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I've been living on the redline,
under the shadows of the souls who scamper above me,
the lifeless and the mindless,
walking in straight lines through the city.

Concrete womb that cradles the broken,
enables them and helps them lose their minds,
to the place they call home, they scamper blind,
I tell you now, this is no home of mine.

I'm living underground,
beneath the city that buried me,
and left me for dead,
in a metal coffin,
hoping I'd wash up in a new prison.

Amongst the filth and rats,
I'm a lesser but I have more than many,
to most, I'm just a burden,
only a few can see that I offer plenty.

They stare as they squabble,
so many words fill the air without a meaning,
depriving us of peace and unity,
the trains steel as cold as the community.

I've been living on the redline,
a vessel away from all the smoldering hatred,
some think we're forgotten,
but they're the ones we're trying to forget.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Miss Masque Feb 2012
That tapestry,
Red, Black, Gold
A Celtic Circle--
silently bearing witness
to the proceedings
of that smoky room:

The aquariums--one with
the large eel who seemed
to barely fit the tank
that took up half the wall;
and the smaller, vibrantly
colored fish in the
aquarium with the eggshell
colored coral.

The remixed music played
at a comfortable volume,
by the DJ we knew
so well, together;
as many times
it hardly seemed like
he was working at all,
as he just sat down and
talked to us, for hours.

Looking through
those over-sized books of
old advertisements,
and explanations of
historical artwork;
discussing the contents
with strangers,
who became friends
in the process.

Smoke billowed, enveloping
the atmosphere and filling it
with the smell of many spice
racks, pleasantly rolled in a
shell of a soft breeze
flowing from the oscillating fan.

The smell of joy,
of a relaxed sense of mutual
understanding; that it was okay
not to say a word, because the
atmosphere did the talking
for us.

We just enjoyed sitting
on those red pleather couches
that your **** sank back into,
not allowing my feet to touch
the floor; so they often just
dangled, legs swinging
to the tempo of the music.

As I took a hit
of the hookah,
I manipulated the smoke
into O's, puckering
my lips, trying not
to laugh as you
gazed at me in a
shy sense of wonder.

That face always made you
want to kiss me.
Jeremy Betts Oct 2019
{Political}

I can almost guarantee the powers that be own a most coveted secret
A key to our mortality, a complete rid of social duality, a newly constructed exit on the set of this twisted skit
Can you imagine it? That'd be one heck of an achievement, almost a magic trick, especially for this government
But a magician never tells! They keep it so far under wraps you can't even peep it like some area 51 type sht
Like buried treasure at the bottom of a filled sand pit, no map, no opportunity to find it
You're not even allowed to know about it's existence much less that the stories of it are legit
It's right there, in the small print on the bottom of every voter pamphlet
I don't know if that part is true but I wouldn't put it past them or doubt it for a minute
They never speak it out loud, never leak it nor tweet it #youdontknowshitaboutsh
t
You feed on your feed, the algorithm arithmetic, all the mind numbing bull sht
You forget the outrage over something like Charlotte too quick, makes me physicaly sick
I'll point out that it's largely due to strategic fluff stories from the puppet at you're local news outlet
The same bigot that's probably got an audio booklet cassette on deck
Explaining in detail how to be completely wrong and still politically correct
I get more credible info on current events from the cashiers down at the corner market
The talking box force feeds you this toxic banquet, I've seen it prepared so I'd steer clear of the brisket
They flood the market to keep you off target, to stop you from forming any kind of argument
To stop you from asking yourself if they are the solution to the problem or a part of it
Truth and lies on both sides inviting me to sit but I run the gauntlet
A tactical gambit, there is no quit like a bad habit, I've kicked the social media vise, you haven't
Fear is a typical sidekick but that's what got us in this predicament, permanently visibly upset
Messing up the placement of priorities, becoming complacent with corrupt authorities and it's evident
We offer up our thoughts and prayers then get distracted by an ice bucket?
Subconsciously saying f
ck it I guess as they hurd you off topic with the rest of the simple minded public

Here's a challenge to get behind, why don't you try to expand your mind?
"But I have guy, I'm color blind" a preprogrammed "progressive" response strategically timed
But you'll find that those mindless sayings quickly become the shackles that bind
And cause a divide by the combined efforts of trying to confuse and misguide
And trying to cover up the line they should have never crossed but you can't be kind and rewind
Any and all opposing views or educated ideas get disregarded like a watermelon rine
You look at this dysfunctional timeline and say it's fine? Are you out of your dang mind?
This problem defines the word problem but our county lying in a chalk outline is too real of a news headline
Fear is again what's driving mankind as credibility starts a fast decline, like a Boeing Max airline
It's more like a drop off, a Saturday morning cartoon kind with a cliff edge right before the finish line
Stuck in first gear as we redline through the confines of what they try and say is benign
Can't enjoy the ride while blind cause that's when you'll get blindsided, now paralysed with a broken spine
I saw the sign but you're oblivious every time, tweeting comfortablely from table nine
Soaking in a brine of lying swine, greedy bovine, salt from the grape vine but no thoughts you can claim as "mine"
It's a sad history we say we've left behind but we're still riding it with the thrill of a first Valentine
We redesign the facade after every indecent like Columbine and think that'll do fine but that thought in its self is asinine

An empty statement with good intention deserves no attention, not even a mention
But that's what is given over and over again and some don't even see we're headin' in the wrong direction
Directly to gettin' skull ******, takin' ***** to the chin and we've given permission
Here, just for you, let me paint my vision, my interpretation of every villain within those white walls of sin
Yup, that's right, turns out it's modeled after the famous painting of the last din-din
That's to say it's a portrait of every Democrat and Republican, from now to back then
Back from the moment this little experiment began, way back when
They welcome your frustration hoping that by the end you'll abandon your mission of self preservation
By throwing in the towel with the sink from the kitchen
Yoda esq sage advice can't be given if, for one, no one seems to listen and two it's all gone missin'
Ahhhh, that's cute, your all insistin' you had a hand in each and every decision
But you're just siftin' through fake news, wishin' for break throughs, this isn't livin', this is survival and the lines thin
And hand on the bible I can't promise or pretend we'll win cause once we get that tail spin a goin' it's out of our control again
Got you btchin' about it the entire time but never taking action
A worthless, regurgitated post now brings a job well done type of satisfaction
So while the world burns around you you're convinced you've done your part and mastered the equation
You've gone and put your 100th phrase in, time to sit back relaxin', waitin' for your empty praise to come in
Self worth and entitlement bought for a bargain, actually, you glide in and take it when no one is lookin'
It doesn't belong to you but of course you deserve it more than him, am I right? Sure I am
A moral compass no longer a good life's linchpin, good and evil lookin' like twins in the same discount bin
But when you start conversatin' about how bad you've got it, I hear the worlds smallest violin start playin'

THIS SH
T IS NOT GOING AWAY ON ITS OWN FOLKS
As our world coughs and chokes and everyone pokes and breaks the rotten yolks
Sitting in a rancid environment, we take tragedy and twist it into jokes
Then back peddle saying everyone copes differently with the hopes that the real you stays out of public scopes
It's crazy that facts seem to be what provokes outrage from one side as the other side claims it's a hoax
An abundance of fake news cloaks the real issues and gets us to turn on our kinfolks
We see them toss the stick into our bike spokes but still believe when they say "it was definitely those other blokes"
How is it we know it's smoke and mirrors but everyone still takes it in with deep tokes
What we witness everyday should be what invokes change but we can't change anything with empty keystokes
It's good to stand for something but now we need to move forward before we're clear cut like old growth oaks
And it won't just be one side or the other that croaks, no, this divide stokes our collective demise as our head bloats
It somehow strokes our ego as we think we traverse the high road but can't steer, flying with no yokes
We pray that we can at least stay above water but nothing so poorly put together floats
Take notes cause if history repeats itself we're on a crash course with diminishing hopes
Which will leave only a shell of what we use to be as a country, nothing inside like empty envelopes

©2019
austin Nov 2018
These are not human beings
flourishing amidst their modern backdrop
of screens and social media
and likes and retweets and the like

These are not smiling faces
aboard the train on their daily commute
heading to the job they hate
so they can come home to the family
who doesn't love them

These are not happy marriages
packed with love and affection,
But more like a failure
just a worthless, shattered piece of glass
that we grind beneath our shoes on the floor

These are caffeine and adderall-driven bodies
holding guns to their heads
as they **** down a coffee
right after getting no sleep for the millionth night in a row
so they can go to work and contribute to society

Society that is cutting-edge
Society that is the greatest yet
Society like a train with broken brakes
Humans like robots

These are silhouettes
with their souls ripped out of them
These are dead bodies
murdered
Saul Makabim Jun 2012
Ruthless
Recklass
Cocksure Alpha male nutjob
Addicted to adrenaline
and the smell of burnt gunpowder
Never back down
Always throw one punch too much
Downward spiral walking
Total nutjob you can rely on
Redline all the time
ready to shoot a man in the leg
and leave him as zombie bait
No turning back
when you **** another man
Even if you do it with zombie teeth
not with your bare hands
Trapped
Car wrecks
Collapsed
Snapped necks
Losing his mind over Lori
Double cross his best friend
Now he's a head shot zombie.
R.I.P. Shane.
Michael Bauer Dec 2018
Walked through Union Station
The other night after a concert
The station was mostly empty
Just the cleaners and some bums

Went down into the underground
Toward the Metro Redline terminal
Was walking down the stairs
And stepped on something soft

I looked back a few steps
A large grey rat laid dying
On the second to last step
Kicking its leg spastically

Sadness dropped upon me
Thank God for poor timing
I walked on to the outbound train
Michael the Accidental Rat Trap
Left Foot Poet Nov 2015
Thanksgiving Menu Planning for Gaining and Losing

~~~

having shed thirty pounds plus,
another X more yet required,
to be forever properly de-cored,
a happy subtracted scoring

part too,
brought the curtain going down
on a seven year insanity,
paid off the forever divorcing *****,
that weight worth more than a Venetian
pound of flesh

now finding myself
in a re-entry orbit,
though hardly gliding,
encased in a capsule,
friction glowing gold

the now never~ending
calorie counting and exercise rituals,
in every aspect of life,
all friendly devils of relentless,
demanding utter devotions,
all watching, wondering, watering, endlessly,
a new perennial flowering of a leaf,
all watchdogs of the truth serum called

what if?

what if
had I lived my prior
lazy loose life,
with the current rigor
of daily barefaced truth

I would never have made
choices that have redline scarred,
some made back in 1975,
into a forty year losing war,
spiral declination that permitted the
insidious, slo-mo of decay,
that could be, would be,
reversed only
by this recent heart
and soul surgery

nowadays, menu plan my life's
every actionable choice,
limiting the sugared foolishness
from the decay
one can coat themselves in,
survival lies and refrigerator drugs,
until sleep~rest intervenes

what shall I eat,
what shall I choose,
what will be this day's life choices from the menu,
answering daily inquiries from
Oliver and Siri (1),
acknowledging that more-than-occasional slippage will occur,
but taking no true satisfaction
from the periodicself-cheating,
always
daily weigh myself
twice,
first my body,
then, my soul,
upon the rising,
upon the setting


to see quantifiable
what I have,
thankfully 
yet to gain
by losing
**

~~~
Thanksgiving Day
2015
(1)
Oliver Sacks
http://www.theatlantic.com/health/archive/2015/08/the-oliver-sacks-reading-list/401993/

Siri
my watchwoman,
counter of the calories,
chider of the foolishness,
unafraid to question
everything,
reminding me to be
ever thankful
Release the clutch
Pin the throttle
Never felt so free
Never been so in touch

Bang second just before redline
Best rush you'll feel
Hands down every time

Straddling barely contained fury
As it pulls the wheel

I hit third doing ninety seven
I know I'm in the zone
Surely this must be heaven
This power has my mind blown

Fourth and one thirtys all I got
I need to change my backside
So I think now I'll cruise

I'll take Throttle therapy
Over any kinda *****
Adam Smith May 2013
Im gonna mic this **** up and EQ it out, make the speakers ring now so we can scream and shout, and it wont feedback; till you hear "Back in Black", when the bass line hits all across the pan, and I redline that **** cause its my ******* Jam.

Peaking dBs on all of the meters. Blowing out the cabs and frying the tweeters. We smashed our guitars so let the keg flow. How else would you end a ******* awesome show?

Watch the roadies pack up, but give them respect. They do a lot more than you woud ever expect.

An after party now and were burning it down. Stumble back to the bus and to the next town. To start it all over for another go round.
Zero Nine Nov 2017
Set the mood
Redline
Build the hill
Fill that stem
Inhale. Hold it in.
Take that breath
Relax. Just relax.

I'm  waving the smoke away
Both hands  extensions of
the atrium  that primes the pump
I'm  beating as bleating
Green veil  is parted re  -  vealed
Reveals  the one I'm afraid of  -  the
old me

I'm  counting days defeated
Dead days  used my blood took
the look that I sculpted and weaponized  - it
as something other

Set the mood
Lazerhawk
Build the hill
Fill that stem
Inhale. Hold it in.
Take that breath
Relax. Relax. Relax.

How am I  a slave to myself  I wonder
I wonder

How am I  a slave?

How am I  a slave to myself  I wonder
I wonder

I  ride the ghost train
I  deify  the old ghosts  -  I
I  never meant to board forever  -  I
Am shadow. Am product. The Ubik.
I  deify  the past as answer  -

nothing left to say
nothing left to say

(01101100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100101 00100000 00100001 01101100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100101 00100000 00100001 01101100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100101 00100000 00100001 01101100 01100101 01110100 00100000 01101001 01110100 00100000 01100100 01101001 01100101 00100000 00100001)
Nine is the number. 3 x 3. The grid and the line's end.
Aaron LaLux Feb 2019
At the Indigo getting into it with an Indigo,
in Tulsa or at least en route after one more round in LA,
stuntin’ in The Land of Abundance all real no frontin’,
can get anything I want except getaway,

and this all feels totally cliche,
spending time but got no time to waste,
already at redline trying not to flatline,
catching up to made up deadlines and keeping pace,

trying to lose the stress without losing my mind,
trying to win the hearts and convince the minds,
trying to do everything without having to try,
only do and do not do you like you buy,

welcome to America,
consumerism on steroids,
where we empty our pockets to fill up our closets,
empty hearts with souls for sale anything to fill the void,

everything that was ever made sacred was destroyed,
now we’ve got black artists on the radio making white noise,
where are our idols how are we supposed to look up to anyone,
but sometimes I feel like there’s no escape and I have no choice,

so I buy in in order to not be left out,
get the girl get the clothes get the hotel room,
but really I don’t feel like any of this is mine,
plus I’ve got a place to be so I should go soon,

so long farewell,
I bid you my Love good day,
but before I go let’s go one more round,
for Old Time’s sake before I make my escape out of LA,

at the Indigo getting into it with an Indigo,
in Tulsa or at least en route after one more round in LA,
stuntin’ in The Land of Abundance all real no frontin’,
can get anything I want except getaway…

∆ LaLux ∆
Harrison Buloke Jul 2020
Blow a rod out the side of the block,
You hear that engine going knock knock knock.
You see that oil pressure needle drop,
You come to a rolling stop,
Clippity clop,
Time to head to the shop
JS Clark Apr 2017
A wicked road winds across lawless lands
West of the Pecos.
Where Texas turns to hell; a lone GTO
Scourges smug asphalt with a big block
Renegade ethos.

She’s runnin’ low on gas,
She’s been runnin’ way too fast--
And she’s burnin’ rich--

But that’s good.

Because in that combustive concoction,
Is reflected the nuts and bolts,
Ball peens, and crescent wrenches
Of a provocative, evocative, tool chest lending to
Precision tuned angst riddled verse.

She’s a flat black bad-*** *****,
An epic among American cars--
A ‘69 Judge--the 400 cubic inch
Ram-Air rhythms riffing redline stuff
From bookstores to bars.

I work a service station on this
Lonely road, in this inferno west of the Pecos.
In the distance, I hear a distinct sound,
The Judge’s 400 big block, roaring with that
Bruisin’ outlaw ethos.

Down this wicked road of the accepted norm
This Judge is soundin’ mighty good,
I know to have the coffee ready,
As I listen to the poetry chanting under the hood.
She sings with me when riding in the car, windows down, cruising who knows where.
She'd go anywhere with me, near or far, the wind whipping through her hair.
Holding my hand, stroking my arm, she lets her laughter free.
It flows around, a river of sound, finding home inside of me.
Her fingers run all through my hair as I shift on through the gears.
Screaming her joy when I put petal to the floor, her adrenaline overtaking fear.
Burning rubber fills her nose as I carve through downtown corners.
She loves the smell of it in my clothes when the burning day is over.
Challenging drivers at every light, she talks all the **** for me.
I rev the engine to back her up, the redline throwing warnings.
"C'mon babe," she'll say to me, "this ***** wants to go."
Can't help but grin as I wait for the light, clutched and shifted to throw.
She taunts them through the open window as I tear down through the gears.
Her laughter mixes with the exhaust as she screams her victory cheers.
All I need is her love and laughter, all I want is her riding shotgun.
I want her hand on mine on the shift ****, that's how I know she's the one.
Infamous one Aug 2022
Q10
New plans and ideas to rise up. From the bottom to the top spoke up tired of being silent. Knowing having an opinion causes enemies instead of bringing gaps. Not taking the crap anymore took a stand even if it meant being alone.
Hard to sleep with "what if" on the mind? Asking "when?" And is it truly worth it. So many ideas the heart dk how to feel or what to think anymore this mind racing on the redline.
Delton Peele Dec 2023
Take me ....sweep my feet make me.....
I want ....
No I need ....
I know so deeply
....
Can you please take me.....
Take me back to bell bottom
Star jeans.......
45's and 33's.....
Quadraphonic.  ..
Innocent daydreams......
Redline,hutch,
mongoose....
Stingrays and
No rain for days ....
No pains .......
Foozeball.....
Stick ball under the streetlights.......
5.oo dollar concerts ...
Dates at the movies ...
Hold hands ......
Naw ....Take me back to the 3 hour french kisses.....tongue sore . ....
Walk home 3 miles call you and lay on the floor listen to you just breath
For......hours......
Football pencils ...
Kiss cards .. ..
Dunes of the cape.   Saturday morning cartoons.  
Ted Nudget ....
AC/DC........
Passing notes....
Drawing ***** things on people's peechees. .....
Skipping ......
School.............
With girls . ..   ya. ...
Take me.....
Take me ..... can ya....please......
And an above all and everything .....
Take me .  
Take me back to the days when.  
I spent time with my family......
Back before we all started our own and drifted sofly ...
Away .... .
Take me back to the you must be Monas' kid......
Sitting around talking **** ...  far away enough so our parents can't hear........
Sneaking beer .....and getting high...... ....
Ya ...... can ya take me back ............
To the years before internet a cell phones........
Back when the ringing phone was an invitation not an obligation.....
Back when we gave hugs freely ....shared everthing...fought with our fists .......
And people were polite and actually cared. ......
Before we were scared of the government!
Take me
Devon Brock Oct 2019
At Irving and Sheridan, cabs, buses and cars bled with a scab of gray belch low in the gelid airs.  Above, a draught of light spilled out of the Redline, spilled lanky into the coffee of the night, filigree cream in the eye.  It was then that I saw her, strobed in amber as the train banged itself taut and fleeing.  I watched her decay, velvet down the platform stairs.  I stood gum on the sidewalk before ticked-out commands. Walk. Don't Walk. Walk. Stirring a light thick with the bitters of spent grease, she poured into the street and came toward me, longstriding.  It was then I saw her, tepid and far.  I no longer heard the flickering scrape of the El, nor did I smell the burnt hashbrowns of the New Crystal flickering day-old soup in neon and steam.  I heard only a vague exhausted wind, smelled only the lurid musk of Obsession and rot as she passed beyond the veil of my brim. It was there, at that moment, I walked Hopper for the first time. It was there, at Irving and Sheridan, I became an overcoat and a thin dime.
RobbieG Nov 2021
Among the many remedies  to fight stress and release anger
I have custom tailored my own cures for my mental-health 

Like tearing through my firebirds 4 speed as I take off like a bat out of hell and watch the rpms climb to redline 

Like hopping in my truck and burning out while cruising down backroads listening to the radio all the way turned up 

Like taking my dog Buster for a hike and watching him enjoy some one on one time with me out in the woods by where we live 

Like writing poetry just as quickly as the words try to weigh heavy on my mind, each line wrote prevents the bottling up 

These are my most popular ones among some more but most importantly require no dependancy on drugs prescribed by a doctor 

Gas, tires, oil changes and dog food is much cheaper than hurt feelings, broken relationships, criminal record or attorney fees 

Plan for the worse, hope for the best and if **** could hit the fan then eventually it probably will....... So have a plan
Delton Peele Dec 2021
I want to give into it .......
4 who am I to resist it ......
A humble an lowly nave...
..... That is......
Outwardly...... Not cowardly ... And secretely inside I Am EPIC   .
The shores caress my feet.
The jungles adore me ....
Oceans refreshing .... Mountains cool me .....
I drink the clouds .......
And awe the desserts     ......
My love .......
An beautiful oasis ....... Soft hot sand .. I roll naked ......
Unashamed .....
Protected ......
Warm ......
Comfortable
***** .....
Feels like home to me ....
Inner child like smile
Seventies ...
Long hair ......
No cell phones
No internet ...
........
Star jeans    ....
Transistor radio tied to the handlebars  
Still allitle mystery left   .
Brand new redline
Ride like the wind   . . ...
Cops ......friend?
No stalking .
No profile yet.
Like summer saturday morning......
Fuzzy ! .....happy?
Yup ......cool .
Oh heck yep....
Hip yup yep!
Worried ....uhhm
Well not yet .....
Why ?????
What's up?
Whad you
Mean by that.
Southparkkyle
Like smile ......
Gone ......
......clouds . ...
Winter ....
No stars   .... Wolfie  ....
Outdated  
Mysteries dissolved   become miseries ....
Cases solved
Cringed .
Burnt .
Turnt out  ...
Long tooth ....
Clumbzy .....
Teetering ......
Grumbling .....
One man barricade   . ..
Against mega stampede....
The entire worlds beast of field ....
People creepy crawly thing ....managing . ...
Barely   .....no

...one ....behind me......pondering .......one foot slips      ....
Barely ......let..........
Can't let go ......
Dont let anyyyyy..........
Sign   ..
Of.......weakness show .....
Trembling .......
What's gonna  happen ....to me .........
Staring ........
Starry eyed kid.............
Used
.....
Used to .  ....
Be........
Nobody .........
Cares    bout
.
How    it .....
Use ta be ......
Psyche     ..... Dramatized ...
Tears .     Flow      
Forming rivers ....into oceans ... Cooling the   the raging fear and termoil inn  me ........I

I     ......
Can't ......
Let .....
....
I  cave ......
Let it go ......
Evolve .. .
Go with the flow ....the only thing that will forever be perpetually constant ......
Is  change........
So I say is that all you got ....
M'er F'er   ..
Heh........trigger please .......
Let it go ...
Or let's go ......
Naw baby ....
C'mon ...roll with ..me ....
Dank swag ...
350$ bandana....
500$ kiks......
1000$ blue tooth ... ....
Inked up .
On the set ...up in the club ....
DEEP!
Don't you worry bout a thang .....
I got you ***** .......
.......
Do yooooou
Know ...who you messin.
With ......
Shiiiiiiitttt......
Aint nuttin but a "G" .....THANG  
BAYYYBAY!

Han
Justin S Wampler Sep 2021
We need to go
a little faster,
a little faster.

Downshift and mat it,
**** the redline.

Bleed black,
sweat oil.

Hold on,
hold on to me.
There'll be turns
and twists.

Hearts will sync
with the revs.

— The End —