Tag Archives: death

Daily Prayer, Daily Tears

My Beautiful Irish Guardian Angel

And in the morning she reached down from Valhalla and touched our souls so we could soothe each other’s fears.

And now I cry my morning tears for I wish she were right here.

Everyday I cry, everyday I will cry. And everyday I ask, “Why?”.

The tears trickle down to my heart and pool into an ocean of happy sorrow, for I know I’ll see you once again come the ‘morrow.


Three Little Birds

You know your day is Blessed when your Guardian Angel sends three little birds to sing “Good Morning”.

You made me cry in public, Sheena Eve. I miss you so, so greatly …
Yet, that is ok for my tears were of the joy of having you in my life.

So, save me a seat at the round and when I ascend we shall toast an Irish cheer and “sparkle” in the Light of Love and Friendships.

Bless you for guiding me and keeping me on track. 

Bless you my Irish Queen for allowing me to be a part of your life.


I will be seeing my beautiful Irish Guardian Angel soon. If the Creators and the Cosmic Muffin are kind.

Life is kicking me bad still.

I wrote a blog about what’s happening now.

I started New Year’s walking all night. Froze two toes, one finger. 

Oh, and had a bad heart attack.

I am in stage C of congested heart failure. No treatment for it. 

Stage D you go into palliative care, I don’t do palliative care.

I don’t do wheelchairs or walkers either. I will never get in one of those carts. I don’t want to wear a stolen ‘pleather‘ cowboy hat from Dollerama. 

If I cannot walk I will crawl. And when I cannot crawl I will tumble. 

I’m ready.

As the Jews and my religion, Natsarim say “Hineni” – “I’m ready my lord”

The greatest songwriter of all time and the greatest poet ever to live, Leonard Cohen, whose last song,  the theme for the fantastic show ‘Peaky Blinders’ was “If You Want It Darker“. Explains this well. 

I’ve done a DNR and a Will.

I gave all my body to science.

The med students will have a ball looking at all my implants. I am the first Bionic Hippie.

I have more metal than a modern car. Lol. 

I forbid a viewing or a funeral.

They give your ashes back in a year. Keeping some parts they want.

Funeral isn’t necessary.

Most who show up will come inside for a New York minute, then go outside to smoke joints with no regard for the families of other ascended live ones laidto rest.

There will be my birth family who never speak to me because I have been an Asshole and an Embarrassment. 

Like I would change from being the only “unwanted” child born to my father. 

I am fine with their shunning and bigotry. 

Just odd that in sixty years of life I only spent at the most five years around them. 

Majority of the attendees are happy they have a reason to get smashed and fight with their spouse’s and families.

Others will use my ascension as a reason to justify the chemical addictions.

You know I’m not lying. 

All my years in prison I had two visits from my father. 

One which embarrassed the hell out of me, he brought my 77 year old Nanny who I hadn’t seen since I was a teen working with my Uncles at the Brockville Fertilizer Plant. 

Those visits were in the first six months. I was there for years.

Never a single letter from my immediate family.

My cousin Penny kept me sane with weekly letters. 

Wish I still had them. I love her for the letters. 

We were also unwanted kids. 

We were in the same fosterhome for two years. My last foster home before I started my street life and Heroin.

My loved ones can meet at a decent bar, gag down a shot of Wray & Nephew’s and then drink and toast my death.

For I will have ascended to my final space/time continuum and be toasting back with my Sparkle Angel, my Irish Queen,  My beautiful Sheena Eve and all my ascended friends and we will be sending all of you Light, Love and Peacefulness.

My beautiful Sheena Eve – my Irish Guardian Angel and my Queen

The only tears should be because I am not there to make inappropriate jokes and/or comments. 

I love you all. You can cry EIGHT tears now. 

One for each life I’ve lived.

I would be very happy if my truest love could be there. 

She does not drink or do drugs. She drinks only Tetley tea and smokes Pall Mall XL Reds. 

