Holding up traffic
is a terrible pileup
on the interstate -
the opposite side also
is slowed by rubberneckers
Many are injured
while six have been declared dead
as folks wonder why -
cops investigate the scene
while sirens are heard wailing
flung far from her car
lies a woman and cell phone
which has solved the case -
messaged at time of the crash:
“I am dying to get home”
Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires.
Motel maids were her sisters, bars her occupation,
a place to work on the aerobics of hope.
He was a hazard in her side-view mirror,
a pileup that followed her home.
Hitched to a double-wide,
they took the long slide in a downhill race.
Both rode their desires in a raw rodeo.
He anointing her with his pity-me seed,
she dispensing self-hate in Dixie cups.
Authentic feelings waned,
emotions were stored in freezer bags,
kept on ice.
For months they clawed their way out
of a bad country song,
until the band broke up.
Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires.
Motel maids were her sisters, bars her occupation,
a place to work on the aerobics of hope.
He was a hazard in her side-view mirror,
a pileup that followed her home.
Hitched to a double-wide,
they took the long slide in a downhill race.
Both rode their desires in a raw rodeo.
He anointing her with his pity-me seed,
she dispensing self-hate in Dixie cups.
Authentic feelings waned,
emotions were stored in freezer bags,
kept on ice.
For months they clawed their way out
of a bad country song,
until the band broke up.
Her hormones fled the coop on scalding tires.
Motel maids were her sisters, bars her occupation,
a place to work on the aerobics of hope.
He was a hazard in her side-view mirror,
a pileup that followed her home.
Hitched to a double-wide,
they took the long slide in a downhill race.
Both rode their desires in a raw rodeo.
He anointing her with his pity-me seed,
she dispensing self-hate in Dixie cups.
The litter of their love
was dumped on friends and cops.
A shared habit for synthetic stimulants
ensured court dates and warrants.
Naturally, they pointed fingers,
gambled on a better hand tomorrow.
Authentic feelings waned,
emotions were stored in freezer bags,
kept on ice. They were no longer nice
to each other, nor did they try,
love blinked out in dulling eyes.
They still made house together,
but the magic had left for the circus,
for months they clawed their way out
of a bad country song,
until the band broke up.
Over a bridge
and past a bright green meadow
appeared a little squidge
an angry monstrous short little fellow
"Come, Come my Sesame Balanja,
Follow me to my CrossjaKanga!"
He jumped and he whelped
screaming such strange things
he motioned, and he dotioned, and he complepleded
"Let us go and sing of kings and rings...
Come, Come my Sesame Balanja,
Follow me to my CrossjaKanga!"
So I went where he motioned
under the bridge and into his cavy fridge
where he said he makes his devotions
and as I tripped on a wire, he smiled a smidge
"Come, Come my Sesame Balanja,
Follow me to my CrossjaKanga!"
Soon I realized I could not get up
over me had fallen a net
and there before me- bones in a pileup
I knew this the end, my gullibility my regret
A quiet nearing voice behind began to windup...
"Come, Come my Sesame Balanja,
Follow me to my CrossjaKanga!"
Contest: Inky Dinky Parlay Voo Poetry Contest
Sponsored By: Caren Krutsinger
Poem Name: Sesame Balanja
Date: March 7, 2020
Just jumping in.
Everything comes to a halt.
The first few moments don't seem as bad.
Depending on length.
The line of cars.
In a sea of metal
Something wow happens.
Metal crashes into metal.
Causally passing by.
Everyone is okay.
Making sure to see what happened
They drop speed.
The police attempt to make it through to the scene.
Little to no debris.
No never-mind to the expensive cars brought to a halt.
The Mercedes Benz, the Porsche out of place slow moving along.
A Black Nissan Sentra with two kids playing in the backseat.
The other side is free to go as they please.
Compared to most places this is nothing.
Try New York. Atlanta. Texas to name a few.
You just jump in, moving from point A to B.
Life is admittedly too short to walk a great distance.
A two car pileup a few miles ahead.
Bumper to bumper no one gives space to breathe.
A Cadillac honks in frustration.
The Black Nissan honks back in attempt to get over.
Inching closer to maneuver it's way in front.
After everyone takes a glance at the pileup.
Traffic is back to normal.
The two kids continue to play like nothings happened
Surely it does... but don't call me Shirley
“Airplane” a rapid-fire spoof, you remember surely
Leslie Nielsen was the pilot
A real sexual joke pileup
A riot for the time, a hit with this comedic jury
You ran a red light and I did yell,
for you are a clown, "So go to hell,"
but while I was screaming
and my blood was teeming,
you caused a pileup... now rot in jail!
To feel your pain
means sensing the endless and senseless energy drain
Moving forward doesn't happen with ease
sometimes it's more like a painful disease
or like a ride on a road full of spike strips
then comes the 10 car pileup and off the roof rips
Patience and clear vision with which to see
is of utmost importance. It's true, it is the key
The key will unlock the door that secludes you
from a fulfilling life that will NOT elude you!
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