There is always a bright side to every dark side.

Life is like a series of storms – some small others big.

All you have to remember is that no matter what kind of storm it is……

Be it a tired mature body depressed in a corner.

Or perhaps it could be a Blessing of some Healing Light.

The Darkness will creep in through pathways created from your fear, depression and/or anxiety.

No matter how Dark your thoughts



That is why we “soar upwards towards the Heavens.

It is why I am “LightHouse“.

Shining my beacon of Light to those of need. Even though I am in desporate need myself.

Being homeless again

I live a Light Keepers life. Solitary man in a crowded room with a false smile and little hope

The kind soul masking their physical and emotional pain so as they can put a smile on a needed face.

I have, at times, put my pain aside so as I could assist others. Many times actually.

We need to teach our youth that the pen, the almighty keyboard and the glorious internet are weapons of mass social change.

That violence needs to take a break. It shall never be fully gone. It is a genetic survival type of thing

This is a modern time and a time like no other. It is a desprate time for mankind for we are declining into global chaos and all parties involved are feeding the fire.

The world wide insanity of these past few years has turned the logical way of life. upsidedown.

Children – young children – no longer have morning Prayer but they can sit at the age of 5 or 6 and learn about gender this or that.

A time of man where you can go to jail for touching your first breast 42 years prior.

A time to fight our neighbours in debates.

Not in the sewers of our infrastructure.

The suicide rates are climbing rapidly in Canada.

Our First Nation’s children live in dispair and poverty of a third world nation.

They have been plagued with suicides of many of their youth. Some the tender age of 10 or 11.


I wish I knew the answer because Christmas Morning 2019 my 29 year old son hung himself.

Suicide only makes you think it is truly the only answer. The damage and pain it causes is far, far lasting and will bring a lifelong agony for loved ones and friends.

I am speaking first hand here. I fight the suicide demon daily.

Isolating can only give the Dark thoughts free reign of very ability to see due to your choice to hide.

We are on our 5th generation of Babies having babies.

Suicide rates are rising world wide.

There are many little electrical trucks driving, floating in our heads; that work together collectively as a unit, thus giving us the ability to be constantly connected to our internal computer and the processing knowledge.

Problem being we have filled it with many misleading false forms of information.

It is instinct. Instinct that also is struggling for survival itself.

They no longer teach cursive writing.

Nor home econmics.

Adult society is nerve racking on the best of days, but, it also is not being taught to our youth. One might think it would be wise to “prepare” them for “adulthood“.

Just a thought. ……………

Our technology has us held hostage.

Forever chasing the next “g” highspeed internet connection.

Like an old vigina pirate chasing the g-string in the strippers club.

And most of these generations will be swallowed up.

Spending their lives trying to get off “Welfare” and on to the higher paying “Ontario Disibility Support Program“.

Forever to follow the ass in front of them as a good SHEEPLE should.

Living the learned Sheeple” attitude.

Forever dancing to the beat of an unknown drummer.

Obeying a triblistic hypnotic brain washing.

Every one is rushing to the next thing they will rush from.

Not often are they willing to Uber their asses home and prepare meal as family.

A meal made with love.

To sit at the table with no electronics and eat, drink and be merry with your closest loved ones. A Blessing of life with each childs smile.

A way to slowly re- install family values and teach them to take ownership of their rights and their wrongs. To teach them the value of communication.

The greatest joy to is to realize family is number one.

By the end of washing the dishes after such a fine sit down meal you will feel a special moment that your brain will file away in the recess of your mind till need be it requested.

A “Kodak Moment” as they say in my age.

The end result of what society has changed is a family structure that has been disolving into a cesspool of five consectutive “lost generations

Of babies raising babies and we have allowed it.

As seen a few times in recorded history, when the human population grows to the extent it will deplete Earth’s resources, an event of mass destruction will happen.

Hello Corona Virus 2020!

Could be a flood from the completely melted pole caps.

Or. …..

Hopefully it is a gigantic solar flare that disrupts our digital world and then society will see first hand how greatly we have NOT raised our youth.

