Sosoetry: The Gall of Roxann

Roxann’s troubled tummy
Made her feel so crummy
The days of pain were lots in number
It interrupted many nights of slumber
Surely this kind of torture in the belly
Was a sign of something unhealthy
The ache in her bowels
Led to gasps and howls
The spasms kept getting worse
The agony made her utter curses
(Yes! This foul mouthed individual
Swore even more than her usual!)
This was beginning to bore her
Not a fan of this kind of horror
To Satan she did pray
Make this hell go away
One bad day she said damn it all
And off she went to the hospital
“Doctor, this misery keeps getting badder.”
“Why Ms. Tarajos, it’s your gall bladder.”
Her wincing
Was convincing
She didn’t even have to explain
Was given a script for the pain
He scheduled an operation
To remove this aggravation
I hope that after the extrication
Her torture comes to an end
She has an easy recuperation
And is quickly on the mend

Sosoetry: “Jah Rocco Jalapeño” or “The Epic of Jarkkowulf”

My pal Michelle and I are helping Jarkko finally establish some kind of internet presence. She asked me to write something about him. While I wrote a safe and boring bio, I also wrote this over about 4 days. I’ve known him for 30 years or more, and he’s a colourful character, so it was pretty easy.

A lad most affable
Talents admirable
Instantly disarming
Thoroughly charming
The essence of manly class
He’s beloved of many a lass
Canoe maker
Booty shaker
Hypnotic turn tablist
Nordic tale fablist
Carving axe sharpener
Starving artist carpenter
Dermagraphic enhancer
Funky acrobatic dancer
Early Lake Huron surfer
Frequent visitor at Caution Point
Assured cabinetry kerfer
Making many a fine dovetail joint
Totally devoted father
To his son & daughter
Even when not doing tattoos
He’s always foregone brews
Collector of many objects
Obsessed with all subjects
He sometimes tilts at windmills
Hates those turbines on the hills
Is runoff from Bruce nuclear power
Possibly a creativity endower?
That an invisible miasma atomic
Leaves imagination polychromic?
I’m almost certain he’s from another planet
Stranded when his spacecraft crash landed
Maybe that explains the affiliation
With Justin and Alien Visitation
He will answer to the name Bill
And seeks out any kind of thrill
Teenage punk rocker
Premier disc jockey
Chooses the beats
Eschews all meats
Rasta knotting dreads
Has ’em nodding heads
Laying down tasty rhythms
Playing with crazy precision
Sounds that heal herbally
Senses you feel verbally
A whirling dervish Finnish sensei
Gave birth to Scandinadian reggae
Slow speed dubbing
Best kind of clubbing
Collaborating with PostContemporary
Creating some tunes most extraordinary
Exclusive dubplates dropping
Spadina basement hopping
Spinning a gronky remix
There’s nothing he can’t fix
Locates gems in a huge record collection
His style is mellow bass and pulsing drum
Establishes quite an audience connection
Plays sexy beats that make the gals cum
No affinity for woodsy harmonica
Leans more to groovy electronica
Voluminous tinker
Prodigious thinker
Thought words verbose
Verbs carefully chose
Dispensing viking wisdom pearls
Theories that set the mind awhirl
The lad goes off rambling
Should really go camping
Capably piloting ships
Ably navigating trips
Finely honed crafts
Highly toned drafts
Contemplating designs
Conceptually quite fine
Able with tools powered or handheld
Can do many varied sorts of welds
Hammering steel in the forge
Whittling birch on the porch
Transforming a slab of oak
Transfixed in a lab by smoke
Fabricating truck frames metal
Skillfully crafting a wooden hull
Bends aluminum by the meter
Carves a canoe from red cedar
Vanquishes hardwood
Varnishes very good
Raised with arcane old world skills
Learned from fellas at the sawmill
Brush script hand letterer
Always strives to be better
Late nights at the Lettering Shop
Consuming way too much pop
When he pinstripes and signpaints
His creativity knows few constraints
He’s rarely not smiling and cheerful
Get ’em talking you’ll get an earful
He’s sometimes a bit hyper active
Always nervous about cyber practice
Computer wise he’s in the dark ages
Prefers moving pencil across pages
Cooking away at the Sugar Shack
Laying in lines curvy and black
Maybe he’ll get to my tattoo
Before we leave decade two
He’s not always so good at staying in touch
But when we do connect we discuss much
Comes across a bit awkward
Professes to be timid and shy
He’s really quite straightforward
Before long the words they fly
He’s always his humble self
Meekly denies he’s part elf
I’m convinced he’s a tundra gnome
Now calling Kincardine his home
Maybe his being a recluse
Is why he’s able to produce
Doesn’t always eat so well
Choices a dietitian’s hell
When Finland loses to Sweden
It’s a slice of crow pie he’s eatin’
Very capable in many a field
Save making healthy meals
A walking DIY encyclopedia
But a Luddite at social media
At making anything he’s a wizard
Thinks the self promo biz is hard
Rarely photographed
Piloting his soulcraft
Jumps on his skateboard
Gets right into his groove
Barely says eight words
Rides black lines smooth
Many trips winter motorbiking
Doesn’t matter if it’s just snowed
Like a crazed berserker viking
He loves roaring down dirt roads
Tearing through a valley
Driving a private car rally
Jarkko feels very much alive
Bombing around in 4W drive
He’s the purveyor of fire
Not much gives him a fright
Save surveying from a spire
Doesn’t like being at a height
Diehard child of the Bruce
Returned for sunset views
Decades of rooty dub dreads
Intertwined with a drum head
Kincardine hair farmer
Cardigan of plait armour
I suspect his folks still haven’t a clue
That he’s got more than one tattoo
He keeps his sleeves rolled down
To prevent his mom’s cold frown
Cheekbones finely hewn
Make all the ladies swoon
Despite the scruffy beard & girlish hips
Women all want to kiss him on the lips
Always looking natty & Snug
Never acting crassly or smug
Sets sights on modern makes
On nights by far Northern lakes
When in urbanity he’s always cordial
But he’s happiest in regions Boreal
Words tumble like an avalanche
Birds nesting on a pine branch
Words burst out like a flood
Wolf paw prints in the mud
Words flow out like a cascade
Deer in a sun dappled glade
Words gush out like a wave
Lapping at the edge of a lake
Words come forth in a torrent
Listen to sounds of the forest

