This is the place where I say stuff. I promise not that it shall contain nuggets of truth, timeless wisdom, or even be at all sensical. It will most probably also not be witty and urbaine. If it is it's probably by accident. It will however be written by me, be spliced with my poetry and drawings, and it will rock. (maybe)

Friday, July 04, 2008

Another crappy emo poem

Things you said

You said everything would be okay
said I'd be fine,
things work out
the universe provides
whatever the hell that means

And I believed you
because you said you loved me
So why would you lie?

You said "You'd better not leave me"
I said "I love you"
You said "really?"
and I said "Of course"
Because I was young and foolish
and that is my perennial mistake
falling in love

You said "You make me happy"
and your words enveloped me like
sweet perfume, caressing my soul
and filling me with a false sense of security
because you were my heart
and I would have walked through fire for you

You said "You're sweet"
but I could think
of nothing sweeter than your smile,
nothing that soothed like the fullness of your lips,
that stirred me like the feeling of your body pressed to mine

You said you were leaving
and then you walked out of the room
as I sat there in the darkness
left with the echo of your footsteps
and your words in my head

Thursday, June 07, 2007


Been awhile since I graced the internet with my wit.
Seems so empty without me, to quote that ever so
clever bon vivant Marshal Mathers, may he rest in peace.

Wrote this today. Actually, it sort of wrote itself.
Don't know if it's any good, don't really care, it's mine.

I'm calling it "Resolutions"

I want to be strong.
Stronger than death,
stronger than pain,
stronger most of all than this
stupid ache in the swell of my chest,
call it a heart, a soul,
call it whatever the f*ck you want,
it hurts like hell and it wont go away.

It's grey again today,
another day muted,
dulled meaning,
veiled sunshine.

I want it to glow.
I want the sun to burn,
burn away the clouds and shadows,
burn away impurity and leave only
the gold of our best days,
our shining moments

The day seems empty,
silent, dead
I want to scream
shatter the void of silence
with raw truth and beauty
with passion and things unsaid
but felt always

I want to carve a path before me,
of fire and light
leaving smoldering ashes in my footsteps
the ruins of a concrete mockery of existence
simulacrum of real life

I would spread fire with every movement
burning in my heart, shooting through my veins
sparking in hearts like dry leaves, kindling

We would see it reflected in the flames as they spread
We, a thousand foxes in a thousand fields, their tails ablaze

It would speak to us
in crackling whispers:
this is living
this is truth
this is love

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Emo poems

Hey, if anyone's still out there, hello again

I wrote these poems about a year ago to try to deal with some crappy pseudo relationship
stuff. Now seems like as good a time as any to post themThey're not very good, but whatever man, they were cathartic.
Feel free to mock them openly.

Ways not to let it show

Kill your heart, hide the pain, forget the tears you cry
There's nothing here but death for you, no matter what you try
For all your fiery passion, for all your pretty words
in the end you are a child to her, foolish and absurd
your passion and your poetry, your vision and your songs,
amounts to naught but wasted breath, and every note is wrong

You cling to your naïveté, your foolish thoughts of love
she thinks you speak of subjects you don't know the nature of

you lack an understanding, a knack for laissez faire
it's a badge of your adulthood, the art of meaningless affairs
She won't respect your feelings, she'll never taste your tears
your emotions are beyond her,they hold no meaning here

I think you want to play the victim, she was happy to oblige
certain lessons learned by bleeding can't be gathered otherwise
Do you feel a little wiser, with those bruises on your soul?
Or areyou history repeating, a losing battle with control?

Raise a glass to wasted sorrow, here's a toast to pointless tears
You start doubting your tomorrows, when you dwell in bygone years
Your decision is to focus on the good times that you had
You will put the past behind you, no more time for being sad

You may have learned a bitter lesson, hanging on to hard won truth
another chapter for reflection in the annals of your youth
Just don't let the past consume you when the present beckons now
You are bound for better things than grief and bitterness allow

It may be time to reevaluate leaving your heart out on your sleeve
your candor and sincerity will oft not be well received
The truth is honesty is simply not a virtue anymore
We traded up for games we play and hearts like bolted doors

But to steel yourself against the hurt would be difficult indeed
The feelings that you hide away could be the very ones you need
Be true to what you are inside, don’t ever lose your hope
You are a thousand possibilities on a million different roads

Words to live by

You're not being
very Mature
she said
and he was
standing there foolishly
heart in his hand
wondering what maturity
has to do with
the pain
he was feeling,
and how
it could ease it.

