Long Riding shotgun Poems
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As the fog thickens like soup,
Driving down this old country highway in this old worn out old coupe.
Trying to make up lost time has got my old nerves tied up in a ball.
When right in front of me stands this big old buck deer, I slam on my brakes,
my tires start to squall.
The deer breaks and runs just barely in time,
As I skid right on by just barely brush his behind.
Talk about luck he’s riding shotgun tonight and I just locked his door.
Well I decide it’s time to push it just a little bit more.
The hour is quite late and I doubt any cops are about.
So I decide to test this old engine to see if it is still stout.
The accelerator to the floor and I’m still wanting more.
Well that’s all she’s got as I ease it off of the floor.
I don’t know what happened maybe an adrenaline rush as I regained control.
Kind of a spooky night like something is after my soul.
Well I shake off that thought and then the fog starts to thicken again.
When there in the road I swear it looks like the same old deer my friend.
Everything that happens is exactly as before.
I look at my clock, a quarter till four, what’s happening, I’m living this same
nightmare once more.
What’s going on and I’m starting to freak.
My heart is beating so fast I can’t seem to speak.
I decide to stop but this doesn’t look like a very good place.
When there in the road a man is standing and he is missing his face.
From out of the darkness more figures I see.
When there right beside me I hear this noise it’s buzzing at me.
And something grabs hold of me and just won’t let go.
It shakes and it shakes then I hear a voice you better get up time for the show.
I sure hate to admit it but I’m sure glad this was a dream.
Cause I sure wouldn’t want that guy with no face on my team.
Military boots grip the pavement,
hair in a Sarah Connor ponytail
Got her sunglasses on at midnight,
waiting patiently for the right ride
to stop
And swing open an invitation
to rest her road wary bones
From the bend of the elbow,
to the cut leather gloved hand
waving a five finger salute
With a Rambo blade strapped to the thigh
of her shredded, faded blue jeans,
she has no hesitation riding shotgun
with a human unknown
Inside her deerskin vest,
she holsters a Beretta 9-mil
Trained as a sniper ... shoot to kill
Speaking politely to the stranger,
she tersely says: “keep your hands off the merchandise,
and keep your eyes on the road
And please, don’t make me have to say it twice ...
I'm saying this once, and I'm saying it nice"
With a nod of understanding,
they both settle in for the long haul
The ten thousand raven-strand beauty
says she’s going halfway to wherever
the occupant’s destination is
She remarks with a wry smile: “tonight ain’t such a bad day to live”
The driver assesses the situation,
and glumly decides that tonight ain’t a good day to die
So the hitchhiker exits from the vehicle,
thanks the stranger for the rest and the ride
After getting a bath, a meal and a good night sleep
from the local comfort environs;
she packs her gear, it’s time to be on the move again
There’s always someplace that can use her unique skills
Heading back to the edge of the road,
with no particular place in mind to go ... just stay on the eagle fly
Wing it on the sky dive
Hitchhiker, free and windblown —
With storm cloud eyes thunder bursting,
she only focuses on which car to next parachute in
sunrise in the south china sea
half way between subic and yankee station
i am still in awe
of how something as big as this boat
with all of the stuff on board, floats
and yet, of how small we are compared to the sea and ocean
there will be little change in the scenery,
horizon to horizon ocean, sun up to sun up
maybe a few white caps, flying fish,
we’re getting ready to “support” another campaign
500 pounders, clusters and lots of them
f4’s riding shotgun
it’s going to get tense with
all of the launching of full aircraft
and recovery of the empties
between sorties, we’ll take on un-rep
and then get back into it
we’ll do that for a few days,
if we’re lucky, we’ll get out of the
hostile zone and stand down for a day
for most that means barbecue on the flight deck
for others, like me, it means catch up on maintenance
we are literally an island, largely cut off
from the world as one would know it
we have enough fire power to level several cities
and because of that, we are a danger and target
and yet there is a secure feeling of being on the boat
i don’t worry about my safety
my training and responsibilities keep me occupied
sometimes i wonder if we are doing
the right thing and hope this “conflict" will end soon
there’s little time for idle thought
i do think of how much i miss
my family and loved ones
when i do get home, it will be strange
for a while, i’ll have nothing in common
but that uncomfortable feeling of not belonging
and wishing i was at sea again in harms way
Appointment with the sandman,interrupted
Snooze button,untouched.Not this year
Phone’s ringing,wake up call.Accept
Voices in my head,loud and clear
Blood in my veins,steaming hot
Candle lit dinner with my soul,psychedelic
Steak on my plate,medium rare
Affairs of the heart,complicated
Howling wolves,it’s a full moon
I’ll wear my heart on my sleeve,proudly so
Etched into my skin,will be my aces
Riding shotgun with my diamond-cut fists
The left side of my brain,unhinged
A few screws still lay on the ground
I’ll have that molotov cocktail, to go
Don’t forget to put that story in the doggy bag
I fear a storm is coming,ill need that umbrella
On second thought,let me appeal to its better nature
What thoughts run through your head pretty storm?
Do you dream of hurricanes or clear blue skies?
Have you ever been in love ? Or did you lose your heart to this unapologetic world?
Does the thought of dying alone send shivers down your spine? Or does it excite you like a child on a trampoline?
Do you wish the eclipse would last forever or are you secretly in love with the sun?
Would you sweep this town if he was yours?
Would you count sheep if you tasted his rays?
Or would you rather terrorize this town than admit your feelings for him?
Such questions keep me up at night
I wonder if they have the same effect on you
I have to go now but here is my number
If you ever feel like talking about new beginnings
JGM
Each human around me sweats
Wears sunglasses
Smacked by gusts
A nesting couple hollows me,
Two tawny, tiny twitterpates
Ready for rainstorms,
And I would be happy.
But, this spring, I am still barren,
Like the young man's eyes
Across from me
I see sitting in midnight blue
Rising randomly observant riding shotgun
Glancing blue at human beauty
Asking aloud if hollow or healer
Earbuds grind
A slave to passion
Looking for mirrored darkness
In-between long pauses of reading
Dead poets,
Wishing for weather less crazy
Possibilites
Mouthing "Why did I let her in?"
"What if I take my life tomorrow?"
Vibes absorbent dancing Back-alley Wasteland.
I rustle my dryness fervently--
Dissuasion?--
When the next gust sweeps this asphalt lot,
My home.
He notices,
Eyes fully scoped
Blue iris majesty,
"Why didn't I care when she died?"
he asks me or maybe it's a question for my arms.
"Love summertime, hollow sunshine,"
And the sky of half-sun weeps
neither bitterness nor solace.
Together we would love
An oasis for the coming summer
Another real one
Doesn't wear sunglasses
Shading intentions unnatural,
Prone giftings pure fire
No human nor tree
Ever since has seen.
The young man's family returns.
The car starts.
The rain spreads to another heart
In Jersey; tawny twains uprooting sanity.
I part with this man
I've only seen once before
Wishing I'd spoken something
Besides "Soul firewood."
Publican politicians talk in half-price right angles
Dodge City liberty
being smoking barrel bargain sold
at a chill,
Colt-45 degrees
AC (alcoholic crops) bootleggers selling
Prohibition license to breathe
Drunken Al Capone clones
riding shotgun,
spit spraying
automatic fire taxable oppression
Seasoned Caesar bag men love to casino dangle,
dance the Charleston Charlottesville style
Beat the audit odds with one-handed guile
Then sell out citizen we with gangsta ease,
rubbing out the actuary numbers
on our license to breathe
Tricky politicians speak Publicanese,
extorted exhalation
which wafts on a fabricated breeze
Pharaoh sons got a prison labor farm
gaming system,
printing free Monopoly money
to pyramid scheme burn
Ashes from cremated capitalist leaves
market fluctuate
on a jaded, emerald breeze
Covetous Equus heads,
harnessed to paper cloud chariots,
snorting war ozone air
Trojan horses wanting Roman legion liberty,
are told ain’t nothing Spartan sold shogun free
Dodge City living dead property
ain’t got no
Colt-45 trigger zombie release
Death stench in the decaying air
is crypt coming from
inhaled depths of iron lung oxy robbers
So don’t smoking barrel bother
to try and take a dirt-free emancipated sneeze,
if you don’t have a burial license to breathe
It stands on a bookcase shelf in the kitchen.
A picture of my father and me.