Requiem for a Needle

Needles are sadly not what they once were. I don’t expect the needles I use to last for that long. And if they are good, I often don’t have a clue who made it. I used one that beat all the odds and it lasted for almost five months. Finally gave up the ghost. Figured it needed some recognition for its yeoman’s service.

a humble embroidery crewel
possibly the simplest tool
a sharpened sliver of steel
with a single minded zeal
an eye, a shaft and a point
serving to get fabric joined
always took up the slack
dutifully made my pack
subjected to months of abuse
at last it’d get no more use
after pulling miles of thread
an irreparably damaged head
would mean an ignoble end
of this very faithful friend

Sosoetry: Ranger Candy

Motrin, my old friend, my old enemy
I’ll be taking you till the very end of me
after a summer hike of quite some length
I’m sure to reach for the extra strength
for pains that seem to linger
from tips of toes to end of finger
for injuries that keep you awake
to that nagging, chronic ache
when every part of you is sore
from extremities to your core
ankle sprain or sartorius strain
it will alleviate all your pain
there are of course certain herbal remedies
but sometimes you need pharmachemistry
easily acquired over the counter meds
to help alleviate that pounding head

Sosoetry – Brycely

Wrote this about the shop apprentice, Bryce. Well, to be honest, I don’t think it took too long for him to outpace the term “apprentice”. Given how quickly he was knocking them out of the park, and where he’s at now, I think it’s fair to call him a full fledged tattooist. 

guys think that he’s disarming

find him a total hoot

gals regard him as charming

giggle that he’s cute

that the lad has some talent

is quite readily apparent

clearly evident was a strong work ethic 

his prodigious output was tremendous

not to mention his very unique aesthetic

he was asked to become the shop apprentice

he proved to be one of those quick studies

rapidly grasping the art of dermography

with the trust of some uninked buddies

that didn’t end in multi-hued catastrophe

he has a distinctive style all his own

his skills by leagues they’ve grown

but he gets dirty handprints on the door

and drops ink splatters all over the floor

gets to watch a hot young thing get stripped

before etching into her flesh some silly script

there isn’t much he hasn’t depicted

no style to which he’s restricted

whether sea monsters from the briny deep

or skeletal remains that from crypts creep

from a cybernetic cricket skull

to barnacles on a frigate hull

from the characters of Lewis Carroll

to snarling badgers on a large mural

he can render on a young lass a delicate bird

or a comic book super hero sleeve on a nerd

he can wax poetic about fossilized whale poop

while tattooing a plesiosaur in ectoplasmic goop

studies up on cryptozoological pathology

while painting scenes of future mythology

reads books on Pleistocene megafauna

while snuggled up with his pet iguana

even though his name is Huffman

he absolutely refuses to puff one

at one of our safety meets

he defers the tasty treats

Bryce will tell you he likes beers

but on this point he is clearly fibbin’

anything with flavour or body he fears

preferring instead Pabst Blue Ribbon

he’s very slack about pop can recycling

and isn’t visible enough while bicycling

too consumed painting zombie snails

to answer his many unread emails

too busy drawing a musk ox

to deal with his stuffed inbox

Bryce fails to update his blog

his talents he refuses to flog

on the goodness of his co-workers he’s hopin’

always leaving his email and Facebook open

regrettably he listens to whiny screamo bands

“oh...turn that shit off!” everyone commands

Sosoetry: Niece A

I’m likely not very objective, but I think my nieces are pretty fantastic. Smart, funny and I will have to beat the bejeesus out of any boys who dare look at them. I wrote one of these goofy things about the oldest one, Niece J, and I was advised by the other one that I should write one about her for her birthday.

cute as a proverbial button
with a wit that is quite cuttin’
smart as a zinging whip
ready with a funny quip
when she sings it’s mellifluous and on key
when she laughs she brays like a donkey
one subject best left unspoken
is how often her arms have broken
there is sometimes some sisterly rivalry
expressed by a wailing “Joahoaseeeee!”
she sometimes displays too much sass
but always does very well in class
is there anything she doesn’t know?
whether it’s the mass of Pluto
the pH of alkali
or the square root of π
she must have some mystery disease
because she simply doesn’t love cheese
its nutritiousness she disses
thinks a sandwich of peanut butter and banana 
is not a delightful form of heavenly manna
its deliciousness she misses
her mom won’t quite let her be a vegetarian
but she encourages her to be a veterinarian
Annie gets straight A’s in all her courses
but what she really loves are horses
an expert on any and all matters equine
her bedroom is a veritable horse shrine
one thing she adores above all else is riding 
it appears to be a passion all abiding
she’s always ready to wield that scoop
to clean up a barn full of purebred poop
“but mom can’t I have an adorable pony?
I’m sure we could keep it in the shed
I’ll live on Wonder bread and baloney
and give up my dinner to keep it fed”
to her uncle she’s mean and cruel
telling him he’s weird and unusual
rolls her eyes and calls him silly 
when he can’t identify colt or filly

Sosoetry: Craigy

Craig came and did a guest stint at the shop a decade ago. He left us in awe for a few reasons. 

Hyper talented and really fast. He did both of Andrews shins, one in about ten hours, the other in seven, and they are phenomenal. His grasp of colour is second to none. 

He was also Rick on Degrassi Junior High when he was a kid for two years. He had a publicity photo from the series right at the back of his portfolio, and after being floored by the calibre of his work, women, upon seeing that photo, would all squeal that they remembered him and thought he was so cute. Not sure if it was his artistic ability, proximity to once upon a time TV stardom, or disarming charm, (he’s this tiny little guy, claims he’s 5 feet and 2 inches, but I think he exaggerated that by a few inches), he had a way with women that was breathtaking to behold. He regaled us with stories about his exploits that just boggled our mind. 

All that, a tendency to not filter anything he said, tales of all kinds of crazy shenanigans, and mismanagement of his affairs, invariably had us shaking our head. 

I doubt you’re even five two
but I know you do a fine tattoo
your knuckles
made me chuckle
C3P0 & R2D2
it seems the force is with you
you’re a tiny little troll
your sex life is on a roll
you seem to have it made
women say “wanna get laid”
when they learn you were on DeGrassi
they drop all pretenses of being classy
finding out you were “Rick”
they offer to suck your dick
while you drive they give you head
“mind if my sister joins us in bed”
but you got your sperm into an egg
oh gawd here comes another Craig
you work at shops in Los Angeles
partying with the Hells Angels
you associate with that gang
your life may end with a bang
they’re no honourable band of brothers
caring only about themselves and no others
you did some fine work on my friend Andy
it’s a shame you love the nose candy
buying the notion of ma vida loca
including satan’s agent coca
you’ll gladly do lines of coke
but won’t touch home grown smoke
willingly get fall down drunk
but won’t have a puff of skunk
if you spend time smoking that evil rock
tabloids will cry “another child star run amok”
your life is like a crazy TV show
hitting all sorts of highs and lows
you’ll get into all sorts of trouble
that’ll eventually burst your bubble
your life is a tale of financial woe
heaven only knows how much you owe
how could they repossess your car
don’t they know you were a child star
you may be a talented elf
but please look after yourself

Sosoetry – Niece J

It was my niece Josie’s birthday a few days past (yikes, 13 already – where does the time go?), and I went up to visit yesterday. While underway my mind started to percolate and I wrote a goofy poem about her. It didn’t take me long to figure out some rhyming couplets to try and sum her up.

Both my nieces are really great kids. I don’t see them nearly as often as I would like, but even my infrequent visits are a delight.

My niece Josie seems shy and quiet
but I know her and don’t really buy it
prone to bouts of silliness
given to fits of giddiness
she giggles
she squiggles
you’d never know it seeing her pull goofy faces
but all of her examinations she easily aces
this girl is certainly no fool
doing quite well in school
she reads loads each term
proud to be a total book worm
she’s always in a cheerful mood
knows to eat only healthy food
helps her mom in the kitchen
gladly offering to pitch in
Josie thinks her Wii is totally gnarly
and loves her adorable puppy Marley
she’s best of pals with Annie, her little sister
but they can squabble with the fury of a twister
she can dance up a storm
with fine acrobatic form
she’s proven to be very athletic
her soccer skills anything but pathetic
doesn’t complain if her knees are skinned
still managing to run like the wind
even her long legged uncle she can outpace
when he foolishly challenged her to a race
but the poor thing has never seen Star Wars
this should be rectified very soon of course.

Sosoetry - Anand @ 8

So my little monkey buddy just turned 8, and bored the night before, I sat down and wrote a goofy poem about him. Some of these things are true, and some were meant as a tease. He doesn’t really like Justin Bieber, or Katy Perry for that matter. But sadly he does like Michael Jackson (although that is waning - fortunately), and the dreck they play on Virgin 99.9.

Anand’s height means he’ll never be a jockey

but perhaps he’ll end up playing hockey

he loves the perennial underdogs the MapleLeafs

even if they stink like worn too long underbriefs

on a skateboard he hopes to sidewalk surf

in the mean time he’ll play with his Nerf

he’s obsessed with flinging foam blaster darts

and has expressed interest in learning raster art

his dad tells him “he’s totally whack son”

but he still loves the late Michael Jackson

he likes to sing and dance to the songs of Thriller

and really loves 99.9 Virgin Radios starchy filler

in particular he has a crush on Katy Perry

her songs stick in his head like a dingleberry

him and Rohan really love Justin Bieber

he makes them delirious as in a fever

they want to copy his mop of hair

and imitate his stylish fashion flair

instead of eating dinner he whines for cookies

which causes his uncle to give him noogies

he wants a husky as a pet

and really digs Boba Fett

that he’s multi armed and devious

makes him like General Grievious

but I don’t get his thing with Anakin

really dude, I’m confused and askin’

it takes a while, but years later

he becomes the evil Darth Vader

the mere thought of playing his Wii

fills him with a profound sense of glee

he hops around, flails about, and squeals

hurling glowing orbs and a stun ray

“aww come on!” he plaintively appeals

when the results don’t go his way

Sosoetry – Aylmer Express

I spent a few years living in the lovely little town of Aylmer, working at the Aylmer Express. (Highly recommend them too if you need to get anything printed.) I worked as a film stripper/pre-press tech. I loved the job, and then there was the fun side bonus of messing with people by telling people I was a stripper.

When I left I wrote a little poem about all the fun characters I worked with there. Great bunch, and my leaving there was bittersweet. I definitely didn’t leave cause I didn’t like the job or the people or the company or the town. I’d written about some of them before, but this time got the whole crew in. A rhyming couplet about each one of them.

Anne Dwyre is no shirker,

I’ve really enjoyed being her co-worker

Rick Cooper drives a big white van,

when he gets home he opens a cold beer can

Chris Semchism sometimes stutters,

when I screw up he always mutters

Dave Friesen will soon discover parental joys,

then he’ll learn the real meaning of soggy bottom boys

Tamara David won’t shop at Joe’s No Frills,

and continually suffers from the chills

John Hueston likes sports with an element of danger,

but to most of us he remains a stranger

Anna Chirico Roes works on a magazine for heavy metal flakes,

and calls her Dutch coworker a mangia cakes

Tina Zacharias manages the payroll and the books,

and at times gives her bratty girls disapproving looks

Judging from the griping coming from her orifice,

Wanda Kapogines would be a natural to run for office

Dave Torr was here when I was hired,

now I fear he may be involuntarily retired

Pete Bartsch has quite a range of different voices,

he’s forever uttering quirky noises

Andrew Thompson is quite adept at fixing the QM’s kinks,

but I think he’d rather spend his time on the links

Rob Perry is a fine Aylmer reporter,

even if he is a native New Yorker

Annie Enns blushes quite easily,

especially when we talk about the birds and the (they’re wasps, not) bees

Neil Jeffery runs one of our presses,

Sonya needs to tame his unruly tresses

Ken Russell sucks on a chuppachup,

while cutting jobs that are four up

Carrie Thiessen is a nice christian lass,

but to her mother she displays too much sass

I still scratch my head about Bill Buck,

he sure is a mighty peculiar duck

Judy Hope orders the paper and the stock,

but I doubt she ever dances to any funky rock

Gene Mooney writes about human triumphs and failings,

but I suspect he’d rather be out sailing

Karen Hueston is constantly busy,

runs around so much it makes me dizzy

Doug Kestle keeps the SpeedMaster rollin’,

I sure hope he never again has his vehicle stolen

Bill Dowson sure is an upbeat fellow,

his friendly greetings he always bellows

Dave obviously found Mary Friesen yummy,

that’s why she now has a growing tummy

Working on the paper sends Pam Mortons head a throbbin,

then she goes home to a little handful called Robin

Michelle Barrett frequently says basically,

at least she doesn’t work lackadaisically

Hark do I hear a deep sigh,

it must be Bety Hahn from Delhi

Judy Minor plays the bagpipes,

and is a genius with the brush swipes

I know Julie Zacharias won’t cause any scandals,

it’s because she always wears her jesus sandals

Brenda Miller is very devoted to her duty,

which makes her a huge pain in my petuty

Kelly Klassen’s kids only eat fake cheese,

all I can say to that is “oh please”

Denise Ward is here at all times and at all hours,

which makes me think she has superpowers

Dave Helsdon constructed a really fine camping hammock,

maybe one day we’ll sit around the fire and eat some bannock

Brett Hueston goes really fast on his bikes,

and that punk rock he really likes

Dawn McClintock is my old friend,

I hope she stays that way until the end

Arthur Hueston has a very positive attitude,

to him and others we owe our eternal gratitude

Sosoetry – G&C Gang

During my tenure at St. Joseph, there was a period where I was between positions. They needed somewhere to put me so I went to Goodman & Carr, a big downtown Toronto law firm. There was an empty office there and that is where they stuck me for a few months. I was doing all sorts of graphic jobs and could do them from there. 24th floor office looking north across Toronto. Good times. St. Joseph ran the copy and mail room. I didn’t have much to do with that end of it, but I did help out whenever they got swamped. Interesting environment to get to experience for a while. G&C eventually went under. Wrote this about the people there.

James is a shameless, unrepentant flirt

who adores all females

likes them more than any rich dessert

with his wit he regales

from even the crustiest a smile he can coax

manages to make them laugh with his jokes

he likes the latinas and the caucasians

but his favourite are the hot asians

Mr. Rice is definitely a faithful believer

in the awesome power of the yellow fever

Matt is a bookish music nerd

who loves the written word

his articulate insights

shows he’s quite bright

refers to himself in the third person

regards fundamentalists as vermin

an avid consumer of many a movie

and music that’s not that groovy

sadly he isn’t blessed with the gift of funk

preferring instead the Edge’s new punk

oh sorry, is that new rock

ah whatever, it’s all schlock

he’d be living the life of reilly

if he’d just learn to love Kylie

Jonathan will only consume chicken, pork and cheese

probably has something to do with being Portuguese

if the dish doesn’t contain meat

it’s just not something he’ll eat

despite his fancy ride he never gets very far

poor guy’s always getting pulled over by a cop

giving him a hard time about his souped up car

“you’re just picking on me cause I’m a pork chop”

Paul can definitely sing

does a very passable Sting

a passionate music lover

capable of many a cover

if they played somewhere other than no man’s land

I’d actually be able to go see his Police tribute band

Howard’s radio dial is stuck on Q107

if he could he’d turn the volume to 11

on his lunch hour he watches Dr. Phil

give glib advice to the mentally ill

Selome calls just about everyone “Jiggy”

a flood of faxes makes her just a bit wiggy

as Sylvain diligently copies legal briefs

he’s asked if he was with the Maple Leafs

AnnMarie can’t bear to hear anyone swear

say something off colour

and expect to pay a dollar

Darron is a chortling joker

who enjoys a game of poker

and gets razzed about his fanny pack

Mike calls the UPS guy Brokeback

through his mail run he’ll fly

but doing so makes him sigh

Emelin returned from a trip to the Phillipines

to find she was missing a few fax machines

poor Claudia had to suffer and swelter

at a Grand & Toy hotter than a smelter

Eric’s bike is beat up and a bit rusty

and his messenger bag is a bit musty

delivering packages around the core

deftly swerving around a taxi cab door

after avoiding grisly death by car

he relaxes by playing his guitar