The North America Free Trade Agreement II

As Canada will soon decide whether or not to sign a renewed North America Free Trade Agreement, here’s a poem. Feel free to share.

NAFTA II

Auto parts, pots, aluminum, and steel

Beef, barley, beggars, and MBAs

All, all part of the deal

Leaving me sad with financial malaise.

As negotiators negote and negoo

They work on levels beyond me, beyond you

They profess an air of fairest trade

But, but, it just ain’t true.

Sitting at tables opposite and opulent

They plot how to gain an advantage monopulent

You’d think they were trading apples or horses

As they shelter and shield secret discourses.

This is the nature of the creature NAFTA

No self-respecting leader would sign it, unless they hafta.

In Laval, Across The River From Montreal, Bela

The escalator never stops rolling never /

And if you happen not to hold the handrail /

Camacho will arrest you and the 24 minutes /

Will seem like forever, forever. /

The law is not written on a sliver /

of paper, nor on a poster nor picto /

For the law is not written when Camacho

determines to deliver it in his own manner.

Tell me your name so I can issue a ticket

Tell me your name Madame

Monsieur, I do not have to tell you my name

Monsieur, let me tell you where you can stick it.

In cases such as these, handcuffs come in handy

And Camacho used his swiftly

The law was not applied correctly

And Madame’s lawyers were dandy.

It only took a decade

For the rotten record to be rewritten

Bela, Bela, Bela,

Justice forks when it’s decidedly delayed.

At the end of the day came a long arm

When the court issued a lengthy judgment

Coté laid down the law played down the harm

In the candy store it would be called a fudgement.

Election Day Ode

When Justin don’t give a damn about my rights
And Andrew expounds from highest heighths
And Jagmeet says it’s pronounced Jug
And Elizabeth promises a pipeline plug
And Yves-François wears a separatist blanket
And sour lemonade—Maxime drank it
I’m left with despair on election day
As grim Maple Leaf is looking grey.

Nightshade, Black Nightshade

Nightshade, Black Nightshade
Growing free in my planter
Your marmalade, sweet marmalade
Cannot be any scanter.

With flowers star white, anthers yellow
I hope to heaven you are edible
Whether you be a poisonous fellow
Your taste, your taste—Incredible.

Nightshade, Black Nightshade
You humbly, humbly do
Happily, happily aid, aid, aid
Help my tongue Timbuktu.

 

Sunday Poem: Into The Soil The Earthworm Slinks Away

Into the soil the earthworm slinks away     /
As the Robin watches ever intent     /
Why is it that animals like to play?    /

Where would we be were it not for decay?    /
We are governed by the laws of excrement    /
Into the soil the earthworm slinks away.     /

It was not a Robin at all but Jay
Jay, Robin. Birds like to misrepresent
Why is it that animals like to play?

In retrospect it was a Robin, okay
Its bright orange breast likes to torment
Into the soil the earthworm slinks away.

Whatever bird you are I cannot say
For your voice has an unknown accent
Why is it that animals like to play?

Ornithologist I sure am not today
I will slink back into my apartment
Into the soil the earthworm slinks away
Why is it that animals like to play?

 

Sunday Poem: Lessons From A Snowball

From the corner of my eye I saw the snowball coming

But I was busy humming.

The snowball had a small rock in it

But I was too busy humming

It was coming

I was humming

Coming humming coming humming coming

Luckily, the snowball with the rock

I caught in the corner of my eye

Did not catch the corner of my eye

Why? Why? Why?

Because I slipped my body tipped

and the snowball with the rock clipped

me on the shoulder

And I learned one thing from that snowball with the rock

that passed by my eye

and it is this:

Do not put all your eggs on one shoulder.

Sunday Poem: What Kind Of God Would Deprive Kids Of Stars?

What kind of God would deprive kids of stars?       /

Obviously, one who is not polite       /

How wise are our modern day avatars?       /

 

Heavy light resembles smoke from cigars

A foul man-made fog that gives no delight

What kind of God would deprive kids of stars?

 

Growing up I remember seeing Mars

Only Venus matched its loveliness at night

How wise are our modern day avatars?

 

Boys and girls now live with eyes behind bars

Lumen profusion’s a crime against sight

What kind of God would deprive kids of stars?

 

Why so many street lamps? I blame cars

Sometimes bright ideas are not so bright

How wise are our modern day avatars?

 

The romantic dark is no longer ours

We had it stolen by villainous light

What kind of God would deprive kids of stars?

How wise are our modern day avatars?

 

Sunday Poem: Council, Council On The Wall

Council, Council on the wall
Whose the fagarest of them all?
When you cut a fifty-percent raise
I move you move to another field to graze,
Watching you chew cud in this pasture
Gives me a belly full of distasture.

Sunday Poem: Hefty Pay Raise In Westmount

Sunday Poem: The Air Is Unfair

The air is unfair

The carbon is thick

Government health says

Shut your mouth. You won’t get sick,

As my lungs get coated

Old lungs tell the story

Each cough gets noted

As I continue to worry.

 

Air once was oxygen

But now is soup

Breathing capital C Carcinogen

Is worse than poop.

In the bus garage

I knew something was off

With diesel fume barrage

All I could do—cough.

 

But it is the brain

That needs fresh air

Yet the more I complain

It seems more become unaware.