#buses
If buses rattle over streets
At least you jounce on comfy seats.
Imagine a divan
Made from a frying pan
Or griddles cushioned by felt sheets.
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 7:28 PM UTC
City buses bounce and jolt
As though to loosen every bolt.
The shocks must be missing,
A leak would be hissing.
Or is it the potholes at fault?
Apr 28, 2025
Apr 28, 2025 at 8:38 PM UTC
Waiting for you is like
Being the passenger on a bus next to the window seat.
No matter how crowed it gets.
No matter the amount of stops the driver makes.
Being next to the window is the best seat.
Viewing the world inside out.
The nooks & crannies, a part of you that is rarely seen.
Being the passenger
Lost in thought.
Waiting for you gives a certain sensation.
The sensation that there is something to be had,
building great anticipation.
Giving a chance to sit back & reflect.
Thinking the thought of maybe if not this stop.
Maybe it's the next when the driver finally hits the air brakes.
Being the passenger next to the window.
Viewing the world inside out.
The nooks & crannies, a part of you that is rarely
seen.
But eventually every bus has to make it's last stop.
No matter how long the ride
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 10:27 AM UTC
I missed the bus seconds after the last passenger boarded.
Now I sit here alone,
Waiting for another vessel
To drag me to my destination.
The air is cold,
And my heart is still thumping away
Due to physical exertion to reach the thing I missed -
But like everything else,
My hopes,
My dreams,
They're too far to reach.
I don't know how to end this
But mention the tiny speckle of headlights
And the roar of the large vehicle in the distance.
So now I think:
'There's always another bus.'
Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 2:14 PM UTC
Among the sounds of
roaring traffic-
when buses moan
and screech to a halt,
birds tweeting and
the wind tickling the leaves,
music, laughter and distant chatter,
how do you make it possible?
How do you find the audacity
of clouding my mind
with the noise
that your memories make?
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 9:06 AM UTC
I wake up
head ****
shoulder roll
tongue click
I get ready for school
head ****
head ****
groan
I get on the bus
oi
whimper
I put on my headphones
arm ****
People stare
oi
I suppress
They build
The minutes drag on
Like an itch they can’t be ignored
The bus can’t go fast enough
They’re pushing up
We arrive at school
They’re going to escape
I run off the bus
They begin to explode
head ****
arm ****
I distance myself from the students
oi
arm ****
head ****
head ****
groan
tongue click
tongue click
whimper
They stare
shoulder roll
arm ****
shoulder roll
whimper
oi
oi
Everyday I tic and twitch
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 10:35 PM UTC
These buses sound like dinosaurs
With screeching brakes and engine roars
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 6:41 PM UTC
At night the boys go hunting buses,
Tight-lipped eyes
Loaded with anger,
Gun-barrel arms
Tattoed at the shoulder
And quarry-stone cocked in their hands.
The finger-high boys
Of corner-store cool,
Snarling boys,
Drinking the dark and unloved spaces,
The public places,
Where they have ****** both grog and girl.
They've flogged the stolen cars for fun
In third gear up Spit Hill
And disappeared in the Wallaby Grass
As the sirens wail
And the cars burn.
Footpath foul round cul-de-sacs
These branded boys
Have made their name,
And window panes
Have felt their bitter
Forceful curse.
And tonight the boys are hunting buses,
In tobacco-black suburban hollows
They're taking aim
And will sleep
Smiling
Once the **** is made.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 12:26 PM UTC
School buses are student transportation machines.
It transports children to and from school each day on a regular basis.
Also, it has stop signs and yellow crossing arms on school buses as well.
And it still runs on ultra low sulfur diesel fuels.
When I become a professional school bus driver, i can pick up children to and from school in style.
That's why I love school buses.
Anonymous.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 10:22 AM UTC
She was tragically sad in a way that I was but couldnt afford to have tattooed on me because im african and no one has time for internal misery when there are kids with flies on the look out for something to unempty their bellies, you know stuff you see on telly
She had blond curly hair and we had the mutal understanding that bus rides were where we went to check on our selves, see how well we had supressed the demons for that day or week or past ten years
When I was going through my episodes I'd reinvent myself by establishing a new laugh
"Does this make me sound happier"
She would decide she was moving to india but never really left the university or ended up in brixton
Thats heres india if you cant afford the real thing
We would go for months without speaking and she would show up At my door with dark brown tresses dyed to conseal the misfortunes, unrequited loves and abortions
And I would put together the potions to help us through. No bus rides. just camomile teas and rouge lipsticks
Sit at cafe rouge and pretend to be happy old ladies meeting to exchange photographs of our grandchildren
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
I don't think deep thoughts every day.
