By George J. Kimble
Ah, the symbiosis,
Mechanized thrombosis,
Human narcosis,
Spring's delight
Ah, the acceleration,
The exhilaration,
The integration,
Man and machine
Ah, the engineering,
The steering,
The appearing,
Kinetic energy
Ah, the dials,
The miles,
The smiles,
Exquisite harmony
Ah, The stratagem,
No boredom,
The freedom,
Cosmic relief
Ah, the power,
The passing of hours,
The complimentary showers,
Corvette experienced
By George J. Kimble
Time and space
Contemplate
Undulating black ribbon
White lines hypnotized
Corvette driven aimlessly
Kamikaze insects on windshields
What of their fate?
Ideas wash in and fade
Ephemeral tides in the twilight mind’s eye
Wheels eerily chant
Octet of muffled voices reverberate from hooded chamber
Baroque images conjured
Moon shadows cast by barren trees
Black flames cascaded upon still life surfaces
Static crackles upon distant airwaves
Hounds bay in fallow barnyards
Rusting hulk implement of tillage
Autumn’s melancholy breath wafts,
Burnt leaves pungent scent
Aroused ancient savoring of that first sighted Corvette
Gray mantled being
Physical prowess feebled
Keenness undiminished
Common places experienced
Transcendental, Hyper-dimensional
Never routine
Corvette is the ultimate time Machine
Wiping eyes filled with residue of the Sandman’s endeavors,
Hot Java essence inhaled, oblivious to karma.
Sunrise still a fleeting thought to the darkness of the night.
The Corvette quivers as if shaking off a chill.
The gut emptying sound of steel engaging steel,
Fluids wend through once dormant courses and feed flames of muted pulse.
Creeks, groans and coughs of awareness forthcoming.
Then growl of aroused archaic canine primordials.
Gravel clawing gravel, under pressurized rolling Gatorbacks,
Beams of yellow split the silent gloom, searching the slope to the macadam below.
Slipping, like an eel, onto the darkened stream, of white delineated undulating desert byway.
Resonance of four black choir members humming in ever increasing a cappella harmony,
Howl of speed induced dense air leaking through invisible crannies, annoying,
Reassuring, there is another sense responding to the surreal environs so encompassed.
Eastward trek to race the gathering dawn to the distant horizon.
No other soul is destined to wander the abandoned landscape as the Corvette slinks onward.
Distant repetitions of mindless signals,
Conditioned, by daytime habits, conducting fleets of wandering ants.
Ignored!
Above, tailed by contrails unseen in the moonless ether,
Some camouflaged transporter of massive proportion,
Flies laden, with residue hauling enclosed tanker.
Some newly developed panocide to frighten all who would threaten.
Some latch forgotten on clasp and bond releases,
And aloft motion begot wheels untethered.
Hurled, acceleration enhanced by gravity’s lure to the central core.
A glint in the pinking sky.
The Corvette driver contemplates the object of his demise.
Smashing, blinding, splintering.
No
one heard!
Reports are written and indictments follow,
“A careless driver failed to yield and fate was served upon his flesh.”
Surely, he was ignorant of the signal at the crossway.
Yet as one evaluates destiny, no one can escape,
Alert or dim, none can select the time, nor give a reason, for the Reaper’s Harvest.
Though ends are, alas, inevitable, never anticipated,
Go forth, into the unlit future, each Earthly second appreciated.
By George J. Kimble
It came to me last night in a dream
A hazy discontent through mist and steam
An automobile surrounded by ghost
A sticklike man speaking as the host
The car was smoldering and all aglow
The ghost were hovering above and below
Some wore gloves and helmets adorned their heads
I realized these were the spirits of drivers long dead
I queried the phantoms about their presence
In one voice, they extolled their essence
“We are the spirit of the machine; present and past”
“We invite you to our realm, the Dominion of Go Fast”
Being a man of substance, I wasn’t too scared
I have been known to go fast, whenever I’m dared
As if weightless, into the cockpit my body fluttered
I tried to scream but no sound was uttered
The auto was a roadster, of that, I was sure
But the design was something extraordinarily pure
Its parts were all from different models and makes
Each piece expertly crafted without any mistakes
The gauges shown white, like a pretty girl’s teeth
I surmised the dials were illuminated from beneath
The controls were fitted with leather as tight as a thief’s glove
The seats were as comfortable as an old couple’s love
The body was voluptuous with curves sublime
A sculpture of zoom, transcending time
From within the hood, an exalting purr
Like a lion’s voice, when licking his fur
I heard exhaust tones, deep and melodic
The maiden’s song, completely hypnotic
Now, the ephemeral ones set it all into action
And smiled with cruel satisfaction
I gripped the wheel with focused resolution
I was in a speed trap with no solution
My sleeping brain was filled with confusion
I could not awaken, from this terrible illusion
The machine seemed unwaveringly firm
As if we were planted and the whole earth turned
I eyed the approaching horizon with sober concern
A cliff was approaching, with no where to turn
Over the precipice, bolting autos burst into flame
Like playing a movie, frame by frame
Closer and closer the fear in me is mounting
In the distance a haunting voice is counting
To the edge and over; I am falling
A loud voice, my name is continuously calling
Headlong, plummeting, a white blur, of light in my brain
The excitement was more than a dream can contain
Upright I bolt, in my bed
I pinch myself to assure I’m not dead
This weird scene, now replays in my head
It was just a dream, nothing more needs to be said
By George J. Kimble
Jagged edge, where concrete marries steel
Vision unearthly, very surreal
Surfaces sweat, a rain unseen
Nervous tension, ultra keen
Labyrinth of potholes and broken glass
Stench of humanity, the unwashed mass
The wrong exit, from the well-beaten path
A caldron belching, the demons wrath
Street lamps glow, but shadow prevails
Through the gloom, a siren wails
Young men hanging, with out a care
Their lost hope fills the air
Gauge warning of fuel ominously low
You brood over how far you can go
A well-lit gas station is what is needed
Your prayer for divine guidance goes unheeded
Should you stop and confront these men?
And try to coax from these dubious friends,
Some semblance of redirection
Or just proceed further, without detection
In this realm, the Corvette you drive
Does not enhance your ability to survive
As you pass through a tunnel unlit at the end
You weigh life's meaning again and again
In life, many off ramps lead to desolation
It's these times of tribulation
These digressions, from your dreamed destination
That humbles you to resignation
You drive your Corvette so cavalier
And over look those things, you should hold dear
Values are not made of fiberglass and steel
Nor are they rolled out on four wheels
And though each day may bring some strife
A good day is marked by each breath of life
Because of nightmares you contemplate with dread
You are stronger because you are not dead
With poignantly depicted lives unraveled
You learned this, from the maze you traveled
With confidence and honest resolution
Attack life, as an adventure, with an unknown conclusion
Now reassured in your darkest hour
The road ahead, blooms like a desert flower
