Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
English Jam May 2018
Boredom on a Sunday is inescapable
I try to hide it behind playing my musical instrument
Trumpeting with my trumpet - blowing my own horn -
I'm praying no one interprets that last sentence as an innuendo
Anyway, I'm nodding off, signing out of reality
The world goes hazy in a second
And I'm ****** into the vortex of a dream

Weird how when a dream begins, we immediately understand the situation
For this scene, I'm spewing blood from my spleen like a bottle of sauce squeezed too hard
It stains the leather of my vehicle
My foot is pressing the pedal to the floor, and the speedometer is twinged in half from all the pressure
The monolith of a highway I'm speeding on shakes as though giants stomp upon it
And the wail of a siren drives me into a frenzy as I try to escape the inevitable
Their polychromatic lights dance at the edges of my eyes, spurring rhythm into action
Even though they must be aeons behind, my heart melodramatically pumps in my chest as though the police are in the backseat
Blood bursting through my temple, thoughts wheezing by like someone's let go of hundreds of balloons  
Up ahead, the road twists itself into a knot of nothingness
My hands are wrapped around the steering wheel so tightly, I fear I might never be able to release them
It's a slight movement: right hand goes down, left goes up, but it kicks the vehicle sideways
My body slams into the car with a satisfying crunch and my mind spirals to spaghetti strands
Oddly enough, the world becomes rinsed with blue wash and I'm underwater

My train of thought becomes peaceful, melodic
I float about, running on the inverse of the waves
Here, even a scream is joyous as it sounds all bubbly and childish
Suddenly, a red streak runs across the ocean, chilling me to the bone and erasing all my bubbles
The sea becomes glittered with red and blue streaks, a warning
Bullets stab at my spleen, reminding me of the pain that was, and still is
And my body gears into a full 360, concluding my return to the real world
Or is it the dream world?
Oh well
Either way, I'm back in my car
Carelessly freefalling from nowhere
Weapons, glass, blood droplets, pocket change, pedestrians...all breeze around slowly
Pleading with me to wake up
Then

Everything crumbles, and I smack my **** head against the window, splattering my brains everywhere
My car flew from the sudden turn and I crashed, I think
Now I lay, grasping onto consciousness while pedagogues staple me to the ground
The Lawman towers over me, grinning madly at my defeat
The most barbaric insult, however, comes from the radio, still magically working
"I fought the law and the law won," The Clash idly sing
One of my favourite songs turned into dark irony
The last I remember before blacking out is the scarlet and marine lights clashing forevermore

When I wake up, I'm face-down on the stony and icy floor
The cold burns me enough to wake me from la la land
The iron grip of the handcuffs feels very real
Words are forced into my head, not by my own design, but sort of like they've been placed there
An argument as to whether existence has a meaning is taking place in my head, and I can't stop it
Sort of like how in a dream, you can't control your thoughts or actions
Wait
This is still a dream, right?
Right?
em Jan 2016
My frail glass bones shattered with the windows.
We walk on yellow striped tightropes and dance
with impossibility until his grasp becomes to tight.
I fell into a river of metal droplets wheels rolling as
Mr. Impossibility connected two infinities.
Glass fingers tapped on a glowing glass screen.
Metal clashed, my scream was lost with sirens into a
echo of blue and red lights.
There was a silence that pulled me into the casket that
sat open in the passenger seat.
This is kind of all over the place but I needed to write something. I was in a car accident yesterday that has me quite shaken up.
Tom Spencer Dec 2018
cold morning light
streams through
the concrete cathedral
beneath the highway

the clouded breath
of a homeless man
glows and curls
in the golden air

cars accelerate
and the wisp is swept
into dim
and hardened shadows


Tom Spencer © 2018
Sam Fickling Nov 2018
I mock
the wedded pair
on the road
their tongues
****
when they
touch

Do they pity?
Or do they scorn?

