"accelerator" poems
I expand, ingrediently.
Song
sun, bare foot
on accelerator
all the way, heart
at last
excited.
What roads where?
Who wind who?
Because day meanders a tra la la alchemy
And night shivers me into
the furthest permissions of gold
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 6:56 AM UTC
Speed enthralls us all sometimes,
Enjoying the risk whilst we risk our lives,
Faster and faster down the road we go,
Not worrying about getting home,
On our bikes, in our cars,
Pressing the accelerator so we can go fast,
Not wondering about using the brake,
Who cares about the risk we take,
It happens to us once in our lives,
Speed enthralls us all sometimes.
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
Clash. Zap. Thunderclap.
Orbitals charged with electricity collide - feels like crossing the streams
let's - smash atoms like Adam and Eve,
pierce fiercely with particles blown white hot from my accelerator
Insatiable
Like trying to fill up a black hole, so i accelerate her
excite her, ignite her, my touch lights her on fire
combust.
a cloud of ecstasy like Co2 rises higher
I've got my eyes on your ions
take a picture it'll last longer?
snap a photo digitize her
particles turned pixels tilt their head skyward
transcendant enlightenment, released it inside her
E=mc^2 , i can please you at the speed of light
we just rewrote the big bang theory and this time we got it right
opposites attract and charged sparks fly
we might not touch but ion be ****** if we don't try
I'm a ****** intellectual
I love your body AND your mind.
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
Thud thud,
like the beat of a battle drum,
Hallowed cries of victory
Within the capillaries
of your body,
A faint pulsation of adrenaline,
Fresh from the free fall of another
Spiralling of self control,
Beneath layers of fair, smooth skin
lies the undulating tide of blood
and oxygen,
Cascading down narrow slivers
of your veins.
each shuddered breath
is another catalyst of
Life,
Another slam on the accelerator
that surges you further down
the fast lane,
Those faint pulses of yours
Never cease to amaze me.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
"Control is essential"
Yet my foot is still pressed firmly
On the accelerator
"Hey look Mum, no hands!"
Just let the wheel control itself every now and then
It's fun.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 3:53 AM UTC
It's 3AM and all of the streetlights are flashing,
Yellow, Yellow, YELLOW,
like they have the same fever I do.
I believe that streetlights are a subliminal form of messaging,
just letting me know, that all of the communist party members
of China are actually martians. But most nights they usually just
complain about how ***** they are. And as I pass underneath
I tap my accelerator in a sympathetic way, that says
I know man, I feel your pain, and I think,
he doesn't even have hands to help him out.
As the distance between us grows
I also long, for a companion to help
discharge my capacitor.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 1:25 PM UTC
somewhere between the
first date and the last date
Joni Mitchell,
she, me
encapsulates
I'm remembering well,
pounding the dashboard of a red Jag,
laughable now, mocking this fool's need
for a middle age conceit,
his heart to restart,
reactivate
in enthusiastic lockstep with the voice of the
Joni, the blonde goddess of his youth,
foot falling in love, with the accelerator,
speeding along
at a
joyous sixty five,
in places where the signs said,
"thirty five to stay alive"
this aged Rip Van Winkle teenager,
in reverse osmosis of Big,
an old buck, come back to antlered life,
singing along to the CD disc
set on
backdate
*I could drink case of you,
and still be on my feet*
and he could
rediscovering the champagne taste
of a great first date,
feeling the heated blood and fevered mind,
symptoms of the pleasures of a robust
anticipate
thinking she's the one
who will make him great,
happy greater, greater happy
than that one ever, ever,
he thought was roulette~wheel possible,
landing on the red of hopeful for a
floodgate
overture spilling
months, days, minute minute moments (tiny time intervals),
of the fated faded last date later, the next eve, next day
or the next of never,
comes the
deflate
but then,
Joni singing comfort words,
reminding him that he would be,
wisely, sadly seeing, feeling,
both sides now, and yet again,
getting his mind back to
straight
*I've looked at love that way,
but now it's just another show.
you leave 'em laughing when you go,
and if you care, don't let them know,
don't give yourself away*
a grown man punk'd, blasted,
dumb and dumber, dumped,
a feeling sorry sad sack self,
until he himself
reflates,
drink another case,
onto yet another
magical mystery first
date
pounding that dashboard once again,
believing it's not too late
that perfect roommate heart's to find and
captivate,
to attain, invade, acquaint and laughingly...
serenade
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC
I decided that, I would like to be a radio woman,
With the accelerator on my foot,
The right,
And mike on my left.
