Raymond Farrell Poems

It is always to young and impressionable
Who are drawn to this irrational pursuit
Like moths are drawn to a flame.
There must be a cause, however mindless
...

Of course, we in Canada are hypocritical
Having stripped our foresst to the bare bones
Sold our raw resources for peanuts
To attain that allusive better life
...

On a hot August day
Nonchalantly, I made my way
Pausing to gaze at a muddy pond
Nearby marsh, and the forest beyond.
...

I'm tired of the North American urban landscape
Strip males with miles of concrete
Banal unexpressive architecture
No craftmanship and no shame
...

Money, the gold-leaf façade
And covering
Of so many transgressions.
...

Though invisible to the naked eye
Everywhere, wherever matter is found
As far as the eye can see
And out to the universe's furthest bound
...

When inquiring about
The error that saw
His old age pension deposited
In someone else's bank account
...

Peculiar thing the imagination
Functioning through endless fabrication
Based on sentimental unreal extrapolation.
Does it really have any place?
...

History teaches
Nothing that an abattoir
Cannot do better.
...

Most know when they were
Born; nobody really knows
When they'll be dying
...