Steve Murphy is a Canadian singer, songwriter, guitarist and record producer. Combining deeply personal lyrics and intimate vocals, Steve and his wife Colleen lead alt-indie-folk act Westminster Park. The group has released four albums to date, including: Dear Honoured Listener (2014) and Fig. 4 Molt Rebirth (2017), each of which were nominated for Canada's national Polaris Prize. Steve's first solo album Lonesome Scrapbook was released in early 2018 to critical acclaim. Also that year, Steve published a collection of lyrics, poetry and prose, Late for Summer. An avid vinyl collector and audiophile, his personal collection of albums is wide-ranging and in the thousands. He and Colleen live in London, Ontario, with their pet cat and dog, Billy Bragg & Wilco.
I am the Moon
In an asteroid storm
Bruised, blemished and scarred
I am a stone
In a rapid river
Waves have crashed and withered me away
I am a flag in a cold wind
Flapping along with its gusts
If pushed too hard, I lose my grip
I am the dried branch
Still tethered to the tree trunk
Yet, no longer able
To grow new leaves.
A spider caught in my own web
A tree in an endless winter
A word from a forgotten language
I am a bird with a broken wing
floating on the surface
of a tumultuous ocean
on a planet with no land
But, my love..
My love is
a non-newtonian substance.
It gains strength when we’re close
and pressed together
It is the Higgs Boson
in our universe
The Voice of the People Has Laryngitis
The voice of the people has laryngitis
Our moral fortitude is in a coma
Compassion and empathy
have been punched in the belly by schoolyard bullies
Common sense was pushed out a twenty-story window
Peaceful protests are outdated, ineffectual,
For all the good they’ll do,
you might as well toss your petitions in a shredder.
Then dice’m and roast’em.
Stick a fork in the ass of democracy
and turn it over.
It’s nearly done.
Get your orders in quick.
The last-call for civility and compassion
has been rung.
Election Day Poem*
The thorns of political parties
are sharp and dangerous today
Swarms of profligates will leave their hives
Probing for objective indication,
or subjective manipulation
of the outcome.
Citizens! Remain steadfast!
Delicate roses of democracy
cannot bloom on their own
*this poem originally appeared in Synaeresis, issue four.