EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY…………..
things that make you go “hmmmmmmmmmmm”
EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY…………..
things that make you go “hmmmmmmmmmmm”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I am ‘LightHouse Dann Verner’.
I am ‘Dann’, just as I am.
And so it is that I am ……..
So, come, “Walk With Dann.”
A man who some say has lived many tragic lives.
The first decade of my life I had lived in thirty-two homes.
I started my ‘Walks’ at the age of ten.
I left Father’s house at the age of twelve to join a hippie commune and learned how to be a Heroin addict.
Foster care, jails, pain, sorrow and addiction were my childhood friends.
My playgrounds were the streets.
My rocking horse a Harley Davidson.
I was rescued from certain death via an arrest.
Next was real life recovery. ‘Cold turkey’ style in Dorchester Federal Penitentiary.
Where, after many years, I finally found “ME”.
I still have demons but I have learned to live with them.
I started blogging in 2002. It was a release from the demons within.
The blogging led to my becoming an author.
The author led to my wanting the world to know who I was and who I achieve to become.
If my story changes but one life, then I have succeeded.
I write my books for me and my inner persona’s.
For the reader,
I tell my stories.
THE LIGHTHOUSE BOOKS
All my books are available in paperback – Kindle & other E-platforms at:
Available also on KoBo
Visit my blog at …
“Damaged” is my first book.
Like me, it is raw and full of mistakes.
I have left it “unedited” as life has left me.
They’re complicated, the thoughts in my head.
Confusion is easily acquired when you are ‘Damaged”.
I am ‘Damaged’.
As the following “Walks With Dann” shall reveal.
Take heart in my words.
Absorb knowledge from my mistakes.
‘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.
“BOON” Walks you deep into my personal life of trials and tribulations and my uniquely twisted none the norm perception of my realty.
A fictionl 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.
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 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
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.
ALL THREE NOW PUBLISHED
E-BOOKS ON KOBO, AMAZON, KINDLE
PAPERBACKS AT AMAZON.COM
Well, I am extremely worried now!!!
I might have been poisoned.
Not by some unknown assailant with malicious motives.
It was the sister of this culprit pictured below. (I truly believe he is also involved.)
Darn Killer Mango.
I honestly didn’t know that I was ingesting a “non-organic” substance.
It did not come across as a non decomposable substance.
It did not taste nor have the texture of “metal”.
I didn’t believe it to be “raw minerals”.
It felt somewhat solid in my hand, in no way coming across as “gaseous“.
Only it’s delicious juices flowed as a “liquid”, running down my arm and dripping from my elbow.
I called poison control. They asked if I were under psychiatric supervision. (I’m not. My therapist had a meltdown.)
So, as a proper Western Worlder, I turned to that there “internet”.
Which led me to “Wikipedia” and their definition of ‘Organic‘ ……
An organic product is made from materials produced by organic agriculture.. …Organic food, food produced from organic farming methods and often certified organic according to organic farming standards.
Organic clothing, clothing produced from organic fibers such as organic cotton.
Yet, I am still left to wonder, “What in the name of The Cosmic Muffin have I ingested? Am I soon to die (again)?
In all seriousness, we must ask ourselves if perhaps “The Big Bang” did in fact give we all a cosmic concussion or,worse, deafened us to logic.
A “conventional” farmer plants their crop next to an “organic” competitor.
Same earth, identical water table, sharing the same Sun and shelter-less from Mother Nature and her mate, Father Weather.
Oh my Lords, what am I implying?
That there may no difference between the end product of these two farms?
In our feeble attempt at constructing a Utopian society we have wandered into a false belief that we live within a species that is capable of “Peace, Love and Hippy Dope”. That we may walk with “Nature” and be “One” with our fellow man.
Look around people!
Ain’t going to happen anytime soon. Maybe, if the “Powers That Be” allow, just maybe, Humanity may evolve enough some day so as this could be a reality.
For now, we are mere babes in the woods. Still at the breastfeeding stage of our existence in this space/time continuum and this paralleled universe.
Our present “Politically Correct” society with it’s “Please do not hurt my feelings” attitudes and Alice In Wonderland belief that we should be open to Facebook conspiracies, Kik open sexual diversities, Instagram Boobies and YouTube Truths is as non-fictional as the screenplay for “Rocky Horror Picture Show”.
Is potash potash? Is Nitrogen Nitrogen? Is Urea Urea?
Is fertilizer that comes from the ass of farm animals not have the exact same necessary nutrients as mass produced bags of the exact same nutrients?
