Trucker's road stories. Trucker's Manifest log. Two days Trucker's drive Highway to highway. Every mile. Truck stops here and there. Overnight sleep within the trucks. Morning rise, and drive again Hours upon hours in schedules to keep. Watch acceleration in delivery time. Horn blowing to trucker's in greet. Night flashes in changing highway lanes. Code of road in respect. Headlights flash at times for alert of caution. Through all kinds of weather good and bad. Deliveries to pursue. Doing what a Trucker is supposed to do. Up hills and downward mountain steeps. Playing country music to pass the time. The song "Keep on Trucking". Never an endless beat. Trucker's schedule. Trucker's sleuth. Arriving at delivery location. Ontime conclude.
Two of us on a sixties hippie trip
to see if our gears would slip or mesh
innocent but wary yet wide-eyed
to the Imperial city of Marrakech
she perfumed with patchouli
me I traveled totally tie-dyed
all around was peace and love
we teamed to a tee and seemed
a fit the perfect hand in glove
but not long later it was deemed
as it was commonplace to see
in the medina not strapped for cash
kif from the Rif sellers
in the souk smoking hash
the country lacked law and order
no sooner said than escorted
back to Ceuta across the border
funny now in retrospect but not then
how when we blew out on the Sirocco
tho' we hadn't gone so far as the kasbah or bazaar
were deported without ceremony from Morocco
I. April 6, 2022
Cows, fowl on road
Not by will, with pigs - business -
Of life and death
II April 6, 1652
From Holland, van Riebeeck
Europe's willing men, to Good Hope
Good, bad, near Robben Island
Stumbling into this smokey run down dive bar
I just drove six hours in that old cramped car
The dancers rush to hit me up, I say leave me alone
I just came in to use the telephone
I can barely talk over the music blasting in here
And this phone smells like old rotten beer
I haven't talked to my kid since I don't know when
So I get into it with the ex-wife again
Because I haven't seen my kid in a year
I expect the phone to slammed down in my ear
She says she hates my guts, why do I even call
And doesn't know why she talks to me at all
She reminds me that without a doubt
I'm the one who decided to walk out
So if I care about our son at all
I should do more than a lousy phone call
I start slamming whiskey in this hell-hole bar
And wonder how it ever got this far
I run from the past and I'm all alone
Until I work up the courage to pick up the phone
The sun is rising and I jerk awake
And grab a handful of pills to take
Time to hit the road again
Wondering when this nightmare will end
'NA re-run' Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
6/24/19
A common phrase is “on the road again”!
Now that's bloody dangerous, where's your brain
What possessed you
Lying there in the nude
Has your brain for questioning ever been detained
On the road again, just like dear old Willy Nelson
Methinks it's time to settle down, it's really hard on my melon
Time to put down roots
Put away my boots
And enjoy the attention of my loving sweet harem
we load and unload
til our goal
some or thin
its still our blend
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
i love to dance
and prance
whenits time to go
and do that show
it make me sing
my heart ring
therei met so many friends
ON THE ROAD AGAIN
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