The very thought of them sends shivers up and down my personality . 

At least I think , I think that .

Do I really want to expose myself to foibles I don’t even know

That I have ? 

Maybe all of this  subject matter is pure make believe hiding 

Under all the layers of life ; slathered upon my being 

From my birth ?

My foibles are ,  what , ? 

And so what , even if I knew ? 

Our two dogs are my main foibles .

That , at least , I know after many years of being conditioned 

By their barks , door scratches , stretches , 

And their eyes looking up at the kitchen clock .

It’s an uncanny feeling when they can tell time better than I can .

I really have to get a grip on control here , if only they will let me .

Fat chance of that happening .

Having  dogs should be under a binding agreement of terms , 

Between them and me . 

I will put my X , if they put their paw prints too upon 

The document .

I agree to feed and water them if they go outside  , all the time , after 

Their initial training .

They agree not to bark before 7 AM on a weekday to be let outside , 

And 7: 30 AM on the weekend .

I agree to let them sleep and laze around , provided they let me do the same .

In other words , allow each of the two parties as signatories to this binding agreement , 

Their couch potatoe time as each sees fit . In other words don’t bug the other .

That seems simple enough .

I’m scratching my head , thinking to myself if there is something I have missed .

The word , ‘ walk ‘, is best left unknown to their furry little ears , at this time . 

Yes , we will give them baths and get them groomed regularly from someone 

Not so squeamish as us . 

Yes , I will give in to their peculiar feeding habits .

I am a slave to their foibles or maybe I am a slave to mine ?

Who knows anymore after all these years of cohabitation ?

So here it is .

By the way , these two co – actors’ names are , Murphy , the eldest , and Nugget , the 

youngest , 

Out of our foursome .

There is a forthsome , but she , ( Judy ) usually resides on the sideline 

Due to work and quilting . 

Me , I am excused from any jury duty . 

Early AM bark ( anytime between 6 & 7 AM ; latrine time ) 

12 AM to 1 PM lunch time . Chopped carrot ,  ( Nugget ) , Yogurt ,  ( Murphy & I ) . 

Nugget has no aquired taste for yogurt .

In case I forgot , 1 dog treat each . 

I will pass on that tidbit .

4 PM to 5 PM . Kibble time . Nugget’s crazy time .

 All around the kitchen , small amounts of 

IAMS senior are thrown here and there ,  far and wide , for Nugget to greedily 

Chow down , much  to Murphy’s bemusement .

Murphy decides to wait for his morsels of kibble , usually between 7 and 8 PM .

Murphy , has me conditioned to the point that he will 

Jump down , from his supine position against our Judy ,

And land onto the laminate living room floor .

Off into the kitchen he walks ,like in a trance , until he sees me 

All supine in my Lazy Boy , through the doggy gate , separating the 

Main living room wall from the canines’ bed space in the kitchen .

First he scratches at a phantom itch , then he stretches out for all he’s 

Worth , then after being ignored for the customary minute ,

He begins his ritual grunt into further grunts , until his resounding 

Bark , becomes pluralized .

His so called master , me , arises from the Lazy Boy and 

Confronts the eldest canine into making his needs clear . 

More water in the tin bowl , which is already close to overflowing , 

Or a potty break out on the deck . 

 I will not go any further into this animal controlled mind game .   

My self esteem has sunk low enough under my furry eight paws of control .

Let’s leave it at that .

Maybe you will do a follow up on 

Your own foibles .

My human foibles , sans animals , may follow .

But , not anytime soon .

But really , who really knows ? 

Peter Armstrong 


My  Life Without Falsehood  

I am prone to look back more often than ahead .

I’m not much , as a futurist and prophecy I leave up to God .

I am , pretty much ,  a what you see is what you get kind of guy .

 I do , however , want to be more than a mere wisp  of a second , 

In time and space , kind of person . 

No , I have no delusions of grandeur or false pretenses , at least I hope not .

Rather I would like to be remembered as a soul 

With a heart and a passion 

For the good and not the evil . 

As I am reluctant to state , again and again ,

I can say in words on parchment much better 

Than words in the air . 