Are not all you “Organic Muffins” breathing the same air as I am? Is the weather different from mine under your hat?
When I am done digesting my non-organic Killer Mango, will I not defecate it out the same as you will expel your Hippie Mango?
Do you suppose that maybe, just maybe, all this organic hubbub is just a very huge monetary opportunity whereas smaller “Organic” producers and distributors are raking in high profit margins?
All on your belief that their produce doesn’t contain all the same components as every other biodegradable living thing that exists already has?
Society is collapsing as we know it.
It is tumbling down throughout space/time like a bad rumor on FaceBook. Running out of control with mass controlling and charismatic hypnosis.
Leading us all to believe that there are more than two sexes, unicorns are real, 9/11 was a lie, the whole milk humans drank for many millennia is bad for us and last, but not least, children know what they want and have the right to choose.
And that’s how it is …… as I sit here in fear that my sweet, adorable, ripe mango may in fact be a “DARN KILLER MANGO“.
People, I leave you with this, ….. Just eat your mango – he will like it.
Remember, Life is like a meal, looks great, tastes delicious and ends up a pile of crap in the end.
So, just enjoy the meal.
Until next time, I remain, Dann, just as I am.
As I sit here on this sunny Sunday gazing out at my beloved Scarborough – that East Side slab of the Greater Toronto Area, I ponder.
The GTA is famous for having as many trees as people.
Below is a few pictures of the average view from any point in this marvelous city within a city.
As you can see, it’s a concrete jungle with a green laced frock.
People forget to look around at times.
Walking their paths with their mind on their money and money on their mind.
Heads forcibly bent down waiting for the next electronic message.
Blinded by the hustle and bustle of modern day survival.
Prisoners of busy lifestyle and the constant worry of “How will I make it till cheque day”.
This saddens me.
I am a victim, also. Many days I sit on the balcony oblivious to the trees, the birds and even the squirrels dancing to and fro.
Do the others hear the constant wail of sirens? I do. Each one bothers me as I am prejudiced into automatically believing, “There was another shooting.”
And that is very sad, to instinctively think such.
I often try not to think so, but when you see the gang task force police vehicles racing ahead of the ambulances to block off the intersections so as the victim can possibly get to the trauma centre in time, well, you realize trees are deceiving.
I wish we had more trees so maybe my heart wouldn’t ache as much.
But, we do not and even if we did, I would still know the truth.
I have below a prime example of the attitude of many.
I made this photo after seeing a t-shirt with the saying upon it.
Unfortunately, this is the attitude of many who would rather use humour to mask reality.
Sick or “dark” humour seems to have become the most common day coping mechanism.
What agitated me to no end is how the gangs are growing. How more and more are appearing.
Used to be safe for me to send my fourteen year old son out at night to the store in the plaza across the street.
I do not do that anymore. Even though the whole city knows “He is the son of Unkz”.
I go myself because even though I walk through the valley of danger, I fear no evil for I walk with Yahuwah and I have no fear of that I helped create.
As soon as the Sun sets the plaza becomes Little Syria. The parking lot fills with fancy “Fast & Furious” knock-off cars. The noise levels rise and the punks gather.
It is a very heavy load to bear knowing that my decades of bad life choices assisted in adding to the gangs goals and the shadowy meanderings thusly wrought.
I, and my acquaintances, were/are what hides behind the trees.
But, I hide no more. I now sit above the trees and gaze down, with tears in my eyes, at what society has become.
We all know that soon our Sodom and Gomorrah lifestyles are going to be cleansed.
Not by man and his violence.
It shall be Mother Nature or Yahuah or The Cosmic Muffin or whomever you believe your creator to be.
It will not be the “End of the Earth”. It shall be “The End of Days” – “The Supper of the Lambs”.
It will be when ONCE AGAIN the human population will be dealt a mighty blow and technology will fail.
And as has happened many times over many millennia, society will return to the basics of living off the land and depending on each other.
A time for healing. A time for reflections. A time for appreciation of the gifts YAHUSHA has allowed us.
And the beautiful trees will then hide our “PRIDE” not our “SHAME”.
And life will go onward AGAIN. HOPEFULLY THIS TIME SOCIETY WILL LEARN …..
Until then, I remain, Dann – just as I am.
A modern day Natsarim – a LightHouse beacon for all to see The Light.
The Musings of a Writer / Freelance Editor in Training
Helping millennials become less anxious|SIMPLIFYING labels one story at a time.