Don't tell me
what to feel
she said
I know what I want
and who I am
I don't want your advice
I don't need it
Her words
cut through him
like a knife
and left him
to question why
his own
seem somehow


but hers


His feelings
wont go away
his feelings
were the ones he had to live with
and at the end of the day
it was his feelings
that weighed him down
like bricks
when he felt like
this past year
all he'd been doing
treading water,
desperately trying
to keep from going
struggling to
catch his breath
as his head sunk
under the waves
and he somehow
managed to
break the surface
and keep from drowning.

His feelings
were honest,
with no duplicity,




laid out

on the table

take them
leave them.

She left them

they were of no use
to her
too simple
too pure
life is far
childish love.

She wanted to

be friends

she said







and it was amazing,

a moment of
that changed him
awakening a part of him
that he'd thought
was dead
that he may have
knowing it

It was
a moment
and the only thing
that mattered

was her

she was his
whole world
in that instant
if he could have
he would have stayed
with her

Then she moved on

she had
to do
waste time
little boys
or men
boys hearts

She had


a life
she had


in her head

a plan


he was chaos
an uncertainty
that she
just wouldn't risk.

She knew
and you


Why couldn't you
just accept that?


move on?

Why are you
crying on the bus

in front of strangers

like a fool

a fool
who loves

too much

too deeply

out of place
in a world of cold steel
and disconnection
a little too alive.

Relax she said,
you're too intense
and he had tried,


but he was prone
to being swept up
in waves of emotion,
it was his blessing
and his curse.

There was
no salve for it
no balm
no matter
how hard
he tried to change it
it remained
a part of
he could
no more
deny it
than he could

stop breathing.

He wanted to be happy,
wanted to

be loved

It was
he wanted

to love others
and to
be loved
in return.

He had
to think
he might
have found it
someone to love
someone who
would love him
in return


she did not

could not

and so he was



left with nothing
but memories
and the bitter solace
of his own thoughts.

There was
no malice
in his heart
he still cared
for her
he wanted her to

be happy

be loved

even if
it meant
he would be


He would have

given anything

for her

would have tried
to be


she asked of

and that was
perhaps foolish
as well
because people should
love you
for who
you are
and he had been willing
to lose
in her

in pursuit of
her love

she was right

they were
not meant to be
but this realization,

too little
too late

was of
no comfort

did nothing
to ease his sadness

It swept over him
in waves
bitter and yet
like sweet music
at a funeral.

Three is the magic number
they say
third times the charm
a holy trinity of heartbreak
and this time
it finally did the trick.

The boy's heart
was not immune
and though it would
not allow itself to
cloud over
with bitterness
would not
to sadness
and despair
and become

like the hearts of men
who long ago
forgot the joys
of their youth

the beauty in the everyday

it was not above
learning lessons

the hard way

He would not
stop feeling
but he would


turn away


he would not hide
from pain
it was the twin of joy
the two
seemed inseparable
but he certainly
would not seek it out.

He wished her well
he hoped
that she would


be happy
and loved.

He would


always cherish

what they had shared,
but time


and life has a funny way
of leaving us


if we don't


He could no longer stay
with her
it only led to sadness,
he would
no longer
abide in sadness
would not
in a game
he was

always the loser

He would
move on,

he would
take a part
of her
with him
hidden away
in that boys heart
protected from harm
his secret treasure.

Friday, May 18, 2007

Blog Resurrection


Been awhile since I posted anything up here. That's what happens when you have work

part-time, go to school full-time, and use all your free time to try to save the world.

Ah well, who needs a social life.

Course my recent discovery of Facebook hasn't helped at all.

Man that sucker's addicting.

At any rate since last I posted here true believers, much has transpired.(I used to think nobody read this thing, so right about now would be where I made some sort of snotty remark about my non existant audience, but apparently people do read this stuff, they just don't post anything. Bastards.) So much so, that in order to do the events justice, I would have to transcribe them in the medium of epic poetry, a la Milton.

Fortunately for you, I won't be doing that, i'll stick to regular, run of the mill, just the facts ma'm, expository prose. So withou further ado, here's the scoop:

First off, The Vanguard vernissage went freakin amazing. A bunch of people showed up, there was live painting, Marjorie, my teacher and the Graphic Design department head, gave a speech (quite a good one I might add, very eloquent). It was great, the art looked amazing. I still can't believe we pulled it off.

Second the book finally got printed. It's really real, an actual physical object taking up space in the third dimension, with weight and volume and everything. Not to toot our own horns, but other than some minor typos (we'll be printing a second run with corrections) and a few other snaffu's, it looks fantastic. Everyone we've shown it to has been very impressed.

The night of the book launch was also quite awesome. There were performances by spoken word artists and musicians, and they we're incredible. This one dude Stephen Thomas was just insane, he was a "slam" poet, and his stuff was so great, he performed it with passion, emphatically, it was really moving. It was like beat poetry or jazz without music, there was a weight to it, it felt like every word was a revelation or a heartfelt confession. My explanations just can't do it justice, you'd have to see him for yourself.

Other than that, there were some small tragedies in my personal and romantic life, nothing soul destroying, but definitely not pleasant.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

News from Vanguard

Hello all, hope you are doing well.

I bring news from the underground. Vanguard had it's first two projects, and they were not spectacular failures, despite our best efforts. First up was the print sale. We managed to raise $160 bucks! Pretty good for an upstart group of "bleeding hearts" activists. I had a blast, had some great conversations, and met some great people. After that triumphant showing, we bravely set off on our next undertaking, ignoring the warnings of our peers and all common sense. This project was intended to promote, of all ridiculous things, sustainability and environmental concerns. Originally slated as a group project, to take place during the lead up days of the conference put on by Youth Action Montreal (the one with Al Gore and David Suzuki as keynote speakers), it was forestalled by the first two days of the conference being canceled, due to low registration (they were apparently charging $15o. Go figure)

Undaunted, our intrepid protagonists soldiered on, contacting Youth Action and R4 at Concordia, and proposing that, since most of the legwork was done already, why not take advantage of said work by incorporating it into your advertising campaigns? R4 agreed, and the posters were adopted. The original plan, was to have posters promoting sustainability, using all recycled and recyclable materials. These were to be done using stencils (cut by us), which would then be turned by workshop attendees into posters.

Since there was longer any workshops, and therefore no attendees, we did the posters ourselves. I printed 13 by hand, after having received a fair (great) amount of help cutting the stencils and gathering the materials and research. They were all printed on cardboard, cut from boxes that we rescued from the garbage's of local businesses (with permission of course). Each one was different, and each one was unique. I will take pictures of the posters and post them up here as soon as I've a chance to take them.

The posters by the way, will be used to promote a %1 increase in tuition costs, in order to introduce sustainability programs on campus, such as recyclable materials being used in the school cafeterias and stores etc. Madness I know. It is our intention to bring this same insanity to Dawson, as it seems to us like a pretty fun thing to try to do. You know for a laugh.

Other than that, we are hard at work plotting our insidious Vernissage and Book Launch, which will hitherto be referred to as "the incidents". We are shooting for the 25th of April at the club Les Minots, so if any friends, family or kindred spirits are interested in attending, don't bother, we don't want you there anyway. But if you must come, contact me for more details. Don't bother phoning, I don't actually go home anymore. E-mail is the best method for communication, although I can't guarantee that avenue will bring you any more success either. If any one's interested, we can also put you on the mailing list, if we must. Or you can check out our blog, you know, if you have time to waste.


Matt X

P.S: Big love to my friends and family, you know who you are.

Friday, March 16, 2007

Meaning in Coincidence

It's funny, today I was having one of those deep metaphysical debates. I was saying how I felt like the things we do matter because everything is connected, and that otherwise, if everything is relative and arbitrary, then nothing we do matters.

Then on my way home as I was waiting for the bus, this guy comes up to me and asks if I know where the Hotel Du Fort is. He's slurring his wrods (heh visual pun), his eyes are bloodshot, and his breath smells of alcohol. I tell him I'm sorry, I don't know where it is. He asks me for a cigarette, I say I don't smoke. He says thanks anyways, and he goes to walk off. I stop him, ask him if he's okay.

