“Broken Glass Passing underfoot” Foreign land poetics vol. 2 by The Schizo Kid

“Self portrait” on top of a map of Iceland
The Schizo Kid 2015

Free verse, cursed by desire and plagued by fraternity, and a certain mad Justice. Falling back into the hands of fate. There’s nothing greater than my solitude, except maybe true love…but has this love come and gone. Along these cliffs, Underneath these clouds. Under the rain pounding like a soft warrior. At least there’s a story here…a footprint, a written fossil, of a life teetering on the edge of obscurity. The lottery of suffering. A misfit, so I claim the sullen pride to not be part of your clique or tribe, just a solo scribe, changing tides. Oceans of uncertainty, pushing all the black swans to the outside. Silent offerings, the sacrament of emptiness and the unfortunate train wrecks of my past. The broken glass passing underfoot.

Allusions or delusions made to save space, a state of grace. Fears not yet faced, displaced by the rudeness of these time constraints. This is my time and my dime. Just tracing my outline…erasing my shadow with invisible ink. Makes my heart sink. Underneath the underworld churls and clears a space for my spirit to reside. Worlds collide. Upside down is now right side up. Fermenting a belief in the foreverhood of nothing, and a certainty in uncertainty. I hit the bull’s-eye in the dark. This ark of experience, grown through failures and triumphant victories over the darkness, that can consume without warning. That’s what they don’t teach you in class. Divert disaster. Live through the pain. Push through the strange forests of the future. This human, or is it alien condition. My poetic intuition fails to cover rent or tuition. In the warfare of survival, the soldier must soldier on and hang tough. Become a machine with warm blood, a semantic flood. Steel nerves. Unnerved as the observer of chaos, rank and file. File my unnecessary emotions under “Destroy immediately.” The silence of discontent, a lament, turning this water to cement. Discipline sharpens my mind, and dulls the suffrage. Skipping the tutelage of anger channeled into alleys reserved for such a purpose. Anger is just beauty in a primitive notion. The motion of the heaving ocean of existence begs to be calmed. Subdued like a feud turned outward.

The awkward truism that we’re all capable of compassion and murder. Purging the symptoms of infection in body and metaphor…behind this locked door. My hermitage, my heritage. A crude shelter from the rain. A strained relationship to the human life, as these words fall from my mouth, I’m way south of normalcy. Everyday’s a new acid test. The all too familiar arenas of death or refuge. The subtleties of rebirth, the prosthetic arms of faith. The bird’s cry doesn’t seem symbolic or angelic, it’s just hunger and frantic need. I’ve succeeded with my battle tested theories. My youth’s just a wounded animal, a severed limb, beyond the boundaries of sin. I’m a vessel, a ghost, a thick fog. Terminal in madness, the only element that isn’t temporary. The formulas are lost in the wind, this strange world without end. A stranger to the nicety and certainty of life and death.

A fractured tree, a stone rounded by the flow of the Ocean tide. Beside my shadowed existence, there’s a stubborn Scandinavian persistence, that line of thinking that anything can be controlled, organized, and actualized in due time. The difficulty in trying  to undermine the genetics of sickness. Storms of my brain chemistry, and nothing to do with today’s forecast. Motorized footprints lead me to the mountain top. Hedging my bets, erasing my regrets with the possibility of today’s fortune. The misfortune of others. These time trials set into stranger’s eyes. Sometimes life seems contrived. I’ve survived birth, death, birth, rebirth, the damp earth and death’s hand. My echoed breath on the telephone. I’m an infant with an adult body. Deities with sharp teeth underneath my skin. waging war against complacency and fear. Turning modern concepts of poetics onto its ear.

Come closer to this agent of objection and rejection. Nature’s cruelty called “Natural selection.” Can I make a quick suggestion…Run, escape, create before it’s too late. Stand tall and let me hear your battle call. Circling the city, like an animal spooked before a big storm. Forlorn eyes strained to focus on my future, not the ancient past, and the constant rear-view mirror of my whole life. Losses real and imagined. Sanctioned lines and my lack of belief. Underneath my layers of spirit and armor. A sunken ship. I imagine all the images are frozen like permanent ink. I’m just a one man think tank, a broken spectacle. Whatever I am, it’s not recommended, nor does it come with instructions. Destruction of the soul is vanity, insanity is just a sane man’s reaction to an insane world. This is my curled ink pages unfurled. Endorphins gained through stretching my physical limits. My words of advice might suffice. Run and keep running until you collapse or run out of breath.

