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Andrew Oct 2017
Car
I live in a world
Where we pet deer with cars
So we set our emotions in jars
The cops drive with broken headlights
And nobody knows what's right
Yet we're not allowed to fuss
Because we're on a prison bus
So I dream of the days
I'll get to see the freeway

You got in my car
That didn't go far
You decided to call a taxi
Because I was so taxing
I got under your skin like a cyst
And I became your taxidermist

You jumped in my town car
That became a clown car
You made me feel like a star
And then left me on Mars
Where I lived out the back of my hearse
Patiently waiting for a compatible nurse

I found myself in an ambulance
Withdrawing from all your medicine
I couldn't get out of the trance
Your bulldozer left me embedded in
After being rolled in the muck
I became a monster truck

I wish you were a convertible
So I could at least get a nibble
For you handle a road of ugliness with grace
It's the same daunting road I cowardly face
We just can't travel together
That's how we'll travel forever
I just wish you could know
The places my car will go
Jasmine Somers Sep 2016
I catch you sitting at the diner counter again at 2am, the fourth day in a row. The waitress comes over and hands you a black coffee. I stare, but you don’t turn around and catch me looking. You’re glaring into the mug, like somehow you’ll drown in the warm murky mix. Like somehow if you keep looking your problems will dissipate into the rising steam. Like somehow it’s the answer you’ve been searching for since you were born. You wanted an answer. Something that would make everything come full circle. It’s been years of you driving down an endless highway, passing every exit because you don’t know how to stay in one place. Even ghost towns won’t harbor something so deeply damaged. A person who can only pull the emergency break when they’re afraid they might crash. Crash into what? Not everything walking by you is a catastrophe.  Accidents only occur when you forget to pay attention. Just like how you forgot that your side door mirrors were broken. Those objects are not closer than they appear. You tried to slow down but they only seemed further away. Everything you’re trying to hold on to is slipping through your hands the way sand falls through the hourglass. Tick tock. Did you forget that people need affection if you want them to stay? They are not dolls you can glass-case until you feel like playing with them again. Not everybody enjoys being a toy. How long has it been since someone sat in the passenger seat? The car rides must be lonely when there’s no one around to fill the silence. You can blast the radio as loud as you want to but that won’t block out the hollow feeling in your chest. The one that sits where your heart is supposed to be. Something that music can’t fill. Your mother once told you that history repeats itself but did she mention that only happens when you refuse to change the scenery? If you always stay on the same road you’re never going to snap out of it. Break the curse. Realize that love is sitting at the base of every exit if you weren’t so scared of swerving into oncoming traffic. The only head-on collision that’s going to happen is when you grow too tired of driving alone that you forget to keep your eyes on the road. When you realize you placed yourself in your own hell and your breaks finally give out. When you fall asleep at the wheel and never wake up because you were terrified of letting somebody else steer.
PC classic Feb 2018
Pretty girl living a nightmare

Pied Piper'd her twisted mind

to Einstein her nightly sheep

and white flag her past behind


The B-side to rainy songs are pedalled by callous kicks

They alz-heimed-her faded toys with a ******'s overkill

Now hard work is wasted time when cool cars have vacant seats

and the sky is but a snapback on a highway with receding trees.
Spenser Bennett Nov 2016
Today was a car crash
Tomorrow's a few weeks away
Next month I'll see you someday
But today was a car crash
And it broke more than your bones
And it broke more than my heart
It broke everything
From the headlights
To the end of time
Nothing was the same
But you'll never change
But today was a car crash
Tomorrow's a few weeks ago
And yesterday was an eternity
But I didn't know it then
I'll live just a few moments
Without you for a second
But that second had better be a lifetime
And it had better flash before my eyes
Like the tears, like your face, like the casket, and the darkness
Tomorrow's a few weeks away
And forever came and passed
Because today was a car crash
Sitting in the car
Waiting for traffic to move
The cold rain tumbling down the window
The drops collide into a single line.
Inside my father and I wait in the warm heat.

We probably just left to get pizza,
Or Chinese food,
A regular Friday night.

The sound of the radio hums softly in the background.
The soft rumbling of the engine.
The drumming of the rain.

Not a word is spoken
between my father and I,
Each of us just ******* up the silence.
Breathing peacefully.

Over the radio comes a song.
A little old, though well known.
Ee-e-e-um-um-a-weh
Wimoweh, wimoweh, wehoweh, wimoweh.

We both know this song.
Grinning we turn the radio up.
Singing along. Dancing along.
Um-um-a-weh.

With each beat of the drum
My father touches the brake.
Quickly, rapidly
Making the car ****.

The car behinds us honks the horn
Making us laugh harder.
My dad persists.
Continuing in this child’s play.

Suddenly it doesn’t matter,
that it is pouring, or
that we are stuck in traffic.
It only matters that we are having fun.

The song ends.
The radio gets turned back down.
We return to our former silent state.
Marco Carlos Aug 2018
In a car ride to nowhere,
Because why not.
Nothing much left for me here, page is full
The feather has drivelled its last blot.
In a starry night above somewhere,
The darkness is painted white.
The wind blows cold but the sun
will meet it with light.
For all life’s problems will drift away,
Whatever it is, it’s going to be alright.
motivation
My Haseena

late night
pillow fights
watching stars
airplane flights
Wow’ babe, come see the morning clouds
With peaceful doves
Flying above
Wet kisses
Like a washed dishes
Sweat on yo breast
Di* grew stronger
Felt the touch of your hand on my hair
And the other hand romancing my back
just me and you
After waiting for so long
Oh my gosh,
Yo high heels tinkling my legs
Night gown wet
I’m ready and set
***** shaved clean, nuh hair.
My dear queen can I come in ?
No! Not what you think
I mean can I **** it ?
Let me give you the legendary of me
phypsyyor
Note to dreamboat ♥️
Peter B Sep 2018
He passed away in 1791,
aged thirty five.
He never saw a car,
never heard a noise of a machine.
His lungs
never breathed a smog.

He didn't wait
for the industrial revolution,
wild capitalism
and their awful consequences.

He left much earlier,
saving his senses
from the ugliness of the world,

from the unpleasant times,
which were soon to come.

He didn't die,
he only withdrew
from the end of the world.
Paul Hansford Jul 2016
Over the years, I taught so many classes
in many different schools,
long-term or short.
Hundreds and hundreds of  students,
all ages, three to eighteen years old.

But how could I remember all of them?
I was the teacher; they were there to learn.
Those were our roles; that was the contract.
They would move up and I move on, for all of us
always a new beginning.
                                           But now and then
one will return to haunt me, like the girl
whose secret tiny friend, Little Mister Hansford,
drove a red plastic car.
I keep it now, in my drawer,
and remember.

The boy, his skin
flaking and cracked with eczema, trying to resist
the urge to scratch, but always failing.
How could he bear to wake each day to face that life?
Yet I was proud he claimed me for his brother;

On a school exchange visit,
another girl, seventeen,  
crossing the Alps in a coach,
moved beyond tears
by her first sight of real mountains.

Do they remember?
Maybe they do. A young man I met by chance
one day on a Spanish street
surprised me by recalling
how I read Winnie-the-Pooh when he was small,
and did the animals in different voices.

So many children, so many years have gone,
but memories, like love, can linger on.
"He do the police in different voices" was the original title of T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land".
Zersrol Sep 2018
I feel so driven
Feels like the past has flown by
In a flash
But I’m still in my coma
My coma of obsession

It may seem fast to the car
But I’m seeing everything slow
My mind is racing
but my body is slow

Every time I feel driven
I turn the wrong way
My heart is in constant pain

But the car is in a constant disarray
Always so fast
But never up to my speed

I feel so slow
But really
that’s how I should be
Since thou I may never plead
What I dream
I made this about a obession I have over a girl. As naive as I am, this is how I feel and I wish not to feel this way but instead I can’t stop because I hold myself back. Her name was like a car. Enjoy❤️!
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