Blaring aloud,
A beetle bug motor-bee,
To sway and jingle over the traffic
Of the whole world
In a Tea’s Daze;
Blaring it aloud, to the supposed society,
The majority,
To it,
To the Together,
Aloud,
With a resurrected rebellion,
Howl all my cramps off,
Sans the punctuality, morality
And ethics.
And, free it all within a session,
A million worth of cramps sediment,
Waiting to sneak into the coffin for my afterbreath,
Just, free ‘em all, Whenever I feel it.
Aloud. Lucid. And, Crisp.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
Her hand rested slight
Upon the book she'd found
Her bag across her shoulder
She was waiting for the sound
Of the door alarm at the B & N
I mean after all it was
Fifty nine volumes
On how to build a bomb
Found none to soon
On a shelf at the B & N
Abandoned by her lover
After too many fights
That was five years ago
A lot of lonely nights
Casing the B & N
Screaming out loud
At rush hour on the train
Was not an option
Nor was *******
Snorted at the B & N
Finally people milling round
She quietly lifted the solution
To her ravaged heart
All fifty nine on revolution
S
l
i
p
p
e
d
Into her bag at the B & N
Head down and weighted down
She walked to the exit
Waiting for someone
No one to prevent it
Except security at the B & N
At last the perfect patsy
Alarm rang, the man froze
And our spurned lover
To the opportunity arose
Ran out of the B & N
Ran to the parking lot
Her VW bug
Opened the door
Threw in what she'd lugged
59 looted at the B & N
Key from the drink holder
In her shaking hand
er rhrh rhrh vah-room
Such a brazen plan
Perpetrated at the B & N
Her eyes glowed wicked
With rage and revenge
Someone would pay
All would attend
This crime hatched at the B & N
The deed was done
She clung to the wheel
The accelerator floored
The tires squealed
Away, away from the B & N
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 5:19 PM UTC
At a time where it seems so very hard, for me just to feel alive.
all I wanted then, was to drive
As ridiculous as it seems
it was the stuff of my dreams
all I needed was my car and vacant 4am roads.
Going through the gears, as if they were my final years
piston tatted-ring finger; hand firmly wrapped around the wheel
braking late into the corner
locking up the alloy steel wheels on my automobile
the tires squeal
waltzing them back into rotation as I find the threshold
clutch in
twist of the leg at the hip, I blip the throttle with my heel
down into second
one swift movement
un-burnt fuel erupts in the pipes.
blitzing through the off ramp
keeping it tight, clipping the manhole cover in the apex
pedal flat coming out, bounce the tach' as its not worth the upshift
pitch the car into the long sweeping overpass bend
the back end kicks out on decel'
counter steer and slam the accelerator back into the bare metal floor
front wheels clawing in the direction that I please
keys slapping my knees
straighten out and I ease her back home.
reverse down into the narrow; dimly lit garage
as I climb out, I can feel the heat radiating from the machine I built
hot oil ticking as it finds its way back to the pan
I stand and watch my car slowly disappear behind the garage door
it is but another night survived
for both of us.
Sep 18, 2017
Sep 18, 2017 at 1:47 AM UTC
i fantasize about stomping on the gas,
hitting the accelerator
as i approach the on-ramp
for the 408,
launching like a rocketship
headed straight for outer-space.
careen into the concrete
headlong—
scatter my brains
and body-parts across the wall
like a ******* splatter painting.
as lights blur together above me,
my head goes hazy,
dazed in this fugue state,
half-awake and thinking absently
of the city-lights
drifting listlessly overhead
like unidentifiable flying objects,
hovering over this interstate.
i wish they'd beam me up.
kidnapped by aliens,
taken to a galaxy far, far away
so i could forget
the contours of your face.
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC
...turn away, five seconds
the cooling period, you're off
before I'm able to grasp
the situation.
Now I'm on top of
the accelerator on top of
the metal on top of
the asphalt rolling along
like the golden age examples
I tried to emulate.
The most sincere form,
I've failed to impress...
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 2:14 AM UTC
Tapping the vein
at the section of upper and lower arm
striking the needle deep,
jagged and rough,
upon notice that Second
isn't a one-way street anymore.
Must have changed while I was gone.
My Malibu,
swerving viciously to avoid the old Grand-Am
finds its way into the right lane
the only lane
fitting like a glove on the wrong hand.
