Life’s a Ride

Pick out the bike,
Pump up the tires,
Polish the spokes.

The road will wind,
The terrain will change,
The weather will beat down.

There will be ditches,
But also smooth roads,
And vast fields of green.

Fall – then get up!
Brush off the dust,
And peddle on.

Ramp what you want to,
But if you fall – know it was you,
Just never give up!

The climb up a hill might be steep,
But just carry on –
It’s okay to walk at times…

Enjoy the ride!
Let the wind touch you –
Know people are on your side.

And when the time comes to stop
Make sure you can say:
I rode the road the way I wanted.

The Matriarch

There for the children:
Strong and demanding;
Running the ship!
Strictly lenient;
all aboard –
if not – overboard!

Dare open your mouth
to challenge the lady;
Dare to be put in place –
walk the plank.

Bow down or
Bow out.

Enjoy the ride;
you’ll have fun!
(only on her side)


I. Unieme

Performing to the sounds of nature,
Concrete jungle cacophony:
Metal crumble; stabbing bullets; restless screams.
Through the uncertainty of the mutated world
And into the rush:
The chaos.
The stress.
The noise.
The stress.
The noise.
The chaos.
Stretched to the limit;
Pushed and prodded.

II. Deuxième

Through the madness;
Keeping balance, not wanting to fall.
Fall! – scream them all.
Trying to keep it smooth, sustained –
Bleeding, aching,
Battered, bruised.
But composed; poised with a smile.

III. Troisieme

Trying to find the way,
The Passion Way;
Confusion as they pull in their different directions,
Follow the heart; raise the spirit!
Gracefully glide from experience:
To experience;
To failure;
To success;
To calm;
To stress.

K9 Crazy

Your voice sounds like a bark;
Your footprints are dirty paws.
Your fur is dropping everywhere…
Put your tongue elsewhere!
I’m not one of your fleas.
Drool over another,
I’m not your piece of meat,
I’m nobody’s scrap,
You scavenger!

Use your claws on your pack –
Tame your hounds.
Teach them manners plus a trick!
I know you know how to catch
So here, catch this message:
Go lick your dirty wounds elsewhere,
You selfless hound!

I don’t want your rabies –
Go dig up the bones of your brothers!
Don’t think I’ll be there;
I’m not your shelter.
Don’t try ask for scraps.
Take your howls to hell,
You mutant mutt!

The Pawn

I’m shifted along
the blocks
and played and
even sacrificed
used to achieve
the goals
and ambitions
of the master
I have to do
as I am told
I have no
choice in
this life
I’m picked
up and moved
and used as
a tool to lure
the plan
to fall into
I feel common
and know I
am used
I have no
ambition for
myself because
I am an
instrument of my
master’s ambition

maybe one
day I can trade
myself in to
be a King
until then I
am used

Pillow Person

Caught in an ocean of bed sheets
she holds tightly onto the buoy of her pillow
so that she will not drown in her nightmares.
She clutches onto the fabric
and it gives her a degree of desired comfort.
She wraps her amiable arms around
the cool comforting fabric as she closes her eyes.
A single salty tear drop is absorbed
into the thirsty fluff and disappears,
leaving behind a slight stain – familiar.
The currents of her sleep carry her to
another place where everything is warped together.
She slowly releases the pillow protection
and drifts restlessly into various positions
as the waves tumble her about.

She is thrown onto the coarse sand
of reality and feels like a discarded shell.
As she lifts herself from her slumbered state,
she enters into the real tsunami thought:
the future.

She floats into bed this time:
She feels the presence of another
and smiles softly as he holds her close.
She feels his warmth against her body
as she slowly slips into sleep.
Her dreams are inadequate because
now her reality is her dream.
She sleeps soundlessly and peacefully
as the ocean calmly carries her body
to the island of her happiness.

Apple Blossom

“But something rustled on the floor,
And some one called me by my name:
It had become a glimmering girl
With apple blossom in her hair
Who called me by my name and ran
And faded through the brightening air.”

The Song of Wandering Aengus, W. B. Yeats

The way you looked at me the first time our eyes met. We both knew it was something more. Eyes can says a thousand things in a single second. It felt right. They way you looked at me made me feel special… Maybe that’s why I loved you so much… People always look at me with longing, or lust really. You looked at me differently, you saw deeper… You looked beyond my face. You looked straight into my soul.

You loved me selflessly, and you promised that you’d give everything up in the world if you had to just to keep me. (Pause to recollect.) And you did. You gave your life to save mine… You were the one who completed me, you completed me in my incomplete world. It’s hard when you’re a model and your world is built on superficiality. You don’t know who your true friends are or who is there using you as a beautiful accessory. At least with you I felt real.

You were so secure in yourself, that was so attractive to me. You were the one beating the insecurities out of me. (Slight laugh.) Weird how life works like that. Maybe the priceless oil paintings are painted by the most damaged hands.

I can tell you one thing… They’ll remember you forever, and that’s your dream! A legacy, the legacy you worked so hard towards. So whenever I feel lonely I’ll come to this apple tree and I’ll remember this day, the day I scattered your ashes… I’ll remember our first date under this tree where we shared our first kiss and made love for the first time… Where we both felt happiest. And when the red apples are ripe I’ll remember your smile. I’ll remember I’m your apple blossom and you’re my red apple. Because I’m the beauty and you’re the substance.


Tuned and plucked
until satisfied.
Played and played
over and over.
Frustration and pride;
mixed emotions.
Strings snap.
Metallic pain erupts.
Abandoned for
a while
then found and
Feeling like
a melodic
waste of space.

Played by a fool;
the sound is dirty.
Played by a lover;
the sound is pure.

Yet knowing beauty
is made from the string
and sound lights up
the darkness,
it is okay
because a guitarist
will find the guitar.

Circuit Boards and Cynicism

Caved in by four walls
the skin turns white(r)
and the mind thinks hard…
Currents travel rapidly across
precision circuits translating
binary through brain
SAVE : *double click*

A travelling laptop complete
with perceptive processors and
witty applications for all uses
(including cynicism)…
High functioning with a fan
of tolerance to cool the
system; to calm the core.

Computing, computing, contemplating,
carrying on, accepting and processing,
questioning when used wrong
(as all good technologies do)
and attaining a new level of
artificial intelligence
from users: awareness, understanding.

Process life precisely.
(again and again)
Reliable, durable…
Plug in, recharge,
(never shut down)