I think of them when I'm alone in a car, with my headphones on,
And when I'm on a bus, when I don't have a friend to pass the time.
The buildings rush by me, and I concentrate on their cracks and blemishes
Only for those few seconds.
But in those few seconds:
I think about how that particular crack came to be,
Why that particular color was chosen,
Why they weren't able to afford a better house,
My favorite memories,
My best friends,
My favorite songs,
How poor our society is,
How I want to help,
How I know that whatever I do,
Things will always revert to what they were.
You want me to cut straight to the deep stuff,
To have intelligent conversation,
To ask me my opinion on everything.
You can ask me all you want,
But I already would have forgotten the answers.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 10:04 AM UTC
Let me tell you about public buses
with their rolling wheels and upright seats
where the driver entraps in his own world
and as the passengers, we in ours;
but there's a strange occurrence
when strangers share the same seat--
suddenly, we are sensitive
to their slightest movement
the deepness of their breath
our legs touching slightly, sometimes
ramming together throughout
this epic journey.
then, it's our stop;
we are at the window seat, our eyes darting
outwards, with a speeded heart,
our eyes focus on our
impending bus stop.
but before our words form
the sounds, articulate the words,
this stranger has already shifted
with a smile.
"Thank you," you say, stunned,
wondering how they knew
your feelings.
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 5:25 AM UTC
Girl on the bus,
I saw you but you will never know,
I saw how the others looked at you but i don't want to be anything like them.
Girl on the bus,
You look amazing and you scare the **** out of me,
I do want your number but i can see what is to come and it plays in my head like a broken record,
Girl on the bus,
I wish our paths never did crossed so i don't ever wonder what do you do,
I wish i did not have to feel angry when those boys harrassed you.
Girl on the bus,
why did you have to get off the same bus stop? and then walk the same way?
why did you hurried your footstep behind me? as if to let me know we live close by..
Girl on the bus,
You're a 10, i'm a 2,
i'm the kind of guy the phrase "let's just be friends.." was probably made for,
So let's cut this short, **** you.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
An Aunt and a Nephew on an adventure to explore
It all happened at the Macy’s Herald Square Store
It was the marquee eyes and yellow buses that caught the attention in a little fellow being wise
As a tot, I picked up the yellow bus
I had to have the bus being a must
My Aunt saw the bus in my hand
She told me to put back at her command
But a tot determined to get the bus became my demand
I made such a fuss for that bus
My Aunt was forced to buy the yellow school bus
My persuasion in maneuver became a must
My passion for any bus became my reality with no fuss
Buses have become my hobby from that start
I have a complete 2,000 Bus collection in making my mark
From the start of the engine to the movement with exhaust
A bus hobby I love
The structure and wheels I think of
From a bus pioneers point of view
Here is a more detailed clue
My apartment is a like a bus collector’s paradise
Each bus I have represent themselves
Yes, they fit quite comfortably on the shelves
But it’s Greyhound ahead on the mount
I have so many busses you simply can’t count
It’s my Greyhound glass stretched hound
It doesn’t make a sound
However it stands on my bookshelf being sturdy bound
Buses have become what I missed
I don’t intend to ever dis
My buses have become my catch
They are my assortments like a batch
My buses are just for fun, but everlasting as the shining sun.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC
i sit there with
the cool wind
breezing against my face
while the summer sizzles
on my shoulders
your golden thigh
sticks to my skin
as we drive to the game
every god **** week
the boys
they sit in the back
and pack their lips
and talk **** about
the girls
the girls
who don't realize
that they're their easy targets
who skip around
in their short, tight
dresses
they talk about their waists
and the way they like to moan
every little imperfection
all avail have they shown
they think that it makes them buff
they think that it makes them cool
and i let them light their egos
and sometimes i chirp on too
but yet i sit and listen
and sometimes i think
they don't realize that i'm a girl
too
i don't know how i feel about that
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC