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  1. Banzai

    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    mbinks89 - Poetry Contest (231) winner!

    Discussion in 'Monthly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Mar 29, 2013.

    Gasoline Rainbows
    By mbinks89

    Cars zipped along the road, like buzzing
    prehistoric insects, dome-eyed and gigantic,
    their grilles: teeth, their headlights: eyes,
    yellow with vicious hunger.

    On the road, gasoline rainbows.
    Iridescent mirrors reflecting
    the pedestrians walking past.
    Girls, in dresses, lithe and pretty,
    wore black sunglasses, and chatted idly
    about this that and the other.
    Boys walked by too, dressed in striped rugby shirts,
    telling crass jokes in good humour.
    Roughhousing and fraternal punches.

    A car hit the puddle and it became
    and everything changed.
    It turned into an ocean of flint,
    all jagged waves,
    stormy and dark.
    Ships whaling in the Atlantic
    under gunmetal skies and clouds black as hearts.
    Seas teeming with sharks, blue and white and
    with black beads for eyes and maws like caves studded with teeth
    that were alabaster stalagmites.

    The boys were no longer brothers, no longer comrades and chums.
    Primates in an uneasy alliance, the faces snarling,
    The girls, like statues of gold under Helios,
    Had become, in the garbled water: ugly, vain. Shallow.
    Talking about a thousand things but saying nothing.
    Two island nations readying for war,
    battleships and fighter jets and missile cruisers
    getting oiled up. Espionage-in-action as lies
    mixed with truth came shooting like bullets
    From the between the red lips of the propaganda machine.
    At any second, tensions might burst.
    Tempers might mushroom up like A-bomb clouds.
    No tolerance for faux pas.

    Their faces: twisted and ugly,
    French gargoyles leering at a sleeping cobblestone
    city. They were not lithe and skinny but anorexic.
    Skeletons. Minds warped by a society that spewed trash.
    TVs that blared like loud drunken idiots,
    vomiting up soundbites and laughtracks,
    that wore stoles by broadcasting close-ups of starving children.
    Yes, shove that camera in their face, they want to see its black, glass eye.
    This lens is perfect for capturing the xylophone ribcage,
    But there’s no rice to spare, sorry!

    The sun, angry eye of Ouranos,
    grilled all the stupid things dawdling by.
    Then, a red light.
    And the swarm of meganeurae obliged.

    The puddle slick with gasoline became still once more.
    And the chimp-men were boys, laughing, horseplaying,
    and the skeletons, the Aztec goddesses all bone and tombstone teeth
    hungry for sacrifice of a screaming man’s blood
    Were girls once again.
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