The Writings of Daniel Car Crash. Poetry, fiction, comedy. Copyright Daniel Smallegange.
Wednesday, September 17, 2025
Friday, September 5, 2025
My Epic Comedy Sci-fi Detective novel 24th Century Dick, free as ebook today (friday) and Saturday. Check it out.
Like the title says. Free on all Amazon sites, ebook version. Paperback avail too. Read and be merry, if this pleases you.
Amazon.com: 24th Century Dick eBook : Smallegange, Daniel: Kindle Store
Tuesday, September 2, 2025
Friday, August 29, 2025
Our Man Jack, by Daniel Smallegange (Poetic Fiction from my book The City: Tales of the Post-Post Apocalypse)
Spoken of with facetious proclivities is our man Jack. They’ve said he’s descended from lords and Czars or empirical mathematics.
“I am not all about the violence sordid, but the artistic destruction need be recorded.”
So said our man Jack.
Our man Jack sat and brooded, as we danced and cavorted. What he wanted: change for the train, fare from the city. What he got: us speaking to him with facetious proclivity.
“Beware of atheists!” someone shouted. “And men driving large trucks.”
He sat and stared, our man Jack, as we linguistically danced, made poor attempts at romance, sat as if in a trance, but his smile grew and lingers, to this day it does malinger. But I do digress, we were such a mess, all full of festive glee, slight and amusing hypocrisy, for our man Jack, who’d been so hard done by, oh so hard done by. Listen man or woman, listen to the cry, the cries of all those been done hard by. They gnash their teeth in the streets of Kensington as all the whores go by, proffering their wares as we and Jack do sit by and by, laugh and stare at whores proffering their wares. And those gnashing pull out empty pockets and pull out their hair. We watch the whores and we do compare, some among us haggling for an honest fare.
We order a pitcher of sleep. We’ve all been running and have sunk too deep, are in too deep with bookies, mobs, those who keep the keys, to our residences, our hearts, and dreams so far so we are not allowed even to sleep.
Our man Jack, he sits now, now leans back, smiles that smile and whiles it all away. His brain is lost away and at play behind the curtains of his drooping eyes, which are lovely but for that stye in the eye of our hurricane of pleasant loud and laughing hearts, underpinning the sigh in the tremendous eye of our despair we hide so well unlike our man Jack who is now becoming involved in a well manifested attack. Oh Jack we love you when you bend your tender heart to well meaning and irrefutable attack. He is our man Jack and when it strikes him he bends all will and logic to his hand so that none may stand and makes his magnificent attack against us, all our fake bravery, false modesty and joking camaraderie. We lap it up and know the truth, we are the uncouth and we love it, we so love it.
But our man Jack he does relax when we grow him a whiskey tree. With one sip his solemnity does slip we do see and he just sits as out on the street one of our number does meet a sister of mercy ~ wearing fishnets. Violence and a slap in the face as the band does take its place.
“There are islands out there where humanity does fare, better than this city, it is so shitty sometimes here,” pipes in Ryana, chief bassist, his voice fair and clear for all and one to hear, which we do, but pretend not to.
“He got his hand caught in a rope, no rope-a-dope, but switch turn an’ vicious.”
“Blade in the back, shiv turn counter attack.”
Watch our man Jack, as he sips from his whiskey tree happy as a flag at half mast at some ceremony. And there I sat, enveloped in black, as the merry conversation overtook me, overwrought me, bent and shook me. Pretty parties sallied by, past me and our man Jack smiling against the grain, who somehow gives me strength, stops up the pain, and don’t wanna cry no more. No, don’t wanna cry no more. Ambulance wagon arrives for the one who was shived in the thigh. Not his back after all, still can hear his muted sob-cry. All the ruffians scatter as if it at all matters, an’ even our man Jack, he’s disappeared. ‘Tis then I get the fear. Eyes agog. See what’s next through a film of fog. Outside are the non-entities. Inside where all is silence. I am a malcontent, do feel maleficent.
Our man Jack shouting from the throng: “Cybele was there. She’s at the bar talking communist. She said to say you are the grist and chaff she sometimes gets caught in her teeth!”
