Speed Demons and Other Deities of Motion

SETTING:  In a dimly lit café, the wood-paneled walls cradle secrets beneath the hum of low chatter and the clink of ceramic mugs. 
	      Autumn sunlight filters through a dusty window, casting splintered rays across forgotten tomes of philosophy, literature, and history. 
	      Six friends gather around a cluttered table, their conversation mingling with the rich aroma of coffee and swirling incense.

IMAGE:  A figure strides toward a radiant white effulgence, while a semi-viscous petroleum blob
        swerves unsteadily above, weaving through the air like a spectre.
         
The word “stop” has no place
in the reckless lexicon,
where cravings for speed ignite
a frenzy of acceleration—
their gospel is in roaring electrodes
yearning to spark.

"Slow down" is an out-dated expression
for the faint of heart.
Those who worship combustion
baptize themselves in octane,
seeking a strange ecstasy 
as engines scream.

With vehicles shrieking in top gear, 
and pistons hammering in relentless beats, 
they surge toward fictious finish lines.

With engines wailing, pistons hammering,
they surge toward fictitious finish lines,
bearing scars from countless collisions,
blasting horns in defiance—
they are disasters in motion,
destined for trash heaps.

With gas belching from scorched tailpipes
and smoke bleeding into the air,
they race toward oblivion,
hungry for the applause of chaos:
destruction becomes their legacy.


Soo:      (leaning forward, tapping the table in rhythmic insistence) You know, this isn’t 
          just about cars or road maniacs. It mirrors corporate ambition. Fortune 500 fever. 
	      Every executive is a racer, flooring the pedal. Why this relentless rush?

Jules:    (nodding, a half-smile playing on his lips) Exactly! The faster they race, the 
          less they see. It’s as if acceleration demands amnesia. In corporate sprints, 
          executives forget everything beyond their narrow focus.

Ellesha:  (grinning darkly) But there’s a twisted justice in this, isn’t there? A wicked 
          humor hiding in the shadows. After all, the grave is the ultimate equalizer.

Philyra:  (snapping back, fire in her eyes) Not equal enough! Prior to death, some find 
          peace while others languish. History reveals a cruel calculus. The poor and 
          the weak are forced to pay in blood, labor, and dignity for the follies of
          the rich and famous.

Ellesha:  (slightly shrugging, gaze turning distant) Yes, it appears that way, but we’re 
          only seeing a sliver of the whole. Maybe the universe corrects itself in ways 
          we’ll never grasp.

Andrei:   (slamming his fist on the table, scoffing with a mock-seriousness) That’s a 
          convenient philosophy! Such prattle is spineless! It allows us to sit idle 
          while road hogs and highway brigands exploit the vulnerable. We must firmly 
          brake against complacency!

Ning:    (softly, almost meditative) I think the author is writing about something bigger 
         than individual greed. This poem highlights how our obsession with motion has 
         become endemic. Speed isn’t just a habit; it’s our civilization’s heartbeat. 
         We worship momentum more than meaning. Everything has to move. Everything must scale.

Vidhya: (whispering, as flickers of light dance over her face)  All speed demons—corporate 
        or cosmic—share a common fate: an impending crash, a black swan that catches them 
        off guard. Kaput! It all comes to an end. Death or extinction is inevitable.


=====================================================================================
from _Let the waters be my witness: Messages about our watery world_ by T Newfields
SUMMARY:   Reflections on whether the relentless pursuit with speed is a pervasive 
           societal problem, and whether the inevitable leveling of death offers any comfort.
KEYWORDS:  compulsive driving, speed obsessions, traffic safety, compulsive drivers
            acceleration metaphors, philosophical reflections, cultural commentaries, 
            intersection of life and motion, existential inquiries

Author: T Newfields [Nitta Hirou / Huáng Yuèwǔ] (b. 1955)
Begun: 1996 in Shizuoka, Japan / Finished: 2025 in Shizuoka, Japan
Creative Commons License: Attribution. {{CC-BY-4.0}} Granted

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