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. 

  • Westminster Park

I am the Moon

 

 

Orbiting you

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

& disappear

 

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

intangible particle

connecting everything

in our universe

of two

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Peaceful protests are outdated, ineffectual,

and irrelevant.

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.

 

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