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Kassan Jahmal Oct 2021
I was without a map;
Searching my purpose
Stuck behind the peers;
Sitting in a Pink Taxi cab

Always stuck in the past;
Without my heart's fire,
I must of run out of gas.

All troubles on my back;
Thinking time to unpack.

With all collective items,
things in life I never had;
Penning down thoughts

In unread poem forms,
All in my old notepad.

Prayers feel their dammed;
Wellbeing isn't in demand.
Waiting to be pulled in;

Like waiting ocean sands.

So I'm riding off to nowhere;
towards a No man's land
With a lack of confidence;
As I'll get there in this,  

                       Pink Taxi cab.
The winter sky is dark, there is no moon;
The taxi’s lights reflects off tin can houses;
Taxi bump, a dog not a speed ****, driver will stop until noon;
Rival taxi speeds past with a bang by the side with the man and his spouse;
Her blood bitterly decorates the 18-seater, Lesha from Khayelitsha.
The taxi war in Cape Town.
selina Mar 2021
we kissed once in the backseat
of a dull yellow taxi with
love in our suitcases and mouths

then, another in the backstreets of brooklyn
as the boys hooted at us and whistled
hollering under their hoops

"****, y'all lookin' fine"
and we raised our middle fingers
like it was a salute to the gods

i know this is overused
it feels like just yesterday but
years have passed in a blink

perhaps i am just selfish
but i have yet to move on
i still cannot ride a taxi alone

hope sits silently and oh, how it watches
silently from the seat across from me
clinging to what is left of me
for context, we were two girls kissing out in public and of course, we got catcalled on
Laokos Sep 2020
the   view
                            stands beneath
the carousel efforts
to blast through
impregnancy aBLOOM!!!!
(w)ith feral legacies
aligned intimately ornately
     posthumous adulterer
awakens    in               need
****** corrective agency
towards Fenitbow
           and Glightrovee  ab-surd as
qua as qua
asqua aqua qua
a^s is trite melody infer[no]
t a x i     yellowing  each pavement
by truth in yo ' fa ' ' lo ((lo))
    i by horns and turns
in plyable waves arrest
what justice      juices
quai noyh thlume
stranger Dec 2019
Friday morning
Already ironic.
Casually sitting in a taxi cuz today my history thesis is happening.
A kid was hit on the crossing, laying there with the only three people around who called the ambulance.
A few meters on the other side of the road,
The side the kid wanted to get to,
A man casually arranging tables in the betting house.
Watching the desperation in my eyes as I watch the scene before me.
Now is stuck in meaninglessness.
I heard later that day that the kid lives and hopefully so he won't stop.
So now I'm stuck in pink doored bathrooms and the road the trams pass by.
Thinking how desperation is hope because fear is motivation and anger's the fuel.
How much of a human I am, thinking the sole  existence of life is somewhat philosophical.
Cuz that kid on the street and that bathroom I was in, are both poetry.
And I'm nothing but an observer.
Things before others realise.
And still what value has this moment in time?
Almost 100km per hour, I could die right?
I could die by my own means so of course 100km is just a simple factor.
I wanna die by my own means.
No car hitting me, no sudden disease.
I want the odds that are against me to at least respect my timing.
Though it's selfish.
I've been wanting to write about that kid for a while, just couldn't get myself to.
Like a letter to myself I'd never wanna send.
Naturally running out of fuel, life itself slips away in front of my eye.
So in the most mundane mindset, I cannot stop it.
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.
Shiv Pratap Pal Feb 2019
Ticket, Ticket Everywhere
Money, Money Everywhere
Everything is Reserved
For the Money makers and Rich

Want to ride in a Bus, Car or Taxi
Or Travel in Ship, Train or Aeroplane
Use your brain, my dear
Please shell out some money

Oh Sorry, You dropped that ugly idea
Then what you are going to go?
Going to Circus or to watch a film
Want to go to a Book fair or a fete

Still have to Shell out some Money
It's not that funny, O' Honey
It's Business, Serious Business
Oh No, You can't even go to Public Park

Or the River bank either
Oh want to use Public Toilets
Do you think it's free?
No my dear, just Pay and Use

You need some Food, Nice Cold drink
Or want to sip just a glass of plain water
Pay Some Money, Money and Money
Money is the religion and the faith

Need a Pen to write your pain
Again I have to ask for Money
We Money monger are the rules
You Un-employed are the problem

Either pay or perish, that’s a simple rule
That’s a golden Rule, Follow it
Don't try to break it. If you do
I bet, you will fail and fall in jail
Money is Everything. Long Live Capitalism
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