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G N A R L I N G G A S H

Submitted by Esker on Wed, 2014-03-05 23:30

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

Editing stage: 
Editing - rough draft

Comments

eightmenout

Sat, 2014-03-08 23:39

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

Esker's picture

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...

author comment

eightmenout

Sun, 2014-03-09 08:46

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

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