Poetry: Fuel-Injected Love

Drop the clutch and
slam the petal down.
Feel the power and
away you go.
Fuel injecting and
tires squealing.
Passion born at 80 and
ecstasy born at 100.

Making love to the road,
the scenery blurs by.
Twist the wheel and hit the breaks,
I stop outside the front of your place.
Slide across the hood and
kick my way inside.
You're mine tonight baby and
the night have just begun.

Your love is my fuel,
injected straight into my veins.
Ignited passion burns in me;
it's time to release the clutch.
Walls begin to shake,
like the earthquake inside me.
In the aftermath of our moment,
the house looks like a war zone.

Dress and close the door and
it's time to hit the road.
I promise I'll be back again,
but I'll be miles away.
I'm lost to the road;
trapped by an insatiable wanderlust.
Some day I'll come back to rock your foundation,
but today I'm riding with my fuel injected love.

Poetry: Heaven Help Us

God save the queen,
and don't forget to bless our country.
Don't worry about the little people,
save the royals and the land.
God bless us,
but only if you get the time.
Forgive us our daily trespasses,
but trespassers will be shot.
God defend our nation,
but not the people in it.
Some are deserving and some are not,
best not to take the chance.

Heaven help us,
though Hell has us on lay-away.
Give us this day our daily bread,
but prisoners should get water too.
Heaven forgive us,
we know not what we do.
Okay we do know what we do,
but can you give us a free pass this time?
Heaven open your gates,
you forgot to give me the gate code.
Oversights happen sometimes,
but you also seem to have sent us a one way ticket to Hell.

God in Heaven,
give us another shot.
Lucifer in Hell,
no hard feelings.
Forgive and forget,
that's our motto on Earth.
Even though you're eternal beings,
you can learn something from us mortals.
Flattery and bargaining sometimes work,
but we can tell you're not swayed.
We have fallen into bribery and as you can see,
we are keeping your guest books filled...

one bullet at a time.

Writing: Moment in Time - City

The city smells strange tonight. Not bad, not good, just . . . strange. I fly atop gray pavement, yellow lines shooting past like a thousand laser beams. Driving through the city, you can almost tell where you are just by scent alone. The General Mills plant sends the sweet smell of grains into the air. You can't help but want to close your eyes and breathe deeply, taking in that whole grain oxygen. Sadly, I can't reach that pure relaxation right now, unless a trip to the sanitized scents of Mercy Hospital is added to by open itinerary.

The smell of sweet grain is suddenly severed and replaced with the sharp and intoxicating smell of gasoline and oil. Looking around on the thruway, you can't see where the scent would be coming from, but just beyond a hill lies rows of factories, processing and distributing, manufacturing and selling, oil and oil based products. The smells of the factories ravage me. I long for that almost edible air I left miles behind. Pressing down the gas petal, I rush to escape that pungent odor. The lines in the road blend and I chuckle to myself as I pass 88mph. Oh, to only be able to go back to the future.

Almost as if a window opened in an exhaust filled room, the horrid stench passes and is replaced by the smell of flowing, fresh water. The lights from the city play off the gentle waves bounding up and down, almost matching my quick pace stride for stride. I take a moment and slow down, moving to the side of the road and kicking on my hazard lights. I take in that fresh water aroma, cleaning my senses in that crystal blue air. Not much time to dally, though, I have appointments to keep. I turn back on the road and turn off my hazard lights, breathing deeply to keep that final scent of the city in mind. Of all the scents I crossed today, those mentioned and those unmentioned, they combine and tell me something that I finally realize, that I'm home.