This is the hero that North America gets.

Sick beast of burden chained to a stake lodged deep in the blind past,

Plagued with ticks, dormant rabies, internal cross-chatter,

Constant feedback tinnitus from the cracking of the taskmaster’s whip.

I am a cyborg wired to the Information Leviathan,

 Marked and numbered consumer, worth calculated in potential spending,

‘cause god knows my organs aren’t worth too much at this point.

I’m saturated in trans fats, monosodium glutamates & meaningless signals.

I am eleven years old; smoke pouring from New York City.

I am urns of ashes & broken cancer promises.

I am thirteen years old.

I am guilty flames that licked the buildings & bodies.

I am a piece of every bomb they dropped, a brick from every house they ruined

The night that televised Baghdad burned, 4th of July came early for Iraq.

I am misplaced infant tethered to a cold wire mother experiment.

Electrical umbilical chord pumping swelling veins full of empty entertainment.

Apathy rising to dangerous levels,

It’s cracking the blood-brain barrier & I think it’s about to burst through

To drown all the anarchists, preachers, dancers and poets,

In endless remakes and revisions of micro waved plans.

I am a bottle of generic codeine pills

Produced on the assembly lie,

Filled up with a sweet silver poison,

Drained in a few short, blurry days,

Headed back to the graveyard with all the other dead soldiers

Angry and embarrassed, tossed away, expired goods

Waiting to die with congealing memories

Of human beings,

Treated like numbers, like meat, like machines.

Jack Blare

The Lesser of Two Evils

Democracy is often about choosing the lesser of two evils. This November it is clear to me that Biden is the lesser of two evils. Trump is 74 and already displaying obvious signs of dementia. Biden is mocked for being an old man and while prone to gaffes has considerably more political experience. So they’re both old as hell. Electing a president is like choosing an employee. Do you want the candidate with an unblemished record of political service or a billionaire real estate agent who’s been in politics for a full five years who switches parties as often as he does wives? The president is like the people’s employee. You give him money, a nice house and power, in turn he serves your best interests. Given the rampant nepotism one wonders if Trump serves himself and his family a larger portion than he does the citizens.

Lets look at qualifications. Biden was the sixth youngest senator in US history. Trump was a real estate agent who dodged the draft three times due to “bone spurs” and started his political career in 2016. Biden was chair of the Senate Judiciary Committee, Chair of the Senate Caucus on International Narcotics Control, Chair of the United States Senate Committee on Foreign Relations and 47th VP. Biden also headed the Gun Violence Task Force. Meanwhile Trump headed ‘The Apprentice’ which was so mind-numbingly dull it could be used to torture detainees.

When choosing an employee you choose the one with the most experience in their field. Trump was in real-estate and reality TV. Any other job would call for the most qualified candidate. Biden has over forty years in politics. Trump builds hotels and golf courses that most of his supporters can’t even afford then gets sued for not paying the contractors. He takes pride in not paying taxes, in letting the citizens shoulder the burden of paying for a failing infrastructure or for the schools that seem to teach so little.

The past four years have seen America lose its position as an international superpower. America has the most covid-19 cases in the world as well as ongoing rioting and protests which the government cannot control.

Trump promised a border wall within one year of his election. I see no wall. Trump himself is a racist, in 1975, he settled a 1973 Department of Justice lawsuit that alleged housing discrimination against black renters. At the same time Biden was working as a senator. One of his biggest supporters is David Duke, former grand wizard of the KKK. If you find that your politics put you on the same side as the klan and neo nazis how are you any different than Vichy France or Ion Antonescu? You can tell a lot about a person based on their allies.

So who would you rather have? A racist, sexist real estate mogul with four disastrous years in politics or someone experienced in foreign and domestic policies? Not to mention Donny has been named as a traitor by the former director of the FBI. “A special counsel investigation led by Robert Mueller found that Trump and his campaign welcomed and encouraged Russian interference in the 2016 presidential election under the belief that it would be politically advantageous, but did not find sufficient evidence to press charges of criminal conspiracy or coordination with Russia.” Welcomed and encouraged Russian interference under the belief it would be politically advantageous. That alone would sway my vote.

Of course I can’t vote but some of you can. Thankfully I am not American. So why does a Canadian dare speak their opinion about U.S. affairs? First of all I know and work with many fine American people I am honoured to call friends. You are our largest trading partner and biggest foreign influence. Just as it is in my best interest that my neighbours don’t get the plague (or covid-19) so too is it in the best interest of my nation that Trump isn’t elected again. His petty trade war and gross mishandling of an epidemic have cost us jobs and lives. It started with a Muslim ban, now most countries urge their people not to visit the US. Many European nations even ceased flights entirely. You need a special pass to cross the Canadian border. People are selling off their winter homes in Florida and California.

