#tire
I’m mad.
This **** is so unfair.
Sometimes you think a day will be good, the opposite happens,
as if the universe made a mistake and
misheard me maybe.
All I said was today’s gonna be a good day, geez.
And then I find my works piling till my sheets,
my tire pressures free falling,
because the truck I was driving behind decided to drop a rock,
and like my life was Mario Kart,
the rock tore through my tire.
I’m tired of waiting for this roadside assistance to get here.
I constantly live in fear for the worst,
and hope it happens when I expect it the most.
Alas, it never does.
The guy arrives and leaves, and I’m doing just fine,
yet the feeling of a bad day leaves a bad taste in your mouth,
and your emotions sing to the tune of your ego all day.
Because you feel just because
you had a bad day it means you can be an ******* to anyone you meet.
Is this some kind of a power fantasy
I repeat and I failed to recognize it?
I had to calm myself down because it got me too amped up.
I almost let the demons drive.
Geez, it’s only an inconvenience right.
And I wonder,
why do emergencies happen only when
you’re expecting to finally relax tonight?
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 7:12 PM UTC
The King sits on his throne
After another long day of work
Resting
Providing for the people
Deciding for the people
His hand reaches to the outskirts of his kingdom
To call his reign tyranny would be absurd
For who would question a leader who benefits most from their own decisions?
And who wouldn't be happy to have to toil a little more when mistakes are made and his lack of care becomes purposeful?
And when his entitlement to the land that he tires himself for day in and day out means that you cannot question his perfect authority, cannot begin to even suggest discussing his non-existent faults?
For people these days do not want to hear advice, do not wish to work hard enough, are lazy, and if these words come out as harsh when you're trying your hardest, that means you can't handle the truth and no other truth exists but that of the one and only royal Highness.
For what plants grow under shadow,
And what trees stand tall without roots firm in the ground?
What should the King do when the people lose their will and turn their backs on what security that has been offered to them
Feb 6, 2024
Feb 6, 2024 at 8:39 AM UTC
We're finally here
Driving long miles tired
Arriving safely
Aug 28, 2023
Aug 28, 2023 at 7:15 AM UTC
Lose a tire? Tires,
they come and go.
Do you have a grip?
The wheel works, but,
what's the point
if the blue sparks fly?
Some words stuck
well inside this
sternum of mine
just need be said.
What's the point of
you and I, then?
Are we always safe?
What's the point of
this fear of life
when I'll soon be
nothing more than dead?
Hold your eyes, then,
til the heart arrives.
Sparks cannot fill
me up inside with dread.
Sep 19, 2019
Sep 19, 2019 at 2:02 AM UTC
If I open my eyes, I will be awake.
I am awake; I don’t want to open my eyes.
Even though dawdling in bed is unwise
it is a bad habit I have yet to break.
If I were a morning person, I would shake
off sleep’s sluggish cloak and arise
fresh as a daisy; my arms open to the skies
and greet sunrise without the bellyache.
Apr 20, 2019
Apr 20, 2019 at 10:52 AM UTC
My heart is on fire
My eyes admire
They called it dire
And I must admit, this plan has backfired
For my body has tired
And I am forced retire
To the fact that I cannot be a liar
For I am sick
Love sick for you
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC
my yellow
basket went
mash and
my tissue
twinges thee
there on
ring but
bard in
mine 'twas
graft that
mud came
a peace
fulfillment that
didn't regret
intake of
grizzly and
movable feast
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 6:55 AM UTC
a sweet
young thing
now fine
young cannibal
but least
theirs feast
of image
while beast
is fair
in whether
still foregone
in yesterdays
why there's
peace of
mind again
in wiles
of me
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
people bore me loneliness bores me
people drain me loneliness drains me
people tire me loneliness tires me
people misunderstand me loneliness means I misunderstand myself
people ignore me loneliness is the epitome of being ignored
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
*Cold caffeine
Warm room
Rain outside my windowsill
Quite chill
Somber tune
Waterfall which turns to snow
Hissing heat
Radiates
Truth until it’s known to me
That underneath
Every tire
Grinds the morning words to speak*
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 3:56 PM UTC
I can see the weight of the world on your shoulders;
And your eye lids crashing down like boulders.
I know it seems like you're never at rest,
But here we are trying our best.
To lift you up,
Through all the hiccups and the gossip.
In this tremendous sphere.
Where many people fear,
What tomorrow will bring
Just know there's nothing,
That your doing wrong
Approaching everyday headstrong.
Drop your anchors,
And pull out your feathers.
It's time for you to take flight,
And let us handle the fight.
We have each others back
No need to worry about your pack.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 8:50 AM UTC
We were flying across the valleys,
Searching the way through the alleys.
Suddenly out of no-where,
It came along with a loud bang!
Pulling the car in front of the house,
Two of us started getting into the rouse.
Luckily you knew how to fix the situation,
Changing the tire was a fun exploration.
You never know when along the way,
You will get a flat tire right away.
Stopping you along your life’s path,
Making you suddenly stumble across.
When a flat tire actually happens,
Nothing it is just a way to toughen.
Having a spare is always handy,
Change it and move ahead in a jiffy.
This is not literal but metaphorical,
Life is like the road and we are in a vehicle.
You will never know when the curves will hit you,
A flat tire is the block anytime you can fall into.
Instead of crying and throwing a fist,
Give the time and make it all fit.
There will be many flat tires along the way,
Always buckle up and give your best to the day…
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
A tire tube without any air,
A boy gone crazy after a girl,
Both are known as flat!
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 4:44 AM UTC
The soda can rumbles in the bowels,
tumbling into the gaping mouth
into which I enter a hand
to protrude my sugar rush.
sssni-kah, then the slurp of an obnoxiously pleasing sip.
