"speedster" poems
Right now, it's unclear
how to feel about this latest development
between us
because
at any moment you're libel
to switch gears in your speedster train of thought
on to new electric spark tracks
of ecstatic playtime poetry frivolity
or serene raindrop contemplation
and, while the exciting allure of spontaneity isn't lost on me,
it can be a bit confusing
in terms of how one should express themselves around you
and how much of your baggage they're willing to cary
in addition to their own on any given day.
I'm not mad at you,
just confused and worn out.
But I suppose it's hard to find solid ground
on digital windows and words.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
2 am
Land,
luggage,
end reality.
Bad weather means
delayed flight,
glued in tonight
still, adventure
beckons
from glass pane
separating
airport
and
New York City;
Our escape.
5 hours till next flight.
Sheer immensity
of silver obelisks,
so cleanly cut
edges like razorblades,
have grasped our curiosity,
slicing binding adhesive
of bad weather,
anchoring our release
into the cold mist.
We wander beyond
our time limit.
Bright,
despite night.
City never sleeps,
still peaceful
on the other side of day.
Making way
street by street,
exploring what we can
while we can.
The amount of exploring
one gets done
with a time limit.
4 hours
Alleyways,
streets, parallel
zigzag back and forth
up and down.
Some lit,
others
bleeding darkness,
over pouring
with lost souls.
With a clouded sense
of direction,
one tends to find lost
at every corner.
3 hours
Like bugs at night,
we stick to the light.
We strive to make it back
before our time is up.
Nervousness settles in
as sight seeing
becomes partial.
New objective,
return to airport.
Mental maps being yelled
back and forth.
Still nobody knows
which is right.
2 hours left.
Familiar street
or frame of block,
memory shoots through mind
like lightning arcing through the sky
providing the route back
to salvation.
The Scarlet Speedster
known as The Flash
has never known speed
comparable to
my brothers and I
nervously rushing
back to JFK.
With our last hour
we check in our baggage
and board our plane.
Though not our destination,
it would be pointless to pass up
the late night delicacies
of New York City.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 11:21 PM UTC
There's a Tale of hare
named Bugs, wisecracking
Brooklyn speedster
who raced against
a Tortoise green.
Mercedes grey speeding
along, distancing
a schlepping spect,
a North Face jacket
on fruitcake's trek.
4000 fast
and sleek.
8 slow
and green.
Neither racers strangely
notice that child
born on dented stripes,
warning bumps
by side road way.
Is life a sacred race?
Marriage sacrament
a finishing face?
Dying memories trace
a cove and net
lacing U and who?
What's up Doc?
Eating healthy,
eating carrots?
I hear your voice
who's love does bare.
False Saffron leiter
extort and retorts weiter!
Komisch verwaltung
Schwartz holzteer
baiting babies to finish fear.
A cartoon film
skipping and tear
telling a child's tale
reel ending here.
Feb 16, 2013
Feb 16, 2013 at 7:23 AM UTC
Oh speedster Lance, Great Olympian Hero,
Hard peddler, you,the mighty french conqueror,
Triumphant slayer of the deadly breed cancerous,
Rode fast,won faster ,arms strong, pistoning legs,
Streaking,weaving past mortals lesser,or fairer then?
Was one aim JUST victory, or did anything else matter?
Did you ride on the straight and narrow, but forgot the path?
Many finish lines crossed,but never the true race started,
How did the lion heart wilt? The mind astray went?
Hard toils,grits grim, sweats wasted, false celebrations all,
Come now to naught,cause all isn't unfair be love or war,
Oh Lance,how did you wither unfair? Where did you fall?or Fail?
--------Thoughts on watching a mighty hero fall.----------
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 9:25 AM UTC
The curves on this cobalt two-seater
are so **** beguiling. Fuck!
The arcs and contours swerve
through my tangled imagination.
Heh...I am a hopeless romantic
parked in a speedster, dreaming of driving.
I laugh at myself because...how like me
to pick a car that reminds me of you.
I mean, we have yet to experience the pleasure
of meeting each other, but I have seen you before--
My God, I have seen you before--
My trembling hand at the small of your back...
The hypnotic aria of our intimate silence…
The way your laughter heals my pain...
I am alone, but I am driven to find you,
to meet you, to break free of my familiar
Nostalgia made me bitter, turned my love
into a fleeting spirit that burns the palette
Space. She needed, “Space…”
When did my embrace become a cage?
Space. She needed, “Space…”
When did bawling in pain become my normal?
I am alone, but I am driven to find you,
to meet you, to break free of this familiar
I thought love was a destination
that could not be reached.
An elusive location that I longed for,
but was too afraid to take the driver’s seat.
I was a hopeless passenger, happy
to be along for someone else’s ride
I have steadied my breath, wiped my eyes
in order to see you clearly.
Whoever you are, wherever you are,
please know that I am driven to find you.
Soon, we’ll hop into this two-seater
and neither of us will be alone.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 5:04 PM UTC
He was one of the cognoscenti,
She was one of the ‘up-for-sale’,
I knew that I shouldn’t fall for her
That she’d more than likely bale,
But she came to me as a short-stop
On the way to a better deal,
She wouldn’t have even thought of,
(When she dumped me), how I’d feel.
I know it was my decision
To take her on at the start,
Then I didn’t know the bad effect
She’d have upon my heart,
But she gave to me unstinting,
That was how she really was,
Right to the time the know-all came
And told her what was what.
She’d gaze in a fascination
As he’d run off at the mouth,
Telling us in his wisdom
What he’d learnt, both north and south.
I couldn’t compete with his wallet,
I knew what his gifting cost,
And when he moved to the bedroom,
I knew that my cause was lost.
She shrugged it off in the morning,
She said it was only fair,
That I’d been suddenly just a friend
With benefits, to share,
But her life, it was slowly changing
And she sought stability,
That was the thing she found with him
That she couldn’t find with me.
I saw them off to the movies,
I watched as they went to dine,
I saw him caress her everywhere
In places that were mine,
I thought that I couldn’t stand it
The signs of their outward bliss,
Even though I had always known
In the end it would come to this.
But my love for her had curdled,
And my heart had turned to hate,
Revenge was upmost in my mind
When I planned an awful fate,
They ran around in a speedster,
A car with an open top,
I cut the lines to the power brakes
And I watched them both drive off.
I heard they were doing eighty
When the car didn’t take the curve,
And smashed them into an old oak tree
As it leapt right over the curb,
They both were thrown clean over the hood,
He broke his neck on the tree,
And she was crippled below the waist
But he was dead, you see.
I’d visit her at the hospice
As her health returned to fair,
But nothing would change the fact that she
Would spend her life in a chair.
I’d push her out in the garden
As I felt repentance soar,
And she would cry, ‘I want to die,’
While I fell for her, once more.
And she was happy to take me
At last, as the second best,
While in the guilt my tears were spilt
Though I tried to fake the rest,
I’m stuck with her in a wheelchair
And my life is merely dregs,
There isn’t a single benefit
For a girl with crippled legs.
We can’t make love in the morning,
We’ll never dance at a ball,
I’m tied for life to a crippled wife,
It’s my own fault, after all.
I shouldn’t have given in to hate
For a love that wasn’t mine,
And now I wonder if she loves me
Or just wants to pass the time.
David Lewis Paget
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Sometimes you have to run really fast
To keep the dark from catching up with you.
ljm - I think
Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 12:34 PM UTC