So I just got done archiving some audio for a friend and thought about performing something in two weeks at the next guerrilla poetry insurgency, and I remembered “The Journey,” my one and only poem. I wrote it in the middle of Colorado and the photograph in the flash animation below was the area that inspired me. I originally published this poem on my old blog. Regardless, I am glad I ride a bike….
The Journey
by
Nikolas Schiller
Written 6/10/03
The ride of my life,
Equipped with airbags for strife,
The continuous movement of my mind,
Aggregated into a system that binds.
The journey to a new place,
The bright sight of a new face,
Choosing success over humiliating disgrace.
Dynamic digital dilemmas with auspicious analog answers,
Are moving past me faster than I can see,
Behind me is a magnificent memory monorail,
A silent, succinct ,sophisticated reminder that does not fail.
A straight line of thought, out of iron it was wrought.
Before me lies an 8 lane highway,
Full of cars that keep my mind at bay.
A smog of thoughts, a haze of choice,
A catalytic converter searching for a voice,
So I attempt to choose the best path I can see,
A mental HOV lane seems the best for me.
The ride of my life,
4 wheel drive over strife,
The movement of diverse minds,
Rebellion of that which binds.
The journey to a new place,
The magic of a new face,
Living my life at my own pace.
Watch me as I move past unleaded lives,
With brute diesel force I keep on driving and thriving,
Watch me fulfill my Honda Hybrid hopes,
Obtain high octane memories while living free.
Turn on cruise control,
Swerve past mental speed bumps or the occasional pothole,
And finally check my emissions.
They are my impact on the environment,
The collective result of my present and past intent.
And I’m wishin’ that every emission is a positive addition to the tumultuous global condition.
The journey is its 22nd year, Yet I stand here in fear,
It must be engine trouble, Triple A is near.
20 more years until I’m 42, Yet I know not what to do.
I need a compass, I need a map,
And most of all, I want to avoid the mental trap.
Maybe I’ll be a nomad (I think that would be rad),
Maybe this mental stage is just a fad,
Or worse my journey will end rather sad,
But with effervescent charm, charisma, wit, and love,
I know that I have a copilot from above.
This life is merely a journey, and I need not worry.
Be content, pay rent, try not to get mentally bent,
On where I’m going, or how my life is flowing.
Maybe I should buy a smart car,
Maybe I should continue my journey from afar,
Or become a star,
Yet I know this-
I need to bring out the SUV within me.
A positive sport utility vehicle for change.
See, I stand here in the shadow of the front range,
Ready to turn off cruise control, ready to feel whole.
This is journey of my life,
Now standard with infinite airbags for strife,
Movement of my mind,
that is beginning to step out of a system that binds
The final destination is unimportant,
The journey is all that counts.
Alas, my blinker is on, a rest stop is ahead.
The journey must go on pause, its time for bed.
I must begin again with a clear and resolute head.
