 Recently, I happened upon a 1978 letter I received from my deceased brother, Danny (1951-1996), from when he was living in Labrador City, Newfoundland. It was a reply to a letter I had sent him before my 18th birthday on what I was up to with my silly teenage burdens and the political situation in Quebec. My letter also contained a few of my rhyming poems of that time. In my brother’s return letter, he gave me advice and encouraged me to pursue my passions, of whatever it was I enjoyed, be it as a DJ, a writer or whatever my passion was. He said, “Look for something which you will enjoy doing for the rest of your life, and you will be successful.” Great advice from an older brother, at a time when everything seemed possible.  However, in today’s day and age, it’s easy to say, but hard to do in a world controlled by gatekeepers that won’t allow exposure to those of us who speak out on the crimes committed by the ruling class. I guess you know by now that I chose to write. lol
My brother also made the space in his letter to give me a little constructive criticism, saying that, “You’re hard to get along with because you don’t listen.” 😉 Well, that was and is true to a point, even now, I guess. However, there are some things I just can’t listen to, such as bullshit. LMAO What captured my attention the most in his letter however, was something he said about my writing, “You write very good letters and very good phrases or Poems, or what-ever-you-call-them?” I started laughing (in the present) because I could never put my finger on what it was that I was writing. I used to think of them as poems but that label never really fit my political expressions and rebellion and I never really followed the rules in poetry to be called a poet. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been a good rule follower in Quebec society, especially if it forced me to do something like learn French or submit to inoculations against my will, but mostly because my rebellious self prefers equality, justice, honesty and peace of mind. 😊 But a “what-ever-you-call-them” seems like the perfect description for my activist rhyming stanza’s, couplets and poems. So, I’d like to share a ‘what-ever-you-call-it’ with you today, that speaks of the current dystopia via our national division, coldness to each other and disunity that seems to be forever under a cloud of illusions. A ‘what-ever-you-call-it’ is a political expression or rebellion of how things really are or how I feel about those in control. They are usually in stanza form with an explanation below them where I get to shine light in dark places. (See the Activist Poet books) The one I share with you today is more of a rhyming prose, what-ever-you-call-it. So, here it is, my what-ever-you-call-it, post for today. -------------------------------------------------------------- I’m lucky. Lucky to be alive in twenty-five after my health took a sudden dive. I feel, like a new man made of steel, the wounds did heal, and I’m back with my old zeal. But I still feel the pains and strains from oncoming trains, and the drains that left our communities sprained in divisions of the brain. I mean, two point five billion for Ukraine? When our economy’s under strain?! That’s insane! Has the mystery of history taught us nothing? Oh yes, the good ole days…those days when we were raised, phased and praised, are gone. Days when the only thing that seemed to matter was keeping up with the chatter and fitting in with the others. Keep your nose to the grind, stay confined and never mind the man behind the curtain. ‘I remember when’ unfolds today with its brilliant light. A time when we knew wrong from right; the height of delight, when most were polite…and upright. We thought we would live forever under that bubble of seclusions or were they just delusions in a pool of illusions? However that may be, the days we see today are filled with dark shadows, where division of the nation by rules made by fools, and tools of the ruling ghouls, that champion those cesspools of narratives; are now doubling down. And reality is worse; we’ve been divided since birth, for what is our worth all over the earth if they take our fire and hearth and enslave us to poverty by the barrel of a gun? It seems the criminals are in charge, by and large, with no way to discharge their parge on our homes. Scavengers, every one; candidates that grow like mold and then unfold like cancer of the brain that takes over the veins and arteries of our nation. A festering scourge that we cannot purge for it employs our delusion within the illusion of their so-called way of life. And as that poison runs its course, to catch us all; where one by one we fall into their squall, as they build their wall and gate our disunity, the majority remain deaf, dumb and blind. I plea with thee to see, for we might agree on community, and how that looks with a guarantee for our family tree. If we stand together, put community first, all the pain would be reversed. We’d no longer be cursed or disbursed but in unison on common ground. Let us begin the new year without fear; to persevere and engineer a new path and frontier. That we might turn the page on this disastrous age and engage together, to navigate the weather and build that beautiful dream, that supreme theme, called Canada. Thanks for reading my, ‘what-ever-you-call-it’.
