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G N A R L I N G G A S H
twenty miles to the gallon
with a short stroke
hardened cam and
ported polished
she growls when i
drop the hammer
drone down the interstate
white line flashing like
deaths rib
twin cherry bombs
throbbing
bolted down
to the iron Interceptor
hauling ass
nightmare marauder
thundering
and a Python magnum
in a slip holster
wrapped in its thin
belts
beneath the Dickie jacket
flip rear seats
and sleeper style
detroit girl
jewel of the nile
morphine and speed
abercrombie and finch
a vivid blur
beneath the chatter
of the scanner
and the radar
saved a life
and shot up speed
my father showed
me tricks with a knife
before he packed it
in the ghosts of
strife
riding his scarred
shoulders
his war dogs
the white car rotting
on blocks
i knew a girl once
shinning eyes
and haunted soul
shot heroin between
her toes
met her angels
with an overshot of
blow
the waterfall like the
wind that climbs
rustles scars and
battles that will
ever leave
the mind race rush
of a life
that will never settle
a dealers hand of hollowpoint
ideals
a pale girl with
moonlit hair
and lips the devil
blessed her
and as a child
the flames caressed
her
cinnamon and smoke
the delphi
of dreams
wrapped in her realms
walk no fear baby
crosses her legs like a lady
she sleeps with wolves
walks from the dark
to the shady
lane wide
wild
insects and stars
the hot juice of the bars
stalls a room
on long limb leopard
strides
stalking with
china dahl eyes
kohl hole
deliriums drama
crushed beneath
the stars that suffocate
the visions
wakes up screaming
soul trembling
in the needles shake
when we
hurl around a semi
on a curve
pulling trains
her sad eyes
in the circus lights
fade to black
and we shoot down
the too far tomorrow
angry embers
like tracers
lost wishes
lost highway
last chance
Comments
eightmenout
Sat, 2014-03-08 23:39
A corner
A corner
not far from an alley
where boiling spoons
become mother's milk
there sits a sedan
late model 60's
candied apple red
leather
4 on the floor
rag top with a tear
it has keyless entry
cruising next to Dean and Jack
listening to the beat
knick, snap, snap, click
words flowing through
the open windows
as adventure unfurled its tongue
and dared us
to keep on keeping on
I pulled up next to her
under the street lamp
knowing I couldn't afford
her company
but I couldn't afford the sedan
either
I would take her, as well
and she hopped in
now we were 4
- a party
and the words began to flow again
Jack bumping like a record
on American Bandstand
Dean slapping the dash
with a scooobidy bop, boom, bop
eyes wide as the night
searching for a life
so secret
not even he knew
what face it wore
She reached for my hand
held it tight
as the steel fought for wings
to give us flight
ahead a bend
lifted its skirt
and hid the street sign
as a semi dragging a river of steel
made cover for an iron horse
I fed that bitch all she could guzzle
racing us to the edge of dreams
where the lights met
melted
and faded
with Jack's words
and Dean's slaps
and her lips
and only then was there
something to lose
Scott
Esker
Sun, 2014-03-09 01:31
iridescent
puddles of earth and sun warmed ice..
the fuel riding on the surface
emolient and extorting wavelengths
into pretti dance
headliner flutter
the lights pausing
foot on the clutch
like a spacer bar on the black
gleaming enamel
keys like cufflinks
holding paragraphs
in a loop
return arm
a re dreamt
re breathed
construction
of conception
a birth of a storm
arising
like cold rains
on hot blacktop
mythologies of heros
dragged from the pantry
of thoughts
stirred in the punch
press actions of graveyard
shift monotony
one alphabet phase
leading
shinning like scales
stutttered out on
the liquid flat screen
laptops and rubber rolled
bearing carriages
scrawled out in formulaes
of roller balls and pencil
tipped wonderlands
staggering to its stage
staring to the light
for the first breath
the first read...
eightmenout
Sun, 2014-03-09 08:46
the squeal of feedback
the squeal of feedback
heart thumping up and down
like a basketball as
nerves leak out through
the thin parchment of skin
ink running like the mascara
on the face of mourning
and I am lost
in a jungle that surrounds,
native creatures restless
at the silence
a pot boils
watched over by shrunken heads
doctors aim to heal
as the affliction tightens like
a python around the throat
squeezing words into submission
now the paper is black
a chalkboard erased in haste
as murmurs grow
as clouds roll
to wash away the embarrassment
standing alone
the curtain falls
appears to be a savior lowering a rope
until it slips around the voice gone quiet with fear
and standing on the chair of life
or of death
'I'm sorry'
and then words flow like blood
feeding life
and they are free of ropes
and chains and barriers
charging into the world
as spirits infecting bodies
whose souls were on holiday
a repeating noise
morphing itself to the vibrations
of the souls that spill them
Scott