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     Please remember that the poems in the following pages are written and copyrighted by myself, John Richard Hustings. Feel free to make personal copies but if you display them on a web page please be sure the poem is followed immediately and exactly by the copyright notice below the next paragraph.
    Thank you and I look forward to hearing from you. - Copyright 1995 by John Richard Hustings - I require that none of my poetry be reproduced in print, on any video media or distributed in any manner, other than through private (non-profit) web pages, without prior written consent.

 

 

 

  

Poem Noir

It started like every other sad story in my life
With too much whiskey 
and an empty wallet.
I was sitting in my office
Spinning my 9mm on the desk
like an empty soda bottle,
when she walked in the door.
All legs and dark hair.
A bad combination. 
She kind of reminded me of Ava Gardner.
She took two steps across the room and sat down.
She crossed those legs in that short skirt
and I knew I was in trouble.
She looked at the nearly empty whisky bottle.
"That stuff will kill ya, Mac" She said.
She called me Mac.
It might have been the name on the door.
Then again, she might have just been my kind of gal.
I offered her the last shot.
She politely refused.
I found out later, she didn't drink.
Not a drop.
Where the hell is the joy in life if you can't have a drink?
I poured myself the last shot and said,
"Yeah. What can I say? Life just isn't short enough.
What can I do for you?"
That's when she started singing her song.
Nothing I hadn't heard before.
Same old lyrics.
Some jerk with pockets a million times deeper than mine
Treating her like she was his personal play thing.
Playing her for a fool.
The problem was, 
He turned up dead.
Now the cops want to finger her for the job.
She pleaded with me through those sultry eyes...
I said, "Sure sweetheart, I'll help ya."…

…and that's where she left me.
End of story.
I took the long way back to the office
While I tried to stuff my pride back in my shirt.
But I no sooner got back to the office
Sat down
Poured my self a stiff drink
When it happened again.
Red hair this time.
And lots of it.
An Irish gal.
Kind of reminded me of Marine O'Hara.
Ok, so I watch too many old movies.
But as soon as she open her mouth
I finally realized one thing.
It didn't matter what color their hair was
They were all trouble.
Now, we all make mistakes
The difference is
most people learn from them.
I said, "Sure sweetheart, I'll help ya."

- John Richard Hustings- November 2006
 

 

          This is a pastel on poster board. I did it in High School during my senior year. 1982. I guess this dates me. I've printed the text just in case you find the poem hard to read. The creature in the picture is a creation of an artist by the name of Derek Riggs for the Heavy Metal band Iron Maiden. The version of "Eddie" I have reproduced here is a modification of the cover art from the album entitled "Killers". 

   The Highway rises up before me
   The rain pelts hard on the pavement
   Rubber grinds off in every direction
   The city fades fast
   My senses regained
   A peace is reborn

		John Richard Hustings
  

 		Wheeled Warriors

           Raging like a thousand wild horses
           Stampeding across an asphalt jungle
           They have come to save my day
           Like mighty Autobots

           Mounted like a member of the Light Brigade
           I stand upon the bridge of the Star Lass
           Journeying the cosmos together with
                   My companion and steel steed
                   My starship and time machine
                   My mistress the Enterprise

           We shoot the portals like starrigers
           They are spitfires and mustangs
           They are my C3-PO and R2D2
                     And I
           I am the Emperor of Toberan
           And they are my champions

           Their hearts are iron, titanium and chromium
           They ooze poison and heat from their lungs
           They are the color of earth and fire
           And they move upon the wind
           To the driving pulse of music

           They are forged of U.S. Steel
           Hammered out by the arm of Lady Liberty
           The crest of Sieur Antoine de la Mothe
           Founder of Detroit is emblazoned upon their foreheads
           Encircled by the wreath of Caesar

           Alone we sing the name of freedom
           Striding the heart lands
           And tasting the Apple 
           Witnessing the game at Soldier's Field
           And dancing to her music at the Bowl
                    Just myself and Iron Maiden
                    And her sister, Epic Fantasy


		        - John Richard Hustings- 
					   1986
 
     
 

Sleeping... sleeping...

BANG
           SMASH

Hammer on the windows  
Splinter in the air
And on the floor

THUMP
             CRASH

The door slams
Against the wall
Ripping from its hinges

Foul stench tears at the nostrils
Thunderous crashings
And woeful moanings

The groan of walls
Floor and Ceiling
Heaving as though they are swelling

Swelling with the very breath of life

The dripping wetness
Of mind numbingly cold sweat
Trickles down your spine

Droning hum...
    THUD
    SOMETHING MOVES
Step backwards
Hot breath on the back of your neck
    TURN AROUND
Nothing there
Step in a hole
And fall into nothing

Can't see
Pitch black....
Stumble around
    WHAM
Hit your head on something
Warm fluid runs down your face
   TO YOUR LEFT
Nothing there
   THERE
   ITS BEHIND YOU
   SCREAM
But you can't
   RUN
Fast as you can
Run faster
   RUN FASTER
Your legs fell like lead
There's glue on your feet
Weights on your ankles
Faster and faster it comes
Slower and slower you move
Trip over nothing
Struggle to stand
But you can't
It's caught up to you
Towering above
    Down
             Down comes death
Like a guillotine

You flail on the bed
like a fish
Then gasp as you suck in air
Until you lungs almost burst
Sitting up
Your eyes stare into the face of the clock
     Alive....
     alive.

- John Richard Hustings - 1986

 

  
     
 

 

 

 

As black as empty space
As sleek as a deadly shark
With the power and sound of an ocean.

Flat out against the road
Power under my foot and in my hands
Going as fast, as fast as it can go.

- John Hustings - 1986