Shown: posts 1 to 10 of 10. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Atticus on July 30, 2004, at 15:00:36
Blowin' Past G.O.D. on Route 280, 1989
Acid-Addled Walter's
Rummaging through
The glove compartment,
Rifling amid greasy
Wendy's wrappers,
Trying to find
An unused paper napkin
So I can wipe
The trickling sweat
From my brow.
Even my spiked coif
Is wilting
In this rolling oven.AC is busted,
Windows are down,
Sucking in molten
Blasts of air
So thick
With carbon monoxide
That I
Can almost
Chew them.Junker's shimmying,
Its alignment
And suspension
Shot,
Leaving a trail
Of rusty scales
In its wake
Like a mechanical
Leper.Can't complain, though,
Because
Temple lent us
Her '72 harvest-gold
Chevy behemoth
Of indeterminate
Subspecies
For the cost
Of the gas
We're burning.Now we're galloping
Toward the Holland Tunnel,
Toward home.
And all
We need to do
Is to get
This piece of crap
Back to her place
In Brooklyn
Intact.Tokin' Tiny Tim
Is packing a bowl
In the steamy
Back seat,
Mumbling curses
As the weed
Clings to his moist,
Chubby fingers.
And for three
18 year olds
Life doesn't
Exactly suck
At the moment.Acid-Addled Walter
Can't drive,
Hates
To leave the city,
So he never
Got a license.
But now his dad
Lives in the burbs
With his step-mom,
So we ventured
Into the wastelands
For a visit,
With me
In the cockpit
And Walter
The wing commander.Richard Hell
And the Voidoids
Are screaming
"Love Comes in Spurts"
From the cassette deck,
The car's sole concession
To luxury,
When the white
Cargo container
Dragging
Behind the truck cab
Comes into view
Ahead
On the six-lane purgatory
Known as Route 280.Emblazoned on the side
Of the 18-wheeler,
Ten-foot tall
Black letters
Outlined in red
Say G.O.D.
And if it's Him
Behind the wheel,
He's sure
A shi**y driver,
Can't seem to stay
In his lane,
Which explains a lot
About the way
The universe
Seems to work.Tokin' Tiny Tim's
Getting nervous,
Says I'm going
Too fast,
And the rear axle's
Gonna tear off
From the drive shaft
If I don't
Ease up.
I ask,
"Aren't you high yet?"
Hoping the grass
Will chill him out
But it's never
Done the trick yet.
I don't know why
He even bothers.The G.O.D. truck
Rumbles along
In the adjacent lane,
And I theorize
That the Big Kahuna
Has been disassembled,
And a million trucks
Just like this
Are carrying the bits
Along roads
All over
The planet.
An eyelash here.
A hangnail there.
But one day
They'll all gather
In a field
Near someplace
Like Kansas
And put Him
Back together
And then the sh**
Will hit the fan
Because He'll be so pissed
When He sees
How the human race
Turned out."So who's driving?"
Asks Walter.
"Angels," I opine.
Then I spy
The small letters
Crouched
Beneath "G.O.D"
Spelling
"Guaranteed Overnight Delivery"
And let out a sigh."Another false prophet,"
I mutter,
And slam the pedal
To the floor,
Blowing past G.O.D.
Like He
Was standing still,
And thinking,
If that really
Was Him,
That little stunt
Is probably
Gonna cost me bigtime
Someday.
-- Atticus
Posted by Jai Narayan on July 30, 2004, at 20:02:58
In reply to poem ... Blowin' Past G.O.D. on Route 280, 1989, posted by Atticus on July 30, 2004, at 15:00:36
wonderful....great glimps of your life as an 18 year old.
I too have wondered about the G.O.D. trucks. Loved the image of all the GOD parts gathering and the judgement coming down about the human race. Gentle, sweet and so in character.
I think there's a book here.
Really.
Posted by malthus on July 31, 2004, at 5:57:55
In reply to Re: poem ... Blowin' Past G.O.D. on Route 280, 198, posted by Jai Narayan on July 30, 2004, at 20:02:58
Tobacco Run
5:30am
State Road is hollow
Earlier metal death machine
Has taken her
Fawn blank eyes
Staring out
Twisted
Her long deer legs
Lifeless white spots
Dampness still clinging
To her black nostrils
Mother mourning
In the strip of woods
Lining the killing floor
Gasping, hand covering mouth
Seeping eyes, unsteady
On my tobacco run.
Posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 6:08:36
In reply to Re: poem ... Blowin' Past G.O.D. on Route 280, 198, posted by Jai Narayan on July 30, 2004, at 20:02:58
Hi Jai,
I had no idea that the G.O.D. trucks, so ubiquitous on the paved ribbons wrapped around Jersey, ranged as far as the Midwest. That's interesting. Maybe you're right about a book (if I'm ever up to writing something that long). I could see drivers in white coveralls with embroidered tags bearing names like Mike and Uri (short for Uriel) and Gabe (carries a case with a trumpet in the front seat beside him). I guess you can't take the Catholic out of the boy, especially urban Irish Catholicism as I've experienced it. It has a certain tongue-in-cheek quality to it, a knowing wink and roll of the eyes. Thanks for all your posts. You're very sweet, and it means a lot for a writer just reclaiming his skills (and his mind) after almost a decade to have his offerings read by another writer. Ta. :) Atticus
Posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 6:27:56
In reply to Tobacco Run, posted by malthus on July 31, 2004, at 5:57:55
Hi Malthus,
Nice to see your first piece appear in Psycho-Babble Writing. I enjoyed it. We seem to have an existential "rollin' down the highway" thread going here now. I guess roads are great tangible metaphors for mental and spiritual journeys, and I know my own has sure been especially wild of late. Sorry that a few people jumped down your throat for that earlier mispost. It's not the kind of welcome anyone deserves. So, welcome. :) Atticus
Posted by malthus on July 31, 2004, at 6:48:43
In reply to Re: Tobacco Run » malthus, posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 6:27:56
Early this morning, after my trip to get cigs and seeing that poor fawn on the side of the road--quite disturbing) I started to read your posts and it inspired me to write something. God, (no pun intended) you are a powerful writer!
Thanks for your feedback. I'm looking forward to reading more of your poems.Malthus
Posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 18:29:56
In reply to Re: Tobacco Run-Atticus, posted by malthus on July 31, 2004, at 6:48:43
Hi Malthus,
I don't know if you're interested or not, but I've got about half a dozen or so other poems and one short story archived under the link "O4 May 20" under the "Previous Periods" section at the top of the posts. Just hit that link, then scroll wayyyyy down to 7/19/04, and you'll find my first post, "Brittle." Other shenanigans and accompanying commentary follow. There's a bit of backfill on my little cast of characters (only the names were changed to protect the innocent and, in my own case, the not-so-innocent). Keep writing! And you're right: Isn't Jai great? Atticus
Posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 18:36:02
In reply to Re: Tobacco Run-Atticus » malthus, posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 18:29:56
Oops. I'm sorry, the archival link is "04 March 20," not "04 May 20." I did this kind of thing once before when I used "August" rather than "April" in the title of a poem I wrote for Jai. I seem to cross wires when it comes to some alliterative words. :) Atticus
Posted by malthus on July 31, 2004, at 19:46:54
In reply to Re: Tobacco Run-Atticus » Atticus, posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 18:36:02
I did go back and read "Brittle" before I read your post to me. Again, such beautiful writing; capturing the pain of something so precious in your past. I've been thinking all day of that line from Magnolia: "We may be through with the past, but the past ain't through with us".
BTW, if I do write another poem, I don't know how to get it to post all the way to the left. I noticed all the poems say "poem...title". Sorry, I'm such a newbie! Hope you are feeling well tonight.
Best, Malthus
Posted by Atticus on July 31, 2004, at 20:28:51
In reply to Re: Brittle... » Atticus, posted by malthus on July 31, 2004, at 19:46:54
Malthus,
To get a poem or short story to go all the way to the left, starting a fresh thread, make sure you go to the "Start a New Thread" form at the bottom of the main page of Psycho-Babble Writing posts; don't post while you have someone else's previous post open, or your poem/story will be woven into an already existing discussion thread. Hope that makes sense. I'm no cyber wizard myself. :) Atticus
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