Slick freeways

The suave bus ride shot through the city of want.

What do you want the sign said.
The silver bus hovered off the road like dragonfly.
the pollution haze dressed the city n a see through skirt.

The city humms but never speaks.
Pedestrians stay from the highways.
Keeping all of their jealousy and bustle.
Inside the overcrowded enclaves.

The freeway feels like a sweet elegant layer of mist.
But it is only a toxic dust a few feet off the tarmac.
The energy flies over the city and the bus itself soaks it in.
Boosts along at a happy speed...

Speed and aluminium.
A new century.
A new millenium,
commuting no questions.

Tom swatted mosquitoes

 I met Tom Cruise on a bus to carwash city.
He swatted near my neck on the bus.
There were mosquitoes around me.
Of course they weren't around him.

The novelty of taking a bus for him must have been sonething.
But he didn't seem to care one way or another.
I said to him- why did you save me from those mosquitoes?
And he just looked at me as if he was reading for me some sort of film.

I said to him- I've always thought you were a great actor.
-But sometimes I've mocked you for your stature.
-What a thing to do right?
And he just kept looking at me and finally said- it's fine.

On his face he really didn't seem to care.
He was going to do a new film with Putin.
Tom would play Zelensky.

Maurice chef

 The big kitchen bench at the seaside.
Salty and just a slight tad humid.
Piles of vegetables on top, 
Pots on open flame.

His expression was one of unconcern.
He picks a dangling knife off a rope and starts chopping.
Again and again the at sound plop plop plop...
Where did all the food come from?

Noone was asking. 
The fish was obviously from the sea.
But the rest of the vegetables were a mystery.
In some cultures food is the only luxury.

The sound of the tide was loud outside.
The ocean speaking almost giving tips on the dish they were preparing.

Skaters of failure

 They sat glued to the t.v.
Four of the best skaters in the world.
They loved the cartoon and gave themselves nicknames.
Then they went out to field of wheat.

Ricky rode over the wheat field with his skateboard.
Flattening a line through the crop nicely.
To the applause of the other three.
No farmer to get angry.

Their cartoon like minds
Spinning out of control
For they didn't seek flat surfaces
But uneven or dense surfaces where the wheels would get stuck.

Unfound

 I couldn't find that thing I was looking for.
coming short after opeing every door
Many came to my aid.
To correct each mistake i made.

I just stood there clueless my temples throbbed.
Not completely knowing what i needed for the job.
In the end the list of instructions was incomplete.
I thought my time there would be fleeting.

Every cabin was overstocked with things I didn't need.
The board was written with last weeks tasks and deeds.
Everyone knew where they were, what they were doing.
I could hear that laugh, but I was too busy moving.

Again that daunting feeling of incompetence rose to sour my life.
The breakfast was laid out, I didn't have time for a slice.
As I racked my mind for the next best course of action.
All my abilities and resources made me feel a complete lack.

I found the answers and relaxed carefree while I showed the way forward.
There was no right place there was no perfection or immediate reward.

Bannock sturdy for Christ

 Plain in the only way I am.
For they had proclaimed I- simple Simon.
For if only that were true.
I am plagued by an army of demons.
So I appeal to the big big...

I put on a strong display but I struggle to strengthen the rest of me.
I seek food in what is real, not by excess.
Steady me because I feel ridiculous.
Calm me because my mind runs wild.
Wholesome, but I am pulled sideways.
Direct me, because I am scattered.

See me fully, including the parts I judge harshly.
See my words and their roots their holy innuendos, Lord God Look here!
Take the sting out of my self-mockery, take the expectation out of me.
Turn embarrassment into humility, and humility into strength.
Give my spirit enough bread for today, enough courage, enough clarity.

This honest work,

 clean thought,

 measured action,

 loyalty, patience, creation.

Sturdy in spirit, soft in heart, clear in mind.

The currency inside

 On and off.
God puts my soul back in
Like a credit card paying.
Then withdrawls it again.

I would like to be the value.
Wherever it may go.
Blessed and whole,
On some great trajectory.

I must curate this path,
Sometimes molding the pavers myself.
Under the sun,
making my way to building something.

How many of you readers never feel your value?
You may not ever be able to measure your worth.
The worth we carry in ourselves is arbitrary.
The value others put on us, capricious.

So sometimes in the most silent of whispers.
I listen with all of my capacity,
As God says to me straight,
Believe in yourself.