So make damn sure they have smokes and Tetley tea bags and milk there  for her .

Or I will send my Shakie back and he will slap everyone but her. 

Then I’ll light her a cigarette and make her tea for her myself.

Bear in mind I’m not giving up. 

I promised my Terry I would out live her because I know my death will hurt her deeply. 

I would never hurt her.

I do hope I live long and I will ascend the day after her so as I can bring a smoke and a hot tea to her grave. Then I’ll ascend knowing she is ok.

But, the Creators and The Cosmic Muffin are having fun with me presently and right now I am in very bad shape.

From experience I know I am not doing very well.

So if you want to offer my prayers to YOUR GOD I am ok with that. 

Pray my beautiful Terry lives to be 105.

For then I will die on my original death date at the age 112. The day after my love. 

If not, my son, Dakota is to check on her daily and help her when she needs such. No questions asked!

I’ve only met one truly unique friend like her. She is a gem in a pool of Rhinestones. A very rare gem – one of a million. 

If I had been Blessed to have met her back when I was released from the penitentiary my life would have been drug and gangster free. 

It was ‘love at every sight’.

Most of all, RESPECT MY WISHES or I shall send the “Shake” version back. 

Not too many people liked Shake.

Definitely not my two ex wives.

I DON’T believe they liked him. 

I divorced the first one in 1981. 

I guess I should get to divorcing Number Two, we have been seperated for around ten years now.

But, you cannot spend 32 years with someone and then stop loving them. Only a soulless person could do that.

I have as much soul as Otis Redding

(Ha, gotcha – you thought I was going to say Otis Driftwood. Didn’t you?)

Or I could save money and let her be my widow.

Only the Cosmic Muffin and The Creators know their plan for my five personalities. “Baby Boo Boo, Dann, Shake, Unkz and of course ‘LightHouse’

Oh and buy my books. I priced them very cheap. The profits will go to Dakota.

Then you all will know and understand ME.




I am confused by all the confused people in this dawning of the Age of Confusion. 

To comprehend what is happening in society these days is beyond my capabilities. 

Society is confused and confusion is spreading like a plague. 

We have the “gender” confused.

I honestly do not get this one.

You have a penis? You are ‘male

You have a vagina? BINGO, you are ‘female‘. 

Born with both? You are a ‘Hermaphrodite‘.

(There, problem solved.)

Gender‘ confusion is a term society is presently using to misconstrue ‘sexual’ confusion.

Teaching our ‘maturity underdeveloped‘ youth that there is a complete alphabet of sexes is only adding to the stupidity of political correctness.

(Bring on the hate and anger. Regardless,  you know I am speaking truth.)

Everyone is praying for a higher wage.

I call this ‘monetary’ confusion. 

People think if we raise minimum wages and wages in general we will all have better life qualities. 


The higher the wages, the higher the cost of manufacturing and services.

This raises the price of every item and services we purchase.

Minimum wage will still be ‘minimal’. 

The end result will be five dollar bread and ten dollar milk.

Which will bring us further protest and demands for ‘higher’ wages.

Best bet for all is to lower wages and close the gaps between lower, middle and upper class.

Or better yet, return back to our roots and re-invent the ‘bartering’ system.

(There, problem two resolved.)

Now we also have ‘political‘ confusion. 

Yes, some political parties are better than others. 

(When I cease laughing I shall continue)

Answer me this ………….

“Has any elected party in any country ever brought Utopia to the table?”


Without sounding like the neighbourhood ‘Doom Sayer’, I must state that politics is and always shall be the greatest single confused habit of we humans.

Definitely it is somewhat linked to our genetic disposition for dominance over our fellow souls.

(Politics cannot be fixed.)

SORRY. (Insert sad face)

Next we have the swirling ugly pool of confusion we have labelled ‘Religion‘.

Over five thousand ‘Gods’ being worshipped on Earth, presently. 

