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Intoxication
by Jim BenzHere are the glass shards
and the roadway
and the smell of exhaust
and the wrap-around pole
and a blood signature
spilled on skid marks
There in the passing windows
are the lamps of all meaning
ingesting something lurid
to be forgotten
in the rush of living
08/03/2009 Posted on 08/03/2009
Copyright © 2024 Jim Benz
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 08/03/09 at 05:24 PM Sad subject.Awesome poem.
*and a coincidence that we have used this word "shard" uniquely in our poetry. |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 08/03/09 at 05:38 PM Great write Jim and well said!! I've argued for some time that if you want to see soul of a nation watch how the people drive. Most people seem to say "Get out of my way, it's my road". A sad reflection on society today. Again, great write. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 08/05/09 at 01:16 AM I agree with the previous comments Jim. Quite the powerful capture of what can go wrong...and continues to go right on the road...too many roads. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 08/06/09 at 10:19 PM Hmmm, well, I see two things here, the first stanza where a life has been wasted, and the second where those observers quickly forget tragedy in the rush of their important lives. All in all, it's a head-long world for most. |
| Posted by Elizabeth Jill on 08/06/09 at 10:58 PM This is like being a witness, this poem, Jim: When reading, I see the inevitable coming coming coming. And still, the wind still gets knocked out of me at the conclusion. |
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