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Arnie S. Wachman


Sooke, BC, CA

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Arnie S. Wachman

Cold...way too cold...much too cold to be here to remember
The crystal flakes of snow fall against an azure sky, reflect the prism colours
I look at the memorial and read "LEST WE FORGET"

The ancient warriors march to the beat
Perhaps a little more slowly now, but there is a spryness in their eyes
The pipers pipe a last lament, and the warriors snap to
A silent heel click in the fallen snow

The flag is's precisely 1100 hours
Taps and The Last Post blare but softly like a wail
The buglers frozen lips warm to the sound...feeling
Tears in the eyes of the warriors all

How did they feel...those warriors on the battlefields
Were they too cold with their finger frozen to the trigger
I feel humbled, as I feel the coldness
And think how it must have been

What do they remember...and what is NOT said
As their hands raise up and impart a salute
To their fallen comrades...our fallen comrades
And my lips say a silent prayer..."lest We Forget"

Trapped in Muck


Arnie S. Wachman

I just wanna be me...wanna be free
Stuck in my own mire
Moody...wanna move...stuck

How do I get out...where do I go
Unpenetrable forces - and walls all around
Burned bridges - and a father that didn't care
Didn't even help tie my laces

I fell down, but scored the goal anyway
He wasn't there to watch
One of my few triumphant moments
He was too busy making money

Or better yet
Maybe he just didn't care
Always away - mother too
Cold kisses and hollow dreams

Haunting memories pulling for my life
Breathing labored, turning purple
Drugs not working
How did I survive...maybe the will of god

Years later still haunted by ghosts and dreams
Children not around...blaming...blaming...blaming
Where were you they yelled ate me

The past does really come back to haunt
Different context - different times
Love is fleeting...set my own agenda
No blame

Dreams left...fettered dreams
How do I break free...break the chains that bind
Act, got to act...but how is the question
Security binds me when I know there is no such thing

Can I rise above and through the shadows
The sun is shing now
Where will it lead...unknown, uncharted territory
I must set sail

Lost in a Mirror


Arnie S. Wachman

Are you up yet 'cause I want to talk
About anything...feelings and philosophy
And where you want to be in ten years
And about love, life, and sex

Let's talk about food
Food that makes us feel good
Food that makes us want to live
And foods that we crave

Loreena singing hauntingly of tales...of masks, of mirrors
Makes me think of my past...of images long forgotten
Where might have been or have gone to
In the depth of my soul, inner yearnings, lost experiences

I want to talk of many thing...I'm not afraid
Things that pull at my heart, my gut, and tears my inner senses apart
I have too few moments to share...but then me up
Find me, find me, find me

Are you's who I am...I cannot be anything else
Where are you...I want to talk
And feel safe and comfortable and warm and loved
Where are you - Mother!?

So Far (Away)


Arnie S. Wachman

Reach...reaching...reach way up there
Hale-Bopp is far away but yet - can be seen
Children far away
And can't be seen, and can't be reached

Not by my mind anyway
All efforts fo unanswered
Like a monster lurking
Ready to devour

My needs are not their needs
Hard for me to swallow
I need to know them, to love them
And hopefully loved back - this I need

I cry at small things
I cry at Elvis on the podium - a gold medal skate
I cry at our flag raised high
And I cry ever more to sleep - my children on my mind

I don't understand Lord
I just don't understand
The rejection - oh how it hurts
And tears my fibers - my being apart

I am wrenched
My heart tumbles
I can't seem to stop
Hoping they will come back



Arnie S. Wachman

Freezing, burning, jam tarts in a toaster
Voracious appetite like a whale
Spewing water up a spout while ingesting
Dives deep like the blackness of bottom mud
Wanted only for its oil, and me for my soul that no-one can crave
If I wanted ubiquity I would have gone farther
To reach a torured soul withut drugs or cults
Not to find myslef in the ravages of a hell of Heavens Gate
But rather in the ethereal mount of the guru
Who could only turn out to be me