Biden is far from perfect but I guarantee he knows what the nuclear triad is. Republicans have held the house and the presidency. Have your lives improved over the past four years? Did you know Trump was a democrat until 1987? Then again from 2001-2009? Either his opinions did a 180 in under seven years (in which case they could again) or he just catered to the party he thought would be most likely to elect him.

I could go on and on discussing Trump’s taped factual sexist, racist and ableist remarks, his crooked business dealings or his obvious lack of party loyalty, morals or ability to grasp abstract concepts but logic won’t beat blind fate. The lines are drawn, the sides chosen. The majority who voted for Nixon could just crawl into a corner and no one would remember their outspoken support for “law and order” and that they elected a criminal. Personally I’d take Tricky Dick over Dumb Donald any day. The internet has changed things. History will remember and history will be the judge. Your choice now sticks with you forever. Pray you make the right one. Choose the lesser of two evils.

-Jack Blare, August 2020

Your Compass is Broken

The knights of Malta and the Holy Grail

Iron crosses on t shirt beer guts.

Fat ass fascists siting on their asses wishing for the old days

Of when they were nothing more than mom’s egg

Dad’s cum & a whiskey fuelled evening

Now you dream of an American annexation

Of starting a second War of 1812

Do you know why the White House is White?

Because the British torched it to the ground.

Nationalist ”patriots” in Canada failed invasion of Quebec 35 years earlier.

Patriot forces lead by Benedict Arnold

Repelled in a snowstorm

French, Natives & British.

Together for the first time.


American puppets in Canada

Without puppeteers to pull the strings.

Blinded like Benedict was in the snow.

Limp & useless.

Purpose & ideals that shift to suit their needs.

Trump’s arm reaches far through TVs & phones

One of which is able to switch off & still secretly record audio.

In a modern TV. Smartphones do almost everything now.

Including pick up on conversations & texts your friends send each other

You’re foolish if you think the disease is a ruse for creating a dystopia

Truth is we’ve been living in one for a few years now.

Privacy is dead. Your sins will follow you forever

Your shopping preferences & money transfers

If you didn’t unplug before at least 2015

You have no real privacy left anymore.

You openly announce your opinions online

Then try to tell me this is a police state?

In a real police state you’d be forced to dig your own mass grave for doing that.

The word REVOLUTION is banned in China

You can’t even search it on the internet.

For voicing any opposition to control

2 bullets to the back of the head (If you’re lucky)

All identifying items burned.

All those pictures you put up.

GPS, every time you use wifi its logged.

There is no escape. You told them your likes, dislikes

Where you work, where you went to school.

If the government of Canada were truly a repressive totalitarian regime either left or right wing

A group on facebook is a list of names to go with an ideology.

You’ve already given up more information than they need

To find you & dispose of the body.

Like in Argentina’s Dirty War.

They couldn’t keep that quiet

Americans are the loudest people on the planet.

Its time to move forward, don’t look back.

If you won’t then get out of the way

I take my wisdom from Bob Dylan, Hank Williams, Blind Willie Mctell

Dirty Kelly, Dan the Street Sage.

It was unnerving to grow up,

Cheat death more than once, spit in its face

And in the process realize the “adults” I knew

Who’d seemed so strong & infallible

Were all just as clueless as me,

But most even more so.

Folks in their 50’s bickering like teens,

its embarrassing

Everyone’s an expert with a point to make,

So I just don’t feel ashamed. of anything in my life.

I live for pleasure, to give it, receive it

Chemical, natural its all just neurotransmitters in the brain.

Serotonin, dopamine, GABAa ,GABAb, GHB, norepinephrine, kainate, etc

Endorphins, endogenous morphines, oxytocin.

William Blake once said (paraphrased)

“If the doors of perception were cleansed we would see things as they truly are: infinite” 

Everything ever happening happened & to happen

All at once, at one with everything, seeing that everyone is connected.

Everything is made up of molecules, made up of atoms all visible all angles.

Enlightenment, Nirvana.

My prophets were Huxley, Mcluhan & Orwell not John or Samuel.

I’ve seen too much to believe in coincidence anymore

Whether fate is set in stone I can’t say.

Might as well enjoy what you’ve got.

Covid-19 has been inconvenient and depressing for us all

Not to mention fatal to many people.

This is an issue of public health not petty partisan politics

If you believe in tuberculosis & malaria why not this?

You’re wasting your lives & your reputations.

History remembers, especially now that everything is recorded.

The very definition of doubtlethink & cognitive dissonance,

Knowing something to be a lie but forcing yourself to believe it anyway.

Drones, workers exploited until they’re too old to be useful.

Yet still you are loyal, unquestioningly. 

