There's gravel grinding in my gut; a godless gearbox of grief growling in my belly's black cathedral.
My heart hammers like hell's hooves, hauling the hearse of every hope I ever had.
I eat dirt for dinner and call it divine, choking on crumbs of my own creation.
My lungs lurch like dying engines, exhaling elegies of exhaust and extinction.
Every breath burns a furnace of forgiveness that refuses to cool.
The devil drums on my ribs like thunder made of teeth and tin.
My tongue tastes of tombstones and tar and a sermon spat through shattered glass.
Even silence stabs sharp sanctified hollering hymns of pain through the marrow of midnight.
I am the meat of my own misery devoured by despair divine.
And stll the gravel grins inside me, grinding and glorying in my ruin.
I’ll always remember my very first car
All gleaming in shiny red metal
It never broke down, going near, going far
The fire in my gut wouldn’t settle
Each morning I’d hop in that open top
Sometimes it seemed I could fly
No one could stop the cream of the crop
And sat in that car, that was I
The only speed I ever heeded was ‘Faster’
The only fuel she ever needed was me
For I had no clutch and no gearbox to master
I’d pedal like crazy, back when I was three.
This transmission is always meshed
Rotating gears of helical threshed
A dog clutch and synchronic ring
Engaging gears this fork in swing
Fourth, Third, second and first
Gears are changed at a burst
Just remember the letter H
When you move that stick
These gears don't grate
Shafts keep turning counter and main
Both can incorporate gears to twain
Idle and helical turning together
Select reverse, it’s truly clever
First, second, third and fourth
The dog clutch slides back and forth
Just select the one you need
Synchronized to match that gear's speed
So don’t forget this grand design
These gearboxes' built with smooth in mind
The next time you hear that crunchy sound
Just bear in mind your synch’s been ground
It’s only you not de-pressing that clutch
Firmly down, not double dee Dutch
So make this process smooth as can be
Then your transition will be sweet harmony
© Copyright K.C.Leake
17th October 2014
All Rights Reserved
Roaming is my new hobby
scanning the world for a new circus
swinging from the rafters are monkeys on an acid trip
bleeding white liquid onto the crowds
watching them have their fun
I know not what I see
but I’m fairly familiar with this scene
I think I’ve been here before
It’s just lost some of it’s old appeal
Shifting the gearbox into overdrive pushes me past sanity
to a place that seems more comfortable than losing my mind
think I’ll stick it out here until the paradox stops spinning in it’s grave
A sly justification for not being normal
not that any of this is
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