
I miss you every day of my life. Today was no different. Maybe tomorrow will be. – Dad
"A collection of my thoughts, feelings, and emotions, to the world around me"

We can’t carry on with the story of our lives without finishing all the chapters. No matter how some of them ended. – Ash

I’ve always been told that things happen for a reason. I know that’s sometimes a way of making me feel better when life hits a rough patch. Although, I’ve come to look at it like this. It’s not so much of what happens to us that needs a reason, but rather, how we learn and move on from it a better person that does. That’s the reason it’s a good thing. – Ash

It was as midnight as midnight could be
that late, dogs cried at the moon
all the way down
as I followed you
straight to an early grave
not once knowing
ignorant, childish, wishing for my own home
we shared nothing
no words, not a glance, not even…presence
only fading footsteps in the rain
before you went to a place you felt you had to
regret I held in a subtle hello
maybe I would have turned it off
stood a final chance
and shooed the voice away from you
but
when lady death came teasing your ear?
there was no way I, me…
someone who would just threaten a made up mind
compete that night
with deathly songs of teenage tragedy
singing you toward an infinite dark
by the tune of your own broken heart
stealing any lust left for tomorrow
then
I watched
as you walked toward the Bluest Oyster
never to see you again

Hey everybody,
Hope you’re having an awesome day!
Every picture tells a story or is a key to one. – Ash
Whenever I see a pile of wood by the side of the road or in someone’s front yard, it instantly takes me back to when I was kid. I believe I was around ten years old. Back that humbling day when I tried to prove to my Uncles that I was just as big and tough as they were. A coming of age moment of my life with a Shade of Ash humour that I will never forget. A bunch of wood grouped together sets the scene and some of you already know this, but I grew up with my grandparents, so my Uncles are like my brothers. There’s five of them. I made six, and the youngest in that dynamic and because of that, I was considered “Mommy’s Boy”. *I called my grandmother, Mom, by the way.
OK, Cue the wavey time-travel lines, fade to the 80’s.
Firewood was a primary source of heat for us growing up, so from time to time, that meant the whole family would have to pitch in and help bring freshly cut wood from my grandfather’s boat up to the front yard to be packed and stacked. Every now and again, my grandfather accompanied by two or three of the Uncles would travel by boat to some remote area to cut down the wood. Then, once they had a load, they would return home where the wood still had to be sawed up and stored away. None of that process involved me though. I got off the hook for stuff like that. Hey! It’s not me, my grandmother just wouldn’t have it back then. She’d look at my Uncles, each of them, and tell them to go on outside and not bother me. “Leave Ashley alone, he’s alright, go on, your fathers waiting.” She’d say. This rotted my uncles of course. Now, they wouldn’t say much in retort and just went on to work. Though like prisoners knowing all the blind spots of a prison yard, they too knew when to get in a few licks and wrestling moves behind my grandparents backs to make sure I knew what’s up. Until that one day, where I had enough of it.

I walk this earth an alien
no place here for a castaway
surrounded all the time
still alone
My blood, it’s not like yours
it repels
it taints
it makes things you love disappear

Irish night
with a few black beers for luck
stood elbow to elbow
in the midst of strange drunkards
three sheets to the wind
placing little wagers before the clock struck
and the tender turns us away
like the last three nights we’ve been

Insight emerges out of silence. – B. D. Schiers

I dream
some days
of getting lost in the path
along the quiet way home
way past the halfway evergreen
under those forest peekaboos
just to listen to the river as it runs

A cold beer ran down my lips, to my chin
in a moment I knew would last a lifetime
there was a pool table…balls racked
ready for a break
some girl singing on the radio
we both sang a few of the words
those we could remember
all night we competed
best in banter,
best in billiards,
best in brew,
but
never best in friends
that belonged to you