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Jonathan Moya Nov 2019
Everything is a continuous white line
that goes on forever to the horizon
where the  next dream is always ahead.

Just you and the mustang
a body and a machine
moving through space and time.

Drive like you mean it.
Drive hard.
Drive tight.

The Mustang is a wild bronco
not wanting to be tamed,
just unleashed- and all the cowboy
can do is hang on for the ride.

The highway is a ***** slick *****,
eight miles of grit, passion, pride
and wild love that rides hotter
the wetter she gets.

At one point she becomes
weightless, disappears, and
the only things that matters
is who you are.
Mike Chigo Mar 2018
I get a hard-on whenever I see a hot car
I wanna pump it…yes…I just wanna floor the gas
Blinkers in my rear view when I flash by
Them no fit catch me, not even my tail lights

I like tuners but I really dig exotics
Classy, flashy plus it gets me hot chicks
See the look in her eyes when I do car tricks
Zoom zoom zoom …screeeeech…next please
Wolftrax Aug 2016
I remember the year of ’95
She was beautiful, and so right
We spent every day together
I knew it wouldn’t last forever
Those kind of things never last
But man oh man, did I have a blast

We spent the days out riding the town
Never thinking about winding down
The guys were jealous, my girlfriend too
She was such a beauty, I treated her good
So delicate and gentle, I never wanted it to end
Sadly one day, the day I dreaded, finally happened

My best friend, back home from serving overseas
Picking up his Mustang GT, after months apart
Knowing it was in good hands, never a worry
I still miss that car, it was one sweet ride
Take one for a ride, if you ever get the chance
There’s nothing like it, you’ll always remember it
Wrote this, after a dream I had.
Pa ran inside,
All out of breath
Ma said "slow down"
"you look you've seen your own death"

He shut all the windows
Closed the shutters, the doors
He went to the cellar
And locked the trap doors

"Out on the hill there",
"You can see by the tree"
"It's a horse from the Devil"
"And it's waiting for me"

Ma said "you're crazy"
"There's nothing outside"
"Least all a horse"
"That the devil would ride"

I went to the window
To check for the steed
Pa said "Don't open that up"
"That's all the room that he'll need"

"He's come from below"
"To take my soul down to hell"
"And his horse is the warning"
"I know...I can tell"

The mustang stood waiting
On the hill, all aflame
Was it devil or horse
Were they one and the same?

Pa was still shaking
He had sure had a fright
There was no way that we
Would get to sleep on this night

Pa then told Mother
Of the deal he had made
With the Devil himself
In the cool of the shade

A prosperous ranch
The envy of all around
With all of his problems
Put six feet underground

Dad said he'd reckoned
That the deal was all done
When the crops out the back
All burned up in the sun

He knew that the Devil
Was calling in for his share
When he saw the horse burning
While no one else gave a care

"I have to get through now"
"To the morning past dawn"
"Then the horse will return"
"And the deal will be gone"

We listened intently
We were sure Pa wasn't sane
But, we knew from his tale
He had nothing to gain

We'd take shifts in the night
Keeping the devil at bay
Only twelve hours to go
Until the next day

It would be an adventure
We would trust in our faith
Of dad's tale of the mustang
The flaming horse wraith

The night was a battle
The devil tried to get in
He worked on our hearts
By making deals sweet with sin

Do we turn in our father
Or do we fight till the morn?
Could it just be a ruse
Burning one field of corn?

To see how it ended
You must come out here and see
The scorch marks in the grass
On the hill by the tree

You can believe what I've written
Or hear what Pa has to say
But, it was the Devil's Mustang
Came that night for to play
I was confused
Everything was so confusing
All was painted in grey or gray ?

Hoo ?

Hey ! I asked the gorilla
What ? He answered back
Will you scratch my back ?

Okay !

Then I came across the Zebra
I said it's all so simple
Here it is in black and white

But he's not read all over
oni Aug 2015
youve taken my place
in the back of his mustang,
but i hope you find
a strand of my hair
on the floorboards
SøułSurvivør May 2015

Sometimes they take over
The rhythms in your head
Nuances of rhyme schemes
The lines your muse has fed
You want to use a smaller word
Pontificate instead
It gallops through your consciousness
A wild horse - unlead!

The hooves go on like thunder
Upon the steed you ride
Tearing up the page
Pen in hand - astride
You are without a bridle
Legs grip the mustang's side
He has his own way
He is a beast with pride!

No - he has no stable
No - his blood flows wild!
Fed grass of the planes
He's restless as a child
A stallion - yes! A bucking bronc!
Unbroken - never mild!
Get into his rhetoric
He's always getting riled!

Write like you're a MUSTANG!
RIDE ON!!! You have no reins!
Get into his rhythm
The rhyme scheme is unstrained
Your footing is unsure
In uncertain terrains
Playing echo chamber music
Those cacophonous refrains

Bust that bronc!!! He's waiting -
Your own head unrestrained!!!

(C) 5/19/2015
I can't get this rhythm
Out of my head!

— for the American Mustang

Strung up on one leg, bled dry while alive,
unloaded off trailers crammed full
of the crippled and blind —mares
giving birth on three legs, foals trampled
by stallions, and a wave of fear
hovering over tossing manes
like the sea after Moby **** surfaced
for the first time. Last year,

135,000 horses died —

rounded up in hundreds and sent
off to slaughter like feeder goldfish,
three stops from Canada
or Cabo, displaced from plains
once revered for their livelihood.

In 1969, Vonnegut
wrote, “And so it goes…”

In 2061, our children will ask about the wild
horses who used to live in their backyards
as they catch the last fireflies and bottle
them up in jars, flickering and dying
like tired bulbs giving up on electricity —

2015 sees Henderson, Nevada grasses paying tribute
to power-plant-lines and a suburb built
on Tralfamadore fiction: house-mounds
and picket fences caging domesticated dogs,
curb-lined streets and caution signs, billboard
warnings of humanity’s fixation with progression,
combined like coffee with an overabundance
of half-and-half and too much sugar — only 99 cents
at Dunkin down a little ways, and home
to the dreamers who forget the word freedom.

— The End —