From Wikipedia: Shane .L. Koyczan (b. 22 May 1976) is a poet. He was born … Read Full Bio ↴From Wikipedia: Shane .L. Koyczan (b. 22 May 1976) is a poet. He was born in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, Canada, and grew up in Penticton, British Columbia, Canada. He is the first international performer to win the Individual Championship title at the National Poetry Slam 2000 in the U.S. state of Rhode Island.
Shane is a dynamic and charismatic artist whose performances are jaw-dropping in their expressive power. His delivery follows that of slam poetry and his performances and personae are at the vanguard of the live poetry circuit in the U.S., Canada & the UK.
His written work has been well received in Canada & the UK. The initial print-run for his book Visiting Hours dwarfed the industry standards for poetry books. Visiting Hours was recommended as a Book of the Year 2005 by the Guardian and the Globe and Mail.
Together with Mighty Mike McGee and C. R. Avery, he is the co-founder of spoken word, "talk rock" trio, Tons of Fun University.
Shane is a dynamic and charismatic artist whose performances are jaw-dropping in their expressive power. His delivery follows that of slam poetry and his performances and personae are at the vanguard of the live poetry circuit in the U.S., Canada & the UK.
His written work has been well received in Canada & the UK. The initial print-run for his book Visiting Hours dwarfed the industry standards for poetry books. Visiting Hours was recommended as a Book of the Year 2005 by the Guardian and the Globe and Mail.
Together with Mighty Mike McGee and C. R. Avery, he is the co-founder of spoken word, "talk rock" trio, Tons of Fun University.
Heaven or Whatever
Shane Koyczan Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴
"You can't just do whatever"
The words stumbled out of you
Like a drunk leaving a bar looking for a fresh new last call
You were not a man of words
But did your best to offer advice
You offered me "You can't just do whatever"
And I know what you meant
You meant that whatever I choose to do, I must not be aimless
I must not simply spin this globe and go wherever I stick my finger
Because 71% of the time I will end up in the ocean
And if I do end up in the ocean I can't just do whatever,
Better learn to swim
"You can't just do whatever"
The conversation came after you asked me about heaven
Told me that you thought heaven would be specific to each person
And that each person would have their own version of it
Then asked me what mine would be
I was so scared to tell you,
"I don't have one"
But you nodded your head,
as if confirming a suspicion that school
had robbed me of a belief in some stories
You said "you don't have to beleive what I believe, its enough to be good.
Be good"
I will.
I will think about your heaven
Your heaven would be the same haircut, forever
It would be a stick a dog and some distance
A lawn that always needs mowing
A six-pack of pills in those short bottles and your real teeth back
Because your dentures could never master that bottle opening trick you loved to do
The first time you tried it with dentures I had nightmares for a month
Because I though your mouth had fallen off
Your heaven, would be Austria before the war
And Canada after you met grandma
It would be head cheese sandwiches and blood sausages
Other deli meats that would ensure you would never ever have to entertain dinner guests
And I would never be in danger of having my lunch stolen
Your heaven,
would be a stash of raisins
Problems that you could fix with your hands
I remember you tried to fix everything with your hands
I remember the difficult days
I remember the bandages
They looked like tiny blankets, as if your knuckles had all gone off to bed
Walls that looked like they'd said something to get under your skin
And where suddenly made to pay for it
I know you were an angry man
Finger tips like spent shotgun shells, bleeding smoke cocktails of gunpowder and singed plastic
You had what some people would call, "a temper"
But you loved a good joke,
even if it was on you
Something that would crack open the walls of your chest and let the wind tickle your heart
Just enough to let you know it was still there
You didn't always laugh, didn't always smile
You did keep a mental ledger of what you called your "send flowers list"
I remember thinking it was a thank you to those who got you good
But learned the truth after my grandmother added a thin layer of sand to your sandwiches
Because you refused to make your own lunch for work
You told me about it when you picked me up from school that day
You said "Grandma just made the send flowers list"
And I asked "Because you love her so much?"
And you said "Because I'm gonna kill her"
Of course you didn't
Your version of kill meant two months before winter,
Having a seamstress take in each of her coats a few inches
So on the first day she need one
She fumbled with the sudden tightness
And you stood there smiling then said "Honey, I love you no matter how big you get"
She did not laugh
And managed to staple your smile back into a straight face
When she told all of your friends at work that you had to move into the spare room
Because you couldn't stop farting at night
You often asked me "If I had a heaven, what would it be like?"
