Highway 65

Staring down at the frigid waters of Lake Jessie

This is a story that winds up all ugly and messy

 

The barrel is fluted to increase precision and spin

The massive exit wound, the impetus to falling in

 

The irony is that two opposing spins are colliding

The displacements closing in, no chance of reviving

 

The shell that is now dead weight, buoyant as pumice

All because he couldn't deal with the connubial rumpus

 

Night after night and fight after fight

A looping argument with no end in sight

 

All because this goon couldn't channel the heat

And because he could not accept the creed

 

Lapsed in judgment and embracing tenebrous ways

A flick of his finger cut short his totality of days

 

But it also stunted the life of his spouse as well

Both of them are likely burning in a fiery Hell

 

But he's burning in the lower level by Dante's guess

And all of the living beings now like him even less

 

His carcass is now the detritus it was meant to be

By his own hand, his murk smiles the deepest glee

 

He drives to the small highlands where the puddle is

On the subject of seppuku, he really failed that quiz

 

And now the closest ones associate that ten-mile stretch

With the specter of quietus and its malignant stench

 

Just a simple memorial of lies to keep hope alive

But there is no hope of living out on Highway 65

Reviews

[ButterflyWonderland]

You really know how to get the reader's attention in your writing. Your word choice is great.

[Moflo]

Nice story and I liked your formatting a lot, the couplets really aid your delivery and the rhymes are done pretty well. Good work.

[joshua deathdealer]

Awesome story!! "he's burning in the lower level by Dante's guess" nicely penned.

[Coyote Poetry]

A very interesting tale. I drove down Highway 65 quite a few times. Always quiet road and not too many cars. I like the feel of this story. A story with a open ending for more story. A excellent poem.