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Array ( [sid] => 130985 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Stockyard Destiny [time] => 2007-01-25 07:41:13 [hometext] => [bodytext] => In this heap of existence,
not one person comes to my repair.

No one gets out their tire irons
nor their pump checks to keep me elevated.
If I were to stall,
no one would open me up
to check my exhaust.

No one would care if my muffled screams
kept going through the night, day by day,
until my fuel gauge ran low.
If I were to rot out on the inside,
no one would open my doors and fix
my upholstery.
No one will care if my colors peel off,
revealing metallic feeling underneath.

Instead, I will remain here in this
heap of existence,
shedding interior nostalgia about the
rides of miles past;

when blazing down roads like a fiery
chariot was a freedom among the
turtles-who never outraced the hare-
and the fearful;
when the mind was never hot from
overheating,

and when life was only
a whisper like the eroding winds of eternity,
where living never crashed or burned
or left you to rot away
in a pile of decay
like a house caught in a storm of molded age. [comments] => 3 [counter] => 294 [topic] => 32 [informant] => skyhawk432 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SadPoetry )

Stockyard Destiny

Contributed by skyhawk432 on Thursday, 25th January 2007 @ 07:41:13 AM in AEST
Topic: SadPoetry

In this heap of existence,
not one person comes to my repair.

No one gets out their tire irons
nor their pump checks to keep me elevated.
If I were to stall,
no one would open me up
to check my exhaust.

No one would care if my muffled screams
kept going through the night, day by day,
until my fuel gauge ran low.
If I were to rot out on the inside,
no one would open my doors and fix
my upholstery.
No one will care if my colors peel off,
revealing metallic feeling underneath.

Instead, I will remain here in this
heap of existence,
shedding interior nostalgia about the
rides of miles past;

when blazing down roads like a fiery
chariot was a freedom among the
turtles-who never outraced the hare-
and the fearful;
when the mind was never hot from
overheating,

and when life was only
a whisper like the eroding winds of eternity,
where living never crashed or burned
or left you to rot away
in a pile of decay
like a house caught in a storm of molded age.

Copyright © skyhawk432 ... [ 2007-01-25 07:41:13]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Stockyard Destiny (User Rating: 1 )
by Whatsername on Thursday, 25th January 2007 @ 08:56:37 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

That was amazingly beautiful. I love the imagrey you had about the comparison of yourself as a car. Your sense of emotion in this poem is wonderful. It was very sad... i hope you really dont feel this way...*hug*

Re: Stockyard Destiny (User Rating: 1 )
by PhantomVampyress on Thursday, 25th January 2007 @ 10:04:39 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

very good imagery in this piece.. its very heart felt and sad.. I like the expression in it. the sad thing is most of the world or alot of people in the world are very selfish so you have to be careful of who you befriend and trust.. I like the comparison of yourself to the car too.. awesome job

vampyress jenni

Re: Stockyard Destiny (User Rating: 1 )
by yangdantien on Thursday, 25th January 2007 @ 08:32:36 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

This piece has such merit. It starts out personal and turns toward the impersonal. From the writer to the other inclusive with daily and mythic imagery. It also offers a heap of faith.

Keep the pen flowing.

Peace
Yangdantien

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