The Workday Stray Way

Some way

that always loves a walk;

that spark of will

that lets us step away,

and nobly salvage

a scrap of our day

Gathering purpose

with every stride,

our covert rebellion

a source of pride.

Living for the journey;

For these moments are fleeting.

The fire stays alive

when the soul takes a beating. 

Viking Diaper Skills

day worn and battle weary

returning from the fight after dark

even tantrums and night soil

is a hearty welcome home

life messes

a blessed test

to slay and bleed

and be the best

the line in the sand

the blood, iron and land

you can’t save your people

without conquering

the mini van

mastering each day anew

to be the stoic, strong and few 

Battleships of Union Street

aglow in the night

and early morn

blaze of light rumbling by

flushed with bustling humanity

vessel for the warrior poets

out to scrap for daily bread,

home for those

touched by the mark

with dreams dancing dark

in their troubled heads

roving land ships

loaded with joy pirates

teeming with mind crime galley slaves

soldiers in the hand-to-mouth

soulgrinding slow motion suicide

and poison pen samurai

ready for the best defense

somewhere shuffling home

is our tragic poetic overlord

looking for his children

and planning 

the next artistic holy war

Engine

the promise of future fire

in the night-ripe sky

burns its mark

on our slumber

the pull

to be that knowing passenger

feeling the alien hum

and know the power

unleashed

to throw the dice

and risk your neck,

the cusp and taste

            of death

lets you truly live