That is when all mayhem broke loose. Blind-sided punch in the face to some hero’s disgrace. Once again, all mayhem broke loose. Our man Jack riding some hero on the back and smashing his pint on his skull. The whore that my friend had decided to order, shrieking such blasphemies, defending her order, scratching some punter a different face. Our man Jack he started to dance as bottles and knives are thrown and the first exhibition of the new show violence did make with its vehement kiss. Jack in such bliss, inflicting non-partisan violence with the flick of the wrist.
Away and escape my way of attack and of Jack the last I did see, waving his arms and eyes full of glee, diving head first and into the spree. His smile dear friends will never go away.
Our man Jack, spoken of with facetious proclivities. His smile grew and lingers, to this day it does malinger…
By Daniel Smallegange, copyright 2006, all rights reserved.
Picture of the author, circa 2006ish?
Friday, August 22, 2025
Often and with Abandon
She crossed and then uncrossed
Both her friends and her thighs
Each often and with abandon
The former I found
Less intriguing than the latter
Legs I'd need a ladder to climb
Legs I would consider
Worthy of almost any crime
Her friends now former
Decidedly unbothered and
Unimpressed with attempts at uncrossings
Both legs or otherwise
All those
Half hearted requests for forgiveness
Casual lies and false meekness
Just like the Rubicon once crossed
There can be no going back
Ask Caesar
Who also fell out with his friends in the end
So who can blame former friends
Certainly not I
Focused intently on
Legs I would need a ladder to climb
Which she crosses and uncrosses
So often and with abandon
By: Daniel Smallegange, copyright 2025, all rights reserved.
Some artwork on my wall, by Walter Klassen.
Wednesday, August 13, 2025
Thursday, August 7, 2025
The Crux of the Matter
The crux of the matter
This is what we are after
She said and then
Levelled the gun
And then
Pointing the gun in my direction
Pointing the business end of said gun
In my direction
This causing consternation and
Stuttering as
The wrong end of barrels pointing, mainly gun barrels pointing
Disagrees with my proclivity to discourse freely
Or at least without pause or repetitive actions
IE stuttering
So stuttering occurred and then increased with
The cocking of said weapon's hammer
The crux you say, I boldly and firmly managed
Though bold nor firm could describe my mental state at the time
Always the crux, it's the centre of things really, I tried
Naturally, said she and pulled the trigger three times
If anything was repeated after this
I heard it not
But I do know, in hindsight
The crux of the matter was not gotten at
Unless it involved my death
Which then begs the point
Why ask about it in the first place?
By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved, copyright 2025.
Photo by Blake Morrow, from a still of the author from the short film The Officer.
Saturday, July 5, 2025
When One is Un Loved
When one is un loved
One must continue to
Love
Despite a lack of
Willing recipients
And even if only to love
One's self
One must continue to love
And not the kind of self love you do
In private when no one's home
With one's laptop
Although that type of self love
Is not a bad thing
Either at any rate
Especially if you have decent internet
But when one is un loved
Try an'
Continue to love
Regardless
What I am talking about
Try to continue to love
Other's or even if only
One's self
What I am meaning to say
Or trying to at least
Anyways
Self love
One must continue to...
By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved 2025.
Photo of the author, in Toronto, Fall 2024.
Tuesday, June 10, 2025
Interview I did for Mind on Fire Books for my Novel 24th Century Dick
Check it out, a cool review and interview piece on me for Mind on Fire Books.
Daniel Smallegange: A Journey Through Sci-Fi Noir - Mind on Fire Books
Sunday, June 1, 2025
All this Damned Bluster
Complacency as a general rule
Is not what is
Required nor encouraged
However
All this bluster
Overacting over reaching and or
Bluster in general
Seals a fate faster or at least
Makes one unpopular
Makes those around you
Un mourn your passing
Or maybe even
Celebrate it
All this damned bluster you sputter
No way to be
Unsound in approach
Though terminology is opposite of
As you make more sounds
Which is unsound
Complaining about all things
Under the sun
Makes one
Climb under a rock
Or seek salvation in the arms of
Any other
Any other than you and
All this damned bluster you sputter
By Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved 2025. Photo of the author by Cory Goodyear.
Monday, May 19, 2025
Cotton On
Cotton on
You are beginning to
Or so it seems
Grasp at things
To the facts
To begin the long process of
Untrust
These allies and firm friends you speak of
Will sell you out faster than...
Can't you see?
Are you beginning to cotton on, as they say
Stick to knowledge an' truth
Like wet cotton
You're beginning to
The inevitable harshness
The light reveals
It hurts, it must
Being deceived by those pretenders
They ain't your friends
Cottoning on you are
Finally with finality
Attach to with understanding and grasp at
These dire events and what they signify
Raise your voice
And wield your weapon of choice
But break free and come away
Come back to us and finally
Cotton on
By: Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved, 2025.
Sunday, May 4, 2025
My epic comedy scfi novel free today and tomorrow as ebook on Amazon.
Hey everyone, my epic comedy scifi noir detective novel 24th Century Dick is free today (Sunday) and tomorrow on all Amazons in Ebook format. You can download amazon's free kindle ap to read it on Ipad or computer or phone or whatnot. Please leave a nice review if you like it. Paperback also available.
Saturday, March 22, 2025
Howling at the Sun
Howling at the sun
Why are you?
Don't stare at it
Didn't your mother raise you right?
Your eyes will burn out
Why you howling anyways?
In this direction?
At a star of all things
This some sort of a
Triumphant thing?
Or the other way?
Your despair howls need work then
If not the former
And anyways and either ways
I prefer my triumphs Roman style
Don't you know?
With circuses and parades on wide avenues
Not with the howling
Solitary howling at the sun
Don't look don't stare
Will burn your eyes out
Didn't your mother teach you nothing?
Any ways
In this day and age
Howling at the sun
Somewhat unbecoming
Of one such as you
In celebration or despair
Regardless
By Daniel Smallegange, all rights reserved 2025.
Sunday, March 2, 2025
Monday, February 17, 2025
Give Me Some of That Love
Come on and please
With permission, salutation
Gimme some of that love
Love you got all holed up inside
Ain't gonna beg now
Trying not to
But I want to
Got this need see
Need to see you
Touch you
Won't you listen like you used to?
I Remember it like...
I can taste it just like...
Old times
But then I realize
I bit my lip through an'
That's blood not love
Nothing to do with you
Oozing on my tongue
Reminiscent though
All I can think on though
Through this dirt and pain
Grime and strain
Memories of you
So, greetings and salutations then
With permissions please gimme some
Some of that love to hold
Some of what you got all
Holed up inside
Your heart entrance boarded so goddamn tight
Makes me do things
These whisperings
Disagreeable
Ain't gonna beg though
Ripped apart for want of love
Want to taste it
Like the blood on my tongue
The love you hoard
It makes me do things
Disagreeable
Don't scoff
Don't walk away
Come on and please
Give me some
By: Daniel Smallegange, 2025, all rights reserved.
Tuesday, February 11, 2025
From the Old Record Player
Sitting down and sucking in sounds
The classical piano moves
Coming on out
Coming on out
From the record player
Vintage old 70s record player
Lean back and sucking in sounds
While outside the snow falls
While outside the history creeps
And time takes a stroll
Relentless time
Taking its toll
On everyone
Even I
Sitting down and sucking in sounds
The classical Bach piano sounds
Coming on out sublime
From the old record player
My vintage old 70s record player
I salvaged from the street
Back a ways
Back in my Annex days
In Toronto town
By: Daniel Smallegange 2025, all rights reserved.
Sunday, January 26, 2025
Pretty Cool that a Prop I Bought for It: Chapter Two was put with Pennywise Action Figure
The bottom pic is the original prop I got the move It: Chapter 2. I worked on this movie as Prop Buyer, and it was really fun.
Sunday, January 19, 2025
Myself, Daniel Smallegange, photo taken in NYC, 2003.
Framed this today. My friend and I, Greg Carson, took a trip to New York City, in 2003, where he took some pics of me using my camera. The bottom one is of a stranger I took, which gave me the idea of posing. #photography #nyc #newyork #nofilter