And, singularly, each one is the ‘only’ true supreme being.

(Religion cannot be fixed.) 

It, too, is a left over genetic need for superiority over the masses.

Religious belief is no more than an implanted ‘hope‘ for a better existence. 

My solution?

Instead of being a ‘religious‘ person, try being a ‘Spiritual‘ soul.

For religion is man-made and faith is from soul.

(There, problem sort of solved.)

‘Racial’ confusion is a gigantic abscess of human flaws.

Again, a left over, undeveloped genetic emotion.  

A struggling anger wrought during Neanderthal days. 

Developed to secure dominance over our fellow man.

Eventually, racism will cease. 

It will be in tens of thousands of years when evolution and cross cultural breeding renders us all the same colour.

Yet, even then we will still possess racists thoughts.

Why“, you ask?

Because humans are rude and cruel. 

We believe ourselves to be the most intelligent and dominant species on Earth, but, yet we cannot speak to any other creature we share our planet with. 

But, the lessor animals communicate easily with us.

The average ‘Joe‘ does not realize that humans and the Earth in general are universally ‘young‘.

We are still breast feeding from the ‘Big Bang’. It shall be many, many, many millennia before we evolve through natural evolution to become the true beings the Cosmic Muffin meant us to become.

So, children, put on your adult diapers and calm down for a few thousand years and, (you may quote me), 

“All shall be well.”

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



So, here we are existing through yet another Wednesday. 

Oddly, I have mused all during this day about “Killer Clowns”.

Not too sure as to why.

But, I’m dealing with it, them.

Maybe it’s a LSD flashback from that wierd trip I went through in 1969. (Last time I EVER do two Orange double barrels at 8am.)

Or maybe it is because I once hung with “Killer Clowns”.  

But, they are all either incarcerated or deceased now. 

I am truly “The Last Man Standing“, of the original nine.

I am turning 60 on October the fifth.  Never in my wildest of dreams did I consider I would someday celebrate six decades on your planet. 

My family and friends grow more amazed each year, as they never expected me to survive past my eighteenth birthday.  

Yet, here I am. 

Not to say I am positive I will be around to celebrate my sixtieth, though. You never know. Congestive heart failure could win.

Makes no never mind. Already had my seven cracks at the ole “death bat”. Seven times, seven plains, seven confessions and seven choices. 

Number eight the choice is theirs.  No seven paths to return here in this contorted space/time continuum. 

Only one path. No choice.  The final glory of meeting your own “personal Jesus”.

Killer Clowns are never spotted on Wednesday.  

I wonder why?

Some believe them to be evil. Sent by the Devil himself. 

Maybe they all madethe wrong choices when they passed their seven times.

Maybe their eighth time their path was to spend eternity as a Wednesdayless Killer Clown.

What more bitter a Hell could there be.

Personally, I believe they come from somewhere within the New England States. (Probably close to Stephen King’s home, just putting that out there).

Why do we have any type of clowns? 

Ask any adult if they like clowns and nine out of ten will exclaim,  “Hell,NO!”.

No one will admit it is because of those grotesque “upsidedown” creepy bastards that were always in the Christmas Parades of all events. 

Fracking evil creatures gave me nightmares for life. 

Stupidly,  I think my  first wife was an under covered closet Killer Clown. She scared the humour out of me.

But, that is a story for another day.

So, I will be having a mind fart all day and evening as I query, “Do Killer Clowns know it’s Wednesday?”

I will have to smoke some “Devil’s Weed” and attempt to resolve this quandary.

(Which raises another question.  Why do we call harmless marijuana “The Devil’s Weed” and the very dangerous PCP, “Angel Dust”. Not only is it false advertising,  it is also just not true.)

So sayeth The LightHouse Dann Verner, on this day of September the 13th year 2017 of your inaccurate calendar. 


Every morning I wake up. 

Every morning you awaken.

One morning we will not wake.

Not into this life. Not onto this space/time continuum. 

On that day where will we awaken?

Our Prophets – be they false or true – they tell us we shall live again in Utopia.  In Valhalla.  In Heaven.  (If thou has lived life according to the Gospel of Man.)

If you have lived a life against the paperback values of Earth’s ‘Holy Books’, then your final destination claims to be Hades, Hell or even worse, Salt Lake City. 

Ask Kid Rock, if “Heaven isn’t a lot like Detroit”, he don’t want to go. 

Those of you who follow such literature published in a faith of over five thousand “gods” you humans chose to worship know of this to be ‘your’ truths.

All  of which claim to be the only ‘true’ Lord God.

It’s Saturday again. That singular day of our week whereas we awaken and lay staring at the barren ceiling and contemplate our existence. 

Is there a God? What is HIS meaning of my life?“, we ask.

Have you ever received an answer?

It’s Saturday again. 

I awoke to the barren ceiling and, as you,  I contemplated my existence and my final destination. 

I have the advantage of having had experienced death seven known times thus far. 

I have the advantage of knowing there are seven ‘multi-universes’. That each of these has seven more and so on and so on.

That’s an enormous amount of universes.

Death brings with it seven pathways – hopefully to a more comfortable ‘universe’. 

You will have to make a choice and deposit the token to ride the bus to your next stop. 

Choose wise or you may have to start all over again with the same love, hate and life you already know. 

When you arrive at the Seven Gates, fear not the path. 

For Hell is but yet another space/time continuum and it’s path will appear no different than the other six. 

I know.  I was there. As I shall be there for the final eighth time.

That is the one that counts, for your seven times at bat are done. The eighth ride is on the express track. The destination not yours to choose. 

We do not “reincarnated”. We “relocate”. 

Seven times via a path we choose. 

The final pathway to an existence where we shall not recall our previous life is not a CHOICE . A path where we will create another over thought lifestyle.  Another set of paternal and maternal grandparents, father and mother.

And the circle will be unbroken. By and by Lord, by and by. 

Time is a measurement of man. A click of a Baum & Mercier watch. A bang on the gong of a grandfather clock. 

Life is a measure of physical capabilities.  Broken bodies die. Healthy ones die. Flesh wears out. Bones become fragile glass. Minds wander into foolishness and forgotten days of the past.

And all things must pass.

Existence never ceases. For seven fold upon seven fold the universes expand. 

And as the cockroaches are to us, we are to them.

Pestilence or beauty? It lays within the eyes of the beholder.




Today has to be one of the hardest ones I have had to endure since the surgeries and the terrible news regarding my heart.  

It’s sad the Life I am existing. 

I was hoping to see sixty on October the fifth.

I doubt that will happen.

If the Creator’s were ever going to allow me a break, it should be now.

Everyone has that psychological cliff. 

That ledge that if pushed too far you will definitely tumble down into the abyss.

My life has been a train wreck for months now. 

Nine surgeries and then the terrible news regarding my heart. 

And on the hottest day so far this year I am sitting on a bench on a busy street, crying my heart out.


My son is suffering also.  

He  either doesn’t give a damn or he truly doesn’t comprehend the pain I went through. 

He definitely does not show concern about the stage C congested heart failure. 

Or he does and just doesn’t care.

Only he would know that. 

And he will never tell me. 

He rarely speaks to me with respect. 

Every comment is accompanied with rudeness hidden under the guise of “joking”.

My heart is broken by this and this is not the time for stress.  

Because my heart will just cease to pump.

And everything will crumble. 

There will be tears for a day.

There will be no “funeral”

I forbid that.

I wish for no gathering of people to shed false tears and speak of my “greatness”.

For they are only words. 

The ones who truly knew me and loved me will gather when it’s time.

And which ever of The Seven Paths I choose I shall feel their love. 

And I will shed a tear for not being here.

For not being able to say, “I told you so. “

A tear for those I repeatedly told, 

“This won’t end well.”

