the decadent man harms himself

releasing his life-blood

like a Lambo, self-inducing, puking, oil

the race-track goes in circles

the other cars, do the weekend thing

and the bat-out-of-hell can’t shift into second

there is nothing, more thrilling, than when the driver decides

to change his engine

and leave behind broken parts

to go one speed


All foolishness, falls behind

like clowns, who must entertain themselves

and there is no check, in his reality

no checkered flag

only the indomitable ride

that reaches into his mental space, and won’t back down.

If you’ve ever had a good day, where everything went right

try being in a race-car, that won’t slow down

it doesn’t chill, it doesn’t second-guess itself

with overwhelming speed

its parts, are coming apart

the driver can’t go the pace of traffic, anymore

it’s too late

he went this speed, once, and it scared him


is an inner world, of tightly held authentic feelings

and when expressed, they are never understood

“Why does he have to go so fast?”

“We’re all headed to the same place.”

But that’s not true.

You’ve gotten used to the speed limit,

from time to time

you go over

to feel something,

to break the rules

but the man who goes fast, is not stepping outside the law

he is making his own, without limits.

How is it, that a volcano can rest for millennia

and erupt, like 100,000 nuclear bombs?

What triggered, its chain reaction?

Was it one more unbearable slow conversation?

Was it perfection, without passion?

Was it the passage of time, without discovering a passage?

Going fast, will destroy you

but it is unlike slow self-destruction

that causes one to stop and say, “What’s the point?”

Going fast, suggests, there is no point

but speed is what we need

a blur, a conquest, looking back, at the pack

that doesn’t stand a chance.

I always thought I would make another run at it

when I was wise

but the old man doesn’t have the energy of being young

it’s too late to think his way to victory.

Magic, a hope, a belief, in something

that can’t be seen

the rooftops of skyscrapers

his engine, that wants the heights of performance


the greatest high, if you’ve ever been there

there aren’t many chances

less than two eruptions

in 10,000 years

so, ride the drive

like a bat-out-of-hell

if you got it.

Leave a Reply


You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture


Facebook photo


Connecting to %s