It’s Conditional

its conditional, steven humphreys, poetry, poems, prose

You should know by now

It’s conditional

I mean,

everything is

if you think about it and

you are honest with me

you will admit everything has a price tag on it

we judge everything for its intrinsic value

for what it does for us

and for others

if we’re smart

we weigh all the costs

for example,

Isn’t it funny how people look like their animals?

Take for instance, people who own Pug Dogs…

need I explain any further on that one?

on that note,

I watched the TV news the other night


I saw this reporter I didn’t like something about

You know, we all detect something we don’t like about someone

even though we can’t quite put a finger on what that is

that’s wrong with that picture

that’s just the way people are

you, me

and brother standing way over there…

anyway, it seems reporters must have been rat finks all their lives

I think that’s probably a character trait required for that kind of job anyway

you know,

squealing on everyone they could

so they could suck up to someone

who was more powerful than we were

so they could get them to make our lives

more miserable than they already were

way back when

from kindergarten onward

through middle school

high school

even college

if you got that far

but you didn’t escape

they are in every job on earth

these suck A___S


behind almost every darkened corner

they squat

with eyes and ears wide open

nosing into everyone’s affairs

To continue,

this particular reporter had tiny squinty rat eyes

and, I could tell that he’d squeal on me if he had a chance


like some people look like their dogs

he looked like someone’s rat

although, I do love animal rats

I don’t like his kind at all…


little cold dark lifeless beady eyes

staring back at ya’

through that TV screen

You know, not to change the subject, but

trying to be a nice guy

versus actually being one is two different things

it’s the difference between trying and being

trying is phony and contrived

being is well,


nothin’s more honest than that

for example,

When I was a Plumber

I sure hated doing that crap

even though I was simply


 one for many years

that was my game

to buy my things

and eat

and make my retirement money


It was ‘soul killing’ for me

I traded a piece of my soul

I gave a huge chunk of my life away

for what?

to simply survive?

Hey, when I got divorced so many times

I lost all the money and possessions

so what was that all for?

I guess I did it for those women who are no longer in my life

Bye Steven

thanks for the free ride!

See ya’ later sucker!

back again to that job that sucked…

It wasn’t in my true nature to do that sort of work

I was never mechanical

in the meantime,

I’d learned to be a big mouth

drink beer

belch and have my

gut hang over my belt

and when I bent over

I had that illustrious plumber butt crack

those mechanical skills were learned

my natural mechanical ability

was kinda’ weak

lacking those essential mechanical abilities

made the job much harder for me to do

than the average plumbing joe

Now, it’s

no beer

lost all that blubber

no butt crack

didn’t lose my big fat mouth


every single day


poetry my way

on being Steve


This is so cool doing this

never had more fun

twisting and turning the words

except for twisting and turning a motorcycle

through a mountain road

I used to ride my Street Bike to the ‘Rock Store’

on Mulholland Highway halfway between Malibu and Calabasas

that was great!

about the most famous store in the world…

getting there was just as good

as being there

especially, going back again

and being there once more

riding through all those curves to Pacific Coast Highway

with my buddies

after we downed a few beers at that store…

I think there were about five of us

back then

that way

we stayed visible to the cars

I didn’t want to be smashed like a fly

like one of them stuck

on the back of a fly swatter

I never rode alone

when you ride

you always make friends

don’t forget that…

never ride alone

you don’t want to die that way!

I wonder what ever happened to all my old motorcycle buddies?

lost track of all of them

they may be alive

or dead

I will never know…

That was more than thirty some years ago

I miss the brotherhood of bikers

that brotherly love and bonding was there

men need to do man things together

it helps to keep the man in them alive and well

it can slip away

and you can lose your way as a man if you are not careful


and you won’t even realize it


until you feel like you are less of one

than you are now

you know,

men need to get man centered again

with time out with the boys

doin’ man things as a group

that comradery


don’t read GAYNESS into it

that’s not my reality

If I were gay, I would know by now

I’d come right out of the closet

and admit it

live and let live

it’s the age to do so

if that’s what you are…

I know you were thinking it

stay clear of that gay thing

cause’ some of us get the phobia

about it…

that Homophobia

it’s OK to be gay

even if I’m not…

so, go ahead if you are

that’s ok

it doesn’t hurt me…

anyway, paling around with the guys once in a while

keeps the manliness in men

I really miss it…

I mean riding that steel horse

with my bud’s

of course

 the BEER tasted good back then, too

but, I was much younger

I remember

the women weren’t there

they didn’t come along

we were all married

they were at home

most wives let their men do their thing

well, once in a while someone took their wife along

and, it seemed to kinda’ ruined things somewhat

then, we all had to act polite

you know how it is…

guys can’t be the same kind of guys

when the women come along

we all have to act different than we want to

we kind of turn into


and start acting way different

kissing the women’s asses

cause’ the women who always wanted to tag along tended to complain

and whine

maybe, they thought their men were cheating on them

they wanted to check out what they were doing

first hand

with their own eyes

because before, they might have visualized women lurking for their husbands

behind every tree…

you know, the ones who wear

pink string bikini’s with boob jobs who ride on the back of Harleys

flashing every guy they can

It made me sick

seeing some of the boys being so polite

so sickeningly so

to their wives

they turned into guys I didn’t even recognize

like they had this split personality or something

but, most of the women were

waiting for us men to return

when our asses were sore enough from riding over

hill and dale

they always knew we’d return

in one piece

once we had worn ourselves out enough through riding

and drinking


and finally came home when the sun went down hungry for something to eat because it was Sunday

and we had to get up early the next day to go to work

then, we had to be our regular selves

you know, the old pussy whipped guy

that lost his manhood once more

sucking up to that boss again

terrified to lose his job

and saying

‘Yes, dear’

when we got home from work exhausted dragging our asses back in the house

and, looking forward to their next ride to renew their manhood

I wonder if anyone has been divorced as many times as I have?

Poor guys…


It’s conditional

isn’t everything in life?


I’d say that the condition is…

If it isn’t fun

don’t do it

and if you are still doing it

either stop it

or make it fun

I’ll tell ya’

I’m workin’ on gettin’ another


It’s just that the one I have in mind is goanna need a little work

about $700 worth I’d say

putting it back together

It’s a 2001 Yamaha V-Star 1100

that someone took for a ride

crashing it up

it needs a little fixin’

I can feel it between my legs right now

and the wind blowing in my face

God, it’s fun to ride

Man, do I ever miss it!

you never get it out of your blood

once you ride

you’re hooked for life

when you see a biker ride on the freeway

you want to be him…

once a biker

always a biker

I recommend it


on condition

you have fun

doing it

if you loved your bicycle

you can ride a motorcycle in no time…

but, I sure as hell don’t want to get my ass maimed or killed on the thing

and you bet I’m goanna ride with a new bunch of motorcycle friends

it’ll be a mix of young and old


I’m goanna make my way back to the Rock Store

It’s ride to live

and live to ride

conditionally, of course


one more thing,

if you work in a crappy job

get out of it


4 thoughts on “It’s Conditional

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