"airbag" poems
the sound of a car accident is deafening.
time almost seems to stop,
as shards of glass and metal fly through the air,
in what feels like slow motion.
as the airbag goes off,
you wonder if these will be your last moments.
and when the crash is over,
the ringing stays in your ears
as if the sound is etched into your brain.
the smell of burnt rubber and engine smoke will soon fill the air,
a scent you won't be able to forget.
you take a deep breath and close your eyes-
darkness.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
My boyfriend does not say he loves me.
“I love you” is reserved for family members only,
and even then, sometimes, it’s a boldfaced lie.
My father “loved” my mother,
he cheated on her, drank away her money
and,
he abandoned me.
Another victim of his so called love.
I don’t even know what “love” means.
Somehow there is a supposed difference
between
Love
and
in love.
I don’t see it.
I love you, should mean
I love you.
Period.
But it doesn’t, does it?
We can’t even rightfully define the word love,
so how can it mean something?
No, my boyfriend doesn’t say
I love you
instead he swears he adores me.
Adores.
Me.
Now that word has meaning,
it isn’t common.
It’s unique to us.
It means he respects me,
he likes my quirky smile.
The way I walk, talk, and sing.
He likes the way I fight
the way I dance
the way I like to read in the dark.
My boyfriend also doesn’t call me
honey, sweetie pie, cupcake or worst of all,
love muffin.
I am not a pie, cupcake, muffin or honey…
although I do like all of those things….
a lot.
He calls me by my name,
and there’s something special about that too.
My name, the thing that is constant.
All of my accomplishments are wrapped up in that one word.
I own it.
Tying my shoes for the first time,
riding a bike,
driving,
graduating,
acing that test I studied all night for.
It’s all there
in my name.
Honey, sweetie pie, cupcake and worst of all love muffin
don’t hold any meaning.
It’s what a guy calls a cute girl.
great.
That’s so original.
My name carries all of my accomplishments,
and my failures.
The first time I fell off my bike,
and my best friend had to walk me home.
The first time I got into a car accident,
and the airbag bruised my face.
The time, my ex boyfriend said he loved me,
only to cheat on me and have his mother call.
“Hey sweetie, I’m sorry I just don’t think you guys are in love
and as you know he’s already moving on.”
I guess even though I “loved” him,
I lost him.
So no,
my boyfriend does not say he “loves” me.
And the next time a boy-
because he will be a boy
calls after you
“Hey sweetie pie”
“Hey Honey”
“Hey cupcake”
or worst of all
“Hey love muffin”
Tell him you don’t have time to talk,
you’re looking for the man,
who will adore you,
and learn your name
in all its glory.
Mar 31, 2014
Mar 31, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
You owned that second
when I could do
nothing
You ruled the world
as the road shrank
in my eyes
You Oh Allah
were my seatbelt
which held
You were the airbag
that loved me
in a flash
You were all and above
when I slid
as nothing
You whispered hush
and steel noise and glass
complied
You oh Allah
took no life there
nor let me
You control the heavens
earth and in-between
and You decide
Can I ever repay
You for a blink
of lasting life?
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
More than one person remembers that day
as hot and tasting of catastrophe
in the flavor of airbag dust and gasoline.
We were talking as you drank your root beer.
Windows down. My shoes off…
4:02.
Your eyes widen
as metal screeches and the revving of engines
winds down, a man wearing sunglasses
yanks on my door, but it protrudes
into the cab. Another man takes you out —
shouts to me to move. I can’t
find my shoes and my wallet is soaked.
Bystanders flock like they would at a circus
where a lion’s attacked his tamer.
Tears flow more freely than blood.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. God, my fault spills
from my bruised lips until finally,
I collapse to the pavement like the fender
of the opposing Mercedes.
I tried but failed to explain
that swerving the car to save you
meant near-death for me. Only after
regret and responsibility that crushed
my lungs faded, the way mascara dries,
did I acknowledge,
I am here.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:38 PM UTC
small irregular steps, like
a little kid top-toeing towards
a cookie jar, his jar
a lonely lady
buried in her latest ‘good read’
behind her now, his hands
eclipse light, ‘guess who’
**** you’ she moans. his fat ***
teeter-totters on the chairs face,
his eyes catch her shut book,
denoting a ****** title, laughing
he jokes about windmill dunking
it in the tableside wastebasket
scoffing as she claws at the book,
before 180 dunking it in her bag,
which resembles a shelter for some
petty, puny & pathetic dog
she bibble babbles blah blah,
his eyes entranced on her chest
hoping the slightest bump will
blast her ***** through her blouse
like an airbag. distracted
by bowels, he debates cutting
cheese. gas leaks through a forest
of *** hair. overpriced coffee odors
mask the lingering stench as it floats
like a boat through espresso &
cappuccino airways; docking
my attention to a tech boy blinded
by his desktop. to infatuated to notice
the pair of blushing blue eyes blessing him
from a corner table. an old man
at his starboard laughs as he clings to his cane
like it’s the decaying hand
of his deceased wife.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
wearing a helmet
Humour Dumpty had a great fall
onto an airbag
All the kings horses and all the kings men
under police escort
Found Humpty fine so went home again
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 5:49 AM UTC
Blink
All is well in suburbia
Blink
Distraction comes to me like birds come to a feeder
Blink
My foot hits the break, but it is too late
Blink
Light ceases to exist in my newly found chilled world
Blink
Airbag dust floats throughout my car as though fulfillment to my joy was just released
Blink
Blue and white lights fill my pupils
Blink
Happiness comes knocking, nobody is home.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
"Do you know why i pulled you over?"
" Suspect it was because of my speed."
" Did you realize how fast you where going?"
" Nearly 75 miles per hour, you see, I noticed that concrete median just ahead and realized I have been suicidal lately, so I unbuckled my seat belt, glanced at my blinking airbag light letting me know this would be a for sure thing and gunned it. Then of course you turned on your lights, and i knew there's too big of a chance of making it to the hospital alive with a cop this close by when it happens so i decided to pull over. I thought may be suicide by cop would work, but i don't have a gun with me, so the worst that would happen is i would get tazed, and you'd have to do paperwork, so i abandoned that about the time you reached my bumper. To tell you the truth, you, and solely you, for multiple reasons, may have been the only thing that kept me from killing myself tonight. Now that I've had some time to think about it, I don't think dieing would help either, wouldn't help me or anyone else, so i think the best thing would be to just go home and sleep it off, sleep until i start to feel something again."
".......Life gets hard sometimes and you can't let it get a hold of you like that. Where do you live?"
"about ten blocks up"
"I'll let you go, but I'm going to follow you there just to make sure you get home in one piece, and in the morning check yourself into somewhere."
"I'll make sure to."
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 4:04 AM UTC
Sound off your mind for this night, take a break and gasp out the sighs of your own lies, your earned it.
Demand cruise control to the neurotransmitters foiling so sporadic.
Set them an ease of peace.
Another bleak day with stripes of black and chrome, aerial(ed).
Releasing so many thoughts at once fleets over any Olympacy attained.
Pull the breaks on your skull.
Let the calm enrich a filthy head full.
Inflict your substance just right, contrary to everything bitterly precise.
Hangover hangover hangover.... the ledge.
Let it spiral the vertical course of dismantled upheavel.
The flummox that flew outgrew you, it was time.
Lackdaiscality is what's best, leave your duncical ruins to rest.
For your dubiosity hitherto was a rotted piece of cake.
Fresh from the mind of lies you relinquished and departed.
Free now to unlatch that choking seatbelt in your head.
The airbag will save you; immix the shuttered space.
For this sound off of your mind wrote content on your hirsuted face.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 5:56 PM UTC
As your precious finger slowly traces the shape of my lips, chills shoot through my spine faster than a nervous cop.
Your touch is only comparable to perfection, each second felt is another second I fall harder.
Your smile is something I have never seen before; and how is it the smile you hate is the exact thing I cherish?
Your presence carries the ability to take me off the ledge and make me feel euphoria; a word not well known, but perfectly appropriate.
How is it you come into my life and save the day, but at the same time mess it up?
Just as I feel I am ready to spread my wings and enter the next chapter of my life, you remind me what it feels like to love.
When I look at you, I can see the emotion carried in your eyes. You put on makeup to cover your unwanted scars, but its those scars that make you who you are, the girl I fell harder than the deployment of an airbag for.
When you catch me staring and you ask, "what" while you shake your head, smile, crinkle your nose, and push me.
I always respond with the standard, "oh nothing" as I smile and carry on. You must wonder why I always stare and the truth is, I can't help it.
The voice you make while you try to be nice to be never ceases to entertain me. You constantly try to downplay your words by changing your tone of voice, yet I see through you as though your a window covered in gold.
