Tag Archives: movie

The Mileage

2 Jul



1 Jul

“The fact is we can only love what we know personally. And we cannot know much. In public affairs, in the rebuilding of civilization, something less dramatic and emotional is needed, namely tolerance.”
~E. M. Forster


Drama, drama, everywhere
We sit ‘fore TVs and we stare
And watch the actors all exaggerate

Reactions to their dilemmas
Our real world drama is because
These make-believers amplify their hate

They’re given gold awards when they
Animatedly convey
Their over-the-top responses to pain

And those who have no reaction
Fail to garner much attraction
They’re “bad actors” because they do refrain

From whining, crying, being weak
It’s tears and rage that we do seek!
And in real life when that pain comes about

We mimic all those great actors
When dealing with our detractors
As we shout, scream, bellow, argue and pout

The Warrior’s a different breed
No actor on TV does lead
How they react when challenges arise

To get upset and let top blow
Like Nicholson and De Niro
Is lowly, weak, pathetic and unwise

The Warrior knows full well that
Such drama in real world falls flat
It does not lead to Oscar winning scenes

It only leads to selfishness
To ignorance, to ache and stress
And so they leave it for the TV screens

They calm their nerves and steady face
They take deep breathes, remember grace
And they deliver their words with great poise

While all the normals imitate
The drama that they think’s so great
On TV but in real world does destroy


Road Warrior

8 Sep

It seems like TV, movies and the celebrities who star in them garner the most amount of attention these days, and while a lot of it is schlock, there are still some movies, shows and characters who we can draw inspiration from in them. It’s been a while since I’ve done some pop culture poetry, so for the next while I’ll be concentrating on some of the most legendary TV & movie characters who follow the Way of the Warrior in their own unique ways. My pop culture poetry is always meant to be a moment in time for these characters, sometimes during things occurring to them on-screen, sometimes off. The following poem, “Road Warrior” is a day in the life of Officer Max Rockatansky, better known as “Mad Max,” in between the first and second Mad Max movies (please, no Mel Gibson trashing here, let’s be sure to separate the actor from the character). With a new movie coming out next year, “Fury Road,” this will shed some light on the character for those unfamiliar with the leather-clad ex-cop, and also hopefully serve as inspiration for those Nomadic Warriors who feel lost in the desert wasteland.


“I’m the guy who keeps Mr. Dead in his pocket.” ~Mad Max

Road Warrior

He stands beside his beat up car and scans across the land
He whistles and his mangy mutt turns to hear his command
“Come ‘ere” he says, his Aussie accent still quite prevalent
The dog sniffs at the ground but as usual, there’s no scent

Much of the world has been washed of colour and of smell
The oil wars have turned the outback into desert hell
Most of the world’s population burned up in the strikes
Or have been torn apart by the renegade’s blades and spikes

But here and there a few survived, like this lone nomad cop
Whose tarnished badge says “Maintain Right,” but somewhere right did stop
When rules and regulations fell and it was up to each
And every man to follow all that they in past did preach

Very few did still adhere to the code they had written
By the scourge of selfishness most of them had been bitten
Anything it took to just survive another day
They’d lie, they’d steal, they’d cheat, abandon, hurt, forsake, betray

They had taken all that he had, a wife and a small boy
He thought that they had broken him, but there was other joy
Not as beautiful as what he had once in the past
But if it had some guzzoline, he could make it go fast

And fast was what he needed to get away from them all
His black on black machine speeded away while world did fall
While all the crazies and the cooks and crooks and monsters burned
The Warrior put pedal down and drove off unconcerned

He drove both day and night and scavenged for the guzzoline
All he had left in the world was this V8 machine
Eventually the world rose up and tried to take that too
But the road had become his battle ground that got him through

The road was different now, he was prepared for what they brought
Never on it would he be in a suit of white caught
Now adorned in tough black leather with a shoulder guard
For when they did attack through window, he would not be scarred

The double-barreled shotgun which still worked most of the time
His new-age judge and jury for this new era of crime
And when he found himself drifting much too far down the road
A mangy, loving mutt on him was randomly bestowed

