#taxi
When it rains, some people run a little
tucking sighs into their collars
my knuckles tap lightly
on the backseat window
shattering a string of clammy
question marks
you said, we met too soon
before we’d learned how to love
and now I’m grinding restless days
sharpening them into matchsticks
waiting for a sunny day
to strike some sparks
the rain, keeps stitching up fissures
while the city slips and slides in puddles
our conversations hang
like wet clothes dripping on the laundry line
awaiting the next sun to dry and turn them into
transparent answers.
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 6:42 AM UTC
Standing in the dark
Tired of walking
My limbs feel numb
My hands feel cold
The streetlights say good night
Except for one
That greets me a taxi with flickering lights
I start waving, calling, screaming
But the car doesn't move
I try to get closer
But the distance feels the same
When will the taxi start to move?
Will it come towards me?
Or will it drive away?
Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 10:54 AM UTC
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._
Oct 22, 2021
Oct 22, 2021 at 6:11 PM UTC
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.
Jul 20, 2021
Jul 20, 2021 at 3:15 PM UTC
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
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 9:40 PM UTC
the view
stands beneath
the carousel efforts
to blast through
impregnancy aBLOOM!!!!
(w)ith feral legacies
aligned intimately ornately
posthumous adulterer
awakens in need
of
****** 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
freel_y
obligatory
antecedent
quai noyh thlume
ye
HEaVY
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 6:17 AM UTC
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.
Observing,
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.
Ever
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 4:19 PM UTC
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
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 8:23 PM UTC
My pursuit of happiness is caught in a cab,
and hell is my driver.
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
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
Feb 24, 2019
Feb 24, 2019 at 10:44 AM UTC
you're wearing
bright red lipstick
and a little black
dress but you
are a mess and you
can't even give the
taxi the right address.
You smell of cinnamon
and sugar mixed with
marijuana and when
you laugh I can see
the fillings in the
back of your mouth
and I resist the urge
to touch your cheek
and feel the curves
of your body beneath
your clothes.
I can taste smoke
at the back of
your throat
and I remember the
way you once wrote.
I think maybe
I'll love you
until this *******
has left my veins.
What was your
name again?
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 8:44 PM UTC
One for the road
A teeter totter to go
a raw hide coffin
In cowboy boots
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.
All my memories seem so far away.
It seemed just yesterday that I was on the train to New York City.
With the phantom lights dimmed down and my guitar in my hand.
Strumming away the days like grey rain raining down cafe jazz.
But now in my cup of coffee is a blurred reflection staring back at me.
All the things that I seen and all things that I have done stored in my memories.
I'm riding in the backseat of a taxi with my face pressed against the window looking out at familiar faces.
Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
3.3.18
You first notice yourself settling,
sinking, like an old house
when the birds begin to fly and the robins build nests in your doorways;
You first notice the pale light
with your eyes closed, afraid that if you open them,
the sun will disappear.
She first watches you
lying, limbs sprawled, in the creekbed
your clothing muddy and your frame
all sunken in, like the old house.
She first loves you in the sunlight
her skin shimmering golden above you
and you first hear her name
when she whispers to you
that she comes from the wreckage of street-lamps and ashtrays
how the only lover she’s ever taken felt like
the scrape of ****** knees against sidewalk,
apprehension laying heavy in her stomach
and the nausea that comes from starvation.
She tells you that she
could never call the city home, never love it as she wanted
because every night her mother would scream at your father
something about a bottle and "you filthy lying *******
and every evening she went to sleep, and her ears bled
from the screech of taxi tires on the corner.
She wants a love that feels like
bonfires devouring kindling, spitting ashes up
into the sky, ablaze
with starlight and smoke –
mud oozing up between your toes as you run
and run
and run
from all the places that never felt like home.
She wants a love to consume all other loves,
a twisting, clawing, breathing thing
her heartbeats furiously pounding out a rhythm to escape
that place, and its stench, a rhythm
that implores the blurry lines of sunset to smother the land,
ethereal, burning
(burning you with it)
And so she first holds you
as the crumbling of her world brings a smile to her lips,
and you wonder as she sinks in her teeth
how many others there will be, after you,
and knowing that she
will be the first to ruin you
(And not caring if she does.)
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 6:59 PM UTC
filled my palms
curse with me
cried
the
balms
past my thoughts
ashes coals
harder
to
swallow
my foot prints
flame through snow
while hanging
in
gallows
in
the
truest
form
of
love
perfected hatred
?
