Under the Hood

Look under the hood
before you ride.
Discover what drives
you. Cars with dents
and dings still run.
Being an older car
takes you just as far.
Every car is different.
Some cars are new.
Others just make do.
Different builds, colors,
and interiors show
us not one single car
is superior. Stop.
Pop the hood and
get a good look.
If you can tell that
all is well, then go
faster. Drive further.
Change the oil,
buckle up, and hit
the gas. No need to
make it last because
in the end, whether
we were slow or fast,
we crash or get passed.


New Face. Who Dis?

Leatherface beat the case.
He can wear many faces.
Tall as hell. One can tell
evil consumed him and
his heart. All his exes live
and died in Texas. You
bet he ate George Strait.
He kept his chainsaw ripping
and his cholesterol high from
eating enormous apple pies,
Kentucky Fried chicken
thighs, and human eyes.
He cares not that he is
“slow” or dumb. If you
hear the chainsaw: run.
The fun has just begun.
Leatherface can’t die.
He will beat another
case. Life is a race,
and he’s in first place.
There is no need
to worry. Leather-
face may be as dumb
as nails, yet he is as tough
as them. He can’t spell,
but he can read brail.
He does mean well.
Too bad there’s no one
left who can tell.

Slow and Steady

Let’s rock slow and steady.
Easy does it. Nice and slow.
There’s no rush when there
is nowhere to go. Slowly
moving into the unknown.
No need to speed. Let it be.
Slow and steady; I’m always
ready. Life can be heavy,
and when it rains, it pours.
I keep going steady. I move
with the current. Slowly,
I work my way towards
a new day. I keep going,
slow and steady – I think
to myself. I wonder if all
will be well. Who knows?
Really, only time will tell.

Step-Poet

These words aren’t mine. Well, the configuration,
the arrangement, and the manifestation of them
are mine to tell, yell, or sell. The rest falls on me.
I own nothing. I just borrow letters and words
that were said, used, or abused in old worlds.
I rent these words – these phrases: these upper
and lower cases. I use these words. They don’t
go to waste. These words help me save face.
They can tell you things that my mouth won’t.
I will never dishonor these words as they are
sacred to me. They provide light: the insight
that does me right. Like eyes that envision
better days, these sentences help me create
early mornings and dark nights running late.
These words aren’t mine, but I treat them
like they are. They carry me through the day
when I don’t have anything to say. Anyway,
I use these words to tell you to stay true
to yourself and to never forget about things
that will help you through all of the pain.



Frozen Roses

It can be a cold world.
I don’t have to tell you
that. We know this.
Events, people, places
can stop us in our tracks.
It can get chilly. Life can
freeze almost all things:
just not time. Not this
time. We must carry
the warmth needed
to keep us heated.
We must survive this
snowstorm that keeps
most frozen. Pedals
from your frozen roses
remind me to find truth –
to remain warm: alive.
Your frozen roses remind
me to search and find
love I have left behind.