a Ben E. King song

the angel of death dances on railroad tracks
old abandoned ones in the woods
forgotten mining towns
once a day running through a lost city
wondering about its tourism
while the airport slumbers
and kids in their 50’s quote Stephen King movies

-but you can’t stop progress
and when you’re in between
you’re neither above the fold or in a position to bleed.

This Is Where She Steps In

hypnotizing you as she pirouettes on the rusty red
avoiding slivers in the toes
or stumbling on wheel grease gravel
-a long time trickster-

 a first time dancer to your eyes
teen aged again watching her

but in this town you retire for the scenery
you’re allowed to leave the game and change your name
you can be transferred underground and monitor the world
but you can never age forward or grow into
thinking you can start out and be with
-her

this little town won’t allow it
and the rest of Ontario doesn’t remember who you were

Ben E King: was an American soul and R&B singer and record producer. He is best known as the singer and co-composer of “Stand by Me”

Stephen King: is an American author of horror, supernatural fiction, suspense, crime, science-fiction, and fantasy novels. His books have sold more than 350 million copies, and many have been adapted into films including the film Stand By Me

Poet Finds Model – model finds poet

In April of 2019, The Crazy Irishman stumbled upon the work of Belgium model Marisa Papen. Papen who is known for posing nude in unconventional and controversial locations had a series of photographs depicting a range of her work. Naturally, The Crazyirishman took inspiration from the work and created a piece entitled – crazyirishman.wordpress.com/2019/04/22/marisa-papen/.

Within the piece, The Crazy Irishman compared the images of Papen with other famous models and inspirational women such as Lee Miller, Bettie Page, and ended the piece comparing some of Papens work to singer Darleen Carr.

In April of 2020, Papen reached out to The Crazy Irishman requesting permission to use his work on her newly developed website. The Crazy Irishman agreed and by the end of the month, found his work on her homepage entitled, www.marisapapen.com/home

“I was absolutely thrilled when Papen reached out to me,” says The Crazy Irishman. “You may find her work risqué, daring, controversial, I see a fellow artist and activist doing what comes natural, and I’m proud to be part of her online project.”

As with most of The Crazy Irishman’s work,a complete list is located below recognizing where he draws his inspiration from related to the Marisa Papen piece.

Lee Miller: Was an American photographer and photojournalist. During WW2 Miller was the official war photographer for Vogue, documenting the Blitz. A photograph by Scherman of Miller in Hitler’s bathtub, with a shower hose looped in the center behind her head, recollecting a noose, taken at Adolf Hitler’s apartment in Munich has become iconic.

Bettie Page: Bettie Page, was an American model who gained a significant profile in the 1950s for her pin-up photos.Often referred to as the “Queen of Pinups”, her shoulder-length jet-black hair, blue eyes, and trademark fringe have influenced artists for generations.

Darleen Carr/ My Own Home/ Shanti/ Mowgli: Is an American actress, singer, and voice-over artist. My Own Home” is a song from the Walt Disney film, The Jungle Book, from 1967. The song was sung by Carr playing the part of “Shanti, the human girl”. The character Mowgli within the movie is lured back to his village from the forest by Shanti and her voice.

Marisa Papen: Marisa started expressing herself in front of the camera in 2015, since then Marisa has been pushing boundaries, as much as societyʼs as her own.
She uses our culture and our weak spot for beauty as a tool in a fight to restore the imbalances upon this earth. She challenges the mind and raises questions all over the world by emerging her body in the most controversial environments or on the opposite, the most natural wonders on this planet. In todayʼs artistic and intellectual environment of hypersensitive political correctness, It seems impossible to use the nude human body as a voice but Marisa found her way. She turns this cultural complexity into simplicity.

She calls her skin her superhero suit.

​

Superman is just a cartoon

if night time brings the fireflies
then day time works the sparks

hammers hit the anvil
factories are essential work

Superman(s) just a cartoon
him and his caped platoon

when they offer their hand – to join the hero crowd
just laugh inside your head

at the end of your shift go straight home
made enough to pay the bills

sit in the backyard of your apartment
and watch the lights leave the hills

if night time brings the fireflies
and work is too important to quit

when life gets back to normal
bills are climbing – up the sky

demand the league provides a pay check
not a forgotten childhood – high five

Superman is just a cartoon
Superman wasn’t expendable
Superman is just a cartoon
Superman is just a cartoon…..

Put to Pen

Cowboyman
to security guard
toss some fruit
and shelve the bread.
What will i be next – before
it’s thru
when we can say 55 freedom
and just be me and you.

As time goes on
I worry about age
illness / distance …

But then we touch
and for a moment
we fall asleep
together my mind finds peace.