When you set your mind to something, I am fascinated watching you accomplish your goal. Your ability to conquer what you set your mind to is inspiring, yet you let the doubt of others get in the way.
I'm nervous this whole thing is moving faster than a train because I want to embrace every moment, yet the speed makes me feel alive.
Don't go anywhere, or you might miss the ride.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
Curling up next to an existence that is teetering on a tight rope
cheek to cheek and chest to chest with a tombstone that wants to show you how to ballroom dance
a blind date with your last breath
intimacy with death if you're brave enough to let it remove your clothes
it shakes you with an awakening jolt.
This is when everything should come to a slow motion slide show
of faces and revelations that have made you who you are
flashing before you like lightning in a rush for work
too blurry and inefficient to satisfy your last moments
like those snowflakes you'll miss savoring on the tip of your tongue
and everything else worth taking your time.
The seat belt tries to save itself tightly between your rib cage
it doesn't hesitate to invite death to your speed of light funeral.
Oxygen has given up at this point
choosing flight over fight
you are one millisecond overdue
there is no time to choke out your last word
or at least think your last thought
when one strong leap of faith
jerks you to the right of the one way road
leaving the 18-wheeled demon behind you
screeching to a spark inducing halt
tires hot for your blood
breathing fire to warm your deathbed
your body stills the world.
Slamming into the front seat
18 years as your airbag
did not hurt as badly
as wishing that lightning quick luck
would have struck out.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 10:53 PM UTC
I had lung cancer,
now I'm minus that airbag-
Oral cancer on the horizon; burning bright,
like the sun on a Long Beach day.
I'm still vvaiting on the Seagulls;
I have this bread to toss.
This relationship vvith Death breeds: **** Fear
a nevv beginning; I'm ready.
Jul 20, 2017
Jul 20, 2017 at 8:58 PM UTC
I've buckled my heart in your passenger seat.
I have put my trust in you.
that's large coming from someone with trust issues,
they've shrunk but they still don't feel small.
I've buckled my heart in your passenger seat.
I've turned the airbag off.
with every pump, push the pedal,
every beat, speed up.
I have put my trust in you.
that's large coming from someone with trust issues,
arms stretched out, skin stretched in
they live on.
turn the radio up,
turn my trust issues down.
they've shrunk but they still don't feel small.
they're small but they're not gone at all.
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 1:06 AM UTC
She's there
She's always been there
Even when she’s not
She's there
At moments
She gets lost
Never too long
Until she's found
At times
She's an accident
Then the airbag that saves your life
A mistake
A lesson learned
Sometimes
She's a wake-up call
A definite reminder when the night falls
She's that notification waiting to ring!
She's there when sadness kicks in
She's there yearning to share happiness within
She's all that was and whatever will be
She's the past
She’s the future
Without darkness
There can be no light
And she is the light
She’s full of light
She's there…
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 9:09 AM UTC
There were so many dead wasps on your kitchen counter
You
thought they were bees
insisted it was okay
But I knew
Like I know
You
Like I still dream
Of getting stung
Or of feeling an airbag on my cheek
Metal twisting into my body
A Rubik's cube of proof
It was too much for
You
to carry
But enough for
You
To plunder
To damage
To chain
You
You You You
I syphon poison out of my body
Drop by drop
Every morning noon evening and night
Ripping myself open
Jagged scars
Screaming for mercy
Face whiter
Voice failing
I cry
Again again again
But
I know
Finally, dear god, I know
I
Have to let it bleed
To let my hair grow
To scream and pull those talons out
With my own hands
To soak them in seawater
To cover them
In the honeyed voice of my grandmother
In the sounds of the train station and the rails
Like I did
With
you
On top of me
Or beneath me
Or like
you
Are
Still inside of me
I
Do not hold
I
Do not cherish
I
am
cloaked in silence
you
slept through the alarm
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
I know
it’s like getting hit at 120
waking up a week later
with fractured ribs,
a cut in my skull,
a feeling of uselessness in my limbs,
and a chronic mental trauma
meanwhile
all you got are
****** bruises
caused by the airbag that at least
saved you despite that,
a dent in the quarter panel,
minor damage to the bumpers
and it’s all ******* covered
by an insurance company
the headlines will be filled with something
like reckless imprudence
resulting to physical injuries
but you won’t need your lawyers anymore
because I promise you I will take the blame
anyway
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 12:00 PM UTC
When one is forced to stop drinking, the first thing felt is shame. It is recognition that coerced abstinence was inevitable. The court told me No alcohol and I said Okay. An assessor of the state told me If you picture life past 30, you stop now: he might have added For the longevity of both you and your relationship(s), but it might be his own history stopped him. The morning I crashed my car was not cold like today. Suburbs are generally quiet at four-thirty; runaways choke-chain drooping eyes to a bedpost for a few more fickle hours, hoping (praying) body keeps pace with hunger. I was hungry, and we went to get food. My brow beats ripples into the airbag. In county my sheltered white life was a blanket doused in gasoline. The sheltered white mind may scream but the sheltered white body cowers under concrete. In class I was assured Alcoholism runs in the family. The gene plagues Hendrix men as a curse of choice. It's a gun in a knife case. Six months sober; it still itches. I'm still hungry. The state told me I was *Lucky [I] didn't **** someone*. I was selfish. I was selfish because I thought they meant me.
