Dream Catcher

Can’t shake this mood this prevailing feeling
Nothing is how it should be
I find my bed lately and look at the ceiling
Wondering what waits in the morning for me

When the ghost stories end my mind turns to dust
I give in to my monsters at large
Giving up on the dreams and the ones that I trust
Seems my dream catcher needs a charge

My spirit's gone lame my notes are all flat
Friends will laugh as I fall
I’ve run out of swings when it’s my turn to bat
When the bell rings can’t answer the call

So the nightmares are over and daymares begin
If it happens to you you will know
Whistle away face the sun with a grin
Put your lips together and blow

Dan Blix

Dreams Don't Float

If streets could talk, our streets would cry
With lonely walks and scraping by
Of cold and hunger garbage bins
Still no room to take us in

Of broken homes and broken dreams
Of broken bones and silent screams
There’s no place left to cast our vote
The bay is calling and dreams don’t float

Yesterday’s child at school or play
Never saw themselves this way
They always thought that someone cared
Now they’re tired and cold and scared

Our leader tells us things are great
He eats his meal we lick his plate
He doesn’t seem to realize
One will live while another one dies

Long lost hope and abandoned goals
You think about the hungry souls
You think about the coming storm
A cardboard home to keep you warm

Dignity hope and self-respect
Can leave you when you least expect
Someone close may leave the boat
The bay is calling and dreams don’t float

Things don’t have to be this way
If we speak up for a better day
We can help to make things better
If we use our voice or pen a letter

We’re not alone in this battered boat
The bay is calling and dreams don’t float

Dan Blix

Traces

I’m still looking searching out
In all the wrong places
where I might find hope
that I might find love
Traces

Searching out the souls who know
with all their social graces
a little here, a little there
Traces

On the streets I watch and
hope to recognize the faces
to smile a while in passive style
trying to find
Traces

What are you searching for
wandering through the mazes
nothing is what nothing was
Traces

Losing hope with blinders on
going through the paces
a shadow here, a footprint there
Traces

My eyes are growing heavy
trying to see through hazes
a foggy night, a fleeting sight
Traces

Dan Blix

Little Boy Lost

I have searched most everywhere
In the house and in the yard
Looking near and looking far
Trying to find that single clue
That would bring me close to you

It’s been so long that you’ve been gone
I’m really not sure if I’d know you
If you’re hiding you’re doing it well
Come out I’ve something to show you

Little boy lost where can you be
In the garden or behind a tree
Or in the tall grass taking a nap
Under the shade of a mushroom cap

I miss your laugh I miss your smile
Come and sit with me awhile
We’ll talk of time and where it went
Of broken hearts and time well spent
We’ll talk of dreams and nightmares too
The hopes and fears of little boy blue

Return to me and let me know
All that’s passed since I let you go
I have to find you at any cost
I just must find my little boy lost

Dan Blix

Treasures and Trash

Things break down, then things break up
but you never break even.

I wear one mask at night and exchange it
for another in the morning. Treasures and Trash...
Life in a Box

The space was full of unfulfilled promises
and the stench of defeat and failure.
Dead dreams lay scattered on the floor.
The air was stale.
Boxes of baggage and bags of mould
Reminders of yesterday, for better for worse.

There are physical scars and the other kind.
The physical you learn to live with
because everyone can see them, and accept them.
They are sometimes worn as badges of courage
Trophies from victories and reminders of defeat

The others are hidden, shrouded in secrecy and mystery,
only available for your ministering and healing.
Cosmetic surgery of the soul.

I feel like the bunny with the bad battery.
The ground shook violently, then cracked and split
like a Christmas walnut.
Headstone fell upon headstone, upon headstone
like some game of devil’s dominos.
While he lay celebrating on a cloud.

Dan Blix

Hermitology 101

Are Hermits a genetically stimulated oddity or simply the product of neglect? What are the ingredients that make up a loner? I believe, If you take a taste of success, a scoop of love, add an ample portion of heartbreak, a certain amount of betrayal, stir in a pound of failure and a pinch of cornered rat, then blend into a bowl with low self esteem, mixed with a lack of confidence, throw in some self pity, a respect for nature and bake slowly for twenty years, you may then, be on the right track.

If there were courses in Hermitology, taught by the world’s leading Hermitologists, would you enroll? Of course not! Simply because the Hermitologists would not show up to enlighten and neither would you for that matter. Hermitedness is something, I believe, that follows a spontaneous path and is guided by events that occur outside the realm of predictability and common sense. I can’t claim to know any Hermits, which tells me they have successfully and skillfully succeeded in their quest of anonymity.

I do believe though, that I had a close encounter of the third kind with just such a recluse a few weeks back at the exit door of a large retail store in Gravenhurst. As I left the store I came close to knocking over an old timer, right out of the pages of Prospector’s Digest. He looked about seventy years old, with a full beard and very few teeth, not that this is a prerequisite for being a Hermit, but he could well have been typecast in the role. In fact he looked more like the perennial sidekick, Gabby Hayes than even Gabby himself. He had an amazed grin on his face as he watched the automatic door open and close, and said to no one in particular 'Ain’t that the darndest thing!' In true western gibberish! I couldn’t help but smile at the childlike amazement that lit up his face. It had to make anyone wonder where this man had been hiding for the past number of years. Being a romantic, I dismissed the possibility he was mentally challenged, but chose to think of him as a voluntary social dropout. How and where he lived, I could only speculate. A path, I’m guessing, the old fellow followed for years and for reasons only he knew. As I left the parking lot he remained transfixed as his head swung from side to side with every opening and closing of the magic door. I wasn’t sure what brought him to town, but I had a good idea what would drive him back into seclusion. The world was just moving too fast for his liking. Who knew what was waiting around the corner?

For those who would actively pursue this life style, be warned! Hermitedness cannot be created and is not contrived. It is usually gender specific, although the word Hermette has been used on occasion to describe self-exiled women. I’m sure a degree or doctorate must be earned with years of shattered dreams, broken promises and a general mistrust of fellow man, cultivated with bad decisions and developed to perfection with word fasts. So for those of you, who consider yourselves Hermitically inclined, lock your doors and your hearts and let it happen naturally. For those of you, male or female, teetering on the threshold but not yet ready to make the commitment... happy trails or seek help!

Dan Blix

Cheers for Chairs

A chair is a sad thing when it’s all alone.
Waiting so patiently ‘till you come home.
It remembers a time when it had its roots
buried deep in the soil near its mother.
When it swayed as it played in the woods,
where it stayed, with its father and sisters and brothers.

For a chair to be happy, for a chair to feel close,
It needs the warmth of your body.
It has to have feelings much stronger than most
to act as a resting place, act as a host.
And anticipate what is soon to come,
With the frequent arrival of that special bum

Your chair will glow, you can feel it relax
when you slumber on lumber and put your head back.
Just throw your coat on its shoulders
and place your bum on its seat.
Put your hands on its arms, enjoy all its charms
and hear its soft sigh as you put up your feet.



Dan Blix