Violence, phishing scams
if no guns, vans are battering ram
AI can save busy execs twelve minutes
defraud seniors of their life savings
~ no limits
In the distance I hear the Indianapolis 500
or maybe it is a truly aggressive muscle car
it is traveling south west
her fierce engine sounds remind me of my red mustang
my purple trans am, my powerful 442.
Cars that would burn up the road
racing worthy
I smile remembering my life pre-mini-vans
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Again
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Changing Defense to War,
Claiming to stop foreign wars,
Won’t win any peace prizes—
Just more of what the world despises.
Black helicopters and unmarked vans
Enforcing edicts across our lands;
Masks and rubber bullet diplomacy
Shouldn’t become our normalcy.
Secret police with unlawful powers,
Brutal enforcement ordered by cowards;
The rule of law squandered and subverted
To serve personal vengeance perverted.
Our Constitution tattered and torn
Needs her defenders all bravely sworn
To stand shoulder to shoulder and hold back the night:
This is our moment, our duty, our fight!
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Again
Tear gas policies and hate
Will never make America great
Currently the security profit programs is hesitant
Sista bad ways the masters degree premonition holder has eliquented us inside of the never growing fortress of people's passed economic struggles as mimes
Yet the obstructioni zing doth not permit a permit
Ye of vittles portion lacks the fortitude of good days in labor
Between Camarillo livibility lengths and Newbury Park rotations as the same
None may improvith stations whilst sista bad feelings goes into debt full idea administration worry
It was autumn
Before the round
Something shivered
Tools wasn't full
Vans change, tools out strange the work
All damseled
In respite
Shane apprehension grovel
Lost beside his print
Finding his father's name
April, too new city managers
Yorks and shires bereaved
I wasn't your only father's rent
The war counted on better rays
Rates add fits
In byes gondolas say
To write wrongs
Haven't worried sensibly
The round became my leaving board
A pond as his mother's springs
She sheltered little in life
Deathly burden to me
Manhattan Surrender my moons light
I may have written this for a band to sing,
or maybe I just wrote it for me.
Maybe it’s for the kids in dirty Vans,
or those reppin’ spiked Converse hi tops.
To the ones sipping ten dollar lemonades
in the merch line? This is for you.
This is your anthem.
Indoctrinated, you know the lifestyle is law.
Be kind, be generous, and always go hard.
For the kids with patches and liberty spikes
who mind the pit and the fallen?
To the ones sipping ten dollar lemonades
in the merch line? This is for you.
This is your anthem.
Spiked with music you hear the fine print,
no need for drugs that hard edge just hits.
False flags can’t hang when a guitar shreds,
it branded the rules right on to our hands.
To the others sipping ten dollar lemonades
in the merch line?
This is for me and this is for you.
You know what to do.
This is our anthem.
They’re roaring by with lights aglow
Akin space rockets, to and fro
Unfailing captains on steroids
Between this Earth and asteroids
This is the blood that moves the trade
This is America, conveyed
Truck-ships, with missions on the mind
Despite the night defy the grind
Rigs leave no waves in their wake
Them running fast and never brake
Men often follow their path
So to avoid the radar wrath
They land for brief prescribed rests
While speeding on the cryptic quests
We’re whizzing by, in cars and vans
And eye the sleeping caravans
United States, the land of trucks
Can’t pass them by sometimes, shucks
Resilient movers. And my crux?
Wouldn’t be the same without trucks
Sept 17, 2023
I am a beacon of light for my homeland. My quaint village, serene yet vibrant, is a haven of peace. The youth, with their carefree spirit, fill the air with laughter and song, unbothered by the world beyond. Even the birds know to respect the tranquility of our lives.
From the winding road that leads to the bustling city, the countryside remains unchanged. I love to gaze out and let my thoughts wander as I speed by in the fast-moving vans. My people, ever resilient, continue to drink from the well of life and mind their own business.
Today marks what would have been my late mother's 94th birthday. She was one of my favorite people, a true embodiment of our country's spirit. Rest in peace, dear mother.
With Christmas just twelve days away, I look forward to blending once again with my countrymen, like a well-orchestrated steel band. From New York to the Caribbean shores, no holiday celebration is complete without the melodious sound of the steel pan in Queen Park.
Whether we cry in a storm or dance in the rain, this time of year celebrates life and honors those we've lost. I am a ray of sunshine for my country's people. Merry Christmas, my beloved homeland.
The mayor’s been indicted
And they’re searching through his things
To uncover proof that he deserves
The boot this often brings.
I live near Gracie Mansion;
The surrounding streets are lined
With police cars and the vans of press,
Arrest on every mind.
I don’t know if he’s guilty,
Though his circle’s shrinking fast,
But I’m pretty sure our time as neighbors
Isn’t gonna last.
I didn't know what to do when I left school,
But I thought I would become a plumber, wouldn't that be cool.
Most of the work is inside I thought,
But I should have looked closer, I really ought.
People always think a plumber earns a lot and will be well to do,
Most plumbers are not rich, but they deserve it when they have their hand stuck in the loo.
Most plumbing work is at floor level or even below,
And the aches and pains get stronger as the years just go.
To some people we are just heroes as we stop a torrential leak,
But then we are the bad men when a leak comes back next week.
We are all known for driving white vans, but mine is actually blue,
I never tell anyone I am a plumber because everyone will have a job that they want you to do.
Did you know you can make water run uphill,
So I guess I am proud to be a plumber, but I am happier still is when a happy customer finally pays their bill.
Morning song
it is six in the morning
I get down and move the car from
the place reserved for vans.
This the best of times cooling before the heat begins
only a few people out walking their dogs enjoying
the peace of a beginning.
I could have parked my car in the space between
two cars, but I lose my nerves, this after 60 years of driving.
In the night the wind blew hard from the sea
tiring itself out, and me too I hate the wind it takes my breath away
leaves me a husk falling asleep in front of the TV.
Yesterday I carried water to the house, the porter usually
do this but, my wife thinks he takes too much money.
I do not agree.
Being able to carry bottles of water is better than not being
able to carry water, my heart does not agree.
Before you are handed
Your ice cream cone
From the man
Manning the ice cream van
Adorned freshly with a flake
nuts and sprinkles
And whichsoever sauce of your
own very choice and persuasion
Just be wary of the passing fairies
and angel's
Getting to grips with it before you first
Because even they themselves believe
All work and no fun or play
May leave you exhausted feeling
down and sick
Sometimes everyone needs to take
a well deserved break during their day
As it is going nowhere
As neither are you
We all for the most of us
Are merely come to think of it
Just running fools errands
In order to complete
One more day
Of which one can only hope and pray
Much many more
Are in future to come
If you indeed find yourself in possession
Of a rude state of health
And mind your step
And so to busses and vans as well
Whence approaching a busy road
or intersection
Shop bells tinkling from eight 'til late
queuing customers having to wait;
Thursday,closing at noon
opportunity to court and spoon.
Collection boxes built into walls,
gossiping ladies in their shawls;
Bells pealing on the hour,
drays pulled by one horse power.
Factory hooters' blowing
Morning cockrels' crowing;
Cycle bells a-ringing,
Provisions from vans' a-bringing.
So we were told, Just like the Song we sang
"Twinkle twinkle little star"
But the stars are dim
So we keep wondering
And now, we are in a wander land
You have right to vote
and to be voted for
But I can't remember the last time
They used the count
While we raise our voices in secret
To speak our minds
The only voice we hear is
"This is Nigeria, get use to it"
I don't believe in this, but we are living in it
They make the rule and break
They take the treasures to hides
They make patrol with it
All we do is to wave at their vans and say
"They are eating our money"
Even the one we thought
would make the Change
Wears his glasses to say
" They are now in chains"
They all come in like youths
With their ages reduced
Only to steal the goods
And forget the youths
Who are the pillars for real
If the pillar is weak
Then the house will fall!
#Bitterbutbetter
Always keep my vans tied
So don't ever say I'm tripping
Not even when I'm falling or diving off the board of depression
I'm bored of always hanging around my own thoughts having conversations with me, myself, and I
I need counseling but can't afford it
Everybody has a dark side
Most are just too dark to admit it
One day I might say goodbye without a warning
Life has become so boring when all you do is lay in bed, so you don't take your own life
Low cut vans and high-top expectations I can't live up to
Questioning myself, is this really you
Questioning myself, what are you going to do
Telling myself you have to choose
Vans always tied but someone must have untied them or tied them together because it's hard to walk toward my destiny
Depression is weighing me down so much I can't feel a thing
Depression weighing me down I'm paralyzed in bed
Falling asleep to the lies
Looking for the truth
Vans always tied
Which ones will you wear today
p.s. you choose...
"A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and
can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words"
~ CS Lewis
If ever I don't know your name
recall these words that I now write:
no season ever stays the same -
fall yields to winter, day to night.
If ever I forget your face -
though hard to fathom now, dear child,
I ask you to recall the days
we walked on trails through canyons wild.
Those nights we camped under the stars
and filled our lungs with mountain air,
the trips we took in vans or cars
while singing songs from here to there.
Remember beach days, Sunday hikes,
or at the lake shore skipping stones,
those Saturdays we rode our bikes
for donuts or for ice cream cones.
I hope you won't become too sad
nor let my absence cast a pall,
for I will always be your dad
I pray our good times you'll recall.
Now go and make new memories -
in moving on, you play your part.
Sing soft our favorite melodies,
I'll sing along deep in your heart.
written 25 June 2022
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