Jan 6, 2018
Jan 6, 2018 at 1:43 PM UTC
wednesday 6/10/15 when going to my summer school post and made a right hand turn at the change of the light ( also in fl. you can make a right hand turn on the red ) i was slammed by a flatbed truck and forced me onto the sidewalk and hitting a concrete pole. the car was totaled and the driver sped off leaving a tire on the sidewalk up ahead , but we wasn't sure if it was from the cement mixer that he had or from his truck. any ways GOD and the ANGELS were watching over me and i walked away from that crash to the amazement of the police and the firemen medics who came because of a call from a passerby. i was taken to the hospital after they had gotten the info from me and then they called my wife and i called my daughter on the medics phone. ( mine locked from the impact and to my surprise not one airbag went off ) they did a MRI and just found some arthrithis in my neck , but i was allright. geico paid off the balance on my car and with the difference i put a down payment on a new car. ( KIA SPORTAGE 2014 ) new payments all over again but what the hell - i walked away from it. GOD IS GOOD i will continue writing my poetic stories and lyrics as long as GOD allows. BLESSINGS TO ALL MY READERS
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
16, 18, 21
as time pass by
OH LOOK! You've just turned 16
You can drive
get a job
and maybe get that belly button piercing you've always wanted
but still it's not enough.
Rolling two years ahead you're now 18
You ask yourself.
What is there to do now?
You don't feel any ******* different from the other 17 year olds at your school.
But now you can vote, smoke **** legally in two states, and if you're responsible
go ahead take a sip of the alcohol sitting on the table.
Just don't let that Blood Alcohol Content level get higher than a .02
.02...but that's not enough
Weren't you waiting your whole life to feel enough?
To be enough?
Turning 21 the legal level raises up to a .08
But that's not enough.
Because why should you be the responsible one at the frat party?
Why should you settle for some that's not enough?
You're "only 21". Right?
It's good to help a friend out when they're blacked out drunk
with **** drawings on their face.
But what's not good is when you think you can drive them because you had less to drink than you stupid friend in the back of you car.
So as you're heading home
and those street signs that your brain
turned into street lights.
Now you're flooring it, ending your own life
thinking you're stronger than 2 tons of force
being pressed into the front of your 2004 hunk of metal
Hit one
You survived.
Your airbag and seat belt were the only thing
that saved you from the after life
which you thought was more of an after party.
Hit two
There won't a second time
because you're still in a coma getting charged for
second degree ****** of your friend
who was not secured in the back of your car that night.
While you're laying on a hospital bed breathing from a machine on your left
ask yourself
Was that enough?
What is enough to risk everything that was never enough?
In a few weeks
your family will decide to unplug the machine that will keep you from
never being enough ever again.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
These losses are never my own,
stuck inside the hands of someone else.
but I am always the person to uncover them-
make a facade out of the remains
I am always the chosen one.
and when that is the case
what am I supposed to feel now?
bereavement is not a luxury I have ever owned-
it has always been stuck in the mouths of others.
so what do I say when grief gets in the way
of my ability to empathize.
what happens when I am too broken up
to put into words
the way I would like to dropkick
this world
in the nuts
and walk the **** away.
the deeper I travel inside of my own head
the harder these things get.
it was his,
they were theirs,
she was hers
and his
and it's
and never mine.
This sorrow is never only mine
because the weight is more heavy
upon those who have lifted this burden.
every single thing
in life makes an impact.
and I have always been
the airbag.
Jun 27, 2017
Jun 27, 2017 at 7:31 PM UTC
I ran like a head on collision. A car crash which you don’t look away, like a bicycle crash flung over the handles. Pondering then, in that moment, why I didn’t wear a helmet. I guess I didn’t have a thought to think about that before crushing my skull on the pavement. I wonder in these instantaneous moments, why you pull away first, before knocking the teeth out. Gumless and bleeding with remorse. Things that have foresight, but maybe no hindsight: an example would be falling on airbags like a grenade. I read once, somewhere, that 290 people were killed in 28 years by airbags. I wonder then, before flying into the sediment, if they had the same feeling of regret (or maybe confusion) when something supposed to save them, killed them.
Flaccid airbags, then. 1 to 2% of frontal deaths are caused by un-deployed airbags. Try to imagine the surprise before hurling through your windshield: “but? my airbag?” We can never really rely on anything, I guess, except for at 12 to 18 miles the airbag might, should expand. Marshmallow cushion, cotton ball fuzz clings. A white christmas dressed in harlot red; a sin of plain bad luck for those people. For me, it’s ignorance
I should have worn my ******* helmet
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Wrote this for a friend. She couldn't put into words what she's been through so she asked me to help.
3 years ago
Late at night
She can’t escape
Her dad is at it again
Things flying threw the air
Angry words spew from his mouth
His hand comes down harder and harder
The minutes creep past.
My mom, brother & I
Venture out into the night
She usually comes here
But tonight is different
We’ve never had to go get her
She’s my best friend
I’d do anything for her
Driving slow
Looking for her house
We stop at light
It seemed so bright
Against the night sky
When it turns green
We keep going straight
Out of nowhere
The truck enters our sight
It should have stopped
We had the right of way
It just kept coming
No time to move
Just hold on tight
He ended up on top of us
The airbag hit my face
Glass embedded itself into my eyes and skin
All I could think of was my friend
How could I save her now?
In my mind my injuries were nothing
Compared to what she has been through
Mom had only cuts and bruises
My seven year old brother had a concussion.
She never talked to me again…
Today I contacted her
All I got was angry words
Her saying she hated me
3 years ago I almost died trying to save my friend…
Who no longer considers me part of her life.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 1:39 AM UTC
Daffodils think they're sunflowers,
my grandmother thinks her couch is on fire,
I think you're still the same:
eyes faulty traffic lights,
chest an airbag in constant accident,
voice infrequent radio static.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
I'm so sick of the crashing cars and the ambulance sirens
God, the traffic light was on fire
God, my heart stopped when the brakes didn't
My body is decaying
With all of who I was on display for somebody else to clean up
God, put me back into time
I don't want to wander back to the intersection
I've sat on the curb for what must have been hours, but only stared at that one second
I'm still dying
God, I regret every day I spent on my couch
I wasted so much time licking my scars and praying for sleep
Wanting to rest because the world was so heavy and I carried my part
I've learned patience since the then, but here we are
You and I
And the stop light, halfway between yellow and red
I didn't understand while my foot was on the acceleration
I didn't understand speeding until I stopped
God, I was running away from everything
I was looking for something beautiful and I found a fuse
It could've been fireworks or a forest fire and I didn't know until I lit the match
Either way, that car is burning
I can feel the heat from the still flames
Smell the hexane leaking out, seeking ignition
But I can't pull the woman from her car
I can't continue her life for her
That's her decision, or God, maybe it's yours
It was my decision to get into the car this morning
God, I didn't choose death
I chose to ride my bike without a helmet
And to swim all alone at night
But I didn't choose to die
I should have paid more attention in driving school,
Or even just the road that day
It has my complete focus now, my unceasing fascination with this one moment
God, please put me back into time
Let me go with her to the hospital
Let me die there, knowing that she lived
I'll bet she was responsible,
Turned in her homework on time and went to bed at ten
I'll bet she looked both ways and couldn't see me coming on too fast
I'll bet she has a little brother waving her off to college in the fall
And her parents are very proud
God, she has a story
As many hours as I do, an entire life I may have just ended in seconds
She built herself, she wants to be something
She is so beautiful right before the airbag goes off
I died before the airbag could go off
God, I will not give up
I won't leave her,
I'll stay right here in case this second finally bleeds into the next one
May 30, 2017
May 30, 2017 at 9:29 PM UTC
if your
words
are not heavy
enough
to trigger
the passenger airbag
then
i will not
help
soften the blow
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 3:33 PM UTC