"Chillin'" at our favorite watering hole,
Smiles and seemingly happy,
Don't know why this one time,
Brought the surf wave of pain,
at that point,
I'd successfully glanced at it,
dozens of times at home,
And it was merely a keepsake
for this joint,
But this time I really paid heed,
And, I can tell you, my heart started
to bleed,
We were so happy, with identical
shirts,
Reading the paper, engaging in
flirts with skirts,
Playing our Quick Draw,
Rubbin' our scratch offs
Talking with pals,
Joking with the bartender,
Laughing with gals.
Those days are over,
And that realization did hurt,
Yet another bow to the power of death,
The embezzler of once dreamy hopes,
Now reduced to but counterfeit
Living in a world without him
Somehow the lights grew dim
No more "riding shotgun" in my car,
No more bantering at the bar,
No more grocery shopping for two,
No one to share a meal with you,
No one to complain to of your pain,
No one to share an umbrella with,
in the rain...
No Goodnights! No more I Love You
Just a world grown so blue
It's not my fault, I remind myself,
But God' will, In wisdom I can't see,
Because his loss ripped
the heart out of me.
The addict rests in the darkness
Comfortable in his skin
Knowing
Does not doubt his actions
Moves forward swiftly
Alone
Bottle and stash by his side
Chaos as his neighbour
Top down
Cruising
Upon awakening its us
Who needs to pick
ourselves up
wonder
where we have been
Where's the money I had
Who's that lying in my bed
With shame as our witness
Our mouths stinking of cigarettes
Our clothes stained from whatever
it was that happened last night
Or maybe we never left
the house at all
awaking once again to the
pain in our heads
the pain in our hearts
And in that moment we choose
Us or addict
Who will rule that day
Alone, alone she wants us
To terrify us with her stories
To playback the defeats and indiscretions
setting her trap
Coming together in all ways
Whether it is in this room or the next
Saying what there is to say
Opening our ears
Opening our hearts
Lessens his grip
Today I rise after stumbling
and scraping my knees
From there I thanked God for
my opportunity to rise
From there I shift the focus
from my torment to my opportunity
From my pain to my gratitude
I place one foot in front of the other
Open my heart to healing
Giving God the wheel
Gordon Martin Feb 4, 2017
Gone
lit-up-light-of-
nothing peculiar
we-you-and this
sewing tight the nebulous.
Salted tongues of silence,
pillow-sex for the nearly departed.
Adjust body-images,
fill cupped hands with
day and nightly needs.
Arms shrouded in animal skins,
see the bones
of long gnawed desires?
Rhythms, be thee in-sync,
REM cycles of desire
be thee loosely hitched
to mutuality.
Grind not - just yet.
Making it, doing it
feeling your it-ness,
our conjoined selfsameness.
The mind has invisible mountains.
let us jump,
just I
and that familiarity
of a former you,
go leap,
both riding shotgun,
with flammable
double-barreled begetting’s.
We do,
we slip in and out of empty shells
smudged by the powder burns
of spent emotions.
We-are-this-long gone togetherness,
meeting again
in an overdue daydream
embedded within a night-ride,
exposed way behind the optics,
playing the black keys
on high tide crests,
tunnel visions narrowing
to ne-plus-ultra disclosures.
We the cross-hearts,
cross-stitching reality,
time out of time,
yet again.
Staring into the clear blue Sky,
Tears Fill my Eyes,
As the crows come flying by,
High above the trees,
Dancing with the Breeze.
I'm Down on my knees,
Shoveling,
Digging up My roots.
Exposing bitter Truths.
Who I Use to Be,
The parts I Wish weren't me.
Opening the door,
I settle in.
Riding Shotgun with The Devil,
Riding to a different level.
Balancing the Machine,
Repairing the Seam.
Picking up Steam,
Becoming a Team.
How it may seem,
Unclean.
Yet Unseen,
Lie Lessons to Glean.
See the Important Role,
It plays Teaching a Soul.
Finding Light in the Dark,
I embark upon Dimensions,
Sparking my intentions.
Exposing my Ascension,
The Curses and Blessings.
Challenging and testing,
Keeping me Guessing.
It's my Hands on The Wheel,
I can see them from here.
I'm Feeling no control,
Going with the flow.
The best I Know,
Shining as I go.
Sharing my Light,
I stop to pay the Toll.
Continuing our roll,
I begin to let go.
Riding Shotgun with the Devil,
Riding on a whole new Level.
Teaching me what I know,
To Show Love,
To All Those,
Looking to,
Grow.