Follow the Sun

She told me 

The sun must set to rise 

And I believed her 

I searched for her in every sunset

But I was so lost in my search 

That I didn't realize 

That the light on her porch was 

Slowly and steadily growing dim

Until one day it went out 

And I was alone again

I cannot look at sunsets anymore 

Now that I'm back to being nomadic 

I follow the sun

For tomorrow it could rain

Maybe she was the one 

Lennon was singing about 

Maybe I should've known better 

But although the sun has set now 

Tomorrow it'll rise again

Tomorrow I'll get up

Dust myself off 

And continue

For both of us this time 

It's what she would want 

The Bilge Master

A Monster Problem

I hear you have a monster problem

And that the bastard lurks 

In your head 

Under your bed 

In your dreams 

And controls your life too

I hear you have a monster problem 

That's messing you up

Stealing your joy

Making you numb

Uncomfortably

I hear you went to the roof one day

Intending to let the monster win

But it didn't and that

Is what matters the most

I hear you have a monster problem mister 

But tell me this

Is it really gonna win?

Is it?

Is it?

Is it?

The Bilge Master 

Whorls of Worlds

Harry Potter opened a door 

That Tolkien held the key to

Growing up in Middle Earth was special

Growing into an adult with Harry was phenomenal

And then I discovered Dream and Despair 

Destiny and Death

And of course Door

When Shadow crossed my path

I was already a grown man

Familiar with Asimov's Foundation

And yet I found a home in speculative fiction

By the time I'd read Farenheit 451

I knew it was the temperature at which paper burns 

But seeing them not put out fires 

Was a novelty to me

I sought mystery and found baffling ones 

I returned to Tolkien, no longer 10 but not yet 50

In between I fell for Annabeth Chase and for Leo

And I've enjoyed discovering the world of Miamas as well

Fantastic beasts and kind ogres await you

On this journey that you make 

Gods will forsake you, humans will surprise you

An elven city in the woods awaits you

With nymphs to serenade you

So although you're an adult now 

Fantasy will always be a part of you

Butterflies and Hurricanes

The title is an amazing song by the progressive rock band Muse and it happened to be playing right now on my phone.

It brought back memories of playing the reboot of Need For Speed Most Wanted and driving an Aston Martin into the evening sunset!

This is going to be about buses. Yellow ones you got on to go to school, blue ones you got on to go to college. AC ones that took you to the airport and the ones that arrive out of nowhere and offer you a ride when you're getting soaked in the rain. 

The conductor screams the stops out. The driver coaxes a shift out of the inevitably noisy gearbox and honks twenty five to the dozen because he can.

Buses are hardcore. Sometimes they remind you of ballads by Passenger or Elton John. Other times they can be as death metal as Cradle of Filth. 

Buses are always varied and they simulate a lot of senses. You have to use your eyes well to keep a lookout on the road, you have to keep an ear open for the conductor calling out your stop. So much to do on a bus.

I miss the crowded buses though. One hand on your wallet pocket, one hand to maintain balance and two fingers holding the fare. Will we ever travel like that again? 

A bus is a paradox. It isn't comfortable but sometimes it's both comfortable and uncomfortable. 

Did Schrodinger come up with his cat on a bus?

The Bilge Master