Mercury pushing past 100F, slip
behind the wheel of sleeping ride.

Oven-Baking inside,
engine blip-coughs to life.
Sit awaiting MAX AC flow from
Black round vents too long in coming.

Cold tickle-slams face.
Deep, ice-filled gasps.
Comfortable once again.

Sweat dries from stiff-white collar.
Black-Platinum pin-striped power suit
carefully hanging behind drivers head.

Click-gear away from
Military-Industrial Complex
Gold flowing, dull-brown rice,
filling a grain silo large bank account.

Fathers eyes and leather-dead face
Perma-etched pain knowing life’s cruel
balance as Bottom-Cotta man
Fire hoses couldn’t move him
from looking into the future

His ancestors – Nose to back
Hot-Dry air filled lungs
eyes fear-wide as last look
the cargo-hold slams shut.

I was okay until the last stanza. I'm not sure where the cargo hold fits in.

the cargo-hold slams shut.

Do you mean the human cargo?

Heberjack - What could I do to make it a bit clearer?
I think I'll have to beef up the 2nd to last line
You kinda have no frame of reference for the
action in the last stanza - Thanks a million!

zhaul - Yes, that's what I meant - Will have to look at this one
a bit closer - Again - Thanks a million!

i think is ok, I liked the poem, so maybe the last stanza needs a bit more to convey the whole thing.

How about if you write a little story or notes on this stanza, and then rewrite the stanza

His ancestors – Nose to back
Hot-Dry air filled lungs
eyes fear-wide as last look
the cargo-hold slams shut.

The question is: What or why does the cargo-hold slams shut for?

Any idea?

OK - Version 02

Mercury pushing past 100F, slip
behind the wheel of sleeping ride.

Oven-Baking inside,
engine blip-coughs to life.
Sit awaiting MAX AC flow from
Black round vents too long in coming.

Cold tickle-slams face.
Deep, ice-filled gasps.
Comfortable once again.

Sweat dries from stiff-white collar.
Black-Platinum pin-striped power suit
carefully hanging behind drivers head.

Click-gear away from
Military-Industrial Complex
Gold flowing, dull-brown rice,
filling a grain silo large bank account.

Fathers eyes and leather-dead face
Perma-etched pain knowing life’s cruel
balance as Bottom-Cotta man
Fire hoses couldn’t move him
from looking into the future

His ancestors – Nose to back
Hot-Dry air filled lungs
eyes fear-wide as last look toward
a shore they'll never see again
the cargo-hold slams shut.

Now it sinks!

Three thoughts.

1. Dead soldiers taken home
2. Soldiers going to war
3. Vacation is over.
4. .....?

This is great, I like poems that ignite my imagination.

OK zhaul, do you mean the poem sinks like a stone now?

greygrynn wrote:

OK zhaul, do you mean the poem sinks like a stone now?

No, maybe not the proper expression, it sinks, like I dig it now.
like it sinks in, conveys in, maybe not the proper expression, remember I am not English native speaker, so I might make colloquial mistakes.

and my notes are the 3 things the poem makes me think of, 3 different pictures or stories, and that is so good!!

zhaul - OK, I gotcha now. I just wanted to make sure I caught your meaning. Thanks a million!

OK, here's version 03

Mercury pushing past 100F, slip
behind the wheel of sleeping ride.

Oven-Baking inside,
engine blip-coughs to life.
Sit awaiting MAX AC flow from
Black round vents too long in coming.

Cold tickle-slams face.
Deep, ice-filled gasps.
Comfortable once again.

Sweat dries from stiff-white collar.
Black-Platinum pin-striped power suit
carefully hanging behind drivers head.

Click-gear away from
Military-Industrial Complex
Gold flowing, dull-brown rice,
filling a grain silo large bank account.

Fathers eyes and leather-dead face
Perma-etched pain knowing life’s cruel
balance as Bottom-Cotta man
Fire hoses couldn’t move him
from looking into the future

His ancestors – Nose to back chattel.
Hot-Dry air filled lungs of prime hands.
Eyes fear-wide as last look toward
a shore they'll never see again.
The cargo-hold slams shut.

This third version is the best. Initially I liked the first version, I disagreed that you needed the added "shore" line. And I thought you lost some of the punch of the last stanza. But the detail of capitalizing the first word in the last line regained it for me.
Excellent write.

Rio - Thanks a million!

He is an executive . and he drives a set of mean wheels , according to me .
And he is moving away from his anscestral home for something which lures him .
I think he is a well dressed the power suit in black and platinum , is that right man ? And he drives a mean mobile.
The Nose to back chattel is his ancestral home ?

It is the prime hands that diverted my thoughts into another direction man , it is a poker word , and did he lose his ancestral land and home in a wager , is he driving away from there in a home truck or something ?

I dunno man , this one confuses me

RaulTho - I didn't know this was also a Poker term. I fully understand why the meaning is a little fuzzy - Refreshing in away it's possible to see this piece with this slant. Thanks - I'm loath to sub in an alternate term for
"Prime Hands" but if it helps the work, I'll def consider it. Again - Thanks for you insight.

Thankyou Grey for explaining.

OK All

Version 04 Cold Lungs

Mercury pushing past 100F, slip
behind the wheel of sleeping ride.

Oven-Baking inside,
engine blip-coughs to life.
Sit awaiting MAX AC flow from
Black round vents too long in coming.

Cold tickle-slams face.
Deep, ice-filled gasps.
Comfortable once again.

Sweat dries from stiff-white collar.
Black-Platinum pin-striped power suit
carefully hanging behind drivers head.

Click-gear away from Military-Industrial Complex.
PowerPoint patter safely stowed in the Armani.
Gold flows, dull-brown rice, filling
a grain silo large bank account.

Pirelli’s bit deep into blue berry black asphalt.
Sun light licker-pops off stop sign red flanks.
Teutonic nose points into an iron wind.
Whale tail wags away a past barely
known or understood.

His fathers eyes and leather-dead face,
perma-etched in pain from life’s cruel
balance as Bottom-Cotta man.
Fire hoses couldn’t move him
from looking into the future.

His ancestors – Nose to back chattel.
Hot-Dry air filled lungs of prime hands.
Eyes fear-wide as last look toward
a shore they'll never see again.
The cargo-hold slams shut.

I liked this a lot. You really pulled the ending together nicely compared to the first one.

synkronyze - Thanks a lot and welcome!