Happy New Year!

To inaugerate this new year, I have most condescendingly decided to post up my latest poem. Aren't you all so very lucky!

It's a work in progress, but essentially it's a culmination of everything I love and hate about this wacky country of ours. Aww... Canada.

WANTING A PURPOSE
By Billy Ruffian
Dec 31. 2005

I’m wanting a purpose for the island called McNab’s
Because the HMS Bellerophon is home to the crabs,
Trying to reconcile the reality of this empire of dirt
Because all that they left me is a sink and a shirt
I regret saying no thanks and embracing the old
As my father was dressing me up in scarlet and gold
I’m walking the old cobble streets of my day
Listening to fishwives complain of their sons who are gay
Usually forget about all the money I’m missing
Because my ladyfriend keeps on railing about how fags are kissing
I tried my hand at some fishing - only caught my old boots
Hand me downs from my brother so I’m true to my roots
The old boy is quite quick with a phrase
He sandblasts you with sarcasm and makes you think that it’s praise
I’m walking the city limits with an eye to the trees
But 1 in 5 citizens keep on asking for no tourists please
I’m watching ships passing in beyond the lookout
Plenty of Spanish fritters, but have you seen any trout?
Europe is shopping for garbage fish and calling it rich
Buttering and cheesing it up for the plate of a bitch
I’m hearing gentleman peanut say bonjour Y’all
As he lets us know we’ve heard the master’s call
And I’m hearing Poet’s talking about mutual respect
But how many of them are just cocks erect?
I’m thinking that it’s ok to plow a single mom in the rear
Because the council of elders have other people to hear
My hands shake so bad when the thirst is on me
Nobody’s perfect, how sober must I be
Can I take advantage of my individual rights?
I belong to a group that will put up a fight
They’ll make you place another seat at the table
So we can draw out another legal fable
I’m watching no one care when a child gets raped
They’re popping up popcorn so they can watch the tape
Why the hell are out teevee’s so obsessed with homos
Rappaport’s yelling “sit down sissy, I’m watching Hollywood promos”
Collected DVD’s of girls going wild for the 10th time in a row
Some knocking boots, a dead separatist and a hick named Beau
Neverland is never coming back and not a moment too soon
I’m shooting that fantasy dead with a broken plate and rusty spoon
Hip Hop’s telling us of the urban jungle and collective fault
While it arrays itself in diamonds mined from Africa’s vault
How many black angels do you think don’t have any arms
Because freedom fighters need to have weapons, not farms
I’m wanting a purpose for all these thoughts in my head
But after awhile I’m just glad I ain’t dead.