A silent poets loud dreams

Life in the words of a mediocre poet.


January 2017

Just The Dad-Mom.

This is an open letter to all the single fathers out there, grinding down to the bone.

I would first like to start off by saying I am proud of all you. It may not mean much coming from a complete stranger. Being a single father of two beautiful boys, I understand what it’s like to give your unwavering focus and attention and time.

Science and psychology studies are proving more in depth how important it is to have a positive male role model. As well as the long term effects on not having such a figure around.

Personally I can say that growing up without a father, being abandoned by another person who was at one point like a dad to me. Definitely changes your perspective. Especially the way you view and initiate relationships.

As for my biological father, it is pretty much the A-typical story. He was never really around. Not enough for me to actually miss him or truly ever even think about him.
I was more attached to my mother’s new partner whom she had spent 8 years with.
This was the gentleman I came to identify as my father figure. He was the one who did all the normal outings with us. Took us camping, played ball and everything between those lines.

When he and my mother split up I was fourteen. I would still see him really often and have sleepovers at his place. Until he reunited with his ex-girlfriend. To premise this, he had left this woman all those years ago to be with my mother. As he started seeing her more and more. I began to hear from him less, see him less. I was young but still old enough and aware to understand what was going on. His ex-girlfriend was jealous and that any time he would call or even pop by my place to say hi. It would pose a problem for him, causing a fight between the pair. It was ironic because for many years he lived but three streets away. As that relationship deteriorated I didn’t seem to be affected by it.

At least not until I was sixteen going on seventeen, trying to make sense of life. Searching for an identity for myself. That is kind of when the reality started to hit. My mind was maturing, personality wise I feel like I was on a pursuit to understand what it was to be a man. It was only the beginning of a naive endeavor.

It was in those moments where I started becoming lost and sure about life in general.
Wondering why these men, who were supposed to love me unconditionally. Protect me and guide me through the little nuances of life were nowhere to be found. Why are they not here? Why do they no longer love me? It was at that point where I became even more shy and reserved than I already was. I guess you can say I was angry. Harboured alot of resentment.

I was just turning eighteen when my biological father had contacted me. Wanting to see me and possibly develop a relationship. Of course I was still upset with him, but the boy inside me still wanted a “Daddy.” I took a train down to Toronto to see him for the first time since I was about six years old. I had an insanely good time. I was feeling high on life in that moment. As the following year progressed I came to a few sudden realisations. 

The first realisation was that he was still the same person as I remember when I was younger. The type of man who always put work absolutely first. The unreliable type, the dad who would make plans only to never show or come up with valid reasons why. Showing little remorse. 

The second realisation was that. This is who he was. I had learned about some troubling things from his past childhood from my mother. Which ultimately explained why he was the way he was. No one had taught him how to be a good father, or a decent person for that matter. Knowing that this was who he was, gave me the closure I so desperately needed years ago. I was no longer angry, I had forgiven him. Understanding that if I were to continue a relationship with him this is all I would have to expect. That nothing would change on his end. 

The third realisation was that. I no longer felt like I needed him around in my life. After understanding who he was. It was really answers and clarity that I needed. That I would transcend this genetic line of parental nightmares. I was not him and I never had to be him. We didn’t owe one another anything. It was in that moment I started to figure out who I was. After that we talk sporadically. But nothing much.

How did this all affect me? Overall it manifested itself in my confidence. I was afraid to see anything through, any project I started or idea I had was gone as fast as it was started. Even the things I was passionate about such as writing and playing guitar. I would start up and go all crazy letting it consume me. To not even giving it a second thought. I dropped out of school, was back and forth in adult education. I was much happier quitting and letting myself fail rather than trying and potentially failing. I think it was ultimately because I was trying to hide my true feelings. Trying to mask how sensitive I had truly become.

Now fast forward years from then. I am now twenty-seven with two children. My oldest is turning seven and my youngest five. I had my first one and twenty years old. Currently I have them full time. And I’ve had them full time now for the last two years. The mother only has them one day a week, that’s a whole big story that I will get into another time.

In spending every waking moment with them. The true meaning of fatherhood could not be more clear.


There’s going to be a time in your child’s life where you are unsure how to answer their questions. Just say that you don’t know, that you will find the answers together. The truth is we don’t have them all anyway. Learning as we go along. Encouraging critical thinking, letting them know that’s it’s okay not to know everything. And most importantly making them hungry for knowledge. To question everything.

Being in charge of two living beings 24/7 is not always easy. With utmost certainty. You will find yourself mentally taxed and exhausted. More often than not. You may lose your temper, maybe a little overly strict.They are our babies after all. And that’s alright you aren’t perfect. I’ve yelled, I’ve dismissed, outright just broke down in a fit of tears. Your child should know that your just human, don’t just apologize for your mistakes but explain to them what they are, why you acted in such away. How your working on them and what you expect from them going forward. They listen way more than we notice. Of course you will have to repeat yourself many times.

