MY HOME TOWN

MY HOME TOWN

I've lived many places in my life, but right now, I'm glad to call Guelph (pronounced Gwelf), Ontario, Canada, "My Home Town." Guelph is a creatively vibrant city in which I've taken advantage of many opportunities to perform my poetry and sell my art, and make friends with other Creative Adventurers.

TRUE LOVE (Haiku)

TRUE LOVE (Haiku)



Please, my love, believe
Romance is not dead, but you're
Blocking the TV.



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com

WHAT MAKES YOUR DOG SNIFF?

WHAT MAKES YOUR DOG SNIFF?



What makes your dog sniff?
Did he get a whiff
Of the pumpkin pie
Steaming on the counter?

What makes your dog sniff?
Did he smell the fear
Of the postman coming
On trembling feet toward the box,
The box with mail?
Hear dog bark!
Hear mailman wail!

What makes your dog sniff?
Is it a runny nose?
Did you, as faithful master,
Give your dog a cold?

What makes your dog sniff?
You may never know.
You just know you love him,
And he loves you too,
As he snuggles in your lap,
And laps his tongue across his nose.



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com

PRESSED AND BAKED

PRESSED AND BAKED
(Inspired by my friend Kristine Christensen's* brilliant
statement at the reception for my university graduation.
She said, "I feel like a cookie, pressed and baked." I
said, "Kristine! I love it! I'm going to turn it into a
poem and dedicate it to you!")



"I feel like a cookie,
Pressed and baked."*
I've eaten these years away,
And it all can be seen today.

I feel like a cookie,
All crunched and digested.
I feel like a theory
That hasn't been tested.
I'm lost in a chocolate sea;
Glued to vanilla cream;
Exhausted from ecstasy.
Here I lie
On a tray.

I'm at a reception
For my life.
People are asking
What comes next
As they take me in pieces
From the tray
And munch their curious
Souls away.

But the taste
Makes them happy,
And the chocolate
Makes them hyper.
They munch away
At my possible futures
While I figure out how to
Pay the piper.

But I will make it.
I have the power.
I am cookie;
Hear me roar.



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com

EMILY (JTK.CA Name Art)

This name art was inspired by my friend Emily Cronin. I created the letters and the colour gradients in Adobe Illustrator and did the rippled reflection in Adobe Photoshop, so I suppose this artwork is technological mixed media. For more on these two great electronic painting tools, visit www.adobe.com

THE WRECKING BALL OF HYPE

THE WRECKING BALL OF HYPE



One of my major pet peeves is the fact that the whole world celebrated the Millennium at the start of 2000, when it did not actually begin until the start of 2001. The reason 2001 began the Millennium is that the B.C. years to A.D. years transition went like this: "4, 3, 2, 1, 1, 2, 3, 4...." There was no 0 B.C. or 0 A.D. With no zero in the system, the years went from 1 B.C. directly to 1 A.D. So, basically, math is not our society's strong suit, when it is believed that 1 + 2000 = 2000. It doesn't; it equals 2001, but the global ignorance was unsurpassed as we watched magnificent celebrations for 24 hours, as we crossed time zones, via television, from the comfort of our living rooms. But we were watching the cataclysmic fall of reason to the wrecking ball of hype, as we rang in a one thousand nine hundred ninety-nine year Millennium, wearing a necklace of genuine faux pearls that we also fell for. The number 2000 ends in three goose eggs, representing pop culture's collective IQ.

Even my own intellectual preening is moot. Jesus was actually born in 6 or 5 B.C. (Before Christ). Yes, Christ was actually born "Before Christ." When setting up our current calendar system based on the year of our Lord, supposed human intelligence fell prey once again to reality. After all that calculating, we were obviously off by a few years.

And now, in the Era of Tolerance, naming the years after Jesus cannot be tolerated. No longer "Before Christ" or "anno Domini," we now live in C.E. (the "Common Era"), and the years before "the religious figure preferably erased from history" are now titled B.C.E. ("Before the Common Era"). The world makes it circuit in a cosmic wasteland, where we worship numbers and forget the "One" who made us, preferring compassionate math that calls no answer wrong.



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com

SOLITUDE

SOLITUDE



Solitude
My friend
My bane

An extra reason
To stay in from the rain

A hope embraced
By hopelessness
A tortured yet comfortable distress



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com

MODERN CANVAS OF WORDS

MODERN CANVAS OF WORDS
(Inspired By The Computer Monitor)



page of glass stares at me
empty
longing for adventure
waiting for a dance of words
to slide across its empty white plain

it glows for you
it glows for me
waiting to unveil a mystery

dark room lit up
by a pane of glass
waiting for inspiration
longing for something to share



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com

WORRY IS THE MONSTER

WORRY IS THE MONSTER
(Dedicated To The Rev. Bob Smart)



Don't make decisions in the depths of despair,
Or when you're half asleep.
Your choices may take on a dismal air
And ruin your happy and waking hours.

Downcast, you say, "I remember then."
I respond, "Don't worry,
And the time will come again."

*

Worry is the Monster
Guarding the City of Despair--
He welcomes you in
And tries to keep you there.
He serves a feast to the god of mistrust.
You eat until you're stuffed.
You ate it up,
And now, from inside,
It eats you up.

Welcome to
The lure of lies.
The Monster of Despair
Hugs you tight and cries with you,
While he keeps you imprisoned.

Get out of the city!
Run away and don't look back,
For if you look back,
You will go back--
That's the nature of a gaze.

Retreat is more honourable
Than surrender.

Just run,
Don't think,
Because you cannot think
When you're in the Liar's Lair.
He's the Monster of the City of Despair,
But you know him by another name;
Yes, he's Satan, the King of Lies,
The Angel of Pseudolight, playing another game.

The Real Light comes in,
And you see beside you
A face of true beauty.
He says, "I've been with you
All along, working to get through
The wall of worry you've built between us."

You respond, "That I've built?
The Monster of Despair
Built this city and its walls!"

Jesus says, "No,
This is a city of your own invention,
And Satan was only too glad to help.
Now, come again with me,
And walk life's roads
Without malice toward the truth
That you are mine.
You cannot escape my love.
I bought you back from the Monster
You had sold yourself to.
Here,
Feel my scars."

Committed to your safety
And His love for you,
He wounds the Monster of Despair,
Not with a sword,
But by showing him the nail-scarred hands.
Then, Jesus,
Committed to your safety
And His love for you,
Grasps your hand
And leads you from
The City of Your Own Invention.

As He holds your hand,
You feel a scar
That saved you from yourself.



© JONATHAN TAD KETCHEN (JTK.CA)
NudeCreations.com