Tag Archives: Peace

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.


Here is 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.

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.

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



My third volume, “BOON” 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.

And my first ‘standalone book‘, my personal favourite,

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


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.

And here lays a brief synopsis of my “Walking On Dawes Collection


The first volume of the

Walking On Dawes Collection”


“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.





There is chaos in thought. There is solitude in meditation. LDV 10/5/18


How any true Canadian can even think of defending ANYTHING the Liberals are doing or already have done baffles me. Selling Canada by the pound to the enemies.  

I am ashamed at my fellow countrymen for sitting on their asses and allowing this schizophrenic undercover Islamic sympathizer to change our values and ways just to appease “refugees”. 

Think about it this way – these “refugees” arrive here with paperwork issued by someone in their homeland – we have to take it at face value that the said paperwork is accurate. But,  their homeland is full of corruption and chaos.  

Anyone with a half decent printer could have produced the papers. 

Which leads us to wonder why the majority of the “refugees” are males between 19 and 45 years old.

Just a coincidence that they are the same  age as most soldiers.     ???

Wouldn’t it be women,  children, injured or elderly that would be seeking safe harbours while the young males stay to defend their country?

If this idiot Prime Monster Trudeau has already told every Muslim in the world that they are welcome here,  then why are they crossing over illegally? 

Oh wait, the RCMP has already told us that more than half have criminal records. 

All this tells me that they are HIDING something .


Think about it – all they have to do is cross legally at the border and claim refuge from the evil President  Trump. But, they would rather risk life and limb crossing ILLEGALLY.  

I may be wrong but if you are committing a crime by sneaking into my homeland then you are a CRIMINAL. 

But, us Canadians are fracking pacifists and blinded by our peacefulness and trust.

 And this will be our downfall – you all see what is happening in Europe and what has been happening in THEIR homelands and yet you all defend them and actually INVITE them here.

And give them priority over our own homeless,  disabled and such.

Personally, I am presently homeless due to a financial disaster and I am offended at my government giving housing to them that was originally DESIGNATED for our poor and homeless.

And,  remember I tell you this,  it shall end very bad.

Trudeau should be drug tested and his mental health should be looked into. The boy is not right – or he is hiding an agenda from us that will only benefit his shady “friends” and himself.  

We all know what his father was and we definitely know that he could care less about any of us who are not from Quebec.

Unless we all stand together and demand he steps down we are doomed to eventually having a major terrorist attack.

Remember I tell you this  ……

So sayeth the LightHouse Dann Verner



I will be fifty nine years old on October the fifth this year. Five point nine decades of intermingling with all of you.

My early childhood was during the remnants of the 1950’s.  Johnny Cash, James Dean, muscle cars and drive-in restaurants. 

A time when society was changing from the gospel,  blue grass and country & western music to rock & roll and R & B.

To quote Bob Dylan,  “The Times They Are (were) A Changing”.

A time where moonshine and hootenannies became marijuana and LSD.

A period of worldwide transformation.  Wars fought for and lost.  Freedom for human’s of colour  (in a FEW countries).  Equal rights for all  (in a FEW countries). 

My teenage life was forever in and out of flux. Many, many foster homes, many unearned miseries and many well earned ones.

I remember the day I first met my oldest brother, Ernie. When I first laid eyes on him, he lay sleeping upon his bed. Exhausted from his return from Woodstock.  I fondly remember thinking how much he resembled Jesus, with his long dirty blonde hair and beard. 

That was the moment I decided  that I was to become a hippie.  

I bought my first vinyl lp “After The Gold Rush by Neil Young ” – followed by “Tumbleweed Connection  by Elton John “

And I grew my hair,  bought my first pair of Levi’s 501 jeans and a hookah.

And a bag of Acapulco Gold  cannibis sativa. Oh, and I developed a love for LSD and Mescaline.


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[mes-kuh-leen, -lin] 



a white, water-soluble, crystalline powder, C1 1 H 1 7 NO 3obtained from mescal buttons,that produces hallucinations.

Marijuana was not a gateway drug. The Mescaline  definitely was. For soon my daily routines became a constant psychedelic mixture of LSD, Mescaline and Heroin, topped off with any and every available pill.

By 1970 amphetamines had surfaced and brought with them the violence that accompanies humans who have pushed their minds beyond the physical/psychological threshold. 

And thus my short lived but very VIOLENT  years. 

Thank the Creator’s  for Dorchester and Springhill Penitentiaries. When I walked through the gates that beautiful summer day my life had been saved.

“Saved by going to prison? ” you ask

When arrested I had hepatitis, diphtheria and weighed 87 pounds. I had an eight year addiction to Heroin for which I would spend three months in solitary confinement to kick cold turkey.  There were no rehabs or Methadone treatment.  There was Hell on Earth.

And from all of this constant and chaotic turmoil I emerged a man. 

The BIRTH of “LightHouse Dann Verner”

(I shall end this for the moment and return with the next installment asap.)  

In closing may I say that if my story and sometimes ‘BRUTAL” honesty changes but one life, then my life had true meaning.