Construction boots
fancy suits
the camera freelancing
5 cent fees.
Never been – probably never will
but if i’ve done some good
thats alright with me.

When we touch
and for a moment
we fall asleep
together – my mind finds some peace
and thats alright with me.

Thats alright with me

the truck still travels free

we found the Exit
it’s out to Quebec- sur-Richelieu

the map we’ve had is a maze
it’s a Tom-Tom lost on new streets
but the adventure has made us
saying to ourselves ‘ there is God’
not – ‘a god’

and ‘o my God we’re here’

where the entrance is
we’ll circle around twice
this new language – we can speak to hearts-ourselves
put your map down
slide in the bench seat next to me

fighters who fight
never see the ring

lovers who love
never box the ring

there’s more to travel
more to see

survived the survival

now we’ll exceed expectations

thrive on moments
create marks of ‘X’ where we think they need be

we found the Exit
it’s Cornwall and beyond
not sure where – but honey –
saying to ourselves ‘………..’

Work

hands –
they’re not obvious scars
nothing
long or bright white
jagged
or ugly
-they’re just small
little bites.
perhaps quarter inch
in length at most
however
there are dozens of them
marks
along both hands
along the
index finger down
to the
inside webbing
of
the thumb.

strength
days
and repetition

memories of
heat and
of cold
and
of rain and
snow

the removal of gloves
because of
sweat or soak through’s
or
safety.

The Marks –

made from leather
nylon rope
bailer twine
and flecks of hay
from bails
digging
in

horse and reins
and mud and shit
and shovels

and

pitch forks

tractor steering wheels
rail fences
boot strings…..

the hands-

slip into pockets
fold out for communion
wave goodbye from the truck
and greet

you

in firm shake hello.

like a baby they will do 3 things non stop in life

i often found it frustrating
working around the horses 7 days a week
10 hours a day
putting them outside for 7 or 8 of those hours
and cleaning top to bottom
endlessly

but that wasn’t the frustrating part

it was the 4:45pm last minute request(s)
last minute x 32 to 42 head
knowing quitting time was still
5pm

‘pick out the coupla piles they may have made since being in here the past hour while eating’

in reply
i always wanted to ask:

‘what the hell do you think they’re
going to do for
the next 14 hours until my
return
and how many more or
less piles do you think
they’re going to
create
to make my life any easier
in the morn?’

simply
it was the sight of things
when they wanted
to come and ride in the
arena
refusing to believe
that barn life
was
part in parcel with the arena
joy ride.

i am home now – back to the sanity of normal farm
or barn
life

where maintaining an animal is cheaper
and less hectic
than a pack of smokes a
day
and the arena
is actually
not
connected to the plank board
hi-rise

but instead

connected to the continuous horizon of heaven
always rising under hoof
and feet.

Cup of Tea and For Sale Signs

i left a job once
north of
Steel
not Steele.

all day ‘Too Much To Lose’

played on the stereo
into
the arena
out
into the paddocks
through
horse ears
exiting
stalls and
door
ways

through the finger tips of boarders
with weathered reins

sometimes

i would switch the song
to
‘Old Double Diamond’

but the line

‘I Surely Have Enjoyed Your Cup Of Tea’

swirled down the hall
-sagebrush existence

haunting.

when i drove the lane way one
last
time

i

took the CD and tossed it into the pond thinkn’
maybe
in a 1000 years

archaeologists would find it

play it

and wonder……..

the passing cars

up loyalist wallbridge
60-80-60
passing each other
morn/quitting time

laughter
seriousness
checking make-up

drinking coffee

either from mugs
thermos’s
or Tim the Buffalo
hunter

will i see you this afternoon at 4?
or
tomorrow morn before 8-

stop sign
cop sign
road crew madness

4 – corner stop. restaurant sign?
on the way home maybe we stop?

no-
it’s too early at 4:30
and by 6pm we’re not driving back

maybe saturday
saturday night – with hockey
not
baseball
with ron and don
and those toronto bums on the ice

when the waitress asks about coffee
we’ll look at the t.v
and ask for it – to Go

ugly

everyday
off the horse farms
where piss soaked into the gravel
and the drunk midget waited
to tattle
where the drunk owner waited to pounce
and horse folk fought
their own gluttony
everyday
off that one horse farm
going – moving all the mares
into another bin –
and starting the madness over
everyday –
off the elevator
stinking of horse piss
because of property neglect
off the elevator
where a fat woman moves
over saying, ‘you stink’
and i say, ‘yeah, and you’re
fat.’
some days, meanness meets meanness
and neither side wins