Tunnels cut through a mountain chain,
an unending chain,
a chain that binds;
that twists and turns on itself again,
delivering pain
and darkness that blinds.
At the end of each there is a hope,
a ray of light to which you grope.
When you reach it at tunnel’s end
the next begins as if to portend
the coming of others, unending nights.
The mouth of one the other bites.
As you slip into this endless void
you turn right back trying to avoid
the pitch of blackness and faster than fast,
your wheels turn and pistons thrust,
until the image of the turning wheel
first slows down and then stands still.
It starts again, but spinning back
taking you deeper into the black.
Your whole life becomes this blur,
past, present, future become a slur
and the yearn for eternal rest
becomes a fantasy, a dream at best.
Tunnels cut through a mountain chain,
an unending chain,
a chain that binds,
that twists and turns through another plain
through the living brain
of unsound minds.
My family is a car,
It runs smoothly if all are present
My dad is the engine, strong and smooth
He runs the car and is the powerhouse.
Without him, the car would stall
Because he makes the decisions
And he runs the household
My mom is the wheels
She drives the car
To wherever it is needed
She checks the decisions and has her say
So to question her is a nay
Because without the wheels, the car can’t go
My grandmother is the windows
She gives us advice
Whenever needed, she lets the air flow
So we can think clearly
Thanks to her wisdom
My brother is the brakes and accelerator
Because he’s the youngest
When he’s hyped, the car speeds across
But when he’s sad, the car slows down to a halt
So, that little mood meter is just as important
Then there’s me
I’m the other stuff
The seats, the lights, the comfort
Without me, the car won’t feel like a car
Because I help make the car feel like home
So my family is in a car,
Run’s smooth if we’re all present
We need each other, just as much as ourselves
In the dim and distant past, i cycled around
Slow and fast, past sleepy houses, on small city blocks.' In the morning fresh when its not yet hot ' sometimes a daring
Cat shot in front, aloof and sleek, no play for me then on bots..I recall the rich sent of
Fresh cut lawn, before the day would swallow, this placid morn' i recall milk bottles sitting on front door stoops, as pidgeons scattering, as the hawk broke loose, out a of a blue yonder, with whistling
Wings, echoing the sound of my bike wheels, as i turn for home i hear the church
Bell ring.'
Blood from blood, bone from bone,
Under the partially eclipsed moon of a burgundy-red sky,
A murder of crows gathers on the barren carcass of branches,
Whilst mist clings to a chipping tombstone.
Hardened petrichor shifts ever so slightly,
Awaiting the awakening of revenge incarnate.
The witching hour is almost upon us;
Noir-cloaked figures emerge from the passing shadows.
A High Priestess holds firm an ancient Book of Shadows.
As the metaphysical clock strikes two,
Yellowed pages frantically flip to an incantation.
The underlings take their positions at the four corners,
While she takes her place in the center.
Chanting the passage simultaneously, resurrection is forthcoming,
As shrivelled nightshade blooms to ritualistic life
And the paramount witch returns from her unsettled slumber.
The Wheels of Dharma turn in their favour.
Scorched lands and vengeance follow,
As Armageddon ushers in a new era.
Ever wonder what happens if one day they switched the Wheels of Fortune into the wheels of memory, with the host announcing, look folks today we play a new game, call it sympathy game, here is how it goes. You each select a name from this list on the screen, it’s Gaza casualty list, and then learn all there is to know about your new identity. Let me give you an example.
Sadeel Ghasan, a 15 year old from the Jenin refugee camp. Her parents came from Al-Kabri overrun in 1948 fearing a massacre.
Sadeel had three siblings, only one left now, Mahmoud 8, old enough to know Sadeel was an angel, excelled in volleyball and marth, that her head was crushed. They’re still collecting pieces of their parents, also killed by tank fire.
So, here’s the game. When I point at you, stand and say I ‘m a Palestinian, my name is Sadeel, I used to have a fair full of hair and am headless now. No, I did not die by natural causes. I now live in someone’s memory, it’s warm and cozy, and am thrilled to know one day they’ll bring the tank commander to justice for his atrocities.
My friends, we have to keep breaking the chains until the gate opens
The wheels fell off my thingamajig
as a thingy
came loose in the whachamacallit
or perhaps it was the doodad
on the wotsit
which was the cause to stall it
and it'll take a few odds 'n' sods
plus a new doodah
and some hoo-ha
to make the gizmo
or doohickey
go again so
not to take the mickey
but prep the whole whoop-de-do
to look like new
I'll probably plop
for purchasing the gubbins
or bits and bobs
in a thingamabob
shop
and possibly more
at a whatnot
store
Said he, “Life is but a short journey, a dead end at best and over all too fast,
but along the way admire the view, enjoy the ride while it may last.
No ifs ands or buts, there are no shortcuts, we all fall by the same sword
and the race well run, from the starting gun, is its own reward.
The turning of the wheels wounds all heels, and in time, all wounds it heals,
so fill your heart for until you do, you're merely filling time
meanwhile the dial is really killing you.
As all you have is the now and here,
learn to burn the midnight oil, while down the drain the days disappear.
Can't stop the sands, hold the hands of time, or turn back the clock,
you won't see the same mistakes or heartaches
if you look at love as the key, and life as the lock.
For there is no daylight savings, as time awaits no man,
if time is money, no matter how much you save, you'll spend all you can,
doing this and doing that, to pass the time of day,
and there right before your eyes, the time of your life will pass away.”
Four Wheels
I saw a stranger in a wheelchair.
At the gym shooting hoops by herself.
The courage to keep on going.
No care toward what someone else would be saying.
In a big room all to yourself.
Enjoying life, with no one else.
When was the last time you helped out a stranger?
New memories they would be thankful for.
It’s better to give than to receive.
On four wheels, she was being the best she could be.
Do you ever take time out to wonder?
How can the brave move forward?
Just doing her own thing.
She wouldn’t have it any other way.
Someone like them inspires me.
Keep on going to the finish line you see.
Don’t take anything for granted.
The wheels spin in so many directions.
Maybe I’m just observant.
Seeing someone trying on their own.
No excuses for me not to go to the gym.
All the hard work will pay off to be slim.
Just put your foot in the door.
Work your heart out and drop to the floor.
I didn’t even know her name.
If I skipped a day, I have no one else to blame.
The one that shot hoops gave her all.
I guess her favorite sport would be basketball.
Why does the trolley
dolly or cart
I choose to use
in every supermart
always have a wonky wobbly wheel
and feel oh so wearing
as if it's about to lose
its marbles or ball bearings?
It clunks like junk with a 'thunking' sound
and almost dumps
my groceries on the ground
won't go straight
invariably tilts veers
careens or curves
and without a doubt
indubitably gets on my nerves
Existence, existing and then
the emptying out, the exit.
X marks the spot
where dots are always laid to rest.
I have been pulling a little red meat wagon
existing just before
its hard rubber wheels,
the wagon goes clickity clack,
snick-itty-snit, bumpety bump
uphill or below,
it is eager to run me down
always keen to bark my heels
as I drag it over a shadow shoulder
of a pre & post
being.
On-board
a self-dissolving, yet always open mouth,
must consume
its spiced drops of acid and honey.
It sometimes sleeps,
sometimes dreams,
it is a presence of a presence,
just a hairsbreadth between
this now, and not now - gulp
of living.
Inevitably, we will part,
separated by the raw knuckles
of push and pull,
until a lit exit door
in a long defunct shopping mall
lights our way
to the promise of oneness.
The wheels turn in the circle of completion that always returns to us,
From birth to death, from the first tear to the last sigh,
We venture forward with the hope of uncovering hidden meaning,
For in a fleeting moment of existence, amidst moments of silence,
We reflect and return to well-trodden paths, building and tearing down,
Trying to understand the spirit that drives us through life's labyrinth,
Walking paths of distant memories, seeking to fulfill thoughts,
Pushing forward, adjusting, arranging life's letters in perfect order.
I discover love as a masterpiece, faith as a new chance,
Hope as a warm embrace that holds me in its arms,
As the days swiftly turn from light to night,
I stand by the river's edge, singing an ethereal song, a hymn of change.
The circle of life always twists, like a story unfolding without end,
And I, a traveler through seasons, let myself be carried by the waves of eternal time.
Muniz motoring down the track
object of affection, heating up
performance wheels. Not
predicated on subjective analysis,
but merely his speed and placement
in the race. No acting required,
just talent, practice, showing up.
Will he be a superhero one day,
admired by all ages? For now,
his stage is kicking up dirt, and
oh yes, he has an audience.
Will he be Malcolm in the Middle
or way way out front. What’s the tell?
Soon he’ll be on the leaderboard
with his full time occupation.
He is over the top excited
to be putting foot to the pedal
in the Nascar Craftsman
Truck Series, seriously!
We will have to
keep an eye
on this young man.
Taking delight in your thoughts
Feeling an emotional high?
You hog around the world
Break your own ideals
Let the wind rush past your hair
And find comfort in discomfort.
Any sadness is not heart-wrenching anymore
And the smiles are filled with joy
Find uniqueness in the little flaws
Develop an understanding of the minds.
Live out the kid in you
Jump up high in joy
As wheels of the bus go round and round
Don't let your self in anyway be bound.
Start afresh, start again
Things may go wrong,
There will be more regrets
But as long as you are alive
Adventures should not end.
There is no time weak or strong
Life is out there for you to grasp
Take it, and sing your own song.
a chess game on wheels
doubles... triples… but those steals...
inhale... breathe again
Squeaking Wheels
Miracle Man
8/22/2024
Wheels that squeak loudest,
nearly always get greased first.
That's why folks protest?
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