And as a father it’s natural that we want to raise strong resilient kids. We want them tough. But that’s not enough, we also want them to be thoughtful, caring and sensitive to others feelings. And that starts with us. It means tending to their beautiful little hearts constantly. It means constantly making ourselves available and most importantly, vulnerable. Ripping out hearts open wide, even to old wounds if it would serve the purpose of a lesson.

According to the Census bureau and Statistics Canada. There are 1.5 million single parent households. Roughly 2 out of every 10 single parent households has a dedicated father running it. The number of single fathers seems to be going on a rise. That’s a hell of a lot of single parents. 

I just want to take the time to applaud you. I wish you and your children nothing but the best in life. There is nothing more important in life than family. We hear far too much about deadbeat dad’s. It’s time to start recognizing the good ones. And not just on “fathers day.” 

Give them everything that you were missing or wish you had growing up. Stay close and never lose hope. You are strong and fierce. And you are amazing, doing so much with so little. Believe me when I say, not only do you need but deserve a little break. You’ve sacrificed so much and at I am sure at some point in time you may or already feel unapraciated. But you are loved and idolized never forget that. When it all comes down to the end they will always remember one thing, who was there. And every milestone they hit you will be there; cheering them on. And they will come to you constantly for support and validation. Because you are “Dad”

Keep on fighting the good fight. Keep up the good work and most importantly never give up your love!


Silenced Poet.


The Self-harm complex. Energy drinks and food.

( This was written about old experiences. Since then I have been able to help myself and gain control of something that was taking a hold of me. )
On a serious note.

It’s evident that life is uncontrollable. The many downfalls and depression get the best of us. And in life what people want the most is to be loved and accepted. To live a comfortable and accomplished life as well as ascertain a certain level of control. In events, moments. We would control space and time given the chance.

Unfortunately nothing works that way. Life beats us and breaks us down to a pool of anxiety and self-doubt. For some more than others. And when coping mechanisms aren’t readily available, or you were never taught or just completely unsure on how to. Finding a way out is always hard. We live stuck in ourselves. Aggravating our own consciousness to the point of insanity

And what is a person to do if they have no outlet for self-expression, no one to vent and lean on. Or maybe that others just completely disregard your “so-called issues” Insensitively tell you to “get over it” Because It’s the honest to god truth that we live in a society of know it all’s, misunderstanding and miss-interpretations.

It’s no wonder people feel cast aside. And decide to ease their pain in creatively dark ways. The many ways one uses to gain the tiniest shred of control. Nobody listens. Why don’t they listen?

Self-harm can come in many forms. I think people only think of the obvious ones. The release of endorphin’s through physical mutilation or harm.

Which is the most common and frowned upon or judged by society. And kept the most in secret. Over the years I’ve met a lot of amazing people to find out this was the case. And guess what. Not a single person ever stopped to listen. Just ridiculed and criticized.

It’s something that is much more common than the average person believes. Then again, the average person probably doesn’t think this way.

So what about all the other ways of self-harm that are more evident and visible yet people are blind to. Such as the torture of isolation. Keeping yourself away from friends, family. Society in general. Just because you know that people have a hard time accepting or letting you be yourself. Being individual at times means you’re a source for entertainment and highly inflated ego’s. So people isolate themselves.

Watching people live their lives, days go by, at home pacing, bored. Losing themselves in whatever they can find. Just to try to get rid of the continuous sense of not belonging. Thinking its protecting their nature. But really it’s just imprinting a deeper sadness on their soul. I may be crazy. But to me that’s self harm as well.

Which brings me to my next point. My unorthodox way of self-harm/addiction.

“Energy drinks” Yes this may be weird and not even sound like an issue at all. But It’s a big one.

Way more than just a bad habit. It’s something that is uncontrollable and has followed me for many years. Most people would ask, what’s wrong with it. They’re just like supercharged coffees. As of we don’t live in the information age. It is more than well-known that not only are these drinks extremely bad for you as well as deteriorate your house. But can also cause a string of life-long problems.
Such as diabetes for starters, arrhythmia, to the more serious “heart attacks” And not to mention how bad it is for your adrenal glands and nervous system. Obviously in copious amounts consumed on a regular basis. Even copious doesn’t seem like the right word for it. It still seems like an odd problem to have. And I’ve been young and wild. I’ve experimented with things but nothing ever attracted me or consumed me as much as this has. And I just wrote the off as a one time thing. Never thought about or even tried these substances again. But energy drinks? They turn my diagnosed moderate to severe ADHD brains into a hyper, shaky mess.

