I’ve been pacing up these same roads too long.  My wet socks know the potholes.  All the street signs are tattooed in my brain.  The speed limit and the guardrails feel like a coffin, lid and nails.  It’s time to test the engine.  Remove the safety belt and feed the machine gasoline.  It’s time to burn my own story in stinky rubber down the centerline.  Oncoming traffic beware.  High beams on.  Banging on the steering wheel.  Horn playing a nasty solo.

Not tearing it down.  Attaching the whole thing to the trailer hitch and dragging it away.  The room is stale and the head’s getting too big for the doorway.  Time to let the air out.  Scuff the shoes and scar the elbows.  Don’t tell the other side that I’m coming.  I’ve always enjoyed a shit-storm entrance.

Poetry might as well be a puddle of piss.  Heartfelt fragments at one time, now rhetoric, propaganda, outhouse fodder.  Light the fuse and shatter the windows.  The groove eventually becomes a rut.  Time to strike out or strum a new tune.  

Fly that freak flag like the Somali Pirate in a white thong.  Get the head back in the books.  Devour new words and explore new worlds.  Maybe this is the buffalo medicine, charging into the storm.  Shoulder to shoulder with the baddest motherfuckers on the planet.  Roaming toward the edge.  Don’t worry about temperature.  These balls are all weather.  A little steam from the nostrils is good for the ambiance.  

There’s no oil to defuse from this fire.  They might see the smoke signals coming over the hill, but they can’t stop it. Trust the sun.  Believe in the moon.  Live at full speed.  There are no days off.  Most lack the endurance to be relentless.  Let me fall into a nap when necessary, so long as light exists I vow to bring the motherfucking ruckus.

It’s got to be all of everything.  Wu-Tang - Buddhism - the brains filled with the scientific method, they all work under the same stars.  The trees and the stones play at different speeds, but it’s all music.

I’m not even sure if it’s all life based.  As I unlearn bullshit, the consequences don’t seem so dire.  Everyone playing it safe because they’ve been taught to cry for the other side.  The dammed and the doomed are cast out.  The dead are forgotten.  Everyone is afraid of the dirt, the water, the mud, the mosquitoes, the earth, we forget that they are the breastfeeders of everything.