Closed every door by myself.
Struggling even to stand up.
Burning within, back facing the floor
barely breathing
barely alive.
one thing running through my mind,
What if I knew back then
what I know right now?
What I really was
and now I'm ****** up in between!

Now is no time for whining
no place to complain.
Your aggression, turn it to focus.
Its like the fuel,
burn it to race your raging engine!
Might've been failing
but never stop trying.
After all you've been through
Or all that could've been,
now you've come closer
to what you've been doing!

I'll swerve in to the path of your lane,
your words are never enough
             to make me hit the hard shoulder.


I'll 911 your **** into the submission,
     you'll never swerve by..

I'll make you,

        barrel roll in to the suburbs
                          and
                          you watch....

With a pipe
                       and smoke, submit to my rule.


You'll never drive your words like my rules,
                          Irregular rhyme,
  that the wheel will lose its traction...
                                and you'll lose,
        the tread of the road..

Only the tarmac holds the tread of decent,
                      wording that doesn't slip...

You cant hold any traction on the words that
                drive faster than anything you try...


                                to grip beyond the first red light.

I'm green but I run faster then anything
        that you have in park..

              you'll try to rev, but you stall before
         I've even passed you on a repeat...
                                  repeat
                                                    repeating
the same round,
                    That you were playing when I
started this course,

                                    but you haven't even started.

Just park up,
                  you haven't got the petrol to race my words.
                            your engines  already stalled...

I am ageing,
It's just a number,
The number of candles have increased on my birthday cake.
I have got heavier,
The width of my waist has increased,
There are wrinkles where my smiles were,
I pole dance with the safety bar in the bathtub,
Every time I cough or sneeze my radiator leaks,
My exhaust backfires,
I tend to forget,
I am not perfect,
But, I don't care.
I have become more compelling,
I am more silent,
More wiser , more smiling,
With greater intuition.
My mind is a fountain of  youth,
I am fun,
I am now background music,
I am soothing
My family and their friends connect to me,
I fuel their soul,
They feel safe.
I may be an old model but my engine still runs smoothly.

I used to watch Thomas the Tank Engine as a child,
now it's called Thomas the Train.

I have pictures with Thomas the Tank Engine,
not Thomas the Train.

I love Thomas the Tank Engine,
not Thomas the Train.

Why did they change it to Thomas the Train?

He's a tank engine...

He's Thomas the Tank Engine.

You and your engine
deep in your chest, walk strange paths
and hope for the best.

When I go on the bus
I always sit at the back
So I can watch the whole of it,

Well, sad thing is I always go over the engine
And if it blows up
I'm the first to go.

We're never safe and comfortable, are we?

Waiting here
Looking at the stars
Watching all the pretty people
Climb in all the pretty cars.

The sun's creepin up
With the numbers on the clock,
It's got me second guessin
If I'm really waiting for you
Or if it's all just a show
'Cause my car wont start
And my doors- they just wont lock.

This old four stroke engine
Never won a race;
Make a lot of noise, but it
Never took first place.
I used to hear it bangin' round my chest, now,
A friendly little growl,
I hope it only takes a rest, now, baby,
I haven't heard it in a while.

I ain't burnin' diesel, baby,
and I ain't burning coal.
I ain't burnin' much now, maybe
That's why I'm so cold.

I chanced upon an old letter
That had clearly sailed legless on seas
Crumpled, damp but inside the envelope
Intelligible writing by sight
But by comprehension I was lost
Disorientated by sea-sick phrases

Somewhere a long way from our
shore a man or woman, very desperate
to find their way on board a ship
going in the right direction

When those who could speak
a second or even third language
were called forward
this person’s mind reached far,
back to french lessons at school,
every country visited and greeting noted
and piped up: I speak very good French!

But French speakers were common
Try harder! shouted a polite man
I can speak Zulu!? silence...
Pashto is very useful…
Ah! my mother tongue,
I dream in that language
Yes I am still in touch with my mother
with whom I speak, of course,
in Pashto

Setting sail on the lonely sea
There is nowhere to hide
besides the engine room,
And in there you will be used as fuel
Put to good use




*—Well I did think once that I was being summoned to an underwater land but in fact it was a ruse, a trick to rob me of wallet