I let the carbonation tickle my tongue,
reveling in the effervescent sensation.
The smell of old tires,
malodorous oil and gasoline,
and stale cigarettes fill the air.
My vexatious sips go unperturbing the dense atmosphere
that thickens outside the small air-conditioned office
and into the gas station,
where the mutters and sputters of drills,
kakadoo, kakadoo,
the squeaking and squawking of rotors and axles,
the interjections of swears and grunts
fill the air.
I peek through the ***** smudgy glass window in the door
to see grimy overalled ants meandering
under the body of our red mini-van
hiked up into the air like a figure skater,
suspended by the rusty clawed accompanist,
not a tremor of strain, unflinching,
letting the greasy men crawl underneath, hiking up her skirt
to examine her anatomy.
I walk outside and sit on a dusty tire stacked with others
on the side of the building--
some growing forlorn in tall grass
weaving in and out of the aperturous rim,
the fingers latching onto fissures and pulling it down
into the hungry earth.
Another slurp and I set the can down
to step onto my skateboard--
rolling across the gritty pavement,
snapping ollies and pop-shuv-its
to add my timbre to the cacophony
leaping out of the open garage doors.
I look over to the barbershop adjacent to the station--
The off-white single room squat allowing the cylindrical swirl
perpetually pirouetting atop the door-frame
to dazzle in a placid manner.
It is there I get my close trims
and pull a lollipop from the cavernous bowl
sitting atop the counter.
The barber, working silently behind his dull gray mustache
and dull gray eyes.
Outside the barbershop to the left,
Leicester Highway ambles onward,
diverging at a fork just ahead of the lot,
and the road adjacent that winds down my neighborhood,
Juno Drive.
I've never embarked down either divergent,
and I wonder which one is the less traveled.
(Frost, guide me.)
I go to the mailbox teetering on the edge of the highway
and hastily grab our mail,
the wind slapping at my *** as the cars whisk by
in their infinitesimal haste.
I feel like time slows once you step onto Juno Drive.
I turn around and saunter back to the station to see Billy,
my Working-Class Hero,
who I mostly see strolling up to the driver's side window
of our dull red mini-van
to loosely rest his arms crossed atop the window frame,
resting his sweaty forehead on his sticky hairy forearms.
Leaning in,
his blackened hands with his greasy smile
behind a scruffy scattered beard caked with dirt and grime,
atop a dark red leather face--
but eyes bright and merry.
His laugh, a phlegmy two-pack-a-day sputter
hacking and pummeling through the van,
all the way to me in the backseat peeking around mom's shoulders
to catch a look at this superhero anomaly.
And his southern drawl wrenching out of lungs
caked in tar and exhaust fumes,
that torpid slur that executes like the garbled hum
of an Oldsmobile engine chugging restlessly--
His laugh, an engine that won't turn over, sputtering to life
but falling right back down into the dirt,
lying on the oil-stained cold concrete floors ***** boots slipping over
and sticking too like wads of gum.
The charismatic mechanic who knew the answer to all things,
always ready to flash me that crooked greasy smile
stretching across his ruddy leather face.
I step back onto my skateboard, with soda in hand,
mail in the other,
and silently say goodbye to my Greasy Eden
before making my way down Juno Drive
towards the first house on the left,
following the road as it snakes past the trees,
alongside the creek, around the bend,
and out of sight.
Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 11:39 PM UTC
How I tire of you and the looks you give me in the mirror
How I tire of bleary eyed sunny days
(Like I can't see) sun thru smoke fog
Alone I wake, semi truck barreling down my street towards highway
Gray skies do nothing to muffle the noise in the street do nothing
About the metallic pulse in my head groaning dread like a 56k modem
My dowry for this disease of madness - my middle class inheritance
Her white wedding dress and my silymarin milk thistle distress
Equal distance between us like 'we hardly knew ye'
But You, You were to be my wife
Where did you go, who is this woman
Eggshell grown gown olive skinned melanin beauty
How I tire of pretending to like the new you
Like the old me, he that used to be before
It got to me - before the bottle bought and sold me
Tarnished ink blot
Instead of the other way around
Stopped the car, narrow country dirt road red
Backing up now rapidly as can go, in reverse, still too slow still
feels like too little too late, slow out of the gate as always (idiot)
No great escape from falling to saving grace
No night and day, just greater shades of gray
Damage done, iron wrought, frostbitten fingers failing me
'Fate crusades against me'
Yell paranoid eyeing empty white dusted bottle
Sleep paralysis nightmares of bedroom closing in prison cell
Loom over like human beast double lobectomy
Reptilian brain no higher function
Choke down tears of pure amygdala flight fear
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
I thought I'd post a poem today
though i know not what about
but then i heard the little bird say
tweet tweet gibberish harmony pout
I look around at all the bad poetry
and sigh with such relief
I'm glad that my words of maple tree
are eloquent beyond belief
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
A small smile though the words are sad
She shares the same concept and always has.
They'll leave or you'll leave, what does it matter who goes first?
The years have begun to weigh though
She wishes she had more minds to trouble.
What's the point of existence without something to care for?
Every single time, loss and hurt
Someone to love and make a difference
For a short while at least.
And the pain reminded you
You were at least partially alive
Something that wasn't always so apparent.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
My heart grows weary with the passing of each day as I sojourn on this seemingly endless voyage... a voyage through the seas and through the woods... through the hills that yonder stood....
Through dips and through downs, it all comes around
And even still as my heart grows thin, there's this urge that grows within
A fire unkindled, a flame unfanned by mine own hands yet still it burns...
A flame so strong that it carries a song as it spews its embers throughout this cold September...
**(man it's cold & **** she's cold...)
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC