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It's just Another Test

Updated on September 13, 2013

It’s Just Another Test

The thermometer says,

It’s one of those days.

There will be little comfort,

From a shy sun’s rays.

.

I can hear a soft call,

To venture out,

And being alive,

Means to remove all doubt.

.

The Old Toll Road? Elk Mountain?

Craggy Gardens? Caesar’s Head?

Are they calling for more grit?

Or “bring out your dead”?

.

From Wayah Bald,

To beyond Winter Green,

The tarmac, my tires, my thoughts,

Are solid and clean.

.

The frozen icy dust,

Joins more frigid air,

Making wire bristles,

Of all facial hair.

.

Living large on the edge,

Requires opening the throttle.

And drinking popsicles,

From a frozen water bottle.

.

And through these foggy cobwebs,

I still see,

Other frozen cyclists,

Frozen solid just like me.

.

It’s a cold burn on the face,

The hands, toes, the knees.

The lungs sort out the crystals,

The heart refuses to freeze.

.

Perhaps near Beauty Spot,

On Iron Mountain or Carver’s Gap,

I could take in some carbs,

While thinking about a nap.

.

But now the softest voice,

Is suggesting a bit of rest.

“Go back to sleep, my love,

It’s just another test.”

.

.

~Micky Dee~

09-13-13

.

One Day And A Wake-up

Is there life after death and taxes?

Is there any reason to continue?

Could there be another world?

Are is it the same old venue?

.

Do I ever cross your mind?

You type on a keyboard just like mine.

Have you missed me at all?

I’d just like to see you drink a glass of wine.

.

I’m just here trying to see,

If there is life inside of me.

It puzzles me. I grasp at straws.

I tried to be all the man I could be.

.

There’s just a coldness now.

There’s nobody now, to miss me.

Nobody now to hold my arm, my hand, my head.

Nobody to ever kiss me.

.

It all came full circle.

Time has eroded all my ambitions.

All of my aims and desires,

Have come to no fruition.

.

So take the blood from my veins.

So take the air from my chest.

Take the sound and visions.

Take my dreams of love and all the rest.

.

It’s five o’clock somewhere.

There’s joy somewhere.

The world calls me out once more,

To only reiterate that there is no-one to care.

.

It’s just more ridicule to entertain the inane.

Is there not another position to sequester?

The multitude speaks cold and trite.

After all, I’m just the court jester.

.

~Micky Dee~

09-12-13

.

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    • Dim Flaxenwick profile image

      Dim Flaxenwick 3 years ago from Great Britain

      Your poetry is awesome, yet you sound so, so lonely.

      I guess the best poetry and the best country songs come out of a little sadness.

      Thanks for this great hub!!!

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