My life has been a year and few months of fighting my non treatable cancer and burying a loved one almost every two weeks.

And my baby hangs himself.

After hours talking to me from Alberta to home here in Toronto.

He assured me all was good.

He was sober and we talked about shows and sci fi.

He was fine. Till he did it.

You cannot lay blame on someone for a suicide.

The only one to blame is the person who made the wrong choice.

Like my eldest brother or my best friend.

Both by hanging.

I have a somewhat type of closure since we had Jordan’s Celebration of Life.

Suicide takes not only the life of the victim, but also of your truly loved ones.

Suicide kills families.


Even if you think your anxiety or whatever affliction you have been burdened with is insignificant, Reach out – frack being nervous or afraid.

Reach out to whoever you must.

To box it all in is a definite mistake big time.

Do not give the Darkness of your life the opportunity to cloud your logical side.

Soar above that and reach out for help.

Living Angels are in many places.

With many faces.

When you need yours they will come.

The losing of your child, no matter what their age, cannot be compared to any other pains.

I will leave you now in Hope and in my Prayers. If you are having serious depression or anxiety or just need an ear and a shoulder,




So sayeth LightHouse Dann Verner.


Final Preparations For Jordan’s Celebration of Life

Final Preparations For Jordan’s Celebration of Life

February the first is just about here. A day I dread. The day my wife, Jennifer, my oldest son, Randy, my youngest son, Dakota must say our farewell to our son and their brother.

For those who have asked, here are the details and location of the Service and Reception. Saturday, February 1, 2020 at 4 PM – 7 PM at the Canadian Legion Hall Number 73, 2 Robinson Avenue, Toronto, (Danforth Avenue and Danforth Road)

Anxiety is high for the family.
I am worried for my wife.

She has been staying strong as she can.
Yet, I know how she feels inside. I know she is hiding ninety-nine percent of her pain. She is brave that way. Forget not that she is also watching me slowly deteriorate. Everyday wondering if this is the day Dann passes from his cancer?
A father’s love is like no other, also, A strong genetic companionship of the Alpha and his Beta’s. `Daddy Know`s Best` so follow your Father and learn to be a good man.

A Mother’s love can only be felt by her.
For nine months our son grew within her, sharing her very life giving oxygen and nutrients, reading each others minds.
Their bond goes all the way to the genetic and cellular level.

I am worried for Jennifer and I will be here when the need arises for I have never left her in the emotional sense. Of course I love her – I have done so for forty years and always shall.

To see her devastated, sadddened and just broken hearted hurts me. My heart is all I can offer her, except my shoulder and ear.

I was lucky in sort of a way,
I had a large climatic breakdown and needed professional help as for that few days I was out of control and devastated with emotions.
Jennifer has not released the enormous volume of sorrow she is holding within. I believe that the Creator allowed me to still be living so as I will be here for my family.
I certainly will do my best to be here.

Jordan and Randy in the East Coast for their Grandfather’s Funeral

I will try to stay positive and stand tall in this hurricane of life we are facing.

After all, I am a “LIGHTHOUSE” so it is my destiny to Shine my Beacon so as to bring others to Safety, Peace and the safety of Life.

I just wish I could have succeeded in helping my son more than I had. Maybe, he would be sitting here with me if I had ………………

I am publishing this to help alleviate the turmoil in my mind and prevent the Darkness to cloud my mind. When I cannot “Reach Out To Someone“, I write.

When I can do neither – I cry – and then I cry a while more – then I bawl until my tears have dried.

I cry both the tears of losing my son, the sorrow and the despair. I , also, cry happy tears for the love and joy Father and Son shared during his brief time here with us.

After The Service (Revised)

It is quiet here, after the service. Funerals have different effects on different people.

I am in a surreal state. My mother-in-law has passed. Her daughter, my wife of over thirty years is accordingly in a state of shock. Her breakdown has yet to surface.

It will come when least expected and, usually, in a very inapropiate location.

