think peace ride safe

I david jarvis assert my moral right as the author of the following free verse poem. dec 2021.

Bike Adelaide bbq2 near halifax street and east terrace.
Strawberries were nice and juicy,

Rissoles had lovely flavour,

Potatoes decently crunchy

Potato salad wonderfully creamy.

Wooden bench and wooden table,

Birds picking through the grass for their meals,

Criterium roadies arrived by riding east along Halifax street,

For a while I went bare feet!

BBQ facilities worked just fine,

Our wine went down quite decently,

I’d not been to the big smoke very recently,

The initial train ride down,

left me feeling like a clown,

As the sensory overload of the first locomotion journey

in twenty three years reminded me of time tied to a gurney.

I’d been detained in the old royal adelaide hospital overnight

for suicidal risk, and I woke up and asked,

“I need some fresh air, can I sit under a tree?”


“Please can I sit under a tree for ten minutes just to wake up.”


Then 6 men jumped me and tied me to that gurney and the staff

isolated me totally inside for 3 full days, no sun, no sky, no reason why.

81 Flinders street is where Matt the Albino died in the mid 90’s,

A bike courier, i poorly trained, for I too was untrained in training,

Matt come out of one asphalt road, onto another asphalt road,

and was struck by a van driver.

Matt died at the scene, his blood was washed clean

off the asphalt by the firey’s,

Helmet was worn, didn’t naffing matter,

Struck so hard his brain was shattered.

Poor van driver didn’t even notice, was a citizen who caught him later on
Franklin street.

“Hey mate, you’ve hit a cyclists.”

“What the f…? I didn’t hear a thing!”

“It’s ok driver you didn’t do anything wrong.”

sorry mate I didn’t see you.

The vannie quit couriering that day,

so did Matt.

I never trained another bike courier again,

but bike couriered on again and again.

45 hours a week 50 weeks of the year,

twenty thousand kilometres annually in the square mile

and it broke me, it truly broke me,

I thought of death again and again,

as I couldn’t avoid the spot of Matts’ stain.
We just want to work fairly,

To eat, to drink, to pay for shelter,

To provide for our families.
So for the rich ones envelopes,

with their thousands and millions of dollars of paperworked letters,

to be delivered efficiently, quickly, cheaply by


I smashed my elbow on the grass and you saw no injury at all.

I rode my bike on the grass and showed you all the farce.

Asphalt, concrete, hardness, and speed all kill and maim.
A deadly mixture that everyone injust is blind to,

roads kill, not because of poor driving, but because roads are designed to go fast

on asphalts so hard it lasts and lasts.

Hardness of road is death and injury so clearly those that don’t see that are utterly blind.

You try it bike adelaidians, smash your elbow on the concrete,
Walk on Asphalt with bare feet for a kilometre.
See how far you can walk the talk, or just notice more talk talk talk.

Pragmatism and paradigm, lol,

A bike stand does not go on the high side upon a slope,

If you want a steady parked bike, put the stand on the low side,

That’s called leverage, physics so old it is before Newton,

before Gallileo who was cursed by dogma.
Examine the triangle shape of a tent, that one is heaven sent.

Social psychology is this – if you make the asphalt path the main option,

then mainly that is the option they’ll utilise.

And that focusses the whole active transport industry into one roaded river,

raging all along in a straight line, that’s clearly condensed,
which is crowded in, compacted, tightly wound, arterial,

and puts all the commuters together, all right next to each other,

going one way, then going the opposite way, all right next to each other.

kinetic energy equals half mass times velocity squared.

Velocity squared, do u see?

The faster they go the more kinetic energy of the accidents,

the faster they go, the less time for reaction.

the faster they go, the harder they fall,

wake up, make the fall softer, make them slower,

tell them all,

ride on the grass when you can, get OFF the road.

When Jesus the Christ carried his cross, his blood dripped on the road.

When cars crash, they’re on a road.

The ambulance officers have a term for cyclists crashes,

to “crayon”, it means to leave ones’ skin, bone and blood as a mark

on that road.

Then the nurses and the doctors, they treat the gravel rash by scraping road grime out of ones’ flesh.

in highest honour of a dead citizen, gone yet remembered : Matt the Albino.

If inclined…

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