Is it because you’re afraid what people might say if you change your mind?

So much time & energy wasted.

Stormtroopers millions strong died by Long Knives at night,

Careful not to get used & discarded the same way.

At least Nixon’s staff knew they were on a sinking ship

My Prophets are named

Mcluhan & Orwell not John or Samuel.

I’ve seen too much to believe in coincidence anymore

Whether fate is set in stone I can’t say.

But for now I’m going to live my life & enjoy it.

If I have to put on a mask for other people’s peace of mind

So be it. It is not a political action.

So just relax, smoke some legal weed

Chill out, drink a beer.

You look uncomfortable my friend

In the immortal words of Lou Reed

“My week beats your year.”

The End.


Playgrounds & Graveyards

An ordered decomposition,

Erosion by acculturated violence,

Tight-lipped teens crying 44 calibre tears

At the walls of their dearly purchased prisons.

The division of the invisible dollar

Sprouts little Stalins from the raw, cold earth,

Flecks of bloody mud in their moustaches,

Dead roots and dead ends tangled in their close-cropped hair.

Digital revolutionaries pace up & down

The hairy, distended guts of bedbound banks

Carrying limp signs & political party platforms

Condensed into dull 140 character slogans.

The simple has been simplified,

Chewed down & mashed up

For gnashing, sparkling fluoride teeth

Of the swollen Cyber Leviathan.

Cameras keep their black oil apertures

Trained unwaveringly on dying fires & past star deaths.

Smog rises in thick obsidian pillars

Choking the last few cancer-ridden voices of organic resistance.

Democratic ants armed with computers, smart phones & opinions

Fight skirmishes over tarnished scraps of idealist ideology,

As the invisible monster wraps its tentacles around the bare throats of the poor

Squeezes tighter, tighter, until there’s nothing left but late apologies

And smoke occupied graveyards.

-Jack Blare, 2015

Sweet Anne Hedonia

This form

Will starve here

Within unwanted flesh.

All lost

A daydream

In chemical sunrise nights.

This substance

Became me.

I am its tattered face.


Just repeats

In search of constant sleep.

To live like

No others

Stand outside pointless days.

No hope of


It’s better to go quietly.


Young sunlight

Draping soft shadows across early smiles.


Old starlight

Eternal, intimate lover.

To live in

Razor nightmare

Hallucinating realities

Cold Cuts

I attempted, with little success,

To put Burroughs’ & Gysin’s cut up technique

To use upon the redundant article

Of my emaciated body.

Waves of dulled conversation

Lap deafly against limping ears.

Bright signals flash, signals firing

But the receptors are fried

They’ve been dying for years.


Light bulb’s dead, seed won’t sprout.

I want desperately to retreat

Into dark, moldy, musky basements of eighteen years ago

Where I remember playing hockey

In concrete basements with Grandpa John.

Before his slow, involuntary surrender.

Before heavy years dragged coherent thought

Deep below dementia’s still black surface.

I’m doing my best to block this out

With carefully constructed networks of trenches,

Cold stare stretches of barbed wire fences

Pill popping latticework of misguided self-defences.


When did they bury the boy?

How did cynicism creep in unnoticed

Like a serial killer slipping through an open window?

When did I betray my deepest values?

Why can’t I remember my values?

What is value anyway?

Jack Blare, 2015 (People & Concrete)

Disinfected Disaffection

Thin film thought mosquito net

Divides reality from strange inner worlds.

Infinite evening plays play out

Constant scenes with interchangeable actors,

Indifferent, clichéd one liner lies.

Conversations twitch in ungainly circles,

Limping into lamps, carving lopsided points into stoned stone ears.

A babbling multitude of inconsequential sounds

Emanating from aging, increasingly irrelevant addicts.

Is it sickness inside or infirmity of mind

That sets me aside among the shadows and trees?

Or is this a mass exodus of sense?

Of Purpose and sub-atomic consequence?

Deceived multitudes marching to their dull deaths

Across the wastelands of capital greed?

Distances between old friends spread,

Vast fields of snow and ice.

Silence dies painfully in the woods.

Death takes up residence in people’s minds.

In my mind?

Some scars never fade.

Some words echo on for a lifetime.

Some lifetimes can slip away in seconds.

Some seconds feel like millennia.

Always I am seeking that old time perfect summer,

Half in the arms of my young dreams.

But the sun has gone down.

Night has fallen on concrete November

And my dreams are slipping away.

More bricks up every day,

Swell the bulging gut

Of the universal state of greed

With fleets of conquistador cops.

Pastoral rustle swallowed,

Death of wind on green leaves.

Despite the severe sanitation

And diligent disinfection,

Despite shiny police cars

And supermarket garden centres,

Dark things still find a way to creep in

And whisper terrible, nasty thoughts,

Inject terror into innocent nights,

Blossoming multicoloured tumours of mental illness.