I have attended far too numerous a funeral. Due to the past gang violence of the past five years I can safely say that at last count I have buried 68 close friends. Top that with family members and you have far too much grief and funerals for one soul to hoist the burden.

I had vowed never to step foot in a funeral palour – this vow I reluctantly broke out of respect for Yvonne, my mother-in-law. For she was also my friend of over 40 years.

I am beside myself. This confuses my imaginary companion. I am not sure how I feel about her ascension.

As I sat in the Chapel listening to the service, I was reminded that according to my oncologists I am here for a short time coming.

As the family recited the ‘Our Father‘, I was having a battle of emotions concerning my own destiny.

I was left asking of myself, “Will they be gathered here soon for my behalf?”

Will there be happiness and cheer as I am ritualisticly laid to rest?”

Unless you are in the position I am presently in, you can not comprehend the emotions of being diagnosed with ‘terminal cancer X 2″.

It is a mighty load for any set of shoulders.

Lest alone my emaciated pair.

The first battle left my body destroyed. I dropped 65 pounds in 10 weeks. I weigh a mere 112 pounds, dressed.

Imagine if you will, sitting, after being told that you have no chance, that your pendulum is slowing down. That soon your loved ones will be spilling tears upon your lifeless form.

I cannot be granted the luxury of “imagining” this, fore I am living the reality of the situation.

I am definitely going to ascend.

Doctors say very soon.

I am trying to stay focused on the Light before me, but melancholy and depression are clouding my vision.

Can I keep hope alive?

The love of my family, of my small inner circle of closest friends and the love and prayers from my numerous friends, both physical and virtual social media acquaintances inspires me.

But, I am tired. Very tired.

Like my Brethren Nasirium say:

“Hineni – I am ready my Lord”

My body tells a different tale.

I will live a while yet.

The pain and discomfort will increase.

My emotions will be taxed.

My mind will pray for relief.

Relief will not materialize.

Those that love me will love me.

Those that hate me will hate.

Cancerous tissue bears no pain. But, the nerves and healthy tissue surrounding the tumors screams in agony.

I will have to summon every Urban Viking cell within my body to get through the next few years.

A battle I do not cherish. A battle I shall win.

Fore …..

I am “The Last Canadian Cosmonaut”.

A survivor of life itself.

Am I Finally Broken, Never To Be Repaired?

I am lost.

I am all alone in a crowded world.

A cold world for sure.

It’s not like it was during my youth.

Society has changed. The people haven’t, but their ‘society‘ has.

So, I am left to ask you, the total stranger, am I finally broken, never to be repaired?

I blame most my demise on the era I went through my puberty in.

That sliver of time between the 1950’s and it’s gospel /bluegrass/country & Western musically influenced attitude and the 1960’s Dawning of Aquarius/LSD/Frank Zappa cultural shock era.

I embraced the latter lifestyle tightly. I still do to this day. Peace, Love & Hippie Dope – the artist eccentricity creating chaos in my heart.

My choice to bear the weight being a vagabond twelve year old hippie nomad led me into a world where feelings were real and emotions ran free. Everything was black and white.

It is what it is. Never sugar coat reality.

I was always partaking in one or more exploratory excursions into the expanded conciseness mindset.

The artist within me caused an eccentric side. I loved too honestly. I angered too deep. I was a nonconformist.

I was walking counterclockwise in a clockwise world.

My analytical side over examined all and everything within my realm of life.

The ten years of chasing Her Majesty, The Black Dragon, across her tinfoil highway did not help.

I have lived over six decades so far.

My life, or lives, has/have taken five autobiographical books thus far to enlighten ‘others‘.

I certainly have not lived a ‘normal‘ set of lives.

In a confessional way you could say that I have lived a tragic and chaotic youth.

Yet, from these sixty-one year old clouded eyes, I would confess from my standpoint that I merely ‘lived’ my life.

No one sees their life as it is perceived through the eyes of others.

“What is my greatest regret? you ask.”


