Not all poetry has to be dire or serious - sometimes, it can just tell a story. Oft referred to as ‘ballads,’ these compositions usually tell a micro-tale that is just meant to be… enjoyed.
Sometimes… it really is just about the story. This is one of those compositions…
[Warning: Contains adult language and situations]
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A Lover’s Ballad
The lives we live are useless -
all the deceptions and the lies,
the culture here’s so full of shit,
no one showing their true eyes…
so he decided he’d had enough -
another legend on the rise.
He stole a Wrangler down in Denver -
drove all night and then some more,
using Sam Colt as his currency,
taking gas, food - every store…
he stayed on backroads and the byways -
‘til he reached the Jersey shore.
“You’re a gorgeous, captive angel -
suffocating in the debris,
under the weight of the life you live -
upper-crust society…
so climb on up, my blue-steel babe -
we’ll show these fucks how to be free.”
Then they hauled it down the interstate -
hitting banks along the way,
using the cover, of the darkness,
to keep the F.B.I. at bay…
living life to its very fullest -
every moment of every day.
Laughing smoking singing -
letting love and lust collide,
he’d never felt this prized and strong -
she felt adored and so alive…
the perfect mix of passion -
she his Bonnie, he her Clyde.
They were hunkered down in Austin -
relaxing with the setting sun,
the Feds snuck up, surrounding them,
and they knew their time had come…
they locked their hands - a final kiss -
then they each pulled out their gun.
They burst out through the hotel door -
with their pistols ringing loud,
the Feds returned the fire sure,
matching shot for every round…
when the smoke and gunplay finally cleared -
the lovers lay dead on the ground.
The I-Net called them criminals -
T.V. stations did their part,
the badge who found them told his tale,
though he left out the very heart…
for when he found those lovers dead -
he had to pry their hands apart.
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A Previous Poetic Work…
Notes…
-- Originally written October 2008, I have spruced it up a tiny bit for this posting
-- Unless otherwise credited, all images were created by the author, using Substack’s AI Image Generator.
Nicely done. And even a shout out to Dirty Jersey (my home state 😏)
when bad is soooo good! really enjoyed this ballad!