Short Pistons Poems

Steam powered steel wheels,
pushing pistons in cycles
of captured time....

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Horde meets out  of town…
White smoke as tires spin around
Pistons melting down...

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What goes up must come down they say
It applies to so many things every day
Like pistons in a car
Or fun in the boudoir
When couples perform their nighttime plié


© Jack Ellison 2015...

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So it is
Mounting tension
Camel’s back
Atlas
Crumbling stone
In the face of God
Clock melts
Slows
Stop

Pistons steam
Heat
Slowly
Powerful
Steel on steel
Grinding the air

So it is
You will not defeat me...

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Hear that roaring sounds of the engines,
Pistons moving with steam coming out of the sides,
Everybody is in line for the ride,
Everybody is in line for the ride.

Your brain waves have changed,
Thoughts are the same,
Nobody questions the experience,
Were all think the same....

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Hissing cars
Swishing trucks
Rumbling bikes
Life is a highway
Really?
Combusting cylinders 
Pumping pistons
Turning crankshaft
Spinning flywheel
Engaging transmission
Motoring drive
Tranferring power 
Rolling tires
Hissing 
Swishing 
Rumbling  
Crash and burn
Life goes on...

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clutching 
my pillow
from first
to second base
racing into third
fourth then fifth

freely speeding
yet not meeting
expected
expectations
stripping gears
shifting down

pistons beating
radiantly steaming
switching off
high beams
now to
broken

down
blinkers
blinking
dimming
giving into
a dead battery...

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TWO

there are always two
entering as animals
from the outer
pistons in motion
planting fans for 
one another

burnt out brains
searching names
is it a heart…
a holocaust
or just a
flame?

to feel  pain
for real …
just once again
I would die for
as a final
claim


© Kim van Breda—27 November 2015...

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the shamegasket…
sealed to its shame

pounding pistons
steam-hiss-bang

don’t let go
won’t let go

polymer of repression
weakening, yielding…

No!

slam-whish-clang
drive-control-wield

must…hold
can’t…help me…oh no

letting…go…now
yes, that’s it

Blow! Blow! Blow!

oil-stained junkyard
slowly spinning

slanted yellow moon
mocks twisted hearts...

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eyelash fury wondering what has happened
seeking absolution
her dark nostrils flaring
raw pencil shaded face
artist holds her gently
balanced by flower pistons
teardrop pendant holds her place
madness or sensibleness?
the artist laughs at her risk-taking prowess
trying something new, enticing the masses
encouraging others to
live outside the lines...

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The need for speed is great
Shift a gear higher
Speed limits made to break
Sets your veins on fire
Shift a gear higher
The RPM's just climb
You feel pistons fire
The rush is so sublime
Speed limits made to break
Thirty-five over
Foot just avoids the brake
Forty-five over
Sets your veins on fire
Thrill makes you feel alive
Wake up! Just a dream...
Time to go for a drive!...

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A creative mix of oil and blood,
for it only matters whats under the hood.
And the smell of gas,
and the smell is good.

Eight pistons tunring,
the rich fuel burning.
The need to race,
the urge thats churning.

The stretch of open road,
to only go fast, I make an ode.
The acceleration that stops,
the blood that once flowed.

Driving is not a sin,
it just shows where I've been....

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I have an impulse
A dark desire
That the world would end
In situation dire

I have a nail to drive
In the heads
Of the leaders of the world
Politicians dead

I have a key to ignite
The bombs
Explosive wave glows
Destruction to calm

I have a cycle
Pistons of fire
To light up the highways
The law is a liar

I have the power
Over men lined on the road
They know who I am
Youth never old
 
I have the anarchy
The world agreed
A world in flames
Is what we need...

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HEADBORED

hello head
are you bored
again

well let’s see
how to fix
this… but you
 have to pledge
 to stop 
being real
refuse this
mediocrity 
with…

 insane destinations
trains dragging
through smoke
inhalation
pistons in motion
merciless churns

the zoo of new
invisible props
queer moons
dead furniture
dread looms
endless glitter
pickled filters

recognize
what to change
In this crazed
headbored
maze



© Kim van Breda—11 November 2015...

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Recalling the nights of 
leather caressing leather
I held you between my thighs 
as I straddle your curves
controlling your throbbing power
while my feet barely touched the ground
as we moved together
pulling you back and keeping it slow
then letting you growl and speed through 
the darkness then pulling you back 
to slow your pistons pumping
my sinews stretching
as we reach that destination
I’m one with my machine 
my Gixxer baby




© JG Farmer 2017
Form: Free Verse...

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