Long Riding shotgun Poems
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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.
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
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.
Inspiration has abandoned me my life without muse
Creation just laughs at me what more can I lose
Thought keeps pestering me to try and think again
Concentration waves farewell to me smiling with a grin
Family seems lost to me though they are not to blame
Friends no longer think of me the reason being the same
Lovers simply ignore me as if I never existed
Strangers just look at me the outcast, the evil, sadistic
Pain seems to love me though for it never leaves my side
Suffering is riding shotgun in this pains miserable ride
Anger is boiling over tearing me apart seam by seam
Aggression is sizing up all of the hated as I scream
Positivity seems a little tied up to deal with my thoughts
Negativity runs the race within me and never will be caught
Physically my strength seems to be on extended vacation
Mentally my mind needs to eat for i am dying from starvation
bmdavey@02/16/23
the best rice pilaf ever
the present to her my tuna and cheese casserole
together, we make the taco salad and the cinnamon rolls, medium icing
butterscotch milkshake for me
blue bubblegum milkshake for you
the james gang is playing on the 8 track player
riding shotgun is the voice of steve marriott
in my head is some early loverboy turnin' loose
so blessed to still be here
the pandemic claiming 6 between us, including your Mother
i turn all of the music off and i hold you in silence as you finally stop 'being brave'
you sing your Mother's favorite song, half crygurgling, but still beautifully
'COME IN FROM THE COLD (COME IN, COME IN)'
i think about my own Mother conversing with yours
an andrae crouch song creeps from my lips
THROUGH IT ALL/OHHH THROUGH IT ALL/I LEARNED TO TRUST IN JESUS/I LEARNED TO TRUST IN GOD'
feeling this, you bury your head deeper into my chest
loving each other in the depths of another definition
we forget completely about the music and the food
the rhythm and the nourishment is coming from another place on this night
Left toothbrushless mine pilfered along with shampoo,deodorant, razors and other such, found me wasted in Walmart, thieving Gnomes at the last homeless shelter are my suspects. His name tag said Elvis, greeting customers at the starting gate, navigating shopping cart jockeys with cherubs riding shotgun, my request for the location of items is answered Presley style "Past houseware" he Hound Dogged lip curled.
Among waffle irons and toasters in an aisle devoid of housewife print skirts, your memory purchased my thoughts, forging past bedding, linen sheets how we once tangled and ravaged, is that your image disappearing into lingerie.
Jesus on his employee name badge suffering from price tag neurosis."Love potion? We don't sell that vagabundo polo." He growled with picante breath.
You told me I could find everything I needed here, but not even Walmart has what it would take to make you love me again.
I hope Target is open!
©2019
Ah, my teenage years!
Unforgettable
The fun driving lessons
In the summertime,
many moons ago
with my dearly departed father
lingering,
precious,
magnolia-scented memories
Perennially haunting
and tantalizingly close
to recall
I fondly remember
my father's patience
through it all
Riding shotgun,
helping me
steer the wheel
with a steady left hand
"Easy now, son...easy on the gas pedal..."
"Return the steering wheel after every turn..."
Oh, I remember
those calm, silken words of his
all too well
Memories worth
more than gold;
too expensive
to be bought
Lines Of Ten That Remind You What It Was Like Back Then Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and posted: 09/27/2018
That summer weight of a bibliophile,
my reading list has been growing a while.
Waiting for the backdrop of the ocean
to hurriedly crack open a new one.
Stuff your beach bag fill up your E-reader
Summer is here the weather is warmer.
It’s finally time to lighten the load,
with all the excitement I might explode.
A new author a new world to explore,
I soak it up and get hungry for more.
Riding shotgun down a fictitious road
I studied a law that became the code.
With every lesson making me stronger
the next chapter just needs to get longer.
So hard to beat such solitary fun,
that never needs an okay from someone.
Scarfing it all up I’m so full meanwhile
I lose the weight of a bibliophile.