Rain Coat


Inspiration through osmoses,

Absorbing environment

Pulling it all toward the center of me,

Filtered through my brain.


Pulsating through my veins,

The pain that surrounds me.

Passion too for things people do,

Misconstrued mammals.


Lost in a hurricane of pain,

Even the weather is infectious

Pouring rainy windy days every other day,

A wet blanket,


Cold and shivering in the depth of sanity,

facing reality.


Normality is abnormality

And abnormal are normal

Uniformly to the conformal

To confound abstract art.


Ron Bergquist

Oct 26th 2011

12:08 pm


Fire Wood


A tree dark and dead

I don’t want to say dead but it seems dead

It’s big and fat and black;

Its branches thick and bare;

Bear arms and claws reaching for the sky;

This tree is what I see in my mind’s eye.


It roots sunken into soil cracked and dry

Sucking no nutrients;

No sun – cloud covered sky;

Black smoky smog clouds,

Rolling fast on the wind toward no end;

The horizon ablaze; sunset glow,

Sets the tone of how I feel.


Ron  Bergquist

October 25th 2011

2:18 Am

{ Pain} What’s it all for?


This life what is it all for?

Everything in the end

Of us at the end of a day

The things people say

And do making us wonder what is true

Parents who deceive and abandon

Friends who end for selfishness

Choosing to boost themselves

Instead of lending a hand up

From the ground

Where most of us are found

Crawling with worms

And we squirm with hurt and hate

And fate and what it means

To suprass the mean

Of this world and everything spoken

That puts us into a whirl

And curls us into the fetal position

Has us begging for intermission

And a break; is this fate!?

WHY must I break

And break again

And sin and feel guilt

And be built to save

And behave in such a way

That displays faith to others

When my own spark of life

Is smothered with the shit

And sin of another and I can’t begin

To find my way out of the pain

And in vain scream

To white pages

Generational curses

Passed through ages


And the light

Is ever calling

Ever fading

And I am raging

In my hate

What is fate?

What am I?

What does it mean to die

What does it mean to give

And what does it mean to live?


Ron Bergquist

October 13th 11:53

Hate in my heart

Hate in my heart
For everything trivial

Pulls me apart

Migrate to the center

Of this weather

The calm middle

Floating with feathers

Of a riddle I am not;

Part of the equation

Loss’s devastation

Has me berating hard

Teething child of mild


The winning card

Is not held in my hand

Broken trying to understand

Life and why I try so hard

But go no where

It’s unfair

To see those lesser pass me

And me stay stuck in a rut

Like I was sixteen

With nothing learned

Between then and twenty five

I’ certainly don’t feel alive.

I am sick of every tick

Telling  me to stay positive

I’ve been born positive

Deposited into a family of nothing

Born into hatred and self destruction

Drugs were my parents best friends

And in the end are mine

And I find myself all alone

And stoned with the reality

That I walk better in calamity

There is no positivity

No matter how much I think it

I drink shit and the brink brings me under

I’m drowning in my misery

And can’t be free

Maybe choose not to be.

You are not me

Not lived my life

You don’t know my strife

Not at all, so don’t mind if I bawl

And state that I hate life

And there is no more rife

Things left for me

Please see me

As someone who’s simply cursed

To rehearse morbid lines

Cause time has told me

I deserve no better than

Posting mourning letters

For my self

My own eulogy

Of death

Even though

I’m still alive….

I strive in vain

And every single day

Is exactly the same.

Full of pain.

Tell me to be positive one more time

And I’ll fucking snap.

Ron Bergquist

October 13th 11:20pm

Flicker Flight

Move these fingers

don’t let them linger

A moment to long;

to pen another song

Simply mourning all since long


The loveable from the past

and the pain that lasts

masses in us;

causing shadows and hollows;

another year of fear;

pulls us apart and sets little

Candle lights in dark ;

sparks are all that’s

Left of a theft of parts;

belonging to each other;

each individual desire smothered;

without room to breathe.

All the warmth we need

will fade and color shall,

Shade to black and facts remain blunt and true

Candle light is yellow and bright; sometimes blue:

Warm glowing essence,

fragranced with sadness.


Ron Berquist

October 10th 2011

1:45 am

Cellular Bomb


Pure and sweet

Bleeding from every cell

In me



Pure and simple

Birthed from lust

And mistrust



Pure and simple

Burning in my temple


From the center of my heart

Pulling me apart

From the center;

Remove the nucleolus

Add what’s come

Between us

And there’s not much

Left in-between

Grown up is…

Learning to lean on nothing.

Oh, sweet



 Ron Bergquist

October 10, 2011

1:16 am

A Bridge in a town on an Island in the Mountains

was the last place you were alive

and no matter where I go in this wide world

I’ll always come back

to this little town

hidden away in mountains on Vancouver Island,

where fire smoke and fog blend together to blanket

the night sky – illuminated by street lights

that you danced under on your last day

pretending to be a air plane

people said you just wanted to fly

and in your last moments – I think you did

cause God called you home and you were free;

free to fly like we dream in dreams.

You flew home,

maybe a little to soon

at least for me and your best friends

but still in the end

no matter what

or where I venture to in this wide world

I’m always coming back to

a bridge in a town on an island in the mountains.

to visit you,

at the spot you were last alive.

Ron Bergquist

Oct 7th 2011