My family has a genetic recourse for longevity.

I abused that gift my whole life long. 

The drugs, the fights, the martial arts, the motorcycle accidents, the long prison terms and the abuse of thirty five years of hard work.

All these shortened my lifespan.

I have no fear of death.  I have experienced it seven times. 

I know how painful it is.  

I know the regrets those left behind will have. 

They had the choice to show me whatever, so as not to regret the decision later.

But I fear not death – never have. 

I shall smile and take that final path.

I fear living, though.

With all it’s trials and tribulations.

With all the heart breaks and humiliation. 

Yes, I fear living. 

But, life has to have purpose.

At this time in life I am too broken physically to live normally. 

I should have found an apartment by now. 

The heart doctor’s think I am bedridden as ordered until they come up with a solution to try and prolong my existence. 

But, why bother? 

I’m almost sixty. 

My wife ran off with my pot dealer. 

And I miss ‘him’.

My closest son has lost all respect for me. 

I sleep on a floor with my pups.

My pups deserve kudos for they keep me somewhat sane. 

Unlike people,  if a canine loves you it is for always and forever.

People cannot do that for now love is a disposable emotion. 

Even the useless Government recognises that the average marriage is a mere five years.

But every Bride and every Groom swear to their conceived God, 

“Till death do we part.”

And men like me who only wished to be a husband and a father, will die lonely and sad.

And my precious dogs will fall into lifelong despair.

Most others will forget I was even there.

But my pups, my pups will always care.

And all this can be said with two simple words …… 

“That’s sad.”

I would never give anyone the satisfaction of driving me to self harm.

I am the only person I have ever known to be able to say,

“I Committed Suicide Once.”

Not an attempt, but rather a D.O.A. in my basement.

And the bastards brought me back.

So, no, no suicide here.

My death will be a man slaughter – for trying to be a man slaughtered me.



Well six hours till they reset my heart and they CANNOT sedate me. Fun WOW!!!!!
They are trying to prevent me from progressing from Stage C to Stage D – there is no way to go back to Stage B. They did the defibrillator last month awake and it damn well hurts and is scary.

Here’s some info …… scary situation no matter what

Stage C

Patients with Stage C heart failure have been diagnosed with heart failure and have (currently) or had (previously) signs and symptoms of the condition.

There are many possible symptoms of heart failure. The most common are:

Shortness of breath
Feeling tired (fatigue)
Less able to exercise
Weak legs
Waking up to urinate
Swollen feet, ankles, lower legs and abdomen (edema)

Stage C treatment

The usual treatment plan for patients with Stage C HF-rEF includes:

Treatments listed in Stages A and B
Beta-blocker (if you aren’t taking one) to help your heart muscle pump stronger
Aldosterone antagonist (if you aren’t taking one) if a vasodilator medicine (ACE-I, ARB or angiotensin receptor/neprilysin inhibitor combination) and beta-blocker don’t relieve your symptoms
Hydralazine/nitrate combination if other treatments don’t stop your symptoms. Patients who are African-American should take this medication (even if they are taking other vasodilator medications) if they have moderate­ to-severe symptoms.
Medications that slow the heart rate if your heart rate is faster than 70 beats per minute and you still have symptoms
Diuretic (“water pill”) may be prescribed if symptoms continue
Restrict sodium (salt) in your diet. Ask your doctor or nurse what your daily limit is.
Keep track of your weight every day. Tell your healthcare provider if you gain or lose more than 4 pounds from your “dry” weight.
Possible fluid restriction. Ask your doctor or nurse what your daily fluid limit is.
Possible cardiac resynchronization therapy (biventricular pacemaker)
Possible implantable cardiac defibrillator (lCD) therapy
If treatment causes your symptoms to get better or stop, you still need to continue treatment to slow the progression to Stage D.

Stage D and reduced E

Patients with Stage D HF-rEF have advanced symptoms that do not get better with treatment. This is the final stage of heart failure.