...
..
.
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
guess what? there’s so many people out there who are way better than you in so many different ways and that’s alright because there’s also hundreds of cities with thousands of people you’ve never met who would be madly in love with you for being exactly as you are today and if that doesn’t excite the **** out of you I’m not sure what will
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 3:58 PM UTC
I want to learn to whistle
Like my daddy did.
I wanted to learn it since
I was a little kid
You know, you put two fingers
Just inside your lips.
No, not the whole fingers
Just the very tips.
With that kind of whistle
I could stop a fight
Or call a taxi to me
On a rainy night.
I could whistle while applauding
Let performers know
Whatever they were doing
I enjoyed it so.
It works well during sports
Like a referee’s call.
The way I whistle nobody
Would hear it at all.
If I had a doggie I could call him
Then I whistle really loud
And he would come running
I would be so proud.
And of course I could tell
Somebody walking by
That they were pretty hot and
They had caught my eye.
But if I try to do that now,
They have to be
Not further than a couple
Of feet from me.
You’ve heard that kind of whistle
In shows on your TV.
I wish that kind of whistle
Could come from me.
So, I wish I could whistle
Like my daddy could.
Maybe someday I will learn.
Knock on wood.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
taxi, taxi,
come take me away.
from the blinding lights,
they're hurting my eyes.
and the people,
come take me away.
from the monsters,
pulling at my feet.
creating scars
all
over
me.
i'm dying taxi-man,
yes i am.
physically i'm alive,
emotionally i'm dying.
slowly, slowly,
but surely.
taxi,
take me away.
taxi,
take me away.
taxi,
are you even listening?
-PHALAENOPSIS
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 11:18 AM UTC
Losing someone you deeply cared about from your own actions is a thousand times worse
Than when the Taxi guy rips you off
Both of these things have occurred in my dwelling
And I have to say it’s not recommended
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 12:39 AM UTC
I sat alone in front of a crumbling grey building until its debris whispered the okay for me to go home
when you jog under street lamps and your breath is white and misty from the chill, you realize just how many footsteps have fallen before you and you wonder just how much of this same air was here last year
how can I ever live on my own when I am so afraid of the dark?
if I had a penny for every vivacious hot dog stand I came across......... I'd have enough to buy a few hot dogs.
the air doesn't smell ***** the ground doesn't look littered and ashen. this place is alive. the streets are filled with the souls of the people. they just take the shape of battered shopping carts and greasy cardboard boxes and taxi smoke when you're not looking hard enough. they're exceptional at disguise.
I see a lot of churches but I only see sin happening at the altar.
you cannot think for yourself when the roar of the city is your cerebral cortex
in all my musing I dreamt of cobblestones and patisseries. I thought the history was in the legend-- in the campfire stories and the romance novels. but it isn't. it's here. it's New York.
children are different here. self awareness ranks high when the thieves hide in plain sight.
cracks in the pavement make me wonder what mysteries lay in the tunnels that no one speaks about
spoke to approximately 30 koreans in china town about the price of tea in america
haute couture is for sure never going to be folklore
I felt inferior walking down fifth ave so I bought a pair of knock-off sunglasses and painted musicals with my feet while eating candied insects with strangers
undiscovered broke talent meets every corner in every city
pick a card
any card
except that one
he knew I knew he'd get my $20
I let him have it
it was counterfeit
brooklyn is a two-faced liar and I'm jim carrey with a b-bl-b-blllll-bllluuured pen,
carving my insides into the trees so the little girls remember their manners when they're older
new york is forever awake and I am eternally ready to go to sleep
taxi drivers are succubi
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 3:41 AM UTC
Night time on my mind
Graffitied to the walls on my train ride
To where you live
You give anything to feel real
To feel alive
So you get drunk, get ******
To drown out the pain
But after you're done you still feel the same.
I cried to him in a drunken state
And he told me not to hurt myself
I told him to slap me round the face
He did, but I still didn't feel a thing.
We slept together, skin on skin
I felt my heart opening which worried me
Then quickly closing down
Metal bars, can't let you see
What you do to me.
The next day you called me a taxi
Asked me why I looked sad
And kissed goodbye to me
Your love bites don't mean a thing
You won't know this but I'm sinking.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
I yell and I frantically wave
But no one hears a silent scream
And taxi-cabs don't stop for ghosts
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC