And so I’m crowned.

The Shah of my land,
The power of my father,
And for all his glory,
I shall remain devout.

These naggering old fools,
Intelligent and wise?
A stone could outwit the West.

To force them out,
To cause disruption,
I think not.

To hell with their policies,
I know my people,
They simply know not themselves.

Power hungry bastards,
They won’t take my glory,
And they won’t take our name.

Ignoring them all together?

A good plan,
And a confusing one at that,
The manipulative diddering old farts,
I’ll return the offer.

Delays, delays, I need delays,
Too much pressure for one man,
And now they’re allies,
Scared of a little fight?
I’m certainly not,
Bring on your forces,
Bring them in,
We are mighty warriors…

And so I’m crowned.

The Shah of my land,
The power of my father,
And for all his glorious days,
I shall remain devout,
My blood is his.

I’ll drink to health,
For I’m not an illiterate,
And yet I pray to god,
And am told to pray more.

And now,
After all we’ve done,
They quarrel with their own?
A colony of bloody vultures,
Glugging back their victory.

I may not be as wise as them,
But my time has not come!
Yet I’m tired?

I think I’ll rest.

You take control of the reigns,
I’m tired.

Vitality found me on this hot spring day,
Although my apathy had made an attempt to resist,
The sun won the debate with its glorious rays.

Thoughts estranged to the will of my body;
I ignored my head and got going.
Packed my board and set off for the park.

This day was like no other,
And though the ambience of the place was filled with teenage angst,
I couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter.

It’s funny that such a small thing can be so great,
A flow that feels natural.
Free.

It’s difficult to explain to others.
Rolling forward after all is hardly grounds for a metaphor,
Yet one has to ponder why people board every day.

Of course, it must be a mixture of things,
Just rolling forward is nothing to boast about,
And it’s certainly “not where it’s at”

So I’ll just spurt a few of the standards in boarding
The formentioned freedom,
The progression and learning,
The air rushing past,
The excitement of speed
The smell of cut grass,
And also the weed.

But the problem comes when I try to explain.
Not everyone skateboards for one reason,
And so inadvertently skateboarding makes many impressions on people.

There’s the kids that are finding their feet,
Easily led astray and open to the subjection of the “big boys”,
Which takes me to the second kind.

The skateboarder that has a reputation to make,
Fighting for the attention by replacing wit with actions,
And always going that step further.
Respectable.

Then we have the guys who skate for looks,
The ones that do it for the banter,
And the image – self loathing and/or moping.

And then there’s the old school kind,
The subject of my poem,
And the real origin of what skateboarding is about for me.

They tend to be the older lads,
Flocking to the local park for a break from their work,
Or whatever may be bumming them out at the time.

Skateboarding to them, to me, is about going forward,
Life passes by with a blink of one’s eye,
A depressing reality and a complete party stopper,
So finding a way to break free of the loop is important.

Think of skateboarding as poetry, if you will,
Pushing on, going forward, progressing, freedom,
Loving, enjoying, and feeling that this day was a good day.

It’s about letting loose all your worries,
It’s about focusing on something that’s not governed,
Not controlled by the man.

It’s about being you,
Helping yourself,
To enjoy your life.

There is something special about a skateboard,
After reading what I have to say,
It’s easy to realise that skateboarding,
Is more than you originally thought,
And I pray that in the future, you can show more respect,
And more appreciation of why skateboarders and skateboarding,
Is worth it.

So go to your local shop,
Spend a few hard earned on a skateboard,
And give it a try,
I promise, you will feel…