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(Impudence)

LAUNDOZEMATHIAS

an arc lamp sizzles
the tug thumps its steam bowels
all is ordinary and surreal
as the river crawls us along
the crew whom have worked this riveted
dory have their plethora of shivs
and iron
but we sense the greater urgency
of importance
like the eye of a great blind cannon watches
us pass with a bored puck
flint and steel in his hand

the swirling torsion of passage
the wrangler on the wheel
knows.watching the compass
in its hood
the kerosene motif
and cigar juggarnaut
in difficult ambush corners

we are a loaded tinderbox
of expletives beneath the
dripping steam whistles
drool..waiting for the first
tender round to find
our heart of incendiary
purpose

and nothing arrives
to sate the salvation
of our soul to the great
resurection in this shadow
of the cleft
though our bored sentries
fire off the odd salvo
to the sultry cacti
and stacked
sandstone watchers
in the distance

the great buck of retort
shimmers off the giants
playground here
and startles the odd hawk
and coyote

for the most
we are alone
and lonliness stirs
the fastideous
creature of imagination

I call out for soundings
and take depth readings
and shatter the heathen
stillness with the
cry of the iron beast

we are still a fortnights
travel to the forks
and the rascals
can arrive at any time
at three precidence
junctures...

hells fury

.......

Editing stage: 

Comments

A good write as usual.
I will have to try and write something serious, I am going to try at sometime to be there on that deck of a fighting ship of old.
Can we now feel as a singular man could when cannon are firing and cannon balls are shrieking around us, do we think, or does it become surreal.
Some of the problems now are that some think that life is just another game on their I Pods will we ever change.
Loved your story, thank you, Yours Ian..

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Unconditional love to you all.
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Yours as always, Ian.T, Sparrow, and Yenti

theory and conjecture but of course its the action and the singular being
of Been in the story.....considering that worlds wars of the past were fought with
men whom were hard working...and women...chores...hay hauling..minning..forest
construction workers...gaming runners..bookies..loansharks..thugs..and poets..
vietnam..footballers and boys spending summers growing up with baseball running
and throwing..hunting in the hills...fishing....the women too....my sisters and mother
worked hard...our home was clean..the lawn cut...pride of ownership we had but
we saw those that were in their own distant lands..that stuff not so important...

vietnam of which I was far too young to even think about getting put there was a real
threat....a fear pounded into me like the crack of gunfire on the evening news
and the boom of ordinance and the american tanks....mortar guns....
the violence we saw was on the highways going to toronto on the single lane
where collisions were common...horrible scenes...as im sure most youth whom grew
up with generation of highways like this....just added to it all...

did some short run odd jobs..delivering newspapers..filling the boxes...I sucked at it
no eye hand cordination....the stacks would topple...got along great with everyone but
thats not the purpose of the job....worked in factories
chimney sweep as I love to mention....
etc etc.....

this story is just a short conglomeration of Conrads great work...and the westerns
the river boats were shallow hulled and wide..basically barges capable of carrying
horses and material...the paddle wheel worked very well for propulsion! they tried
this theme on the great lakes but...a calm swift river to a rambunctious towering wave
infested storm....it never worked well....

my broadcast spectrum of character never delves deep into dialogue or personal
feeings...thoughts...snapshots..just a sketched storyline...
writers are cool I think
I want to get back into reading this year
more

thank U

author comment

Philosophical with great methodology, a vary fascinating write

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