And I told you that for such a small word, if, is just too big to wrap my belief around
I would not bend to the hypothetical
But wish now that I would've
Even if it was just to ease your mind in the belief
That I could be headed to that other place you believed in
I would tell you now how my heaven is here
It was here, in the gentle warfare of your relationship with Grandma
Where volleys were traded back and forth
Like hockey cards between children who didn't care what the stats meant
My heaven would have been someone in grade five finally willing to trade me their fruit roll up
For my tin of sardines
My hell was wondering "why?" Why would you give me sardines for lunch
My heaven would make you laugh
Cause I get the feeling you didn't get to do that very much
Through my hell, through the night terrors and bloody noses
Through the eyes black, bruised back, sneak attack, nap sack and winter coat hijacks
You did your best to seal up the cracks in my armour and made my heaven here
I would have loved to have made you laugh more
To make your send flowers list just once
So I offer you now my if
If there is a heaven
Mine would have a post office
And I could send letters to yours
The first letter would read
"Hell's not so bad, they pretty much let you do whatever"
The words stumbled out of you
Like a drunk leaving a bar looking for a fresh new last call
You were not a man of words
But did your best to offer advice
You offered me "You can't just do whatever"
And I know what you meant
You meant that whatever I choose to do, I must not be aimless
Because 71% of the time I will end up in the ocean
And if I do end up in the ocean I can't just do whatever,
Better learn to swim
"You can't just do whatever"
The conversation came after you asked me about heaven
Told me that you thought heaven would be specific to each person
And that each person would have their own version of it
Then asked me what mine would be
I was so scared to tell you,
"I don't have one"
But you nodded your head,
as if confirming a suspicion that school
had robbed me of a belief in some stories
You said "you don't have to beleive what I believe, its enough to be good.
Be good"
I will.
I will think about your heaven
Your heaven would be the same haircut, forever
It would be a stick a dog and some distance
A lawn that always needs mowing
A six-pack of pills in those short bottles and your real teeth back
Because your dentures could never master that bottle opening trick you loved to do
The first time you tried it with dentures I had nightmares for a month
Because I though your mouth had fallen off
Your heaven, would be Austria before the war
And Canada after you met grandma
It would be head cheese sandwiches and blood sausages
Other deli meats that would ensure you would never ever have to entertain dinner guests
And I would never be in danger of having my lunch stolen
Your heaven,
would be a stash of raisins
Problems that you could fix with your hands
I remember you tried to fix everything with your hands
I remember the difficult days
I remember the bandages
They looked like tiny blankets, as if your knuckles had all gone off to bed
Walls that looked like they'd said something to get under your skin
And where suddenly made to pay for it
I know you were an angry man
Finger tips like spent shotgun shells, bleeding smoke cocktails of gunpowder and singed plastic
You had what some people would call, "a temper"
But you loved a good joke,
even if it was on you
Something that would crack open the walls of your chest and let the wind tickle your heart
Just enough to let you know it was still there
You didn't always laugh, didn't always smile
You did keep a mental ledger of what you called your "send flowers list"
I remember thinking it was a thank you to those who got you good
But learned the truth after my grandmother added a thin layer of sand to your sandwiches
Because you refused to make your own lunch for work
You told me about it when you picked me up from school that day
You said "Grandma just made the send flowers list"
And I asked "Because you love her so much?"
And you said "Because I'm gonna kill her"
Of course you didn't
Your version of kill meant two months before winter,
Having a seamstress take in each of her coats a few inches
So on the first day she need one
She fumbled with the sudden tightness
And you stood there smiling then said "Honey, I love you no matter how big you get"
She did not laugh
And managed to staple your smile back into a straight face
When she told all of your friends at work that you had to move into the spare room
Because you couldn't stop farting at night
You often asked me "If I had a heaven, what would it be like?"
And I told you that for such a small word, if, is just too big to wrap my belief around
I would not bend to the hypothetical
But wish now that I would've
Even if it was just to ease your mind in the belief
That I could be headed to that other place you believed in
I would tell you now how my heaven is here
It was here, in the gentle warfare of your relationship with Grandma
Where volleys were traded back and forth
Like hockey cards between children who didn't care what the stats meant
My heaven would have been someone in grade five finally willing to trade me their fruit roll up
For my tin of sardines
My hell was wondering "why?" Why would you give me sardines for lunch
My heaven would make you laugh
Cause I get the feeling you didn't get to do that very much
Through my hell, through the night terrors and bloody noses
Through the eyes black, bruised back, sneak attack, nap sack and winter coat hijacks
You did your best to seal up the cracks in my armour and made my heaven here
I would have loved to have made you laugh more
To make your send flowers list just once
So I offer you now my if
If there is a heaven
Mine would have a post office
And I could send letters to yours
The first letter would read
"Hell's not so bad, they pretty much let you do whatever"
The lyrics to Shane Koyczan's song "Heaven or Whatever" are a poignant reflection on life, death, and the nature of purpose. The lyrics speak of a conversation between two people, one of whom is asking about heaven and the other revealing that they do not have a specific concept of what heaven might be. The conversation then turns to the importance of living with purpose and intention, rather than simply drifting through life. The phrase "you can't just do whatever" is repeated throughout the song as a reminder that our choices and actions have consequences and that we must take responsibility for the direction of our lives.
The song is also a tribute to the singer's grandfather, who is remembered fondly despite his flaws and mistakes. The singer reflects on the memories they shared with their grandfather, from the difficult days of anger and violence to the moments of laughter and joy. The song celebrates the complex, messy nature of human relationships and the importance of connecting with others in our lives.
Overall, "Heaven or Whatever" is a powerful meditation on life, death, and the search for meaning in a confusing and chaotic world. It reminds us that we must find our own purpose and live with intention and that the connections we make with others are the most important parts of our lives.
Contributed by Owen I. Suggest a correction in the comments below.
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@TheRisenSoldier
21 year old guy. I don't have a sob story. I have a mom. A dad. Both in a loving marriage. In the same house. But your relationship with your grandfather, written so beautifully in this poem, it makes me think back on my relationship with mine. When I started wrestling in 6th grade, he showed up to a tournament to watch. Not that he understood the sport, but I was in the event, so he came. I picked up lacrosse in grade 8, a sport he knew less about, and still, come hell or high water, he'd make a trek to the local field and he'd be in the stands shouting my name louder than the parents of the star players'. I think back on the last match he ever watched me wrestle. How he told my parents to have me call him when I got home because he had to get home to help grandma make dinner. He answered the phone with "I'm so proud of you."
In the end, when he was in the hospital, after he told the staff to turn his oxygen off, my dad was asked by his brothers and sisters to go talk to him, trying to get him to change his mind. Again, he responded with "How did [My Name] do in his track meet yesterday?"
I miss him dearly. And this is beautiful. I'm a Christian, and this is beautiful.
The thing about religion is, as you put it, it is something that gives people comfort. I am so happy that I found you and your poetry. I can, without a doubt, say that nothing deemed "artistic" has moved me to tears, until now.
Thank you for being so genuine. I look forward to listening to more.
@mattstark2538
I lost my grandmother around this time last year.. we were close, but her cancer caused her so much pain and she was ready for it. I have been missing her a lot lately. Occasionally taking out the few things I have to remember her by.
She was a godly woman and one of the kindest people I have ever know, and I have no faith. She always told me to be good, and that she prayed for me every day before she went to sleep.
I just stumbled on to this by chance and had to stop half way through because I couldn't even pay attention with how hard the tears hit me. This didn't just bring a tear to my eye... I sat here and sobbed like a child until I couldn't breathe and my eyes hurt.
This is a piece of true art.. and one of the most beautiful and intimate things I have heard in a long time.
Please don't ever stop writing.
P.s. I flew home from collage to sit with her in the hospice room, and the last thing she said to me before they had to medicate her to the point of confusion was this. "I love you all so much, and I cant wait to see you when you get up there with me."
@Berd
this will always be magical to me
@oddlyoz
It's great to see people visiting this video still.
@Mr_Daddums
It's a brilliant poem for sure
@symonefiedler5861
There’s something so surreal when you see your favorite silly animator complimenting your favorite spoken poet
@ryank2465
i watch this video at least once a month. it hits something deep inside of the soul
@pequenaesposa3286
I miss his content so much
@cognitohazard3
he could just read a grocery list and I'd cry
@molly19144
yekaterina why is this so true?
@sophiajade2562
ME TOO
@cafesocial1097
same omfg