Illegal Race!

The engine purred it was highly tuned

pristine so shiny the red beast

along side a green car with tinted glass

both poised on the open road

a girl stood holding red handkerchief

jumping with such excitement

hundreds there shouting making a din

ready for the illegal race to begin!

 

As her arm dropped with a sharp thrust

engines roared wheels spinning

smell of burnt rubber soon out of sight

speeds now exceeded a ton

down the public highway eyes fixated

the law these speeders hated!

 

Their paths blocked as they approached

passing pedestrians scattered

too often other motorists compromised

by adrenaline pumping youth

risking their lives and others for the thrill

lacking common sense and skill!

 

After night falls on any long straight roads

teenage racers will gather

to break the law to show off and display

their customized chariots

for them no rules just drive like bloody hell

boasting videos and stories to tell!

 

Living for the moment upon social media!

 

#TheFoureyedPoet.

 

Advertisement

Reputation!

His reputation had followed his career

even since he left the army

boasting they had taught him to shoot

given a dishonorable discharge

for an unlawful killing he did not agree

not listening to his plea!

 

Through his skills and knowledge of guns

he became a sniper for hire

as a mercenary fought in countless battles

but it never sat easy slaying

because every victim he killed remained

haunting him why unexplained!

 

He was not a believer in the paranormal

this he kept telling himself

at first just an odd glimpse like a shadow

certain it was his conscience

but as years passed were becoming vivid

making his personality frigid!

 

As the date of his fiftieth birthday neared

the dead seemed more real

than all the living he daily encountered

becoming evermore distant

from the reality of a once methodical life

his whole being took a dive!

 

Becoming decrepit for one still classed as young

the once untarnished reputation

crumbled becoming more inaccurate and sloppy

taking out the wrong targets

unable to detect fact from any reality he grasped

in his hands the gun he clasped!

 

Unable to distinguish those living from the dead

fired the bullitt entered his brain

he would rather face the many he slaughtered

than see them clearly all around

his mind had finally gone could live no more

would he enter heavens door?

 

And for eternity walk the path of damnation

or maybe he would find salvation!

 

The Foureyed Poet.