Realising
the worms
are home

they are home

they're home
to steal
all they can
& steal
before we do

Listen
to night

it ultimately
loses itself
at the bottom
of a wave

Listen

& drink.
Rolling down St. John's Heritage Highway
after Sean, my grandson's birthday party
I belt out my pioneer song with vigor
echoing across the vast beauty,
wide open, sacred spaces
pristine vistas

Norman Rockwell cows grazing
in bygone pastures happily
moo along

Driving past the yellow deer crossing sign
Florida woodlands giddyap near the edge of the road
long brown antlers prancing to
a timeless rhythm

I hope and pray that I can somehow
kindle a spark of appreciation
in my niece and grandsons
so that they may behold
the baffling greatness
and mystery that is our universe

These young'uns are mighty attached to the
virtual reality, world and landscape
of computer technology

A sprinkling of cowboy stars flash
an omnipresent wink
Sunset bonfire explodes across
the frontier horizon

Turning the corner onto Emerson Drive
smoldering scarlet orange embers
reflecting lights
shoot fireworks, launch rockets
through an ever expanding field of vision
Jordan Rowan Feb 2016
Slept in and saw the moon fall asleep
Dead motor rising underneath my ***** sheets
Camped out for days to see a love of mine
But she met a man, now I'm trying to **** some time
I feel like a ghost on highway 5

Caught dead with my spirit in my hand
Claim your prize when I help you understand
You think of love but I think of fun and games
Regrettable nights with moon howled names
I feel like a ghost in your brain

Burnt out exhausted with roads in my eyes
Fought for once but now I'm despised
I want to drive until my engine starts to rust
Until the memories I had turn to ******* dust
I feel like the ghost of teenage ****

Improper sayings that sting under the skin
Emotions like to implode you from within
Have you seen my head, all lit up with desire?
But you were the one to light it on fire
I feel like a ghost too dead to be tired
JV Beaupre Apr 2016
My road is not a highway, well-traveled and straight.

Nor does it meander through the woods or follow a country brook.

No, it's often like a cave with short horizons;

And when there is a fork, I take it.
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
When I wrote this, I didn’t realize I was channeling Yogi Berra!
a bright morning
after a week of cold rain

roses bloom along
the highway overpass

no, it is just the blankets
of the homeless

hung out in the sun
to dry


Tom Spencer © 2019
exist Sep 2018
no two cars are the same on a highway
they may be the same make or model
but they may not have the same engines
that operate the same
or seen the same stretch of roads
and some cars just aren’t meant for certain terrains
so why do we treat other humans any differently?
long walk thoughts
"Hello this is the Plum Wood Police Department.  How may I help you?"

"I'm calling because there is a dead woman in the woods by highway 77.  She has no face or eyes."

"Who am I'm speaking with?"

"This is the killer.  I cut off her face and removed her eyes and took them with me.  That way I can always look her in the face.  **** the world everybody killer."

"Sir can you tell me why you did this?  **** he ended his call."

Plum Wood was a small city with a low crime rate.  When officer Daniel received a call from a killer telling him there was a dead woman in the woods by highway 77 it was surprising.  Officer Daniel placed the phone back on receiver and took a deep breath.
He slowly exhaled and then called all aviable officers and Detective Thomas.
"Hello Detective Thomas this is officer Daniel.  I just got a call from a man telling me there was a dead body in the woods by highway 77.  He said he was the killer and that he cut off her face and removed her eyes and took them with him.  That way he can always look her in the face.  I tried to get his name and to tell me why he did this but he ended his call.  I think he was using a cellphone."

Written by Keith Edward Baucum
Horror, scary,
Driving alone in the moonlight
An hour or two before dawn
Jackson Browne on the radio
Big wheels all humming along

Rounding a curve in the highway
I see deer in the road ahead
The littlest one forgot to run
I hit her and knew she was dead

The body lay still and broken
Soft unseeing eyes open wide
Kneeling I took her up in my arms
And I sobbed, and wept, and I cried

I cried for her broken body
And I wept for her stolen life
I sobbed for all the loves I've lost
Through all the years of my life
Copyright 2010 by Michael S. Simpson. All rights reserved.
Tyler Harper Feb 14
Headlights on highway
Trying not to sleep or think
Slight left or slight right
all with a hand on head leaning on the window
Had Breakfast with destiny,
Ate lunch with faith,
Dinner with Longevity,
A night cap In space,
Connected the stars
eye constellate,
Defied Gravity
everyday I a wake,
On the highway to Heaven,
It's been one **** of a ride,
As long as this rock shifts,
There's enough time to persist,
There’s never enough
Time for this
It doesn't even Exist!!!!
Gods1son Sep 2018
I see this life like a highway
People moving at different speeds
Some are on the fast lane
Some, on the slow lane
People are switching lanes
Some have pulled over by the shoulders
There is constant overtaking
Every one has different destination
But you still notice competition
Some are naive, some are more experienced
The hope and desire of all is to arrive safely
Sadly, some end up not making it there!
Next page