
endless projections
light filled deflections
getting way from what’s real
so you no longer know how you feel
endless projections
mindless inspections
binge watching netflix
skipping dinner late night snacks
playing over and over tracks
redefining pin boards
and income brackets
crossover hacks
niche follow backs

pushing to suceed
endless want and need
none of this is possible without satelites
without electricity
without skylights
and has beens
jealously and annoyance
silicone boyance
giffs and tiffs
public riffs
platform
and coding
surfing
and floating
google always knows
facebook always shows
celebrity culture
all your wishes and hopes
causes and copes
algorithm slopes

redeem your self worth
because sometimes
even Instagram hurts

trying to let you know that you should do other things.

lied to their faces

we don’t know how
but there is
a place
as dirty as that
we don’t know how
we have contributed
to make it so
we have given a directive
from the holo deck
we are hollow
like trees
connected
by more than a breeze
a common earth
a land
a just desert
a flooded valley
forgotten stream
tear drop
in an ocean
of this shirt must be clean
so try as we might
to make ourselves seem
we are not pure
we are not clean
we carry the degradation
every day on the inside
we go to the beautiful places
who no longer hide
their scars and their sorrows
their devastation
so lied
to their faces
too tried
to their cries.

we live on the edge

of the contamination zone
decontamination zone
we live in the zone
we zone out in the no man’s zone
we are alone
together
wearing wool sweaters
our pinup primeminister makes proclaimation
culturally appropriating arts and letters
a step ahead of the tsunami,
the tide is coming in
the moon waning
as the cheshire grins
he wins!
scored
last night
way outta sight
might do all right
if we just stay in

while we’re trying

because we can say things other people can’t
because we are real
because we care
because we don’t care
about stupid stuff
because we have ideas
coming out the ying yang

because we can code
and no I don’t mean that code
although some uv us (like me)
can do a bit o dat too
(more on that l8r)
we can speak the code
of imagery
we see past the idolatry
because I am me

we are the ultimate rhetoricians
and I actually had rhetoric in my degree
but i’m stuck in a fame-freeze
a frame-freeze
liquid nitrogen emotional spill
the yellow cake tastes really good
riding the current in my rubber wheel
swiftly down the st.laurent I float
perdre la raison

I am from Toronto
look at me, look at me
I am here.

Walk around me.
I am a tank.
I am a killer.
I transfer my body odour into toxic fumes
I am subsumed.

why do we need poets,
to look at the big picture, when we already know it,
why their cynicism attempts to de-rail us
collisions & carnage only broadcast once
never to remind us of the wasteland
we live in
the junk carts
and the has beens.

all of a sudden the news is very, very bad
saudis have pulled out of iran
putin claims we are the eneemy we hear
we see him hunt and fish and swear

we relate to the haters
we understand we are lucky bitches
gratitude and humour and positive attitude stickers
scratch and sniff to win the big one
planet is dying while we’re trying to steal some
sun for the mars that haunts our nightmares
waking to find that it isn’t over yet

introducing the elder entertainer

Introducing the Elder Entertainer: Ayla Heeds

poet, percussionist, performer, MC, storyteller,

multi-media presenter, workshop facilitator, social media consultant

Be pleased and be aroused by the greatest of all poets around,
this side of town, anyway!
The Town Crier has cried and dried his eyes at the sound of this poet’s loud unapologetic telling of the spelling of the selling,
well you get the picture, sister,
this hear here is gonna be EN-ter-Tain-in’!

Multi-media one woman show called:
THE INTER-NET:
Everything you n/ever wanted to know but
couldn’t get the attention of your grandkids
long enough to ask about the World Wide Web

Please email us using the contact form below
for more details, to attend a preview screening
and/or to book this wonderful, affordable show.

Packed with information! Q & A period!

Guaranteed to make people LOL at least once per show!

Strengthens memory! Improves moods!
Interactive Games: Jeopardy-style “Name that Trend!”
Writing + Storytelling + Social media + Blogging workshops available.
Facebook for Old Farts, Twitter for Twits
also: Hand Drumming for “Drummies”

Great for building community!
Invite the family!

To Enquire about Bookings Fill in the Request Form

 

 

new book

Began writing this after the inspiration of Plastercine Poetry at the Victory last night. I feel it is part of the book I’m going to write during NaNoWriMo.

When you set your sights small sometimes it becomes easier to see them through. I thought we were through and then you came back to me, ever wanting, and yet unable to deliver the goods. Promises made became empty beds full of longing and memory. Trapped inside one’s body, one pretended to envelope the change, accept it, let go. Transform it, or you. Once admitted the dysfunction was no fault of one’s own it became possible to walk on the moon. Or any other such surface you desired. I played upon that desire. I didn’t mean to, it was just my own selfish transcendence of inhibitions. How far I’d let myself go into wanderings and trails obviously well trodden but not so much as the other ones. I… handed over my calvary in an attempt to bid for peace, bide for time or at least trade for some oranges. I hadn’t come this far to return with nothing.

But what I got was an aftertaste, some say bitterness, but I never saw that as a negative, I really enjoyed the ascent. Even though I now know it to be some disease, the way it played out for me I was able to surf, if for a short time, relatively in life span, but like a frog leaping from pad to pad I went exploring, walking on water to everyone’s disbelief. Now everyone can do it of course but I like to think I was a pioneer, at least for my tribe. And here’s where the apology I suppose could enter in. After all you could just say she was doing her job, like everyone else, caught up in a web of coercion, to which negation means finalization. And not in a good way.

Also a number of people received my free poem, good times.

i conspire with retired addicts to place limits on restricts,

the pharmaceutical industry of pain points

to where i’ve been but not where i’m going

i envisioned a life different than this

one with responsibility to make this shift,

i thought we’d be on to it,

by now,

reaping what we’d sown,

well, perhaps, it’s almost grown,

and those of us with jobs,

who are no slobs

those of us who’ve stayed engaged,

possibly out of rage,

at this stage,

i realize i’ve been silly

a fool for love, yet,

out of wanting to own and possess it

actually i wasn’t in a hurry

i have all night and all winter too

to hole up in a little apartment with you

volunteer the hell outta political activism

snuggle in warm slippers and knit our anxiety into things

penetrating new levels of sure things,

one sure thing, i’ll be re-learning how to sing

humming and strumming and being at whim

let me know if you’re in…aniversary2-141

beyond measure