You may be scratching your head , by this time , 

And pleading for me to get on with it , 

Whatever the , ‘it’ , is . 

Recently , I use this word loosely ;  in the past few years or so , 

My son and I have been set , ‘ free ‘, 

From our hang ups , so that now we freely are 

Prone to  say , I love you as a common regard for one another . 

 The very first time , apart from being the young son and the father figure , 

Was in a parking lot in a small town outside of 

The city where my wife and I live at 2 AM on a not forgotten weekday morning . 

My son and I were broken down enough , within ourselves to say out loud ,

 Complete with tears , that we loved each other as 

Father and son with all of our humanity exposed . 

We did not hold back from each other , as we exposed our hearts’ hurtful 

Sorrows  and accumulated regrets . 

No father should ever have to speak the following words 

to his child or children . 

 But I needed to . 

” I am sorry for not being the father I should have been .

I failed in not giving you my heart love . 

 Instead I gave you material tokens of emptiness  that I falsely used 

To replace a Father’s Agape love . 

Please forgive me for not being there 

In all the times when you needed me as a father the most  . ” 

You see dear reader this has been a long , long time coming . 

My wife is the bedrock and foundation of our marriage and our family . 

She is the strong tower , the deep root , 

The strength that always gives more when times are tough . 

From her I receive much more than I give and 

I know our son knows this as well . 

I have often marvelled at how fast time goes by . 

No , I don’t mean every second that passes but rather how 

The seasons come and go until they all fold into one . 

But memories of the good and bad don’t always fold into one season that easily. 

They tend to stand out of line in the memory bank ,  

More than the humdrum memories do , 

That ,  although they come back often enough 

They  don’t have the staying power as the big ones do .

These are some of  my own that are all connected somehow to who I am .

Being made a school patroller in Grade five and a 

Lieutenant  school patroller in Grade six . 

Both of which I was proud of . 

  The stigma of academic failure in High School 

Hung heavy upon my shoulders 

Like a water soaked cloak . 

I wore that cloak , like an act of penance for sins 

Committed and uncommitted in my juvenile mind .

 Later , I would earn an undergraduate degree . 

Although there was no congruity between my Grade twelve years 

And University years , in terms of academic achievement , 

I made no public acknowledgement of my success .

Thus I excluded myself from both Graduation ceremonies . 

In the few years between the end of high school and start of university 

I was unceremoniously 

Fired from my job in a bank after two years of servitude ; 

First as a mail clerk and later as a teller . 

I remember the feeling of failure as I trudged  home ; 

Up the hillside sidewalks , telling my parents 

That  I no longer work in a bank . 

 Sure it was a relief but I also wore it  as a mark of failure . 

During this period of time I became the 

Father of a child born out of wedlock , which 

Always creates a maelstrom of  shame , and long suffering for all involved . 

Can anything good come out of two teenagers doing 

Something  with  consequences reaching 

Far beyond their own indulgences , 

No matter how much , love had a part in it all ? 

Yes ,  I will testify , something  good  did come out of our union . 

You see , I later experienced the life saving power of my God’s Mercy and Grace .

They became the two cornerstones of my Christian faith ; 

The foundation of my first hand experience of God’s healing power and Love . 

Did it happen over night ? 

Of course not !

 How could I go from an unwed father , hurt  from our break up 

Beyond all measure of rationality ,

Emotionally  and physically , 

To understanding the assurance of Christ’s love for me as His child ?

Longsuffering  means just that , longsuffering . 

Anyone in emotional , mind altering pain knows 

That scars may be healed on the outside , but inside , 

Is a whole other world that needs fixing 

Before that person can  stand  up straight and feel freedom 

From their traumatic experiences . 

The walking wounded are just that , 

Still in affliction to the circumstances surrounding that affliction . 

 Alive but not free. Today it is called PTSD .

So time has passed a bit and I became a teacher. 

I wanted to be a romantic teacher , like Mr . Chips . 

I was more or less competent enough , to enjoy some highly fruitful and gratifying 

Years . 

 However I burned out in rather dramatic fashion , 27 years later . 