He tells me he's from Boston, and that he was out drinking, got separated from his friends, and is lost. He's trying to find his hotel. He's obviously drunk, and is not wearing a jacket, even though it's snowing pretty hard. I don't want him to walk off, I'm afraid to let him go. I try to get him a cab, but he won't take my money. Finally, I turn to the person next to me in line, and ask if they know where the hotel is. They point me in the general direction, say it's 4 blocks away.

So I tell the guy, look I'll walk you there. He says no, but I insist. I'm afraid if I don't, he's gonna walk into traffic. So I walk about 3 blocks, and I'm a little worried myself, cuz I have no idea where this hotel is either, and I'm not sure if the person who gave me directions was just trying to get rid of us.

So I stop and ask directions again. The guys I ask tells me it's just a little bit further, then take a left. So we keep walking, at this point I'm asking this guy a few questions to pass the time. Turns out he came down here with friends from Boston, Massachusetts for his Spring break, cuz the drinking age here is lower. They went to Dundees, then to some strip clubs, and somewhere along the way, he got shitfaced, and something happened that separated him from his friends.

He tells me all this, surprisingly coherent despite slurring his words and apologes profusely,
thanking me for helping him out. I tell him it's no big deal, and I mean it, how could anyone let someone just walk off in that condition?

As we're walking, he almost walks into the street a few times, and I have to watch him carefully. Anyways, eventually we find the hotel, I tell the attendant at the desk what happened, wait to make sure he gets up to his room, then tell him to be careful next time, and go on my way.

So why did I tell you this story? Because I'm trying to say how great I am? No, I don't think I'm any better than anybody else, and I hope, that most people would do the same if they were in a similar situation.

So what's my point? Just this: let's say things don't happen for a reason, don't you find it just a little weird, that right after I finish having a conversation about helping other people, why I believe in God, and everything happening for a reason, I just happen to arrive at the bus stop just as this guy is walking towards that corner.

Now it's possible that somebody else would have stopped to help this dude, but then again it's the big city, and plenty of things don't get done that should. My friend was knocked down and hurt quite badly, to the point where she had to wear crutches, by people rushing from one metro to the next. After they knocked her down and basically trampled her, nobody even stopped to see if she was okay.

So yeah it's possible no one would have helped this guy if I hadn't been there, and maybe someone would have, who knows. What I'm saying is, isn't just a little weird that one of the few people who would feel compelled to help him, happened by right when he was passing where I catch the bus? If i'd left the school earlier, (I usually do, I catch the 10:30 bus or the 11:00) I probably would have missed him, but this time I ended up staying a little later, something I never usually do, and happened by just as he was exactly where I catch my bus. By being there at that time, I got to share in that moment, and he was potentially kept from harms way.

I'm sure people will tell you that you can read meaning into whatever you want, and
that coincidences are bound to happen eventually, but I've seen too much stuff like this, too often, stuff that just seems too ordered, too systematic, to not be part of a greater plan. At this point, it would take more faith and rationalization for me not to believe in this explanation than it would to accept the posibility that maybe there's more to life than just a random series of meaningless events.

Now I'm not trying to say either, that only someone who believes the same way I do would have helped this guy, nor do I think what I did was so great. To me it was the only choice I could make. But I know plenty of people who are athiests or agnostics who would have done the same. My point isn't that you need God to be compassionate (although I definitely think feeling a connection to your spiritual nature, a connection to God can help, otherwise why would I believe in it?). My point is, that to me this sort of thing shows evidence of a compassion based universe, where everyone matters, everyone is connected, and even seemingly random and insignificant occurences in our day to day lives are part of an infinitely complex tapestry of causality and design.

Matt X

Sunday, March 11, 2007

One gun added on to the one gun...

Hello out there, whoever might be reading this!

Thought I'd post another Vanguard Piece.

This one's a three part piece (triptych, in art speak),
about gun control. I should have the next two pieces up

Hope everyone's doing good out there.

Big love to my friends and family, Rena, Chris, Mandy, Joey,
Mom and Dad. Sorry I haven't been so great at the correspondence.
Thinks have been a little crazy in Matt X land. Hope to talk to you all

Matt X