I miss the open highway
I’m besotted with quick getaways.
What other sensation can compare
to pulling G’s with wind-whipped hair?
When my foots on the throttle,
I feel unstoppable.
Faster, faster, no faster,
that’s the rush I’m after.
Where are we going?
There’s just no knowing,
but no matter where we roam,
the GPS will get us home.
One thing was guaranteed,
the speed limit would be exceeded.
I adored the wide open straightaways
and the feeling of a racing-day at Marseilles.
I remember in the Appalachian mountains
the plunging, snake-like, winding canyons
as the digital dashboard display passed ninety
how my eschort, Charles, would glare at me.
I’d let off - a little - and laugh, I mean,
isn’t freedom the American dream?
To hear the growl of a V8 motor,
as it turns rural-roads into roller coasters.
Sometimes Hope is hard to find,
When we have so much on our mind.
Troubling thoughts and unseen voices,
Seem to take away all of our choices.
Driving us to total exhaustion and doubt,
Sometimes it seems like there is no way out.
The winding road never seems to end,
Around the curve is another bend.
As everything seems to twist and distort,
Straightaways are always far too short.
We hope to dare and dare to dream,
Our life will become like a mountain stream.
Forever flowing down the mountain,
Crisp and cool as winter fountain.
Reflecting the beauty that is all around,
Peace has such a comforting sound.
As we pray and search for hope;
Trying to find a way we can cope,
With each day and all of its trials,
Can we find the strength to smile?
We have the strength to overcome all we face,
Live our lives with style and grace.
We simply need to take a look inside,
Our inner strength is in a place it cannot hide.
It all boils down to circumstance and choice,
And listening to our soul’s inner voice.
Like deer they run, so gracefully
With winged feet, youth's pedigree
They flow along, near-effortless
Like deer they run, so gracefully
On straightaways, they're swifter yet
Lithe frames incline, take off like jets
Like deer they run, so gracefully
Winged feet, youth's pedigree
5/10/19
"So Long As"
Came a long way from being a rook
They're about to forsook
Scared to take a look
Competition shook
Not ready for what I'm about to cook
Can't find it in any book
Everything is what it took
By the end, you'll be hooked
It's already afoot
Up around a brook
In a certain nook
Is where I put
Each foot
Atop miles of soot
Better start knowing
It's been ongoing
Showing
No signs of slowing
So long as waters are flowing
The moon is glowing
And life continues growing
If need be, I'll make them regret what they did and said
Wasn't surprised, because the thought crossed my head
Tried to leave me dead
So they could get ahead
I kept seeing red
Which was not just from when I bled
Focused on getting some bread
Gaining tread
And staying fed
Then I sped
Around straightaways and bends
Barely seeing my friends
Instead trying to live more on the edge
Before I'm on all the these meds
And near the end
Doesn't matter if I do, or don't get any cred
i'm more up
than ever down
far more a smile
than a frown
if there's a jump
i'll take the leap
with all of this
...a part of me
if there is laughter
to be heard
i'll dig and dig
till it's unearthed
less with answers
than questioning
foot loose and free
...a part of me
i'm more lost
than could be found
sometimes in
most times out
shallow at both ends
not too deep
quite swimmingly
...a part of me
crooked lines
straightaways
my road you'll find
times misbehaved
finders keepers
losers weep
all this time
...a part of me
with less goodbyes
and more hellos
the more of me
you get to know
the more you see
in word and deed
the more you'll want to keep
...a part of me
He has memorized whole pages of Profokiev.
Like a runner on a favorite trail,
sprinting along straightaways,
jogging, relaxed and steady, up hills, around trees,
taking moments to pause for breath or beauty.
He knows the smoothest concrete,
anticipates rocks, fallen logs, dips, ruts, puddles.
And even as the sky reddens outside
with the ominous heat of a storm,
he presses to finish the miles ahead:
his sneakers double-knotted,
hood around his ears against the rain.
Like an Olympic marathon, I remember only
the end: one last notes, high high high,
and wavering slowly into silence.