Ahead, 475 dictates my exit.
A detour, the sign says,
with little ostentation,
even more accuracy.
The highway vomits me away,
chewed and confused,
an exit before my usual.
Though the path ahead
veers straight as a needle,
it's two miles downwind.
Two miles behind.
Great symbolism,
I tell myself,
pressing hard on the accelerator.
Jul 8, 2010
Jul 8, 2010 at 11:12 AM UTC
Inferiority,inferiority and complacency will come ,
Stymie and tremendous shall not be on the way ,
Ten percent of the mind neurologist say we use ,
Ninety locked out of the way and not occupied,
If you really want to flourish think out of the box ,
Press the accelerator up to 180 decrees and go for you life.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
Tonight I thought about
pushing the accelerator to the floor
And turning the wheel hard
the roads were icy
and I was already going pretty fast
it would have been easy
to blame the weather
instead of me
but I kept the wheel straight
I'm not sure why
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 1:00 AM UTC
making the left turn unto Wilks ave. My steering wheel spins in my palm and
There...... on the park bench sits a red shirt and two more.
So I ease off the accelerator and squash the volume Bushwick Bill and Ghetto Boys drop low in the back seat..... Creepin.
Shirt #1 passed the dank to shirt #3 these simple ******* dont see me ...... stll creepin....shiney steel.
Locked and chambered
Shirt # 2 gets a glimpse as he takes a **** but now its bang bang ..... more red and chordite smoke.
R.I.P.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
~
*cracked compass
burning atlas
no sense of direction
on a drive about
the silent forests of the heart
egressing from the shadows
that hunt for us
foot caught on the accelerator
passing escapism's plateau
like a dissolving shelf of flashbacks
kept in a glass jar
it's normal to tire out
wondering who will it be
looking in the window?
the people at the wheel
are not on the payroll
they're pierced and sheer
on the surface
but their deepest parts
still inhabit bone
and slave for mere feldspar
once again human thoughts
turn to crystalline
and still they shine for us
signs are posted:
"a time for vanishing, lay it to rest"
until the unfamiliar sound
of the walls of Jericho
collapsing
breaks the momentum
quiets the traffic
we entered a promise land
on cruise control
with too many exits
and not enough things to see
we did not end up
where we thought we'd be
those eyes at dusk
in the rearview mirror
they hunt for us
they wait for sleep*
~
May 7, 2022
May 7, 2022 at 2:26 PM UTC
Its red light, have to stop
car radio streaming in
favorite Rihanna song
....found love in a hopeless place..
looking to right
catch his intense gaze
a fraction, we're locked!
His blue eyes, my hazel
' I'd like to know
me too..'our eyes say.
Honk...honk...
our eyes unlock
traffic light's yellow!
Wait, don't want to miss
Cupid's arrows!
don't you think
we just had it all?
But...oh!
Traffic light is green,
pressing accelerator
he's turning left
me right
hopes ditched!
Traffic lights,
can't do this!
Hit highway
no stopping
car rushing, yet
hearts keep crying
a dream of love
left to i-95?
Join Rihanna,
as she sings
..found love in a hopeless place....
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 11:45 PM UTC
Life is an accelerator
But I hate her
She trips on words
And works my nerves
Life pushes me away from you
Begged her not to
Indeed I lost
To sting the wasp
Life yelped in rhetorical ways
Pocket of space
When questions soar
In masking roars
Life cried herself to sleep last night
Polluting sight
As stars dim out
With clouds of doubt.
Mar 12, 2019
Mar 12, 2019 at 7:43 AM UTC
I ate some bad food
Now everything is flowing out me.
I write this from my safe haven.
Just beside my thought accelerator.
Aka. My shower.
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 7:59 AM UTC
My whirligig giggling and jiggling in an ever gyroscopic balancing act of spotting the to and fro, does sometimes wobble recklessly, even falls down. Revealing, revolving, evolving windy patterns and magnetism that spin pointedly upon an axis of gender nonspecific intention, it gets back up and twirls again. Whirls again, girls again, boys again, toys again, an accelerator from beginning to end, how can I be propellant and then, marry, tie it down? Letting loose these inhibitions of how such a perfect plaything may be too perfect, too divine a contraption is scary whirlwind to put my head around. Yet, this desire to go with it, oscillate and make rounds seems truer than any boxed in version of wooden wouldn't I rathers. So there it is, to grace a pirouette with stable partner, might be a portion of the dance, picturesque, but more ensemble pieces may follow. These too add to the brilliant ballet, and we are in it together.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
Top down on a rented convertible
The directors, the tabloids,
The husband and kids— leave them
with the city traffic.
The humming of the engine
makes my toes vibrate
as I nudge the accelerator with my
size 11 foot.
I want to see
Azure skies, desert landscape
Lizards basking on rocks.
I’d adopt a coyote
He would teach me how to sing
Because he admires my long nose.
On the road, I feel the
power of abandonment—
Infinite. Priceless. Immortal.
My excitement rises with the speedometer
I would make it to Mexico City by nightfall
The birthplace of my mother.
I write her name in the sky
It waivers with humility
Condenses into streak marks
on my windshield.
Her reflection winks back at me
in the rearview mirror.
Ahead, I see dusk and
the milky colors of city lights.
Jul 16, 2010
Jul 16, 2010 at 8:21 PM UTC
My cat is gone
Stormshadow-san.
I've waited long enough,
Its time to search.
The giant hill covered in mis-matched patches of overly-healthy and near-dead grass, was no longer a ****** opsticle,
But an enormous accelerator to my race to find my buddy
I run fast into the wooded clearing
Panning far and wide
Ntt nttntt nttntt! Ntt nttntt nttntt! I exhort to him in his native tongue.
STORMYYY! NTTT NTT NTT!NTT!NTT!
(I sound like a dying chipmunk)
Gazing high into the swaying treetops,
A white-spot catches my not-so-great eyesight
My heart follows me down the hill
Faster than legs can move it raptures me to a scar in the little mountain before me
Its not him, but I keep looking
The trees, not yet fully budded, and green from the waters touch.
I see early flowers of purple and white springing from the dead and withered leaves.
I can't believe.
But I do, believe, in Love, and life.
My wandering eyes now fixated upon these little ironcly painted flowers fill with salt water and fog my heart.
I can tell that my heart is letting go, but the stubborn child in me says
"NOO OHOHO OHohoh *snort!"
I feel myself being held, by a father who understands and cares of his sons tears
And the tears suddenly disappear.
Like a flood, calm washes over me.
I turn back to the house of " exceptance"
Mine eyes look up for one second.
And there is snake eyes-san, jet black with girly features. She meows hello and slides below
My terribly worn out sneakers.
I knew she knew, and she knew I knew.
"He's gone, but im here with you"
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
You wanna know who I saw today?
I saw two people in a convertible
Girl and Boy
Of course
and it reminded me of myself
Not the part where hate came in
But the part where love was strong
It gave me a futuristic vision
That we would be like that
You on the shotgun seat
Me driving down
Flooring the accelerator
Just zooming past everyone
And skipping our college classes
All of my imagination
Running wild
Due to free time and music
Dreaming and sleeping
For the dream being so pleasant
Thank you
For being present
In my life for a brief part
It still gave me hope
To look forward everyday
Thank you
*I do hope
To see you
Later in life
When you do love me
With your whole heart*
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
Things I’ll miss from Earth:
The smell of the beach,
Sun, sand and salty water serenely as one.
The aroma that lingers every time
I gently lay my head on his chest.
The beats and bass of summer songs,
Caressing my ears as I stomp on the accelerator,
Wind from the sunroof adjusting my golden locks.
The melody in my mom’s voice
As she quietly hums while rinsing the dishes,
Bubbles of soap floating up from the sink.
My innocent childhood,
Racing bikes downhill and helplessly braking,
Blowing burnished bubbles for hours and hours,
Sun tanning in the backyard, eyes closed,
Picturing palm trees and coconuts,
My heartbeat matching the waves: swish, swoosh.
My dad’s mouth-watering steak,
The unavoidable aroma lingering through the house,
Juices dripping off the baking pan,
Forks and knives prepared for feast.
Strolling along the street of my first abode,
Carefully examining the ground,
Wary to step on the wobbly cobblestones,
Creaking open the old wooden door into my stone yard,
Climbing the three humongous steps into the foyer.
Most of all, I’ll miss the hope.
The hope that pulls me out of bed every morning.
The hope that this life is worth my sacrifices.
The hope that pain will no longer surround me,
Not even a pinch.
But even though I’ll be dead,
My hope will live on,
Surrounding those left behind,
The ones that need it the most.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC