Category Archives: schizophrenia

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.

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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.”

LOVING TRULY, MADLY & DEEPLY”, I must answer.

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.

AND BY DOING SO I HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF TEARS. I HAVE LIVED LOVE LOCKED INTO A FANTASY I PRAYED WAS A REALITY.

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,

NO SOUP FOR YOU”

Which One Of Us Is ‘Different”?

Many people do not understand what they call “Mental Health“.

How do you explain the battle with your demons to someone that has been trained to believe that ‘different‘ is wrong?

Is ‘different‘ wrong?

Because to we who suffer through the constant battle of ‘personality disorders‘ YOU are the ‘different‘ one.

I do not believe in any of the labels society has placed on people.

I DO believe we all suffer from personality ‘conflicts’.

Every soul on this planet suffers the same stresses and have the same emotions as everyone else. We all live in the same space/time continuum. We all eat, drink and breathe the same.

We are all homo sapiens living on the same Big Blue Marble.

I have many demons who are constantly looking to diminish my everyday life. They do their best to bring anger, tears, sorrow and carelessness to the forefront.

I do get tired of battling them. I do give up on occasions.

I don’t want to, but, I get tired.

Damn, I get tired.

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Real tired! I am tired now.

I have no fight left in me.

Which leaves me in a quandary.

Do I wear myself out and try to stay “LightHouse“?

Or do I walk backwards and become “Shake“?

Or do I escape into my mind and live life as “Dann“?

Or should I allow my mind to burst and revert to the infant “Boo Boo“?

Boo Boo works, spend the rest of my years as a parentless child with a shitty diaper and speaking only gibberish.

Dann presents problems because he is fake as can be. The smiling face society says is ‘proper‘.

LightHouse is who I strived to be.  He is a nice man. Educated, loyal and truthful.

Unfortunately.

LightHouse gets hurt often.

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His smile is real. The reason he smiles is because society shuns those who do not wear the mask of the sheep.

But, I am no “sheep“.

Yes, I am having what you perceive as “psychological” disorders.

The disorders being that I refuse to be fake and I will not be commanded, I will not be controlled and I definitely will not let my life go on without a little help from my soul.

I will go on – maybe – maybe not.

I have published the fourth and closing chapter of my life – “Unkz, A Canadian Cosmonaut”.

My ‘Walk With Dann Collection‘ shows well the battles I have fought trying to conform to the sheepdom of society life.

Now, if I were to die tomorrow, and no one were to remember me, there lays a permanent record of my lives and my seven previous deaths.

Forever out there in paper form and the evil virtual reality of the unrealistic internet.

We need to stop labelling.

We need to stop being clones of each others perceptions.

Simple as that.

Namaste’

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Unkz - A Canadian Cosmonaut

AFTERWARD OR AFTERWORDS

AFTERWARD OR AFTERWORDS

WHY I WRITE

Many ask me why l write.

I write my books for me.

I tell my stories for my readers.

I am not sure if my works are badly written good stories or well written bad stories.

Not too sure I care either way. I do care that, in my “Walk With Dann Collection”, I am telling my life as brutally truthful as possible. In shame and in honour.

I do care that my ‘stand alone’ books, such as “The Last Canadian Cosmonaut” touch your heart.

I pray that my other collection, “Walking On Dawes”, shows that the gang life, although often ‘exciting’, leads only to karma biting your buttocks.”

My Walk With Dann Collection

Volumes 1, 2 & 3

Damaged” is my first book.

Like me, it is raw and full of mistakes.

I have left it “unedited” as life has left me.

DAMAGED”

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 1

A Walk from my birth till I meet my second wife.”


It is rough, crude in fact, numerous format conversion errors.

I left It raw on purpose as a testament to the honesty of my words and work.

It contains humour, murder, explosions and motorcycles.

It may or may not be fictional or may even be non-fictional.”

BANE’

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 2

Walks you through my middle years and three decades of marriage.

It does not contain the excitement of it’s predecessor.

It begins to show you who I was and who I was becoming.”

 

 

BOON”

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 3

Walks you deep into my personal life of trials and tribulations and my uniquely twisted none the norm perception of my realty.”

So, come, Walk With Dann.

THE LAST CANADIAN COSMONAUT”

(My first ‘standalone book‘, my personal favorite.)

The smell of the ocean danced on my nostrils as I walked, slipping and sliding, across the flats. My eyes darting to and fro, carefully scanning ahead for sink holes.

I should have been walking the other direction. Towards the junior high school. Towards hippie teachers trying to teach me of science, faith and nature.

I could hear the train in the distance. Pulling it’s tonnage of sugar cane around the bend to the refinery.

The tug boats crested the horizon. Their wake spewing behind them as they pushed against the mighty tanker so as to slow it’s unforgiving momentum. Lest it run ashore.

The shore. My foster home was there. High up the hill. It’s windows like two large eyes, taunting me with guilt.“Go to school“, they seemed to say.

I can’t”, my reply.

Walking On Dawes Collection

 

I WANT TO BE ‘FLOKI’”

Walking On Dawes Collection”

Volume 1”

Big Roy - Dedication

This is a tale of a family who live their lives within the gang life. Except Little Ray. He and his family want him to break the cycle and live a normal life.”

There is tragedy, laughter and most of all ‘insight’ within.

So come with us as we

Walk On Dawes.”

 

 

You Can’t See Me”

Walking On Dawes Collection

Volume 2

This is a portrait of a broken man living a broken life in a broken world where family and friendship are one and the same.

Where wrong choices can lead to lifelong regrets. Haunting the very soul and stabbing the heart daily to remind you of the penalties of actions.

Where a man can be all alone and un-noticed in a crowded room.

Where sadness shadows joy and joy masks sadness.

This is the life of one man on one street in one city.

A man who let his darkness blind his Light.

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LEGEND_20180223_031436

THIS MASK I WEAR

They say I am tough, but yet, I feel so rough.

This mask I wear has gotten me where?

screenshot_2018-04-03-22-06-57-1-1556057933.png

Like Kid rock says,

“I’ve ate out of dumpsters and dined with Kings.”

Like the clock shows,

I have experienced many things.

Yet, in sorrow I have walked my many roads.

For the life I have lived was mostly alone.

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I am, therefore I think

I have experienced pain and I have witnessed their sorrow.

I hope that they can forgive me on the ‘morrow.

For always in my heart I hold this sorrow.

Perhaps I should have been born in a swamp.

For an outlaw life seems what I want.

I have buried my Mother and 98 friends.

I wake each morning wondering,

“WHEN?”

 

LAST DAY TO LET ME GIVE YOU “DAMAGED” FOR FREE

Today is the last day you can download, for free, “DAMAGED”, my first book and the first volume of my “Walk With Dann Collection”

 

“DAMAGED” for free via download on amazon.ca in e-book format.

Here’s a quick link, always available for free to all KindleUnlimited subscribers – as are all seven of my books.

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B077SGXHLB

All my books, paperback and e-books, available at amazon.ca and amazon.com

GO TO MY MAIN PAGE AT:

https://amazon.com/author/lighthouseverner

Here is why I have left the numerous spelling, grammar and formatting mistakes in this Volume 1 of my fictional autobiography …………….

DAMAGED”

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 1

A Walk from my birth till I meet my second wife.”

I left It raw on purpose as a testament to the honesty of my words and work.

 

It contains humour, murder, explosions and motorcycles.

It may or may not be fictional or may even be non-fictional.

Only my hairdresser knows for sure…….

So, come follow the beacon and see what lays within “The LightHouse” we call “Dann

Want To Get “DAMAGED” For Free?

When was the last time you were able to get damaged for free?

Starting tomorrow and until July 31st I am offering to give you “DAMAGED” for free via download on amazon.ca in e-book format.

Here’s a quick link, always available for free to all KindleUnlimited subscribers – as are all seven of my books.

https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B077SGXHLB

ALL MY PAPERBACK BOOKS ARE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.COM

ALL MY E-BOOK FORMAT ARE AVAILABLE ON AMAZON.CA SEARCH “LIGHTHOUSE VERNER” OR GO TO MY MAIN PAGE AT:

https://amazon.com/author/lighthouseverner

Here is why I have left the numerous spelling, grammar and formatting mistakes in this Volume 1 of my fictional autobiography …………….

DAMAGED”

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 1

A Walk from my birth till I meet my second wife.”

I left It raw on purpose as a testament to the honesty of my words and work.

It contains humour, murder, explosions and motorcycles.

It may or may not be fictional or may even be non-fictional.

Only my hairdresser knows for sure…….

So, come follow the beacon and see what lays within “The LightHouse” we call “Dann

Many ask me why I write.

I write my books for me.

I tell my stories for my readers.

I am not sure if my works are badly written good stories or well written bad stories.

Not too sure I care either way. I do care that, in my “Walk With Dann Collection”, I am telling my life as brutally truthful as possible. In shame and in honour.

I do care that my ‘stand alone’ books, such as “The Last Canadian Cosmonaut” touch your heart.

I pray that my other collection, “Walking On Dawes”, shows that the gang life, although often ‘exciting’, leads only to karma biting your buttocks.”

My Walk With Dann Collection

Volumes 1, 2 & 3

Damaged” is my first book.

Like me, it is raw and full of mistakes.

I have left it “unedited” as life has left me.

book-covers126358494

DAMAGED”

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 1

A Walk from my birth till I meet my second wife.”
It is rough, crude in fact, numerous format conversion errors.

I left It raw on purpose as a testament to the honesty of my words and work. It contains humour, murder, explosions and motorcycles.

It may or may not be fictional or may even be non-fictional.”

bane-cover

BANE’

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 2

Walks you through my middle years and three decades of marriage.

It does not contain the excitement of it’s predecessor.

It begins to show you who I was and who I was becoming.”

 

BOON

BOON”

Walk With Dann Collection

Volume 3

Walks you deep into my personal life of trials and tribulations and my uniquely twisted none the norm perception of my realty.”So, come, Walk With Dann.

The first three Volumes of “WALK WITH DANN” are available in one book also.

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TLCC (2)

THE LAST CANADIAN COSMONAUT”

(My first ‘standalone book‘, my personal favorite.)

Here is the first page ……..

The smell of the ocean danced on my nostrils as I walked, slipping and sliding, across the flats. My eyes darting to and fro, carefully scanning ahead for sink holes.

I should have been walking the other direction. Towards the junior high school. Towards hippie teachers trying to teach me of science, faith and nature.

I could hear the train in the distance. Pulling it’s tonnage of sugar cane around the bend to the refinery.

The tug boats crested the horizon. Their wake spewing behind them as they pushed against the mighty tanker so as to slow it’s unforgiving momentum. Lest it run ashore.

The shore. My foster home was there. High up the hill. It’s windows like two large eyes, taunting me with guilt.“Go to school“, they seemed to say.

I can’t”, my reply.

 

Walking On Dawes Collection

img_20180108_080807_689-830414389

I WANT TO BE ‘FLOKI’”

Walking On Dawes Collection”

Volume 1”

I dedicated this book and based it (fictionally) to my dearest and most missed Brother-In-Arms, Big Roy Sills and his first born and namesake son, Little Roy. Big Roy’s sons are a huge and much loved part of not just my life, but my heart. I appreciate their love and respect beyond any words that can or could be spoken. I am honoured  to watch them grow into men and I am forever grateful to have his grandchildren in my life.

Big Roy - Dedication

This is a tale of a family who live their lives within the gang life. Except Little Ray. He and his family want him to break the cycle and live a normal life.”There is tragedy, laughter and most of all ‘insight’ within.

51n6vg0nwol-_sy346_

You Can’t See Me”

Walking On Dawes Collection

Volume 2

This is a portrait of a broken man living a broken life in a broken world where family and friendship are one and the same.

Where wrong choices can lead to lifelong regrets. Haunting the very soul and stabbing the heart daily to remind you of the penalties of actions.

Where a man can be all alone and un-noticed in a crowded room.

Where sadness shadows joy and joy masks sadness.

This is the life of one man on one street in one city.

A man who let his darkness blind his Light.

The third Volume of this Collection will be published within the next few days.

It is titled

“6315”

A tale that takes you around the world as 6315 tries to escape the gang life and make amends for all he has done to others.

SOMETIMES YOU HAVE TO FIGHT TO SURVIVE. 

 

In My Secret Life

We all have many ‘lives‘ per se.

We all have that one secret life. With most it is a harmless secret.

I have put most my lives out there. In blogs and in my novels.

Yet, I have that one life I rarely reveal …….

My ‘secret‘ life.

The one where I cry dry tears, moaning silent cries of regrets and anguish.

To quote Leonard Cohen,

“I bite my lip
I buy what I’m told:
From the latest hit
To the wisdom of old
But I’m always alone
And my heart is like ice
And it’s crowded and cold
In my secret life”

The one that haunts my sleep and steals my rest. Leaving me ashamed and broken.

The one I have no words to describe. The one that stole my happiness in life.

I had a concept of happiness in my life, not to say I had never experienced such. But, I stole that from myself by my refusal to follow my dreams at a younger age. A theft of my future. Robbing myself of what my life could have been if I had dropped the masks of being an old school rebel tainted by my hatred of living.

Perhaps it was my Heroin fogged adolescent years. Or perhaps the intoxicated cloud of my twenties. It may have even been my refusal to secure a solid base for my elder years.

It may be the guilt of stealing away my many children’s futures.

It definitely has led to my self flogging. To my lashing my spiritual back thirteen stripes each and every evening before I lay down to suffer the horrors of flashbacks for crimes of my past.

I have done things most only read about in novels or see upon the screens of televisions during prime time movies.

Things best never revealed. Lest cause more pain for my family and friends.

I have danced with the Devils. I have shared meals with Evil. I have choked down the truth as I concocted lies to cover my tracks. Burying the evidence six cold feet below the eyes of society.

I will dance with the Devils again. In an eternal ballet of penance and regrets. Karma and her brother Chaos have shadowed me for six decades. They await me still in Valhalla.

Perhaps my beloved mother, (ironically her name is ‘Mary‘), saw this at my birth. Thus, leaving me to thrive or die at six months of age.

I have ‘Walked‘ my seven plains of time and space continuum’s. My eighth, the final ‘Walk” we all will stride, shall be my version of your ‘Heaven‘ or far more likely your ‘Hell“.

I already know what awaits me after my final death. Perhaps many years from now when I know it is my time I shall write that final chapter in a book or blog.

Part of my penance has been remembering my first seven cracks at the bat of life. We are not suppose to remember the ‘Seven Walks’. That is a pleasure only those with no guilt get to enjoy. Reserved for those who followed society’s basic rules. Your Ten Commandments, for lack of a better term. I broke nine of the Biblical ten – I have never committed adultery while still with my beloved wife. Having not divorced and having been separated for years, as she went her way and I mine, I have technically committed adultery as defined by their Bible.

In reality, I have never strayed while loving and living with my wife, Jennifer.

“Why eat a cookie when you have a beautiful cake at home?”

All my life I often joked that I was awaiting the return of the ‘Mothership‘. This I now know was my inner child waiting for my mother to return to that cold, damp crib in that empty house and show me a mothers love. I never have had the opportunity to be rewarded with that emotion.

My secret life is/was the pain that moment implanted into my soul. The Mothership will never come. For that ship blasted off to a different world then I shall ever know.

The scars of her choice left me with a defiance and darkness that can not be explained. The only physical evidence being my life of refusing to bend to the ways of man. My strong willed desire to shout blatantly,

“And I will not be commanded
And I will not be controlled
And I will not let my future go on
Without the help of my soul.”
(The Lost Boy – Greg Holden)

But, does one born into evil and abandonment have a soul?

Unfortunately for me, I am not in the position to answer that. For what I experienced while dead seven times I am not able to explain in words. I have detailed most of the experiences as best I could in my books and past blogs.

Some things are best left untold so as not to destroy your concept of life and death.

I have tried to make amends. Hence my inviting you to come “Walk With Dann.” A futile attempt to reach out to hopefully steer one soul away from the path I chose.

My Walks with you can only take you as far as your reality. For my reality is only shared with others who have strode a similar path as I have. I am not the only one to have been cursed with remembering the Seven Walks. Knowing that number eight holds no choice. That there will be only one path the final ride. Not the seven choices we are all given with the first seven. Dante’ knew of these when he scribe his “Inferno”.

The saddest part of all this is that I have many years yet to pay my penance. There lay before me decades carrying the weight of wrongs upon my broken back. I suspect I shall bear this cross till I reach the age of 112. For I have been told by the Creators that I shall live till then. Mind you they lay no guarantee that it will be a pleasant journey. In fact, it will be a painful existence wrought with discomfort and pain.

Physics teaches that for every action there lays an equal yet opposite reaction. Faith teaches the same. Good versus evil – push versus pull. Light versus dark. Truths versus lies.

Each night for nigh on sixty years I have been plagued with sleep not arriving until all my wrongs play out like a collection of short vignettes and seal my eyes into sleep with dry tears and silent screams.

This is my “Secret Life

 

Walking With Dann Explained

Allow me to take you on a journey within the twisted churning void of my inner self.

This is why I started blogging all those years ago. I will always blog.

I will always have an opinion or thought and I take pride in my beliefs.

Blogging brought me to fulfill my life long desire to put my lives out there. For my existence has been very unique. I am a true Canadian Cosmonaut.

Within these pages may you find the essence that is me – may I guide you through the tunnels of my thoughts and bath you in the radiant glow of my opinion.

I offer you ‘Dann’ just as I am..

Many ask me why l write.

I write my books for me.

I tell my stories for my readers.”

I am not sure if my works are badly written good stories or well written bad stories.

Not too sure if I care either way.

I do care that, in my “Walk With Dann Collection”, I am telling my life as brutally and truthful as possible via a fictional perspective.

In shame and in honour.

The first book of the “Walk With Dann Collection” was the very first book I actually wrote. I left all the misspells and grammar errors in on purpose. As I also did with the formatting and editing errors.

I did this so the reader would see that life is full of mistakes and my life began “DAMAGED”.

As the volumes that followed show, I learned as I wrote and I wrote as I learned. Now as I work on various projects I can say that I am an ‘Author’. And I do so with pride.

I care that my ‘stand alone’ books, such as “The Last Canadian Cosmonaut” touch your heart. It, too, is a fictional telling of a past life experience. An experience that can not be duplicated.

I pray that my other collection, “Walking On Dawes Collection”, shows that gang life, although often ‘exciting’, leads only to karma biting your buttocks.

Beginning to read the tales you may believe I am glorifying gang life style, I assure you that by the end of each volume you will understand the logic behind my message.

A synopsis of my “Walk With Dann Collection”:

My Walk With Dann Collection, Volumes 1, 2 & 3

Damaged” is my first book.

Like me, it is raw and full of mistakes.

I have left it “unedited” as life has left me.

LightHouse Dann Verner

Volume 1, “DAMAGED” takes you on a Walk from my birth till I meet my second wife.

It is rough, crude in fact, numerous format conversion errors.

I left It raw on purpose as a testament to the honesty of my words and work.

