#vehicle
Through a darkened haze set on the night
A road of gold winds through cast by vehicle light
Jan 23, 2025
Jan 23, 2025 at 3:18 AM UTC
I expected a chariot,
was trained to hold reins,
feed horses,
and know when to whip them.
Hours I spent shuffling across sheer faces
to teach me the balance necessary.
I took notes from oaks on how to keep my feet firmly planted,
legs bending, never breaking.
I suffered the hurricane
to learn to not blink with wind in my face.
I humored Time, to learn from its spinning wheel
so that I might know my own.
I turned to the trust of beasts
thinking they might one day guide me.
I glared at charioteers,
My coliseum competition.
I sat, eyes closed, by the ocean
To acquaint me with a roar
I would expect from an audience.
I stripped myself bare
So that I may learn the choices of judges.
I was prepared for a chariot.
But what arrived was a ratty coup of unknown make;
a wheezing, rusted contraption with wobbling wheels,
a cracked, insect-stained windscreen,
valves of leaky ichor,
a missing cigarette lighter,
a lockless glove box,
a tailpipe that belched black omen,
windows that rolled by hand and got stuck,
seats of the kind of leather your skin sticks to in the summer and froze in winter,
and an AM/FM radio filled with static.
No spare tire.
I was livid.
This vehicle was to carry me to my onward days,
to the paradise of my imagination?
I was to collude with my romantics in the passenger seat
of this rolling mausoleum?
To commute to my place of wage
and not have my vessel reflect my value?
To pass my days of leisure
knowing a bunker of my perturbation watched from the driveway?
I tried to hew a chariot of my own,
but first the wood of the trees of my garden proved too weak.
Then my crooked wheels seemed to want to separate away from each other.
And the only beasts to pull it were dogs,
made fat from the gristle of my meals that I threw them
in my days of anticipation.
I conceded to the coup.
Misery so often my chauffeur,
I plotted and plodded along with the wheels I was given,
Diverting my eyes from Apollos in the sky,
Pulled by glistening pegasi.
A friend,
also couped up,
Told me to make the most of it.
So I’ve been trying.
I tried to take its namelessness as something to which I might give a name.
As it wheezed I heard it breathing, liable to collapse, but
Alive
nonetheless.
The warped wheels wove their own way,
and I imagined the invisible burden of unseen beasts
with greater senses of direction than mine.
I saw the insects in front of me as company.
As the pipes oozed, I conjured hopes that they were like a gallbladder,
concentrating bile then removing it.
I sensed that the missing lighter meant I shouldn’t be smoking.
The glove box lacked a latch for ease of access,
and I read from the messages scrawled in smoke in my rear-view mirror.
The effort made to breathe through the manual windows
made me appreciate the breaths I took.
The broken sound system taught me to make my own music.
And the lack of a spare tire taught me to drive very, very carefully;
There would be no second chances.
The coup is a symptom of my broken hopes for my future’s reality.
But,
unlike the chariot,
it is real,
and its state of breaking can
Hopefully
be fixed.
I can sit when I wish to be seated.
I can bring others with me wherever.
The direction is dictated by me and not the whims of beasts.
The AC stutters, but it’s there.
There’s a trunk where I can put my memories.
And,
also unlike the chariot,
I can go very, very fast
if I want to.
Oct 21, 2020
Oct 21, 2020 at 11:42 PM UTC
Remember the clear blue sky.
Remember the beautiful flowing grass.
Remember the warm spring breeze.
Remember the early thaw.
Remember the beautiful pine trees.
Remember the exploding life.
Remember the sudden jolt.
Remember the three flips.
Remember the burn of the belt.
Remember the sound of mom hitting the roof.
Remember the NOISE.
Remember the aftermath.
Remember the thump of kicking out the window.
Remember the desperation of getting out.
Remember the worry about your sweater.
Remember the fear you had stained your dress.
Remember the grass cutting your legs while leaving the ditch.
Remember the woman who was kind.
Remember the yogurt with cookie crumbs.
Remember the cold spoon.
Remember the grey lunchbox.
Remember the blue cube ice pack.
Remember the girl who hadn't eaten it at lunch.
Remember the lie that you hadn't cried.
Remember the grey van.
Remember the white car stained red.
Remember the bus.
Remember the blood.
Remember the shattered glass.
Remember the man.
Remember the crimson paint.
Remember the scalp peeled back.
Remember the shrieking siren.
Remember the neighbors.
Remember the glistening beautiful glass.
Remember the cops.
Remember the ambulance ride.
Remember the hospital.
Remember the glass embedded in mommy's back.
Remember the doctors.
Remember the first time your blood pressure was taken.
Remember the sling.
Remember the pain.
Remember the fear.
Remember the questions.
Remember the thousands of times you told the story over.
Remember the details you suppressed.
Remember the trauma.
Remember the gasp each time the car slowed.
Remember the hands clutching the door.
Remember the death grip.
Remember the anxiety.
Remember the tears.
Remember the first time driving.
Remember the first time almost getting in a crash of your own.
Remember the fear each time you grip the wheel.
Remember the accident on your sixth birthday.
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 1:59 PM UTC
Lying in bed, I shift my vehicle
into new day. A day that is blessed
by rising sun.
Feet become wheels, spinning in dance gracefully.
Skin is cleansed in carwash-like shower
that tickles to birth smile.
Moments captured in suns rays vibrate,
as gyrating beams flicker
and penetrate cells.
Air infused intentions
rise in thoughts expanding
to merge with gas-like breath.
Blessings surface, as guidance
from navigational system of heart
purrs, gracefully.
Brum, *** echoes,
merging with days landscape,
as dance commences.
Brum, *** fills air
as compassion toward others
becomes goal.
In instant, hands folded
on steering wheel of prayer
anchor, as gratitude fills thoughts.
As wind pervades senses
and birds sing on welcome mat
of ears woven by hair.
The day has begun in celebration,
while cruse controlled movements
connect to surroundings.
While alignment is made
to source as freedom bell rings
inside waking hours.
I’m blessed, ready to shift gears
inside unlimited possibilities
on highway of life.
Blessed to rondevu with light
for peace, while fuel of love energies
congeal with purpose.
Purpose to make the best
of the gift of life given
in a vehicle anointed by God.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 9:31 AM UTC
I thought
my thoughts
were bigger than anyone's.
Maybe I was bigger than anyone.
This served to isolate me
from the fact that I am small, not bigger and I am okay
with that.
When did it begin? Why would I need this mechanism of living?
Did it start at birth? Or when my cat died in our house fire?
Maybe...
When I lost my father to his mental illness? When he was taken away?
Maybe the ****
When the trauma set in?
If I am a mass of cells, a living organism,
vulnerable to this world of others.
I need protection. There was none when little. Children need protection.
I developed my bigger-self by watching others. I learned to protect.
I learned to heal. I learned to forgive, but always, my thoughts
were bigger than yours. You didn't recognize so I appeared
aloof, angry, bitter, warming, smarter, friendly, volatile, politically correct, patient, intense, stubborn, caring, wistful, shattered and put together again. I was all over the map. I couldn't find my waypoint, until now.
This is life's way. Our vehicle is our thoughts.
I am not bigger in thought, in action or in self. I am tired of running away, of blaming, of being ashamed.
I no longer need protection other than from myself.
I am now relaxing in the part I could not have been taught. The idea that even experiences, over and over and over again, would teach me my lesson. You ask why people keep repeating
mistakes. This is our allotment. The price each of us pays.
It is my thoughts that save me now, wondering about my son, his illness, about my predicament
after years of hard work, unabashedly independent, procuring mindfulness, deliberating the Buddhist way, meditating on thoughts,
through a maze of my twelve steps
that I now for this moment am alone in. My thoughts deconstructed. More connected, but not bigger.
My shoulders drop, my face unfurrows, my heart slows, a tear begins if I let it. I am released. I will not suffer further.
How can I tell you, I am not bigger any longer and I am at peace.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 4:10 PM UTC
wind
wind in my hair
arms
arms wrapped around you
noise
noise in my ears
fast
the faster we go
country roads and
small town squares
you and I have seen it all
racing quickly around the curves
you and I have done it all
breath
breath in my ear
kiss
kiss on my neck
wind
wind in my hair
fast
the faster we go
.
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 1:19 PM UTC
I used to be a vehicle with such fuel to go on,
To go places where I thought was unreachable;
I have this fuel, a special one
I used to be this vehicle who moves steadily with strong force,
Though you are strong, this vehicle is weak,
But still, we moved somewhat steady;
Because of that "strong" force
Now, it's just a vehicle, a weak one;
One that cannot go on,
One that lost the force,
One that lost the fuel,
How can this vehicle accelerate now?
How can this move forward?
A 'me' that lost 'you' is,
lost,
stopped,
Immovable
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 9:06 AM UTC