While my responsibility drives,
Shouting obscenities at passersbys,
I’m in the back seat, window down
Air surfing with my hand.
I’m ball dancing through a window,
With a twist, our cupped hands made fist,
We waltz through glass shards shimmering
Air treading on obliviousness.
I’ve got mud on my helmet, bugs in my teeth,
Built a pyramid of cars named Mona,
Tearing monster truck tires up that staircase,
Past heaven, into outer-space.
Forget coins in my eyes, currency is yet to be invented in this fantasy,
The gate keeper best get himself a dictionary before the jury arrives,
I’m a silver tongued lawyer for my soul,
Grifting for just a few extra lives.
Art = Mike Messenger
Poem = Mike Messenger
Faith regardless of incalculable odds…
Hopes the most beneficial delusion I believe in,
I’m surprised how often I surprise myself.