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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