Unwind the Action

When I come home

How do I unwind?

It started with the bike ride

The best of its kind,

The distance is short

The time is relief,

To unload all the garbage

The joy and the grief.

When I get home

Sometimes I must write,

With a short glass, a beverage

At the end of the night,

Although the bike ride unloaded

The terror and tension,

There is more that needs venting

Not all honorable mention.

Those things that are stewing

Beneath my facade,

Details and actions that

Might be outlawed,

If anyone cared

More than the corporate hoot,

That's what I'm carrying

On the bottom of my boot.

Do my words have power?

I'm not certain and don't be tricked,

But should I remain silent
I consider myself derelict.