It contains humour, murder, explosions and motorcycles.

It may or may not be fictional or may even be non-fictional.

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The second volume, ‘BANE’, Walks you through my middle years and three decades of marriage.

It does not contain the excitement of it’s predecessor.

It contains much more.

It is a fictional/non-fictional tale of how many different ‘Walks’ we take in our lifetimes.

It tells of love, hate, health, sickness, richman, poorman, ice creams and life screams

It begins to show you who I was and who I was becoming.

“No willful wrongdoing ever escapes Miss Karma or Her Brother Chaos.”

LightHouse Dann Verner

My third volume, “BOON” Walks you deep into my fictional/non-fictional personal life of trials and tribulations. My uniquely twisted none the norm perception of my various realities.

It is a depiction of life as lived. A no-hold barred account of everyday life in an everyday low-income Canadian home. You will laugh, you may cry at points, you WILL be taking a true “WALK WITH DANN”.

“I will run through your veins like a fish in the sea.”

(Quoted From Uncle Kracker’s song ‘Follow Me’)

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I am currently writing the final volume of the four volume Walk With Dann Collection.

“UNKZ, A Canadian Cosmonaut”

Coming August 2018

My first ‘standalone book’.

My personal favourite.

I thoroughly enjoyed the emotional ‘Walk’ while writing it and relieving that period of my life and that time of history.

The calmest years of my chaotic lives.

Below is a tidbit of the volume to whet your appetite

LightHouse Dann Verner

“A fictional journey of a hippie on a Harley exploring the times.”

THE LAST CANADIAN COSMONAUT”

The smell of the ocean danced on my nostrils as I walked, slipping and sliding, across the flats. My eyes darting to and fro, carefully scanning ahead for sink holes.

I should have been walking the other direction. Towards the junior high school. Towards hippie teachers trying to teach me of science, faith and nature.

I could hear the train in the distance. Pulling it’s tonnage of sugar cane around the bend to the refinery.

The tug boats crested the horizon. Their wake spewing behind them as they pushed against the mighty tanker so as to slow it’s unforgiving momentum. Lest it run ashore.

The shore. My foster home was there. High up the hill. It’s windows like two large eyes, taunting me with guilt.“Go to school“, they seemed to say.

I can’t“, my reply.

A brief synopsis of my “Walking On Dawes Collection

The first volume of the

Walking On Dawes Collection”

I WANT TO BE ‘FLOKI’”

This is a tale of a family who live their lives within the government projects and gang life.

Except ‘Little Ray’. He and his family want him to break the cycle and live a normal life.

There is tragedy, laughter and most of all ‘insight’ within. A fictional tale that is also non-fictional.

A family who grew up in the projects of Toronto. That was their reality and there was nothing wrong with it, for everyone lives in a neighborhood. Only the name and addresses are different.

The first “WALK” of a ungoing inter-connected Collection of fictional “Walks On Dawes”.

The raw and naked truths from an experienced eye and soul of a Canadian Cosmonaut.

A tale of the original “URBAN VIKINGS.”

LightHouse Dann Verner

“Walking On Dawes – Volume 2”

“YOU CAN’T SEE ME”

“You Can’t See Me” – Walking On Dawes Collection – Volume 2

“This is a portrait of a broken man living a broken life in a broken world where family and friendship are one and the same.”

A man who was once “DAMAGED” but now was merely broken.

Where wrong choices can lead to lifelong regrets. Haunting the very soul and stabbing the heart daily to remind you of the penalties of actions.

Where a man can be all alone and un-noticed in a crowded room.

Where sadness shadows joy and joy masks sadness.

Where happiness and good times balance out with sadness and tragedy.

This is the life of one man and his family, on one street in one city.

A man who let his darkness blind his Light.

A tale that will surprise you at the end.

LightHouse Dann Verner

“Walking On Dawes Collection” – Volume 3

“6315”

Coming July 2018