I was a liar, cheat, thief, punk, gangster and killer in ALL aspects of all my lives – EXCEPT WHEN IT CAME TO LOVING SOMEONE.

I can go to Helheim or Valhalla knowing that in the matter of love, I was devoted one hundred percent into staying faithful, loving truly, madly, deeply and I never held back from confessing my love to my beloved.


A falsehood created by overthinking and over loving.

I only had a few true loves in my life.

All of which I dove heart first into.

My eccentric artist side painted fairytale portraits of family bliss on the canvas of my emotions.

My first true love being my teenage sweetheart of eight years.

She destroyed my heart by giving away my first born son and then cutting her own throat. Causing herself severe, irreversible brain damage, while I sat in the discomfort of Her Majesty’s Super Maximum Penitentiary.

The nerve of me to pay my debt to society!!!

Then there was my first wife.

I paid her mother fifty dollars for her.

True story.

Six weeks later we were legally married.

To each other.

Eight months later we were divorced.

From each other.

My Mother being horrifically murdered was more than her snitty self could handle.

I loved thinking we had been in love.

Number three lasted thirty-two years.

It was true love. No lie.

It became tainted by my rebel ways, my eccentric behavior and my constantly venturing into the Dark side.

This led to our growing apart from our original selves.

Not to say we didn’t have a good run.

We had many, many good years.

In today’s world it takes but one or two bad years to bury thirty good ones.

Unfortunately, my becoming a victim of a tragic industrial crippling accident was the catalyst of a ripple effect that ripped our family apart.

Our love for each other lost in the typhoon of modern life.

Again, the artist within had painted many a lifescape and my hands molded sculptures of everlasting bliss.

This lay cause to becoming greatly damaged emotionally upon the marriage disolution.

Then came my greatest and most cherished love. I am so deeply in love with her that I hurt.

I believe she strongly loves me, also.

But, she cannot express or confess the trueness of her love. She is robbed of enjoying the escasty and bliss of being truly loved. It was stolen by her being the victim of an expert manipulation of a Narcissistic Meth Head.

His brainwashing cut deep wounds across this beautiful soul’s heart.

My artistic eccentricity is causing me to self destruct. I have been living in a self potraited fantasy of living the rest of my life wrapped in the warmth of loving only her.

And she is brainwashed into believing and living in the shadows of fear planted by a sick excuse of a man.

My heart is hers – I call her “Mi Corazon” – for she is my heart. Each beat whispers her name.

I am trapped in my desires to be her man so badly that I cry.

I have to love her one hundred percent.

I am hurting myself loving her.

She is not capable of dropping her past abuses and allowing true love into her life.

A life she would honestly enjoy. If only she were capable of accepting affection.

I have been diagnosed with terminal cancer.

And I cry at the minimum of twelve hours per day.

Not over dying of cancer.

I cry because the kind soul buried deep within me cannot find the resources to show my truest love how to allow herself to be loved truly and faithfully.

I do not wish to die knowing she will live her life afterwards full of unretractable regrets.

She deserves a far better life than she has ever known.

I have earned my chance to finally be a real man and love the way love is portrayed to be.

Am I living a fantasy brought forth by the eccentric hippie attitude within?

I Am Afraid of Darkness

I am afraid of the darkness, but not the dark.

The darkness pushes back the Light. Allowing sorrow, pain and discomfort to steal joy from your mind.

I try to push it back. Hoping to gain back my Light.

The dark does not scare me because my Light knows it is harmless. It takes merely the flick of a modern switch to drive the dark away.

The Darkness brings out evils and torment.

It lives and thrives in the soul.

Mocking your sorrow.

Laughing at the pain you have endured.

Only love of life, love of family and the love of a true soulmate can push back the Darkness.

I pray someday we will evolve to the point where Darkness is no longer.

Until then, I remain – Dann, just as I am.

Surrounded by the Darkness and wishing it were merely “The Dark”.

But, it is not – it has gripped my heart, my soul and my life in ugly arms.

And whispered in my ear,