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bulletcookie Feb 2023
furiously they appear like apparitions
straining their engines and wheels
belted steel, industrial rubber, woven demon fibers
crossing white broken lines in darkness
weaving frozen traffic in seconds
a nightmare of TV movies, ‘juegos de muerte’
while horror etches into glass faces, oblivion

this highway stretches across a city
concrete and metal ready to explode
into oil black, blood red, eighty-seven proof fire
arms, legs, torsos, leaning into death’s curves
steering too slow, certain motion’s end
gathering random unwilling victims
just for the fanatical flight of hellions

-cec
GaryFairy Jun 2022
I came along to a road block on route 33
there was no traffic so I just rode my electric bike on the shoulder
I saw a lot of debris and blood on the road
the cops weren't paying attention, so I went closer
It appeared to be what was left of a man
or a bunch of ground meat with what appeared to be a whole eyeball

with an actual eyebrow

and a shoe

to me, it looked like a left eye

police came running at me and had their hands in their weapons yelling at me to get back

I panicked a little and about rode right through the meaty matter

I made it just a few meters away before I heard them closing in

I got on the ground
the one with a voice yelled at me
he said something about human remains

I started laughing so diabolically that the voice stopped
I'm thinking to myself...

"and I can't go around?"

I laughed continuously and uncontrollably for a good 10 minutes

I must have totally lost my mind this time

I hope so...

I hope so

when I got home later that day, someone told me that they found Kenny dead today

in the middle of route 33

I started snickering...

I broke out into a cackle

I laughed so hard, for so long, that it became very painful

I couldn't stop

my best friend had went through something dreadful

I still say that it didn't look like his eyeball and left eyebrow

then again
who am I to say what another man's eyeball and left brow would look like

on top of a pile of meat and blood..

and one shoe

Bahahaha
ouch
oh the agony!

this is serious

this is not sweet insanity
RIP Kenneth
Isabella Howard Aug 2021
There is always

One final shove

From those old Angels

We've forgotten how to love.


Their cold fingers

No longer reach the depths

Where they used to linger.


One final blue night

We listen to the trains.

Finally committing to a goodbye

Because the stars

That drift through your eyes

Can no longer flutter the heart

Or evoke butterflies.


Those same gentle eyes

Will let you go

One last time.

Watching headlights

Melt the highway.

I turned away from you

And there is no second try.

Nobody will refer to us as two

After this goodbye.
Blackenedfigs Dec 2020
Take me back to a different hotel every night and living out of a suitcase. Getting comfortable in our naked bodies around each other; comparing breast size and stretch marks—examining ourselves like the men who’ve carelessly fondled us before for our likes and dislikes. Sharing a bottle of lukewarm tequila in the world’s smallest bathtub and then I sing you to sleep. Highway cars buzzing past and there’s only one road to get lost on, but we manage it every single time. Your car becomes a dressing room at gas stations where people stare with disapproving glares and worry for the safety of their wallets; because we don’t belong here but we laugh—still drunk from the early morning hours and just trying to find the next check-in spot for the night. There never is a real destination but home always seems too close and we both hate that part. It doesn’t feel right when it ends or when I have to crawl back into my own bed without a time frame to be out by in the morning—before the housekeeping maid comes banging on our door,
yet again.
Don Bouchard May 2020
Who is he,
The man in the sweaty tee-shirt,
Standing in the center
While cars **** round
The roundabout?

He holds a digging tool,
Remains of weeds clinging.
He waves at a city parks truck
Rounding on its way
To the main building.

I know him.
We taught together once.
His doctorate in ministry:
Servant lives and how to lead them;
Mine in words and letters,
And how to read them.

I wonder as I drive away:
The tenuous lives we lead;
No predicting whether next year
I'll be learning with students
Or pulling weeds on a highway.

Vicissitudes of Life...
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
The City Is a Garment
by Michael R. Burch

A rhinestone skein, a jeweled brocade of light,—
the city is a garment stretched so thin
her neon colors bleed into the night,
and everywhere bright seams, unraveling,

cascade their brilliant contents out like coins
on motorways and esplanades; bead cars
come tumbling down long highways; at her groin
a railtrack like a zipper flashes sparks;

her hills are haired with brush like cashmere wool
and from their cleavage winking lights enlarge
and travel, slender fingers ... softly pull
themselves into the semblance of a barge.

When night becomes too chill, she quickly dons
great overcoats of warmest-colored dawn.

Published by The Lyric, Sonnetto Poesia, Poetry Life & Times, The Eclectic Muse, Freshet, Better Than Starbucks, Jar of Quotes and Verse Weekly

Keywords/Tags: City, rhinestone, garment, neon, colors, night, bright, lights, cars, highways, motorways, railroads, sparks, hills, river, barges, boats
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