It started when I had my first one at sixteen. Monster, the green one of course was my vice. It was a daily thing. I would have like one or two for the longest time. And that just escalate.
Three to Four a day. and at that point I was going through a really rough death in the family. I was also simply just young and depression. I am assuming it was, still is clinical depression because. Going through random periods of ups and downs. Of course I haven’t seen a doctor about it. I haven’t seen one in years. Happy for a certain amount of time, then sad, lost and confused just as equally.

So I kept on feeding this demon, I still keep on feeding it.

It’s to the point where I actually have to admit it’s a problem. It’s getting out of hand.
And as I write this. Two are sitting here on my desk as I already downed a few, just to prove a point.

Whenever friends or family tell me to slow down because they’re concerned. I kind of just brush them off. I don’t bother listening. Look at that. I can’t even take my own advice. The hypocrisy is ironic. I will drink them at every chance I get. I find some way to work them into my budget. I will drink them in secret and stash an abundance of cans in my drawers just so I don’t have to hear it from anyone.

And to be honest. After all the numerous articles and research I’ve done. knowing the amount of people who die every year all over a stupid drink. It still doesn’t phase me. Like I don’t really care.I really don’t. And I wish I can say for the most part that I did. I don’t know why. I have tried to quit so many times. And in those times of withdrawals I realize the monster I am. Livid and impatient. I want to tear apart the world.

On top of everything. this has been a really trying year. With a hell of a lot more stress than I’m use to. So I turn to the one vice and comfort I know. Even as I feel my health quality decline. I am only twenty-six. I shouldn’t be this tired. Life is just exhausting. Or maybe I just don’t know how to cope with it all. I never have, I never learned.

And even now, my breath is shortened. My heart is hammering. I mind as well slap myself in the face for even writing this. But I guess I need to get this out. There’s random days where I have really odd chest pains, weird pulling sensations in my heart. Random shortness of breath. Just overall weird sensations. I most likely have diabetes and It’s like I just don’t care. Not as much as I should anyway.

Most people would be freaking out at this point. I just keep doing this to myself. And I don’t know why. Or how to stop for that matter. I don’t even remember when I stopped caring about myself or let myself go this much.

This is all I can control.
This is my self-harm.

Silenced poet.

Chaos theory.


Structure is for the logical: planning every little detail and nuance in bouts of insanity to ensure perfection of every little intricate detail you possess in your mind.

Chaos is for the creative: embracing imperfections, since it is said that we do not tolerate reality, we take solace in finding all the broken pieces that would never fit anywhere else; to create a masterpiece which is purely unsolicited in every possible way.

Silenced Poet.

Lovers can be fighters.

Just because I am a lover does not mean that I cannot or will night fight. It is just that there are very few things in this universe that are truly worth the aggression and mental taxation. When it comes to the things I love, those I love. All bets are off. They say love is the strongest human emotion of all. Never come between a person and what they hold so dear, a tear is a physical representation of metaphorical blood shed. I am a lover, I fight for what it love.

Silenced Poet:

Forever at heart the emo/ hardcore/post-hardcore kid.

Here I am.
Here is 2017 another year the body ages but the mind fights to stay young. 27 years old two kids and still a whole life ahead of me to figure out still.

Long gone are the days of eyeliner and studded belts. I can’t believe I’m actually dressing like an adult now. The depressing MSN Messenger handles and Myspace. Oh god what a time!

I grew up in the height of the scene. When everyone though it was “devils music” or “something satanic” and at that I LOL, oh how we were misunderstood when the music wasn’t as popular and everyone judged the fuck out of us for being different and we snarled back for them being all the same. 

But what I do know is my love for music has never died. And even as an adult I hardcore dance around the house while cleaning and doing the dishes; to a double bass drum fueled, pre-teen angst hyperness. Screaming along getting lost in the break-down and catchy choruses.

And what better way to start the year off than a show?
August Burns Red ( ABR ) Sunday January 8th at metropolis, one of Montreal’s most popular venue’s.

And I’m getting the old uniform on for the show. Skinnies, a band t-shirt ( of course like duh! ) Studded belt to top it off. 

We spend so much time trying to grow old. We forget what makes us feel alive. And here I am in the thick of life, and it’s great. However every once and a while you need to take a step back, get loud and rowdy with the crew. Hit a show and jump around like skinny teenagers again. The inner kid is supposed to live vicariously through your adult self, not be repressed, that’s why so many become depressed. Life is truly short take some god damn time for yourself. Do what you enjoy.

And on a final note. August Burns Red got me through my teenage years when I felt depressed and alone. The band is no stranger to the plight. And I will be a life long fan. 60 years old still hardcore dancing until my hip breaks.

I’m only 27, but I am forever the emo kid. 

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