I’m shrouded in distance and pace. My face is just jagged edges that will eventually turn smooth. Agitated, I feel subordinated, an ornament of last season’s decoration. A consummate professional in the long-lost art of disappearing. I try to be precise like German engineering, never ever fearing man and his theoretical creation. another vocalized fossil, my imprint, my literary footprints. Avoiding the traps of hopelessness and vague idealism or self-delusion, confusion, like being an intrusion in your own skin. This thousand yard stare, my ammunition inked out like a stockpile of verses. Serated, vocally lethal. Expressing myself before that becomes illegal, Head up and feeble, the dust under the microscope of lost hope and the regression that blisters your feet.

Eastern European Cruise Circuit & The Thrill Of Smashing Your Alarm Clock

So I run around all fucking morning trying to make a warped living. First off let me say that when a dirty looking creepy middle aged man arrives while you are desperately trying to print 10 hyperbolic owls in an attempt to send a friend out in the woods of BC some artwork, and shows you clipped out funnies columns and starts to wax poetic about printing one twenty cent copy of a teddy bear photo from this morning’s globe and mail the urge to decapitate him is overwhelming. Yes, random creepy nutbar, thanks for starting my fucking morning off in the strangest possible fucking way. Lots of luck stalking someone else you creep.

Onward to the UPS place to mail this hyperbolic “Magik” owl to some sort of cement factory to a guy with a dog named Baby Buffalo,…right. Shawn stop musing about your company’s drug testing policy. You called me Tina and you live in the middle of the woods..More than likely in a yurt or a teepee right? Anyways I am more of a Billie Holiday fan. Tina Turner looks like fucking AC Green from the Lakers. But, hey Shawn what you and the other lunatics do in the cement realm is beyond my fucking control. I included 2 prints. I figure go try to knock it outta the park, and get a reputation for great service. It is gonna be delivered to the cement teepee by fucking Friday. Besides man didn’t I request accomodations for August?? No..That is because I am going to join the “Eastern European Haunted Castle Cruise Circuit.” If it ain’t mega haunted, I don’t leave poolside from underneath my extra large Schizo Kid brand black beach umbrella. Throw me overboard folks, if I float I am a witch, If I sink, Just whiff rocks into the pockets of my acid wash jean shorts to make sure I sink. Then Get  that 1976 “Gruman” German canoe from My parents summer residence in Beautiful French Cove, Cape Breton. Just tell ’em “The Schizo Kid” sent you. They will probably say they don’t know me…Fuck mom, I bought you a damn dress for fuck sakes, and that pussy willow plaque from the CBCCD little gems fundraiser. They gave me a ginger ale and Pizza quota to keep me quiet. Give that carpet bombed canoe to the Cruise staff. We are going to tow the fucking ship, and attatch one of those ferry boat cables to stay on course.

I think I was thinking when I saw the video of Ian from “Tomfun” in that Nautical theme women’s top that If we did go to France during the “Haunted Castle” tour, He would be surely arrested by the French fashion police and fined $3877.78. But, don’t worry Ian, I speak french and I will Bribe the Jail staff with “Gaulois” cigarettes and art prints. Remember though kids, skip Germany, start the fucking cruise in Belgium or the Netherlands, Because when the boat arrives in fucking Doseldorf or some other city two minutes late we will be machine gunned on site. Well, right besides I bought the fucking Dress and the top for Breagh man. Well, look Ian you and all the other lunatics will be well trained to do DOOM METAL SECURITY while I go ashore. Just whiff a maglight on your belt and get one of those fancy name tags, I have the bone necklaces. I may have trouble flying due to the fact that I may be murdered by blood thirsty fucking airport police or they see me on the schizophenic database, which does exist by the way….Ok, looky here I just dress up like a vacationing go getter dentist from Vermont and get a phony fucking passport. I will try to act non-warlock like for the 20-30 minutes it takes to get on the fucking plane. I figure I try to swindle my way into Cruise ship ownership or just start counterftiting euros like “Banksy” did that time, big fucking fan by the way…Let him do the ship graffiti and civil disobedience.

People think I am a fuckwad, listen kids, I tutored 4th year business courses to a Disabled ‘CBU” student for fucking 3 years, plus I am a Fucking “A” student. Stand back you morons I got this Cruise circuit locked. Tickets will be 34 million euros for yuppies and fucking free to all the artists…BAM!  Look, Dracula tried to kick me off of that “Serpent Society” site for selling fucking posters, but he fucking well tried to sell me a book about the devil two fucking days after joining. Doesn’t that contradict the premise of a non-commercial place for people from another dimension to network and share doomed stories. Besides, I have “Thorseeker” this Turkish Occult fanatic from southern Ontario editing or at she thinks that she is editing. I am trying to send my warlock “mojo” through this shitty Toshiba as we speak. Just kidding she’s a cool girl. Now that I Have my castle “Fjord” in my sights, I have to get some legit witches to run this thing Kosher. I am also working on a stand up comedy routine…I do a piece about why ghosts are dynamite roomates. They don’t skip out on the fucking rent or eat your last piece of pizza or scratch your Cd’s. Unless you have One of those ahh Poltergeists..they can be very problematic. Whiffing dishes at you and speaking in Latin. Well I figure the best way is to just padlock the fucking kitchen shelves or use fucking paper plates from now on.

My line of Eastern European Haunted Castle Cruisewear will include fucking hyperbolic slippers, coasters, amulets, socks, Fishing hats, and the previously mentioned DOOM METAL TRIBUNE black beach umbrellas…..Terrifying drunk lazy octogenarians by the fucking pool…or just whiff my carcass into a sound proof movie room that way terrified clients can just leave two minutes into my stage material..And the artists can go out on the deck to hit up some coke or smoke some grass. Remember, this is not a cruise ship that will agree with everyone, and we bribe the Rhine River fucking Coast guard or put fucking rocks into their dingy to make them sink, which makes them the confirmed witches not The Schizo Kid…Post 911 Nazi doomed planet in which we reside. I will be trying not to get lynched. I was saying to a lady witch who is hiding somewhere in Norway, that I feel like Salmon Rushdie only I am a Blonde warlock, same fucking difference. Besides I got him driving the fucking boat. I am haggling with “Vans” to send all my staff hyperbolic vans plastered with my fucking logos on ’em, I am sure they are equally intrigued and terrified, but this is fucking punk rock not fucking rocket science as Lauchie my old bass player once said,…Of course he is running the “Intimacy Balm” booth and also will be trained as a fucking sniper or the fucking head chef. We must stay healthy. I will be in the ship gym ever so gently squat lifting fucking German Cars and watching reruns of Dr. Oz examining a fucking diseased kidney, and explaining all the fucking reasons I should do a carrot infused fucking Juice fast.

                                                                                               The Schizo KId

This was edited by Tiffany Binns. She is also doing security and Making That guacomole dip

This was edited by Tiffany Binns. She is also doing security and Making That guacomole dip

The Warlock Haunted House Floor Plans (House Layout #1)


The haunted house game. I was Professor long fellow. A Gaelic Black magician and Mad professor. We read from the Seance magik manual, Jenni LeClerc did a white magic blessings to keep me in the bedroom so My Black Magik was neutralized a bit. I  wanted to have some trained witches and warlocks to do these things right.Occupy the whole place top to bottom with trained Haunted house staff, with a dominatrix suppervising the servants quarters with a luxurious Queen sized medieval bed and her consorts who are witches that are a covenant of three.  Full of fury and lust and sin. The sounds of sexual congress between the Warlock runnning the haunted walk in closet and Crypt fill the house and we live life without shame, no shame.

        There was an idea to convert the attic and have someone evoke the attic energy, consult a stone mason to get the pentagram etched, then I will assemble pentagrams made of Birch brances, THen  clear out the store room for a ritual area for Sex magik, I can supervise the crypt. I will keep the Haunted walk in closet Haunted and use the spare unused bag on rib bones, spines, Jawbones, and vertebrae made into scuptures. I use the bones under my bed to donate to a new crypt that is in construction. There is a tower and the top. Good engineering says  build the tower narrow and have a full time area where Ravens nest.  Hang up Framed Drawings Of Ravens to compliment the Actual Ravens under the command or The warlock.

        The pentagram chamber needs a skilled mason with etching implements and Rubber mallets to etch a perfect geometric Pentagram for rituals. The pentagram chamber is also a place or darkness. and a candle lights on stone mounts spaced 8-10 feet along each wall. Preferably candles placed and Some Music is played and magik begins. I will do the custom pentagram and Raven Drawings, as well as a series or charcoal drawings to complement the Black Walls for the Crypt. Renovate the attic for a witch’s sleeping quarters and convert the haunted kitchen pantry into a mirrored Warlock spare bedroom for beautiful house guests and mistresses. Summon the spirit energy to charm the lovely Sexy witches with wild eyes. Our love and affection takes the form of whatever we feel the carnal urge to do.  The tower could also be turned into a Site to view planetary and star alignments and interpret the roll of the Stone dice. This could be used then have a seating area, A large bed and black painted walls of course throughout every square foot. I will stick to the engineering and floor plans. and do murals throughout the house. Install canvases and mount the bones to resemble a strange Chandaliere.

          Also mount the mojo hands onto a Wraught iron candle holder to showcase my bone necklaces. Landscaped graveyard in the backyard with a crypt as well.Commisioned Stone demon/gargoyle statues dotting the hallways. Also install Small dining area with modern kitchen Decorate t

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