Long Gas pedal Poems
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As I sit here and think about it
so many scarred memories, crashing
waves are thoughts of fate
that have been scorched with denial
blinded by a pit of despair, lonlier everyday
hiding within myself, hard to face the truth
the wheels screech down the road,
a narrow path driving insanity circles
as I push the gas pedal, I choke on the shambles
realizing where I f***ed myself in life
but I cant change the past, etched in glass
shattered vows, drowning in a sewer
my innocence lost, the keys locked inside
a tortured mind sold every last integrity
dollar after dollar blown away by a gust
of advice that disappeared before accepting
I put my life on the line, russian roulette
foolish character flaw, strength beyond others
imagination lit a way out through trials
tribulations bleed the same miserable mistakes
walking through hell graceful on the tip
of an iceberg running barefoot, expectations
slip my mind as I fall into temptation
wanting to be a hero, beat the devil who
twisted my soul into a knot, roasting
spit of reflecting truth bears a self-identity
acceptance of what I didn’t want to believe
who I was, now close to rock bottom, suffering
humanity turned away from fighting against
losing battles watching people swallow shame
blame catches fire through accelerated lies
close to a chasm allowing death to come
tortured dreams left deep scars, regret
I must willingly sacrifice the hypnotized
desire for the trance that I didn't need help
begging, scraping my knees on an unclean
temple floor I created, still willing for hope
chasing opportunities to survive a slowly
bleeding heart pumping life, thoroughly giving
existence awakening a new sense of purpose
time to face my own demons aware
I will feast no longer on blind survival, slipping
through reality anew remains charred; yet, I learned
the struggle is real when you cannot commit.
She stuck out like a lily among thorns, when she sprung up in
the midst of the Baptist Student Union. All eyes were on her, as she raised her
hands and lifted up her eyes with her voice. Chrissy signed and swayed in
reverence and awe of God's presence. Although some thought she was acting
irreverently, I knew Jesus was the treasure of her heart and that He was pleased
with her.
Chrissy was one of the most unconventional Christians I met in
college. She wore snug faded blue jeans with the knees out and an over
washed, green, sleeveless army shirt. She was very petite and fair-skinned with
thin cherry lips and rosy cheeks. Her hair was long, brown and frizzy, usually
worn in a ponytail and matched by her thick eyebrows haloing her innocent blue
eyes, which lit up as she ran and bounced around campus barefoot.
Her feet were so cute and tiny; they took my breath away and made
my heart pound, especially her right foot. It was like lead on the gas pedal. That
tender child would become another woman behind the wheel, and I always felt
as if I was in a centrifuge.
Once, on our way to church, she was traveling 70 miles per hour
around sharp curves and over unarmed railroad tracks. All the way there, she
was smiling that patented smile that had won the hearts of many and oscillating
her head from side to side to the music, as the truck jerked from left to right and
seemed to ride on two wheels.
My eyes were enlarged. Apparently, Chrissy figured out that I was
frightened when she noticed my locked jaw and gritting teeth; as my left hand
clawed the cracked vinyl seat, my right gripped the armrest on the door.
I had just left the Fairgrounds Race Track with my dad, where I won $13.00 on a nag whose name I forget and Dad won nothing, which mattered not since his goal was to 'celebrate' the night with his Candy Apple Red....newly bored out 1957 Chevrolet Corvette by timing it, while crossing Lake Pontchartrain's Causeway.
If you're not familiar, it's New Orleans longest bridge over water at 23.83 miles so off we went. At 11:00 PM the only thing in sight was a couple of lone Sea Gulls. Dad held up his stop watch, hit the gas pedal and zoom, we were gone. I remember when the Vette hit the hump where the bridge opens for boats to pass, it literally left the payment and took flight. Amazingly, when the four wheels returned to the cement, they were not felt and continued on smoothly to the end of the bridge, where we finally got off.....AMEN!
Daddy was in awe as he pulled over on a side street raising the stop watch to the street lamp in order to claim his glory. "Baby," he yelled, "Look at this" as he stuck that watch in my face. The watch reflected a 227 mile per hour trip in eleven minutes flat!
'Aw Baby you saw it! You lived it! Who cares if no one believes us! We did it!"
Dad owned New Orleans Ford Service Company but he was always a Chevy man at heart. He'd pull the 283-cid V-8 engine and to him it was the most revered engine in the entire world. The small block was what he was most proud to convey to any on lookers whether interested or not. He'd rave, "it's been bored out to 1/8 inch to 3.875 in stroke remained a short 3.00 in."
That was a long FAST memory ago. One I shall never forget! Did we really go that fast? Yes, according to his stop watch.....