He found it while he rummaged through a ghost station for fuel
To leave if there to starve to death he knew would have been cruel
And in that moment he was grateful to that mangy mutt
For making him remember that his door had not been shut

On what was right and to maintain it, so he took it in
It was one of the few things left that made the mad cop grin
That and sound of engine roaring in the last V8
Only one purpose in life; to maintain going straight

They came and tried to take away what little he still had
But now was different, he had become hard, intense and mad
They tried and tried and every time they took not one small inch
Nothing that they threw at him could make the mad cop flinch

Because unlike most others, he had chosen to adapt
He modified his morals where others had simply snapped
He made them work within the world in which he had been thrust
And wasn’t bothered by some scars, some rips and dents and rust

He took whatever they did throw and still maintained his course
No regret, no hesitation, no doubt, no remorse
On he drove to maintain what he felt to him was right
A Road Warrior in high gear, searching for the next fight


Text Addiction

2 Jun

“Why is it drug addicts and computer aficionados are both called users?”  ~Clifford Stoll

Text Addiction

The theatre lights start to dim
The usher goes out on a limb
And says out loud “Please, cell phones off”
You hear a couple people scoff

The warning screen comes up and reads
“Please, cell phones off” and film proceeds
The lights go out except for screens
Still lit up from a couple teens

And twenty-something people plus
Some older who still do discuss
With friends not there through both their thumbs
Eventually a comment comes

“Will you please stop that?” someone calls
The texter covers phone and stalls
But after a few minutes, they
Continue to then text away

Let me delve into their mind
Expose the person who is blind
To many people who surround
These texting people do astound

They do not seem to realize
How their lit screens distract the eyes
The theatre screen should be the
Only lit picture that we see

But when you leave your cell phone on
Our eyes wander and are then drawn
To their selfish little text chatter
That to all others does not matter

It can wait two hours ‘till
The movie’s runtime does fulfill
If someone is unable to
Go without texting for a few

Hours, they really should admit
How they’re unable to commit
That they do lack all self-control
And depend on cell to console

When asking these folks to please cease
I do not bark, but say with peace
“It’s shameful how undisciplined
You are” which makes them quite chagrinned

Because they’ve heard the usher say
And saw the message on display
And while a hundred other men
And women shut off with “amen”

These few users could not let go
Turn cell phone off, enjoy the show
They are elsewhere while hitting keys
And all they create is unease

It’s selfishness I don’t abide
So my true feelings I don’t hide
So many paid their hard earned cash
To watch the film, not cell screen’s flash

So if my first warning’s unheard
The Warrior in me is stirred
I will get up and ask them to
Give me the cell or say adeui

‘Cause everyone else just complains
Everyone in seat remains
But one in every hundred stands
Sticks out their hand and then commands

That their selfishness stops right now
No more of it will we allow
Go outside if you want to text
Or usher’s powers will be flexed

Half the time the texters stop
They turn it off and let it drop
The other half, the texter can’t
Break their addiction so they rant

They’ll call you names and be offended
That on them you have descended
Completely blind to why you spoke
They’ll tell you how you’re a big joke

But guess what? Now they’re feeling frazzled
And movie won’t leave them dazzled
The other half will stand and leave
So either way, you do achieve

Exactly what you set out to
A text addiction broken through
So when you see those screens still lit
Don’t grumble quietly and sit

Stand up, walk over, get in faces
Close enough to see their braces
Jar them out of that machine
‘Cause they are lost within that screen

Oblivious to world around
The paying patrons who surround
So be one of the few who go
The extra mile to let them know

What they are doing is quite weak
Their lack of self-control critique
Regardless of what they say back
They know the discipline they lack


Who Are You Wearing, Warrior?

27 Feb

“Expensive clothes are a waste of money.” ~Meryl Streep

Who Are You Wearing, Warrior?

The red carpet gets rolled out and
The stars come out in force
And first thing interviewers ask
Is for them to endorse

The company that made their clothes
As if it has a bearing
On anything that matters when they
Ask “Who are you wearing?”

The stars are often polite and
They try to play along
Hugo Boss,” “Armani” and “Versace
Same old song

The irony is that they choose
To ask the question “Who?”
As if the sewer’s name implies
More admiration’s due

The Warrior looks on at all
The glitz and pageantry
And only dresses, jackets, pants
And shoes are what they see

The question is not “Who?” but “What?”
Because it doesn’t matter
Who created all these clothes
Which cost so much to flatter

What did you do to earn praise?”
What fuels your burning fire?”
What are you most passionate
About, what did inspire?”

Sixty seconds wasted on
The shallow subject of
Things the rich spend money on
Instead of what they love

Further perpetrating the
Misleading attitude
That “who” you wear decides precisely
How you will be viewed

I tip my hat in respect to
The Warriors who chose
To stand apart and not care how
They’re judged based on their clothes

For everyone who utters things
Like “What an ugly dress!”
Or “What a boring suit” or “That
Outfit failed to impress”

The Warrior has weeded out
The superficial sheep
People who would rather keep it
Shallow than look deep

“Who am I wearing?” they ask
Right back with a sly smile
“Many designers made what you see
Let us compile:

I’m wearing Peace and Fortitude
Resolve, Courage and Strength
Intensity and Patience, as you see
It’s perfect length

A little Focus and Balance
Thrown in there at the base
And with some trim of Selflessness
And Love as well and Grace

That may not be the answer that
The interviewer wants
But names of designers are not
What the Warrior flaunts

There’s only one designer of
The ensemble they wear:
Wisdom made what you see here
Dress label? I don’t care”


Have Book – Will Travel

2 Oct

Have Book – Will Travel

Feeling bored? Feel like you need
To take a trip somewhere?
Here’s a tip that doesn’t call
For flying through the air

Crack open a book and lose
Yourself within its pages
Many different worlds have been
Constructed through the ages

Oh, I know, you’re one of those
Who doesn’t like to read
Your lack of patience and craving
For TV does impede

But how often can you tell me
You’ve been completely drawn
Into all those TV shows
That only seem to spawn

Commercials for all the things
On which you’re pushed to spend?
Not to mention plot lines that
Don’t ever seem to end

And how easy is it to be
Transported elsewhere if
You’re in a movie theatre
And all you hear is sniff

And coughing, chatting, rustling
And chomping of popcorn?
All of these distractions leaving
You just feeling worn

Grab a book and crack it open
Sit down and breathe deep
Yes, I know the first few pages
Always seem so steep

But just like with anything else
If you can get momentum
You’ll be amazed at what that boring
Book will soon become

Despite not having flashing lights
Or any blaring tunes
Soon you’ll realize the best
Way to spend afternoons

Is not sitting in front of your
TV with mouth agape
Far off look in your eyes while
You’re hoping for escape

Only in the pages of
A good book will you be
Whisked away to other places
That you’d never see

Because the pages call you to
Be creative as well
To picture people and places
Imagine and foretell

It’s true when they say “less is more”
And most would not dispute
When a movie’s adapted
It isn’t as astute

As the book it was based on
Because they’ve taken out
All of our imagination
And put in throughout

Blaring sounds and S-F-X
And other baby food
Meant to spoon feed our senses
And keep all our eyes glued

Grab your remote and turn off
The lights and all the noise
Settle down with a good book
And the tale it deploys

Let your own imagination
Take you for a ride
Let the prose be your path and
Let author be your guide

Use those brain cells, interact
With stories you take in
Don’t just sit and vegetate
Because that does wear thin

Eventually you’ll feel boxed in
Because you’ve seen it all
Never having any say
Because of that fourth wall

But with a book you’re in control
Of what you hear and see
Not just shackled to the couch
But far away and free

The reason most enjoy the book
More than the movie is
Because the reader has more say
With books than with show biz

The reader can decide how someone
Would say certain lines
The reader is responsible
For clothes and set designs

The reader is empowered and
That’s why we all get lost
In the pages of the novel
And why they exhaust

Because we all participate
In the tale being told
Invested in the characters
As the myth does unfold

So turn off your TV and grab
A good old fashioned book
Or load one on your iPad, Kindle
Computer or Nook

And have a safe journey to where
The story will take you
Bon voyage, auf wiedersehen
Aloha, ciao, adieu


Actually Serious

30 Sep

Actually Serious

There is a phrase that I have heard
So many times before
Said to me by folks who didn’t
Think I’d do the chore

Of going through with plans I laid
Of putting in the sweat
And blood and tears required to
Get all that I do get

“Wow,” they often start and look
Astonished and amazed
And then all say the same thing as
Both of their eyebrows raise

“You’re actually serious about
This new thing you are doing”
Surprised that after talking big
Someone is now pursuing

Something that they said they were
Going to put their time
And effort and their passion in
And maybe drop a dime

Or two or three to fund the thing
To get it off the ground
To make it more than just a figment
Floating all around

Inside their head where other thoughts
Pop in and out all day
I’d really like to know why more
Don’t do the things they say

I’d like to know just why it is
That the human mind boasts
So much about aspirations
Then it simply coasts

And lets the seconds tick by as
No effort is put in
Why it’s not able to stick
From start all way to ‘fin’

“Yes,” I’ve said to many folks
“I am quite serious
To say you’ll do something then not
Is deleterious”

That’s a big word that just means
It’s harmful to your health
Talking big with no action
Will just impede your wealth

And I’m not talking bank account
I’m talking wealth of peace
Of fortitude and focus and
Resolve, they’ll all decrease

Every time you talk big but
Don’t back it up by being
Actually serious about
That thing, you’re guaranteeing

That next time an idea pops in
Your head, there’s a bit less
Of a chance that your new venture
Will ever progress

The reason I can say, “Yes I’m
Serious about this book”
Is because I took it just as
Serious as I took

My TV show, my feature film
And music videos
Followed through with every single
Thing I did propose

‘Cause talk is cheap and anyone
Can say they’ve got a goal
Only those quite serious
Can make that idea roll


Making It

24 Sep

Making It

I had a chit-chat recently
With someone who had heard
That I do some work with movies
Which caused them to be spurred

To give me some advice on how
To become a success
Without having any knowledge
Of my field they did guess

That since I write and make movies
The only thing to do
Is to move to Los Angeles
And watch success ensue

Several topics came to mind
While this fool tried to teach
That fame and wealth are the two goals
For which I should now reach

To say he was a fool may seem
A bit harsh on my part
But it’s a great word to describe
Someone who isn’t smart

Dictionary defines ‘fool’ as
Someone who’s weak-minded
One who lacks judgement or sense
Someone who has been blinded

I asked this fellow, “What is fame?”
And his response told me
All he pictured was his name
Flashing on a marquee

I asked him “What is fortune?” and
It was clear that he thought
Wealth is based solely upon
The money that you’ve got

I asked him one last thing and that’s
“What’s happiness to you?”
It seemed to be a question that
Came right out of the blue

Once again he hadn’t thought
About where his joy lies
A fool who’s let other folks say
What happiness implies

That it comes from “making it”
From being top of class
That it’s based on accolades
And riches you amass

People like this fellow here
Should take a moment and
Think for themselves and forsake
All other people’s brand

Of success and “making it”
And come up with their own
One that defines happiness
For them and them alone

Do not strive for what the others
Tell you to strive for
Conventional accomplishments
Are ones you should ignore

Your purpose here is not just to
Win awards and get rich
Your purpose is to do the work
And other lives enrich

You do not have the same purpose
As any other person
Going after someone else’s goals
Just makes joy worsen

Think about just how unique
You are and do not fall
Into someone else’s goals
Which are defined too small

Head up, chest out and say loud
“That doesn’t work for me!”
I have no wish to see my name
Flashing on a marquee

I do not need my films to be
Seen by millions of fans
I do not need a flashy red
Carpet premiere at Cannes

I do not need to rub elbows
With Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt
I do not need a horde of wealth
To say that I’ve “made it”

And I don’t need the advice of
A fool who hasn’t made
The effort to learn of my craft
Except for what it’s paid

“Making it” for me is something
That is day to day
When the sun has set is when
I look back and survey

Did I give all of myself
To be my very best?
Did I employ patience and
Courage in every test?

Did I push myself as far
As my body could go?
Did I make an effort to
In some way try to grow?

Did I let go of things that
Did threaten to upset?
Did I never once complain
About some pain or sweat?

I don’t need to be in L.A.
New York or Toronto
To say I’ve “made it” anymore
Because of this I know:

Regardless of what ground’s beneath
My feet at present time
Every day I’ve “made it” when
I’ve completed my climb

So to the fool I spoke with, “Thanks”
But I don’t need advice
From someone who believes that fortune
And fame will suffice

Because it’s very clear to me
By watching those who do
Even though they’ve “made it” they just
Haven’t got a clue

They got what other people told them
That they had to get
But somehow they’re still miserable
Stressed out and quite upset

I’ll trade that any day for all
The peace and grace I’ve got
By straying from that tired course
And making my own plot


A Little Help

12 Sep

In appreciation of all of the people who have recently reblogged, shared and spread the word about my writing:

A Little Help

There was a wise man who once sang
Of the means to his ends
He harmonized, “I’ll get by with
A little help from my friends”

There was another sage who had
A “Message” to get home
The line that stuck out most to me:
“I’m nothing on my own”

These brilliant men achieved success
But would have come up short
If they did not have all their friends
To strengthen and support

Now most of us will only think
That means when someone moves
Lifting heavy furniture
And everything that proves

But I think that there’s more to it
It’s in the fine details
Little things we overlook
Picks who succeeds and fails

Moments that were spared so that
We could provide a hand
Even though we were “busy”
Promoting our own brand

A weekday night out at the club
To see a singing pal
Hold a disc release party
And help boost their morale

Taking a minute to call
The local radio
And telling them your friend’s new tune
On the airwaves should go

Grabbing lunch at your friend’s diner
Instead of some franchise
That has over a billion served
And doesn’t need more buys

Picking up a copy of
The book that your friend wrote
And not just that, but telling others
Helping to promote

Spreading word about the talent
That your friends possess
Not just telling other friends
But going to the press

How many have called the news
Or written to a station?
And how many were too “busy”
Planning next vacation?

Just seems to me that most people
Spend just far too much time
On themselves to be able
To help another’s climb

That’s why it’s so good to see
When some creative folks
Go out of their own way to gather,
Influence and coax

Other people who come out
And support their friend’s act
Just a little help from friends
And success will attract


Perfecto’s Vault

30 Aug

Perfecto’s Vault

There once was an artist whose name
Reflected the work that he did
“Perfecto” was his name because
Imperfection is what he forbid

He worked as an artist and sculptor
Musician and filmmaker too
A writer, a poet, a dancer
Creative he was, through and through

But the problem was that young Perfecto
Just never could get things quite right
He wanted them perfect, and so
He worked on them all day and night

But Perfecto could never get works
To ever be without some flaws
“It has to be perfect to gain
The audience’s big applause!”

And so he kept tweaking and tweaking
But never could get it perfect
“It has to be just how I want it!
This artwork of me does reflect!”

And after way too much fine-tuning
Of it he eventually got sick
And so rather than unveil and let
A few of his viewers nitpick

He took it way down to his basement
And threw it into his steel vault
Along with all his other works
That had some sort of tiny fault

He slammed shut the door of the vault
And began to think of his next piece
Never once thinking it too
Would make his vault’s contents increase

Years later, when he was much older
And tried to store one more away
The vault’s door exploded wide open
And out spilled all of its cache

There he lay buried in pieces
That used to seem like they were flawed
But where once he’d been irritated
Now the old man was just awed

The years had done something to his eyes
No longer did he see the specks
All he saw was how amazing
Were all his abandoned projects

The joy and the wonder he got
Had suddenly made him admit
Perfecto had been very selfish
To think all his work was unfit

He understood there in that moment
Not everyone sees things the same
What one person thinks is imperfect
Another might loudly exclaim:

“I love it! It’s awesome! Fantastic!
I really enjoyed all your work!
Thank you for sharing it with me
And bringing to my face a smirk!”

And so Perfecto sat and cried
‘Cause all of his passion and talent
Lay on the floor of this dark basement
Because he had not been more gallant

To not care what others would think
About the work he had created
Drowning in work he now loved
That for silly reasons he had once hated

The end