Buried titans and chained demons

Clamour and scream like hordes of locusts

Trapped inside fragile mental states

 Calling for violent self destruction,

For pills, for needles, cocaine,

Whisky, and razorblades.

Shadows fall across twisted little streets,

Great big black clouds of dark intentions,

Storm brewing and surging,

Fed fat on the misery and boredom

Of a few lost generations.

Unending domestic disputes

Paint the sidewalks red

With blood, broken glass

And burst hearts.

Anger and entitlement simmers and grows

Inside the gas bloated belly of the middle class.

It starts with an explosion,

Spiralling out of control with batons, steel baseball bats,

Self-inflicted lacerations, insulin shots, overdoses and quiet closet hangings.

Only leads to tears, lies and apologies.

Still they drag themselves on,

The torn and tormented many,

Though the blood, bile and tears may be six feet deep,

Especially in the dark season, 

Though it is too black and foggy to see anyone else,

And too cold, sometimes, to care,

They have a quiet strength, survivor’s solidarity

That somehow keeps friends together

Despite the immense size

Of the vast and frozen digital wastelands

That stretch across this disembodied age.

Jack Blare 2015

Free North Patriots: A Far Right Front Group

I returned to the Free North Patriots facebook page in order to see what their position on Covid-19 is following the removal of restrictions related to the pandemic.  In stark contrast to their militaristic and vitriolic attacks they refused to comment and my message was soon deleted, aside from one member, Mike Klingbell of Lockport Manitoba who said “Go fuck yourself you authoritarian shit bag.” This attitude seems to be the norm whenever the group is faced with questions they find difficult to answer.

They continue to protest but there seems to be no cohesive reason for the protests nor a consensus as to whether covid-19 was even real. They range from anti-vaccine advocates, to anti-Black Lives Matter Protesters and neo nazi extremists.  They seem to have no unified purpose other than to oppose the federal government but individuals have espoused anti-vaccine, anti-communist and pro segregation viewpoints. Here are some images of their protests to put things into perspective.

The man in the left photograph is wearing a shirt with the German Iron Cross on it. The Iron Cross has been used by white supremacist biker gangs and neo nazis as a symbol of solidarity with Adolf Hitler’s failed Third Reich. It is odd for a group claiming to be Canadian “patriots” to openly wear the symbol of a defeated enemy nation.

The group has over ten thousand facebook followers. They are a right-wing nationalist group that uses fascist symbolism and fear of communism as tools to advance an extremist agenda. They are not united, are poorly organized and openly hostile to the press. Their members are overwhelmingly white and they boast openly about getting the police to arrest Black Lives Matter Protesters, which outnumber them significantly. The Free North Patriots are only one of many poorly organized far-right groups springing up in Canada and while they officially declare themselves to be protesting in the name of freedom their open use of fascist symbolism and violent, racially biased rhetoric from individual members suggests otherwise.

-Jack Blare, 2020

(All photos from the Free North Patriots Facebook Page)

Necropolis North America

Writing poetry

In the 21st century

Is like trying to take Vimy Ridge


With just a rusty flintlock musket,

A crumpled up notebook,

And pacifist’s unanswered prayers.

Not advisable.

High casualty rate.

Blood, mud 

And psychiatric sickness

Spread like Tuberculosis in the trenches.

Spiritual suicide.

Last charge of the corporate cannon fodder.

Desperate assault by the intimate & unarmed.

Corpses in the office buildings.

Corpses in the college.

Corpses driving porches.

Corpses strapped to hospital beds.

Corpses strapped to chemical reactions.

You can’t poke a toe out your door

Without hearing the mindless cacophony

Of the anxious, twisted, damned & depressed living dead.

The whole world is a mausoleum,

Hospital waiting room, alcohol and disinfectant

Hanging heavy in the air

To disguise the sound of screams, stale sweat, stomach sickness.

Erase the organic, chemical scrub peeling away emotions

Scrap by scrap like dead, rotten idealist skin.

Not advisable. 

High casualty rate.

Blood, mud, psychiatric sickness.

But those few that survive,

Those lucky,

Damned, disgusted, destroyed

Cursed few that survive,

Will carve the stories of their bloody lives

Permanently into the cave walls.

Jack Blare, 2015

Verse 4, Stall 3

&, On the third day boredom set in

& Lo the things he had once found entertaining

Were now about as interesting

As reality TV,

As public education,

As reality TV,

As public education,

Even the dirty things,

& All of a sudden,

All at once,

He realized,

There are no actors.

There is no stage.

Just people

& Concrete.

There are no actors.

There is no stage.

Just people

& Concrete.