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Words' Worth Aug 2019
Wake up my light
O' mighty god light my morning
Like you light up my packs like the impoverished morning
In the cool cool

Of evenings, let's fly out
Too short of words, o'er is he becoming him
Her becoming his or was she becoming her edict of nights brighter
Stars lighter up mulled

The wine I can try freely ransack and robed freeloaders get me
Blues on her bag, speak of cusp
It's almost time, to leave your satchel
That will carry my words, too soon
Carry out my some character
Among the metaphysical woods
Lit by the fuliginous lamps wrought with
Argonauts and Cupid, Aegis and Jesus
Demetri and vivid allegory of the movies
Arisa Mar 2019
My pursuit of happiness is caught in a cab,
and hell is my driver.
i don't even know.
Ivana Rodriguez Mar 2019
Her face was like an auto
While being struck by an auto.
And the driver?
Well, the driver just laughed.
“Thanks god my car isn’t damaged;
I stole it yesterday night.”
I made myself laugh so much, but basically my dad always says “you look like an auto” when someone’s face is like 0_o.... yeah, it’s not that funny but **** it.

I might post another ACTUAL poem before I go to sleep.
Jodie-Elaine Nov 2018
The child in the pushchair leans forwards.
Touches the wheels while they move, later this revolves to watching wheels of a bus
and wishing to be
underneath
them and maybe we're all just looking for a way out and a getaway driver,
maybe this room with a view we built to ruin is flooding
and we're pressing our
open lips
to the ceiling, grappling for a last breath
and pushing time for a second more
and maybe that escape route is waiting round the corner, a lamppost with flowers cellotaped to it, a
place away from the place
our parents kicked us out,
drove us to the middle of nowhere and made us walk ourselves home, telling us this is a metaphor of life, waiting for a place for us to rest our blistered ankles and bruised wrists,
a place where there's someone we lost waiting for us, holding our their hand to bring us home,
but I guess,
maybe, for now
we're gonna have to stare at buses and wish for those pushchair wheels and the days we stared at the pavement moving beneath us and wanted to be anything
but a painting on the road.
If Daphne
she's leaving
behind those
tires that
slay these
roads like
chains for
brighter climes
that diversion
claims horse
and winds
hoofs that
ream dots
in trailers
as nights
turnaround my
love dame
A love of law that my sisters groove on this highway!
Sunny Gulati Sep 2018
I knew my destination

and it incited me to drive.

I took upon myself

to steer onto the route,

on which my life would thrive.

I began dodging obstacles confidently

to move ahead in a hurry.

The path turned rough and craggy

and driving on it soon became tough.

It narrowed without a warning

eventually leading to a cul de sac.

My patience fell prey to the delay

and my confidence started to wane away.

I began to frustrate and tire,

on seeing my plans go haywire.

Worrying over the future,

I accumulated only stress and fear.

I prayed to the Almighty

and then moved to the rear.

I let Him become my chauffeur

and pull me out of this mire.

I have since entrusted Him,

to lead me onto my destination

by whichever way, He desires.

I now sit and enjoy the ride,

as a back seat passenger.
To live life as per the wishes of the Almighty.
Kuvar Mar 2018
This is the story
Of a Truck driver
Who never stops driving
Unwillingly he lives on the road
Hoping he will find love in motion
He wasn't looking to love someone else
He is searching love for himself
And at the same time
He is running  from feelings
Running from the hurts
He should be told
He carries it on every road
That head that tells him
O! Truck driver
navigate left away from tragic street
For twenty four years
And yet today
He is still driving
Hoping the road will teach him
To love himself again
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