Hoping my complement of words compliment your time:
[The man] from
Cape Town came down
was a Dutch Boer much more
likely be less lightly
[demand] his
boar who bore
his own way in and weigh in.
The Boer was allowed to speak aloud
and he laughed when he left,
but was bored when he board
the plane but a plain man
who was a former farmer
and he rose like all heroes
except when they accept
they need the doe-like when they knead the dough
was too high a price to pay, so he bought a cheap toupee
and crossed aisles row by row
and crossed isles shore by shore
he rent-a-car and went by car
and rode on a road, ahead ... and saw a head!
Aghast! He stepped on ... a gas pedal
where metal met mettle
going off course on the coarse roadside.
He could hear wheels whet off the wet edge of the road
He had to sell his cell phone to pay for the room
The maid made the call to the police
The cops were told over cups of coffee
He read the report and signed it with red ink
All know that there's no way he'll forget it soon
They said, "A lesson that never lessen, our hour is up, good night--whether the weather holds."
The waitress said, "Some night, the sum is on the house."
He waste away his waist that day
At the docks, he saw ducks and first they were geese
He got the que to stand in the queue as those who were through threw in their shoe and shoo
Clerk, "Destination?" "I'll be headin' for the British Isle."
Clerk, "Cheers and goodbye." "Cheap, was a good buy!"
It's a big world, don't believe it
try driving through Texas on a hot August day
with the AC out and the windows down
nothing but road and space and a clear blue
western Texas sky.
Unmerciful sun hammers down and it feels like
it is hitching a ride along side of you.
The breeze through the car window feels like a flame
scorching your face, only the evaporating sweat
ceases burnt skin.
Driving to oblivion with no other vehicles to be seen
just miles and miles of open road, and beside the roads
shrubby trees and pastureland with moo cows
roasting in the heat swinging tails to swat flies
always a lone abandon house crumbling to dust.
At least the bluebells bloom on the side of the road
in spring. This ain't spring. Just a Texas summer
that rivals the furnace of hell. Out of nowhere following
you from behind a hearse driven by a gaunt thin tall
man with eyes as blue as the devils'
Why you feel uneasy not sure but a heavy foot
on the gas pedal for distance, the rear mirror
shows the long black Lincoln limousine shinning
behind, behind, behind...no more
a smirk of satisfaction and ease to go slower.
It's a big world you turn to your destination
life again, noise, streets, buildings, people
it even feels just a bit cooler.
turn in to the house driveway to park, open car door
stretch those legs and arms, look and see
Next door in the driveway a long black Lincoln
limousine, naw it couldn't be, got to be another hearse
Out the neighbors door gaunt thin and tall devil blue eyes
nods his head. The world feels small now
it is just not big enough.
Self-certainty is sweet like sugar (drug of choice for ‘human race’),
its bloated, fake-blond, cotton logic, never does reveal its face.
Masks lure men to their death, use phantom sensuality to dupe.
The ‘ship of state’ gets smashed on rocks while ponce-in-chief tweets crap from poop!
Let doubt preserve your sanity! Be cautious; you should doubt me too!
But wisdom’s not all happy endings; ‘real joy’ whispers what is true.
Responsibility’s the answer; guarantees aren’t part of life!
So, think of this if you get married, love your queen but see your wife.
Doubt’s filter screens all Gods worth spit, for false Gods season ground like leaves!
Do doubt or questions blemish Faith or prove one’s faithful who believes,
who trusts real God’s a God that loves you (Who is faithful though life ends)?
Lacks certainty? Faith must! But grok that trust’s the glue that binds all friends!
While “doubt” can bless a faithful heart, all “certainty” PROVES ’Faith’ is dead,
though wise man’s foot rests on ‘gas pedal,’ foolish cry, “Full steam ahead!”
Distinguish truth from whorish magic; magic’s mists hide what is real;
the masters of its art fool senses, hope to gain from its appeal.
The Christ (I worship) died to model ‘Love’ that shows true selflessness,
His brotherhood with all creation (owning this helps life’s distress)!
The Bible, Science, Seasons, Grace are all provisions ‘from above’
and clay can never be the potter! ‘Doubt’ but ‘trust’ that God is LOVE.
Brian Johnston
July 19 of 2017 (Revised November 17 of 2020)
my Mother worked 3 jobs after my oldman died.in between evicitions and threats from bill collectors,she raised me.
during this time period my mother drank heavily and chased it with pills of all kind.one day it all came crashing down on top of her and me.
we were in the car and in a moment of transparency she broke down,
"I can't do this any more "she yelled in tears
as she broke down deeper the car speed increased
pounding the steering wheel with punching palms the car made a sharp turn down a alley way.
she yelled at me,"look you need to get out of this car now!"
