Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The Driver

After all those mile years I still don't know who he is.
A better man than me
I think.


Another consciousness
I cannot access from here.
from this static now
I need momentum to break free
like a partical accelerator
takes momentum to break free
to give me that
feeling of freedom
that all is right
as long as I am a body in motion

Heaven is moving
rolling free out of my own center

cut me loose

let me fly

at the end of my road

can't ever stop coo coo astray

the end of a road is the beginning of another... trips are journeys shortened never to be forgotten

only the mind remembers, only the ego cares, we are much more than our accumulative self,

not be realized until needed, the cocoon shoots for the moon

while the butterfly takes flight in rapt silence its colors bright

movement seems to be the key jack
too much ass plopping sends a signal
to the brain that you are ready to give up
and if you keep on truckin' in any description
of that phrase you will be ready to roll on down
that celestial highway when that exit appears

I know the feeling. Let me roam. Don't fence me in.

Amen!

so beautiful poem & rescue, s-trucking!!!

no answers
mind sighs
somebody listens

<* *>

i hear you
or i think i do
(that great term 'mile years')

wondering who that was, who flew across country
that you, this you
let's you and me and everyone else
pile into the cab and
we'll all take the road trip