My wife gave her all to support me and encourage me 

Throughout  some rough years , 

Not wholly related to the classroom . 

Yes ! I still have periodic , reocurring nightmares , all these years later ,

 Thinking that when I arise from my bed  I have lessons to teach 

To my 30 students . 

Thankfully , those nightmares occur much less in their frequency , and

Are almost put to bed permanently as they should be .

Lord knows I have paid my dues . 

 I have put  all of that stuff in a cupboard 

With a lot of other stuff shoved in there as well . 

I have made sure that the door is secured enough from ever opening again . 

So why am I writing all this under the words , ‘ My Life ….?  ‘ 

Is it the sign of the times and I might not get another chance ?

 Or is it because I’m in a maudlin mood and this is what the 

Finger is pecking on the keyboard ? 

A mixture of both maybe .  

I do know that what I say on parchment is much easier for me 

Than trying to formulate my words off the cuff or the tongue so to speak .

I know I already said that previously . 

 No, I don’t have any answer to your possible question , Why ?

Other than , ” The hour is getting late .” 

A line from , ‘ All Along the Watchtower , ‘ by Bob Dylan .

There will be no more tonight . 

My Life and its subsequent reflection go together quite well I think . 

I am very blessed to have a family that is together and not apart . 

Are we in anyway special ?  

Only to one another , I reply . 

My daughter , years ago  , reached out her hand in searching 

For  her birth father and birth mother . 

When it was my turn to heed her rightful call ,

My wife and son were rejoicing alongside of me 

Because we actually then knew she was alive and well . 

Today my family is becoming more 

And more integrated with my daughter’s family , 

Which  includes our only grandchild up to this point in time .

So in retirement from teaching and 

A very unlikely career choice in writing parking tickets for seven years , 

In which I enjoyed immensely as did my sedate body shape , 

I have come to this state of mind that 

Reflection , on my Life  , whatever that means , was in order . 

Thus , my soul baring days have begun this past year , or so , 

In the form of this blog . 

Every writer craves attention in the form of an audience . 

I am humble enough to say that I am no different . 

So , at this moment , I have a few loyal longsuffering followers . 

 Some , even , every so often , 

Give  me feedback about what I write .

One of them being my wife . 

So there you go , or you could also say , so there I am ,

 And when will will I stop  my less than interesting expose 

If that  is what I am doing right now 

My muse is asking ?

Isn’t there always more of anything you thought you have put to bed ?  

I ask in reply . 

 ‘ In the garden of my Lord ,’ there is life still to be lived , 

And life experiences and observations to be pondered with some degree of 

Self circumspection .

Peter Armstrong 


Being Very Odd Makes Me Like ‘  Even ‘ That Much More 

If I see a comment number ,  on You Tube , like 149 , I can’t resist my finger 

To make it go to 150  , if warranted . 

I can’t resist crying in all the syrupy places in a cheesy or not , film just because 

I am always searching for 

Justice , in my own mind , or I am always rooting for the underdog . 

I can’t resist crying when I’m trying to express what my God has done for me and 

My family .

Is that odd ? Not to me . But I like to see nods and hear  soft murmurs of agreement as 

A way of evening  out the atmosphere . 

I realize my words are dead to hearing , but still I will 

Attempt to make a point . 

There is a release in tears . Why else are we given tear ducts ? 

Tears , I like to think are falling raindrops , always falling for a reason .

Tonight they were for the fallen soldiers , 

Whose sacrifice was publicly honoured 

By their comrades in arms .

To see the respect from the salutes and to see the overlooking crowds 

from the overpasses 

As the motorcade slowly made its passage under the flags 

Assures me that somewhere in my country’s psyche 

All is not lost after all for a proud Canada to rise up once again .

And to regain the heritage of valour it once held in 

Previous Governments .

Peter Armstrong .


My Ultimate Filter 

In my daily path through life I encounter the knowns and sometimes the unknowns . 

The unknowns bring my gauge of normalcy up a notch to the stage of being slightly 

Filled with a sense of inquisitiveness . 

I live a pretty mundane existence in my own backyard .

I mean my street , I mean my neighborhood , I mean my whatever size of space that is 

Bigger  than the mere existence of my own personal domain . 

I live in a media world . I am like a non swimmer hanging onto anything that is buoyant 

Tossed about in a raging tempest .

My senses are bombarded by all sorts of images , words , sounds ; from the sublime 

To the profane , to the profound , to the right side , to the left side , to neither side .

I live in a media world . Do I want to ? 

Yes . 

Do I have to ? 

Yes .

Unless I am a hermit on a deserted island , or a lost soul to the nether world of a lost mind , 

Or a new born baby . 

A part of me recognizes the entrapment ; media can ensnarl my soul .

A greater part of me sees through the snares to illuminate and discern the fake from the 

Real . 

Thus I bring into my discourse ,my 

Ultimate Filter . 

Jesus , my Lord and Saviour .

By the Holy Spirit the future is discerned .

Everything in the media needs scrutiny like never before .

My Lord Jesus is the only filter that allows me to see through all the falsities 

And ideologies  from all sorts of view points and false religions .

I live in a world war of cyber , fiber , keyboards , cables , mics , news conglomerates , 

Businesses spouting globalism and new world order and politicians saying the 

Same thing .

 I believe in the simple minded person  , who believes in Christian values 

Who has 

Honour and respect for the democratic way of life and is prepared to fight for the right to 

Life  and freedom found in the laws of the land . 

Whose founding Forefathers believed in the Holy Bible uniquivacably .

Our foe is gaining footholds and will not be stopped unless our politicians  , who do not 

Deserve a capital , ‘p ‘ , 

Have their eyes opened to the impending invasion and ultimately the 

Domination over our laws and society .

Such is my world , in my city , town , hamlet , neighborhood , street and those on my block 

In a very short period of time . 

This is what I see my world becoming 

Through my ultimate filter .

Jesus , my Saviour .

My words in many foreign lands would be considered proselytizing . 

So be it . 

Peter Armstrong 



In every day life there are so many choices .

The very mundane of them are personal .

I get up , or off of , or , I decide to stay away from any manner of positions or things .

Such as , from a chair , a set of stairs , a transit bus or a car . To eat or not , to drink 
whatever , or not .

Those are only a few of my personal choices I make daily .

In other words they only matter to my personhood .

My well being , or lack of  , only applies .

More  than a few choices can be deadly to me . Even those I cannot decide for myself . 

Falling from a great height , such as a cliff , or from a sky dive gone terribly wrong ,

Or thrown off , by crazed madmen  , a rooftop ,

Just because I am not a human being in their ideological eyes .

My judges are so hypocritical to judge me , when they can not even judge themselves for 
their own 

Barbarity . Such is a small number of humans causing so much havoc around the world .

The most dangerous people are the ones who are the most intolerant of others .

They only conform to their own radicalized fanaticism .

This past week, was the  RNC convention  in the USA .

Now the DNC is in the spotlight .

Both  conventions ,  so far , have been far from humdrum and mundane .

The common people , and not the party , are the ones garnering the attention of the 

People  media , in Philadephia . Both in the convention hall and on the street . 

What a novel concept it is to affirm that every person equals one vote no matter how much 

Hype or skullduggery the different parties partake in to say otherwise .

The wifi is now the harbinger of the mind . 

A Facebook here , a Twitter there , a lie here , a lie there , a semi lie here , a semi lie there .

As if any lie is just a half truth . One side , big Media , other side , guys in the street ,

With  a mic and simple  camera , each trying to deny the existence of the other . 

These days in the USA are the modern warfare days of the Civil War . 

They are not being fought  in trenches or on the open battlefield where all can see .

The players in this do or die game of political chess , 

Are akin to the Netflix series , ‘ House of Cards . ‘

 The real players are the nameless and faceless who are deeply  hidden , doing their 
machinations , in the nether world of geo politics . 

The globalists  and the elitists are playing their own , ‘  House of Cards  ‘ charade . 

The street media are trying  , desperately  ,  to hang onto the 99 percent concept belief 
system .

Honestly , what chance do they have against the 1 percent ?

Me , I am only a pawn , and a far distant one at that . 

As the USA goes so does my Canada . I cherish my country just as each ,

American cherishes his or her country .

The time for any election brings upon itself much uncertainty and ,

Thankfully , divergence views will always be expressed .

The faithful will always say , ‘ It is God’s will. ‘ 

The powerful globalists in the back rooms will respond ,

‘ We will not bow down to your God .

We alone have the power to decide what happens in this world . ‘ 

So , do you see my dilemma for not having a title ?

Should I write instead of Untitiled , the day after , ‘ The Dems get to choose the next judges 
on the 

Supreme Court in Jan.2017 .’ 

Or should the headlines read , ‘ The USA elects the party for the right . ‘ 

Prayers have been heard .

What is their answer ? Whatever the outcome I say , 

” Amen . ” 

Peter Armstrong .



In the Moment 

It’s only when I allow my eyes to speak into my heart 

That I’m in the moment .

It could be anywhere or watching anything .

One moment I’m not and the next I’m caught up in the moment .

Everyday brings at least one ‘in the moment ‘ occurrence to my heart 

Through my eyes and or through my ear , 

Through my thoughts of gratitude ;

Even for capturing a second of special aliveness .

My moments are watching a person overcoming a lie 

That was held onto all of his or her life and then coming into freedom .

My , in my heart moments are weeping for the Amanda Todds of this world , 

Preyed upon by packs of wolverine bullies ,

Unrelentless  in bringing down the innocent in evil pleasing ways to appease 

Their Satanic desires.

The bullies have no ounce of humanity left in their souls .

They are the walking dead in my city , my hood , my street , my corner store , 

My police force , my gangbanging scourge , 

My  pimps , my counsellors , my dealers , my teachers , my padres , my pastors , 

My acquaintances  , my relatives ,

My this person or that person .

When each of the captives are set free from all manner of bondages , 

Whether  set up by TV script writers , 

Or played out in real life ,

That’s when my eyes tell my heart ,

I’m in the moment and my ,

One ear is holding onto every word .

Peter Armstrong 


Under  the Sky 

We call it earth , some , Mother Earth .

It’s become a melting pot of the Tower of Babel languages and subsequent ideologies . 

In  its birthing it began in the garden .

Every free will thinking  person , whether he or she knows it or not , can trace their roots back ,

to the garden of Adam and Eve ; Eden . 

Of course ,   many nations , bound in disbelief , would shout in anger to even be associated with 

Adam and Eve in the first place . 

Even millions , in nations that place themselves under God’s Creation in their Constitution ,

Have usurped all rights to the Holy Throne .

Their actions define their disbelief in God . The Christ of the Bible . 

I was struck dumb , but not entirely nonplussed ,   when the 

Leader of my Canada , was photographed , glorious and proud , in all of his infant platitudes ,

Waving a replica of my country’s  flag of freedom  , fought for on many battlefields , 

from the Somme , from Dieppe, from  Korea , from Kosovo , from Rwanda  , from Kandahar , 

from Iraq , from Lybia and now in shame , from the streets of Toronto . 

His flag was not of my Canada that he so proudly and joyfully  carried in his hand ,

 secretely   crying out , look at me , 

 I am one of you , don’t you see . Remember me in the next election . I will always stand beside you . 

My Flag stood for Honour and Valour . My flag was not to be tarried with , not to be trampled upon  ,

 not to be spat upon , not to be burned , by the Hell bound voices of Anarchists 

and every negative ‘ ism’ dreamed up under the Babel Tower of Ideologies . 

Justin  , You defiled my Canadian Flag , proclaimed in law by Lester  B . Pearson . 

My only question is this , ‘ Have you such ill regard for Canada’s flag and all that it stands for ,

 and its proud history , that you would bring sully to it in a  parade of partisan ideologues , 

who would believe first in themselves , and maybe , just 

maybe their country  and homeland second ? ‘ 

 I am but a single voice , shouting Shame , Shame upon you , Prime Minister Justin Trudeau . 

Peter Armstrong