There is a monster that accompanies him,
In halls, streets, college, it never leaves his side.
Better than the lovers and friends,
But its company brings demise.
He carries the baggage of his own thoughts,
Death always stays by his side.
Made her his closest friend,
Just one wish away for this to end.
The dark passenger is his name,
Death is the ruler in his kingdom.
It breaks or brings any curse,
Negative thoughts prey upon him
wishing and hoping.
living in past memories,
empty all alone.
living with the hope of a future.
watching like a spectator, of the life i lost.
butterflies swarmed my heart every time our paths crossed.
from feeling like a dream to becoming my dreams.
waking up and your gone,
all thats left is the echos of our song.
cold finger tips,
sharing our love with our lips.
A lonely passenger trying to navigate life while still yearning for his lost treasure.
i cant have you and now you belong to another.
i wonder if your eyes enchant him like they done me.
How steady the merciless raindrop falls,
Could they be the fragments of my soul?
Wept from the mournful clouds, my mind.
Watering the diseased flowers, my body.
Yet my heart lingers, in the void of life,
No passenger walking by the sidewalk,
Can ease the fractured throne of love,
No love for life, no life for hope, no beats,
Why should a man overdo his stay?
Born in December on a cold winter’s day
I was baptised a Christian without any say
My life given direction before I could walk
A school then chosen before I could talk
I went through communion and was soon confirmed
In my inner cocoon I wriggled and squirmed
I advanced through school to the final stage
Soon after that I was earning minimum wage
I lost that job and ended up in university
Spending years later enduring much adversity
I married and worked until I was told to retire
My life force consumed like a ravenous vampire
I sit here a widow, my kids flown the nest
Patiently I wait for my eternal rest
I spent my best days in the passenger seat
I now well up in tears as my life’s all but complete
I feel like I’ve never truly had much of a say
Just putting my head down day after day
It took twenty more years until my heart gave in
Finally it’s time to get me out of this skin
I woke up wondering where I was
In my dream I had been driving somewhere
Here there everywhere trying to get home
I thought I saw it down the street that street
Turned down that street only to find
It didn’t look like the right one
The end looked too cluttered too busy
I was going down the wrong street
Looked like the right one
So where am I
The sun shone but I was in the dark
I was a man but my child was lost
I could see then but I can’t see now
Then I asked for directions
And my darkness shed its skin
When my passenger pointed the way
Frank Black Blacharczyk
Here, the word I drop for Travelers “Hark!”
Where offended driver begins to bark:
“Why should you there your Stupid Volvo park?”
The bared teeth of speaker those of a shark;
If he sank them in one’s flesh the same mark,
Now cursing one, next singing like a lark…
Hurry not if destination is Park,
Not the Amusements, I mean: Motor Park!
Where wires of new licensed cars spark,
Your pockets picked while Daylight was still stark,
Fights ignited last until it is dark:
Preachers surface to dwell on Noah’s Ark…
Where one meets with Comedian Passengers,
By their sides Satan’s Soft Messengers…
For thee a tried Nigerian Motor Park,
In which had been displayed Award Gold Plaque…
Stomping
Stomping
Stomping
Stop,
Please
No control,
Vehicle lurches
But I’m just a
Passenger on this
Road of life
These bastards styling as men’s movers
From their short trips expect universe;
Traveler to pay for bag in booth
Or get ready to lose his front tooth…
I’m the sorely aggrieved passenger
Usefully turned God’s messenger.
You don’t passenger try to clean through;
Your cheap hapless lies make out as true,
Voices sounding like owners might die,
If they should be asked a probing “why?”
Now, I see a business of necks squeezed,
Until moisture drops, no pressure eased…
A once-good driver turns a dummy
From grabbed money bulging his tummy;
Sure-to-invite tears obesity
That shortens dear life without pity…
“Traveler not the same as his load,”
Say Nigerian drivers on the road…”
The plane had after three hours crashed,
With the scene after four hours flashed;
The people who had been airlifted
Without a lone exception gifted:
Three hundred and sixty passengers,
Thirty six of them God's Messengers,
A thirty - six year - old senator
Involved with a female aviator,
A twelve - year - old school child monitor
And his doting father janitor
Farmer owner of Navigator
Still enthused about The Gladiator...
And the Nasty Crash picked them all up,
As though filled up their life's fateful Rude Cup
A Plane Crash in Max's mind a deep gash,
Because passengers had paid full cash!
I got here somewhat quickly,
briskly here I lived...
I don't even realize if I'm
still here... or slipped away
love
transitional
summer
light
affair
passenger
A Mitsubishi breezes out of the South at Seven,
The North storming at Eleven;
The driver’s continual worrying of gear five,
The tires of the machine ever roaring alive;
In pyramidal slights of screaming passengers
Now-turned doom-alerting messengers.
It’s a driver clearly going bananas,
His remarks classically proving his uncivil manners;
Kano pedestrians openly mad at him,
Now and then attacking him as a team;
Fears that he ‘d been weaponizing his journeys,
Each murder charge circumventing with bribed attorneys…
Always about spillage of blood on a coal tar,
Which he had their bills settled in a lone bar;
The other day, all the passengers dead and cold !
Driver and conductor assisting ambulance told;
Only minor injuries to driver’s finger nails
And serious injuries to conductor’s toenails.
As a virtual passenger
bound for Auschwitz tour ~~~
my mind tries to evade holocaust realities
while heart throbs fast against historical angst...
allowing tears to express thanksgiving praise
for freedom* my soul verily enjoys today.
*John 8:36 If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.
April 19, 2021
1st place, "ALL YOURS (May 7)" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 5/7/2021.
i've seen it several times
someone motioning, flourishing
waggling, swinging, curving
hunching, moulding, stooping
pulling shapes, a twirling
a form, a delineation, shadows
fingers, tree branches, winding creeks
sometimes a head inclines
obstructing the cityscape
what are they listening to?
what are they talking about?
we've done it, we've become greenwood
sometimes a jungle
i've done it alone after dropping you off
cold storage becomes publicised
i've done it
i've done it, yes, i've cried in
the car
alone
For sure she didn’t need to take a ride
but flew with strong wings in flocks
that would darken the sun
into a hail of lead.
Now she’s past.
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