Emeth Lee Bard aka The Matador

  Welcome to the digital realm of Emeth Lee Bard, known in the whispers of dusk and dawn as "The Matador." By day, he is the CEO of Bard's Bubbles, a pioneering carwash empire that cleanses the streets of Oklahoma, transforming vehicles with the meticulous care of an artist. By night, he dons the cloak of "The Matador," a poet and seeker whose words traverse the landscapes of the soul, seeking beauty, truth, and the essence of existence. This website is a sanctuary, a place where Emeth's dual worlds converge—where the precision and clarity of a successful business blend seamlessly with the boundless realms of poetry and prose. It is here that "The Matador" reveals his innermost musings, his confrontations with shadows, his yearnings for enlightenment, and the profound love that propels him forward. Poetry & Prose: Venture into the heart of "The Matador" through his written word. Experience the depth of nightmares, the radiance of love...

In the still of night, beneath the watchful eye of stars, I whisper to the heavens, my words sparse. To Mary, Mother divine, in your grace, I’ve dwelt, A comfort in the storm, a presence felt. Your visage, a beacon in my darkest hours, In your embrace, I've found solace in showers. Yet here I stand, at the crossroads of belief, Yearning for freedom, in my heart, a silent grief. No longer can I walk the path laid before me, The rituals, the prayers, they no longer set me free. But, Mother Mary, know this truth inside my heart, In my journey forward, you’re a part. I seek not to abandon the love you’ve shown, But to find a truth that’s solely my own. A faith not bound by tradition or rite, But a personal creed, in the soul’s flight. So, I bid you adieu, not in sorrow or in spite, But in hope of a dawn, where my spirit takes flight. Your son taught love, compassion, and grace, These lessons I carry, as I seek my place. Mary, Mother, in your eternal embrace, Grant me the courage to see...

  Amidst the cacophony of life’s relentless race, I seek a prophet, a guide, to a higher place. A voice in the wilderness, calling clear and true, To elevate my spirit, and my purpose renew. Where is the one who walks the path unseen, Whose words cut through the facade, the routine? I long for wisdom that transcends time and lore, A beacon to light the way to something more. This world, a labyrinth of shadows and light, Demands a navigator, versed in the fight. A prophet, not of old, but of the now, Who sees beyond the what, the when, the how. In the silence of the night, I send my plea, For a guide to unlock my soul’s decree. To show me beauty in the simple, the small, To teach that in giving, we receive all. To elevate spirit, to set it free, Is the prophet’s call, a divine decree. In words, in actions, in the silent gaze, A guide to lead me through life’s maze. So I wander, a seeker on this earth, Believing in the promise of rebirth. For a prophet, a guide, to light the way, To ...

  In the stillness of night, where shadows play, The Matador finds his peace fray. Dreams once filled with verse and light, Now turned to nightmares, fleeing from sight. Each evening, as he lays down his head, He battles the demons under his bed. In his mind, a labyrinth, dark and deep, Where fears whisper, and sorrows seep. The dreamscape turns, a twisted stage, Where nightmares dance with rage. Visions of love lost, futures undone, Battles with shadows, never won. Annie's face, a recurring ghost, Haunts him more than most. The car wash, a prison of foam and spray, In his nightmares, it won't fade away. Africa's plains, so far yet near, In dreams, they bring no cheer. Prophets and poets, in shadows, they hide, No guidance given, no matter how he tried. Yet, as dawn breaks, the first light creeps, Into the room where he wearily sleeps. The Matador rises, his spirit worn, Facing a new day, tired and torn. But in this cycle of fear and fight, He finds a reason, a spark of lig...

On a day when winter whispered of spring's embrace, February's tail, a soft and gentle grace, The world was gifted with a soul so bright, Emeth Lee Bard, born into the morning light. February 25th, in the year of '89, A day marked by destiny, by design. The skies above Tulsa, clear and fair, Announced his arrival, a breath of fresh air. In a hospital room, where dreams converge, Life's melody composed, a newborn's urge. His first cry, a symphony of hope and fears, A sound so sweet, it brought the world to tears. His parents' hearts, overflowing with love, A precious gift, sent from above. Their eyes beheld, with joy and wonder, This miracle, their spell to be under. The car wash kingdom, still years away, On this bright and auspicious day. For now, just whispers of what might be, In the cooing and laughing of baby Emeth Lee. So here marks the start, of a journey so vast, A life of dreams, of shadows cast. February 25th, under that winter sky, The day Emeth Lee B...