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 November 19th, 2025
As I sit here writing my second novel (half way through), I find myself looking back at the crazy year I just had. The year started with a question mark around my ability to work five days a week. I had taken a job way below my skill set two years ago, driving a forklift for an American Multi-national company to support my family. I became their hardest working and most reliable employee in Montreal. In March 2025, I would turn 65 (Retirement age) and had decided that if I was to continue working, it should only be for a maximum of four days a week because I no longer had the energy to work a five-day week…and I wanted more time to write. I put in a request for a four-day week, but unfortunately, the company refused (three times), leaving me with an important decision. Should I continue working for them or should I look elsewhere? However, to make matters worse, after my request, they enforced a rigid rule that would compromise my personal safety as a forklift driver and the safety of others in the warehouse because of it. I tried it their way, under duress, but couldn’t continue working under dangerous circumstances. In essence, they left me no choice and so I gave them a two week notice and retired. My last day of work for this American multi-national was June 9th, 2025. Good f*cken riddance! 😉 Meanwhile as all this was going on, I wrote and released my 5th book (The Activist Poet Volume IV) released on May 25th, 2025. But just as I was trying to market the book, the four books in this series, including the new one, were removed from the Amazon website June 6th, 2025 at a very critical marketing phase. I fought hard to get my books back online and finally succeeded around July 12th. I started a new part time job on July 13th, and so with my books back up online and a new job, it looked like things were finally going my way. That is until July 18th, when I had a massive heart attack. The stress I was under this year was enormous and while under stress we tend to go off our diets, which is what happened to me…although heart disease doesn’t happen over night. However, my diet choices from February to July certainly didn’t make things better. The bright spot was that I had kept up with my workout routine two to three days a week, which made my body strong. I’m now well into my 15th week of recovery after having open heart surgery with a quadruple bypass on August 1st, 2025. The doctors had to rebuild my heart with pieces of me; large vein from my left leg, one artery from my left arm and three other arteries taken from around my heart. The initial shock of having a heart attack didn’t really register at first, not until I received the results of my angiogram. Before the angiogram, it was mentioned I would probably need a stent in one of the arteries and that, if so, it would be done right there and then during the angiogram. However, when they brought the bad news to me in the recovery area, that six arteries were blocked and that I would need a quadruple bypass operation, I went numb… Yet, even still, there were many depressing avenues I could have gone down, but I didn’t. And here I have to say that the reason was that I had a premonition, years and months earlier, that I was going to survive this moment. I saw beyond it, and it was this: me as a silhouette in a black and white scene being wheeled out of the hospital by my son…(and that did indeed, happen.) Intuition and vision have played an important part in my life, but it was only when I began to listen that it made any sense. I went into the operation knowing I would come out of it, and I knew I would do so with a focused determination to heal in a short period of time….and guess what? I have! 😉 Positive attitude is everything. Now in hindsight, I see that the operation I underwent was an ending of a cycle on my journey and the beginning of a new one. Going forward, it will be my last task, and one that my whole life has prepared me for…I will continue writing. I have more time for it now. I don’t know if I will be successful or not, but the premonition says, I will be successful, later down the road. There is one thing about me that is very true, and it is this; when I set my mind to doing something, I not only do it, but I do it with a determination to win. I may fail at first, but failure is but a step in a learning phase and I never quit when I have my eye on the ball. I have been a champion in whatever I put my mind to my whole life. Novel writing will not be any different. I’m half way through writing my second novel which continues the intriguing mystery thriller from the first novel, “The Shard of Asclepius”. If you haven’t read the first one, you are missing out on a great story. Christmas is around the corner, so why not support a Canadian, shadow banned, independent author? I’ll be spending more time here on my author’s website in the coming months to keep you up to date with the new book but also to share positive energy in a world gone completely mad…and if you want to talk about the madness, I can do that to…Talk soon! 😊 Stewart  Photo taken on May 30th, 1990
In quiet reflection, when rolling back time to conscious connections, I often think back to my visit to Tofino B.C. on Vancouver Island and the Tla-o-qui-aht first nations Giant Red Cedar trail. A very special hike on an island where at the end we were shown the reality of inter species-connected consciousness. On the trail which took about 2 ½ hours to walk, we saw some of the largest and oldest trees in Canada. A hike within a forest cathedral that still lives inside me today by its deeply rooted connection to my memory. Pictures cannot do these breathtaking wonders justice since their size cannot fit into a picture but they do continue to live within me and humbly remind of their majestic presence. The first nations woman who picked us up at the end of our hike told us that because we were the last hike of the day, we would witness a special bond that she had with two Bald Eagles. She moved the boat towards a rock that was jutting out of the water, placed two salmon fillets on it and then moved the boat off to a viewing position. The woman then cupped her hands over her mouth and called out two names, which I cannot remember now, and from a distant island, two bald eagles flew towards us and the rock jetting out of the water where she had left the salmon. The birds circled above us and then swooped down to take the salmon in their talons and flew back to their perch on the island some distance away. It is moments like these that sustain me against the dark grey forces weighing upon today’s world. I can only but stand up in support of a greener conscious world. And, even as time turns my bones to dust in this later stage of my life, my whisper will always remain with the old forest and living beings on this consciousness earth. |
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