observational poetry…

observational poetry…

fuel machine
Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels.com

trying to capture a moment, a feeling, this is one of those, perhaps a bit specific, but maybe not so slender to not deliver the scene… I wrote this one quite a while ago and forgot about it in my little book (OK,USB stick I carry on me which I transcribe my poems onto… not as romantic as the pure written word, but it is honest I suppose…)

biography” 

stopped to fill up my tank
mercedes sl parked
hardtop on
mid 80’s I speculate
paint faded by the sun
almost gone in spots
flat tire
driver’s side
my old boss had one
(I think to myself, recalling)
we had to load up the trunk
in winter
to drive straight.
clean my windshield
pump is done
time to get back
back to work
so I pull off
into the street
right turn.

notes… some very northeastern us stuff in there…. and in New Jersey we can not pump our own gas (yes, seriously) so you have time to look around and contemplate life at the ole gas fill up type place…

hubris.

hubris.

brown concrete cathedral
Photo by Abdallah Maqboul on Pexels.com

reflection

you warned me
but I came anyway
still unprepared
and by the furies
down the phoenix rain
molten bullets perforate
penetrate my mental armor
leaving searing, smoking, holes
and I thought myself ready
to bear out my soul
false bravado is a fire of cold
fear would have been a sharper advisor
but the time has passed for that
as an empire is in ruins
littered, broken doric plumes, in uneven piles
with no fiddle to play
or gambit to last
I’ve lost, in pyres reflect
here in the hopeless corners
of the darkest men