"Why?"I replied
"I'm going away,not coming back"was her reply
"Going where?"I said
"To be with you're father"was her reply
"With the oldman,mom he's dead!"I shouted
at this point I knew she wanted to die.
she tried once even twice to puch me out of the car at high speed
"Get out of here,Get out now"she yelled
"NO!!!"I yelled back
"Mom I don't want you to die,I need you,Love you"my desperation replied
at this time I managed to slam the passenger side door closed that was a good thing because she floored the gas pedal even faster down the alley.
the car hit everything,garbage cans ,fences,garage doors you name it.
I got my nerve up and fought for control of the wheel of the car
"NO,NO,NO Let me die"was her reply
sparks flew every where with impact the car made.
I eventually pulled the keys out of the ignition , the car slammed to a stop
all I knew is we survived and she whispered to me in eyes of water"Sorry".
In upstate N.Y., off lake Ontario.
Haunting my dreams, this memory.
Here's the scenario
A cold mild breeze blows
on this Saturday in mid October.
Nine friends decide on the town carnival
Drunk, high, far from sober.
Every town had a carnival
in the October month.
We'd try for every one of them,
young men out on the hunt.
Moderate sized carnivals
containing the different towns,
all types of people came.
You had your jocks, thugs, and me..
The class clown...
All nine friends stylishly dressed
for the upcoming fun.
We pile into a Monte' Carlo,
passing the bottle of Bacardi rum.
We drive down Cetenary road
on the southeast side of town.
Our driver gains reckless speeds,
not thinking of our safety.
He comes to a screeching halt
at the intersection of Cetenary and Lake
He seemed to be excited
about the right turn he was about to make
Hard he presses the gas pedal,
the tires begin to spin
The rear starts radically fishtailing
the nightmare now begins.
First storming to the right
a voice screams out
"OH S#%T"
He jerks the wheel, now left.
We're now heading for a ditch.
At that moment all went black,
screams turned into whispers.
When my consciousness regained
what I saw sent spinal shivers.
Broken, blood stained glass,
seven bodies laying limp.
Skull fragments on the steering wheel,
I couldn't come to grip.
Nine friends set out intoxicated
This late October day
Taken by ambulance for treatment
And an overnight, extended stay
Jared Pickett........:JP]
Lying in an ocean of her own blood
drowning in her own blood. Her lungs
burning from the bullet wounds she
never thought this is how her life would
end.
Her tears start to flow as she thought of
the years she spent slithering with
snakes. Her job at the BNB bank made it
easy to launder money for the
Black Crime Syndicate. It was six years
ago on June the sixth that her life went to
hell. Upset at the thought
of being late for work Kenya floored the
gas pedal. Weaving in and out of traffic
hoping she didn't get a ticket.
Arriving at the BNB bank right on time
Kenya rushed inside and greeted
everyone with a warm friendly smile. A
short while later the most
attractive man she had ever seen entered
the bank. Lost in his good looks Kenya
had to find the words "May I help you?"
He introduced himself. "Yes my name is
Malik Maxwell Williams. I would like to
open an account". "Mr. Williams please
follow me to my office".
Malik was in Kenya's office for twenty
minutes before making his departure.
Kenya made it up in her mind that she
would get to know Malik on a personal
level.
Kenya lived a rather dull life unto the point
she decided to get involved with Malik.
written by Keith Edward Baucum aka Red
Seven aka The Brown Philosopher aka
The Green Poet
On this journey we call life; there will be bumps in the road.
Throughout this journey, doctors preach get tested.
Your birthday is coming up, congrats on turning 40 years old,
Everything in your life you have bested.
“Hello doc, nice to see you again, how is it going?”
“Hey there sir, I am good what brings you here?”
“Well I just turned 40 and want to make sure nothing is growing.”
“Not a problem, let’s get some blood and make sure your clear.”
You give the blood and go about your day,
You’re a healthy man, no need to worry.
Then the phone rings, it’s the doctor and he has something to say,
“Sir, your lab work is back; can you get here in a hurry?”
So you hang up the phone and you rush over quick,
All kinds of scenarios are going through your head.
Nervous, scared and anxious are all emotions that hit you like a brick,
You push that gas pedal like your foot is made of lead.
The doctor sits you down and thanks you for showing up so fast,
“Just tell me doc what did you find.”
“Well your blood work says your prostate is under attack,”
“But don’t freak out yet, just keep an open mind.”
So more testing is done, biopsies are taken,
The dreaded C word has now taken over you mind.
You have the support of friend and family and that can’t be shaken,
Just keep your head up and you will be fine.