Stage D treatment

The usual treatment plan for patients with Stage D heart failure includes:

Treatments listed in Stages A, B and C
Evaluation for more advanced treatment options, including:
Heart transplant
Ventricular assist devices
Heart surgery
Continuous infusion of intravenous inotropic drugs
Palliative or hospice care
Research therapies
Stages C and D with preserved EF

Treatment for patients with Stage C and Stage D heart failure and reserved EF (HF-pEF) includes:

Treatments listed in Stages A and B
Medications for treatment of medical conditions that can cause heart failure or make the condition worse, such as atrial fibrillation, high blood pressure, diabetes, obesity, coronary artery disease, chronic lung disease, high cholesterol and kidney disease
Diuretic (“water pill”) to reduce or relieve symptoms






​So, once again my beautiful Irish Guardian Angel, Sheena Eve has touched me. 

As most you know, I have had nine various surgeries and invasive procedures since last November.  Many of these for very painful implantations or removal of said implants.

This past Friday I had two stents and two ungodly long drainage tubes removed. In previous similar processes, I would be screaming and writhing in unbearable pain. 


At my surgical procedure, this time,  a woman I had met there before, Joyce; who has terminal  cancer, passes me a lace bag with an Angel Stone and tells me,  

“You won’t feel any pain Dann” 

And I never felt a thing. 

Angels do exist ….

Maybe not in your  Biblical belief or in any “religious” perception. 

But, in a SPIRITUAL existence Angels do exist.



I received the name   “LightHouse” shortly after my after-death experiences. 

(I wrote many blogs concerning my seven times legally declared ‘dead’. Such as my 2008 blog, “I Committed Suicide Once”)




After my return from death,  I began to have strong premonitions that ALWAYS became truths. 

An equal blend of good and bad experiences. 

After the death of my beautiful friend, Sheena Eve, much  changed in my life. 

Everyday I would somehow receive a message from her.  

Be it as simple as three Morning Doves on my window sill or her actual presence, holding my hand as I went through traumatic surgery or difficult times.

This is my Guardian Angel, my beautiful Irish Queen,  Sheena Eve Edmunds ….

Many will disbelieve and question what I am saying. Some will believe. 

I know the truth is we are existing in this space/time continuum and I have been Blessed to have crossed over into other continuums during my deaths.

Heaven and Hell do NOT exist as perceived in pagan ‘Holy Books’.

There is no Valhalla.

There is definitely not a bunch of virgins.

There are seven paths to seven destinations or ‘continuums’.


Today, I just wanted to acknowledge that I believe in Angels …

For,  I have been caressed by my beautiful Guardian Angel,  my Irish Queen, Sheena Eve. 

She has walked with me through my good times AND carried me through my hard times. 

Those of us who are Blessed to know her, know she has never left our side.


Until we sit at the round once again my beautiful Irish Queen,  I shall remain, Dann, just as I am.  

I am forever grateful that YOU have chosen to “Walk with Dann” and guide me to safety and Light.

These tears I wipe are those of joy not of sadness and despair.  The joy of calling you ‘friend’ and the joys of knowing you are still here. 

Sometimes Death is a Procrastinator 

Recipe for a sad and meaningless existence. 

1: Be born on October 5,  1957 

2: Be abandoned at six months old 

3: Live in 32 homes by the age of ten 

4: Start drugs at ten years old

5: Leave home to live the street life at twelve years old 

6: End up in a federal penitentiary by age eighteen 

7: Finally get to meet your biological mother in 1981.

8: Biological mother gets murdered 1981

9: First marriage lasts eight months

10: Spend 30 years with next wife only to discover it was a lie.

11: Raise three sons hoping you have not failed.  

12: Actually commit suicide on August 22, 2002 only to be resuscitated back into life.

13: Be 59 years old and be losing everything you own and your home.

Yes, I  cooked this life well. 

And yet, your gods still insist I awaken every day.