"chrysler" poems
I had a cat named Snowball.
She died, she died.
Mom said she was sleeping.
She lied, she lied.
Why oh why is my cat dead?
Couldn’t that Chrysler have hit me instead?
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
Can’t reverse
The rain is weepy
Barrel chested
Sloshing whiskey
Slowly nothing
Only list the(e)
Inner conflict
Conviction twisting
Falls on a tune
Octoberishly
Denial, wild,
Nihilism
Old soul
With a child’s wisdom
shut me up
Just throttle it some
Chrysler family
Blame the pistons
courtroom counsels
Intermissions
We stand the trial
Of your own symptoms
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:35 PM UTC
I was driving along the M4
Mind wandering when I saw
The Chrysler 300C
That you used to drive.
I remember walking past the car
Every morning
And dreading seeing you
And falling for you again.
But today was different
There was no pain
No memories cutting my mind
Missing you.
I was numb
Body and soul turning blue
Choking on my regrets.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
America, the beautiful...
do you see what I see?
A country stuck on life support
A dead economy?
America, America...
.please take a breath for me
Ford, GM and Chrysler
Are no longer the big three
Our plants are closed
Our dollar *****
the Dow Jones is joke
Our people can't afford to live
Our dreams went up in smoke
America, America
You'll come back once again
But now you're flat upon your back
On an eight count out of ten
Your soldiers fight, For what is right
On shores so far away
There's battles that need fighting though
Inside the USA
America, America
Please get up off your knees
Most of what we buy from you
Is made by the chinese
Your country has come back before
We're sure that you'll be fine
Recovery won't happen fast
Your eight count's up to nine
America, America
Before they count you out
Stand up and yell
without a doubt
We'll triumph once again.
We'd love to hear Kate Smith once more
Sing out about how great
America can be agian, Before it is too late
America, America
God Shed his Grace on Thee
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From Sea to Shining Sea.
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 3:36 PM UTC
1. The Race Card: Whether it be in suggesting that anyone who doesn’t vote for him because he is black is probably a republican, or in blaming Bush administration racism on a slow response to Hurricane Katrina, Obama is quite comfortable playing the race card.
2. Anti-Indian: After the Obama campaign released a paper disparaging other candidates for their ties to the Indian-American community, the chairman of the bipartisan US India Political Action Committee, Sanjay Puri, stated that the Obama Campaign was “engaging in the worst kind of anti-Indian American stereotyping.” Of course, Obama denied any hand in the racist document put out by his campaign.
3. Corrupt Buddies: Tony Rezko, a long time friend and fund-raiser for Obama, was indicted last fall on federal charges that accuse him of demanding kickbacks from companies seeking state business. When asked about his friend, Obama said, “I’ve never done any favors for him.” This turned out to be a lie, as evidence turned up proving that Obama had written letters to city and state officials praising Rezko’s business practices.
4. Wal-Mart Ties: While bashing of Wal-Mart’s labor practices in public, Obama has been profiting from their business through the money his wife made as a member of the board of directors for a company that produces food for the mega-corporation.
5. Religious Ties: Is Obama a Muslim? Is he a Christian? Nobody is 100% sure, but it is true that Obama was raised in a Muslim family and at one time attended an Islamic school. He currently claims to be a convert to Christianity, but some are concerned about his Muslim upbringing.
6. Anti-Second Amendment: Obama is one of the most anti-Second Amendment legislators in the country. He supports a ban the sale or transfer of all forms of semi-automatic weapons.
7. Gas-guzzler: Obama might attack American automakers for not making enough environmental friendly automobiles, but when he goes home he drives a gas-guzzling V-8 hemi-powered Chrysler 300.
8. Obama Ringtones: The most annoying campaign tool ever.
9. Obama Girl: I take back what I said about the ringtones. This girl is far more annoying.
10. His Unelectable Name: Barack Hussein Obama, ’nuff said.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
I remember Buffalo-
Amherst actually, but the suburb not the college town
My nephew lives in Amherst
But the college town not the suburb
My grandmother lived in Buffalo
Amherst really
and my dad too
My grandfather died there, before I was born
We never said we were going to Amherst
We said Buffalo
Like someone from Los Alamitos might say
they were from Los Angeles
But Buffalo was where grandmother was
But not the fun one
The fun one lived in Gloversville
Which is near Amsterdam, my mom used to tell us it was Amstergosh
Still, Amherst had soft boiled eggs for breakfast
a giant oriental rug on which a small boy could play
but just with his Matchbox cars
and a blow-up Sinclair dinosaur
There was the garage with doors at both ends
Perfect for hiding a car
From brothers-in-law
On a wedding day
There was the giant Chrysler
light green as I recall
In the driveway past which the neighbors lived
with their iced tea with mint and lemon
There were Uncle John and aunt Mimi
Who were like my great uncle and aunt
Except they weren't
Just really close family friends
Uncle John was the one who told me at the age of five
"Always tell a woman you need to leave an hour before you actually have to leave"
We were waiting for Mimi to "get ready" so we could go somewhere
She was taking forever
I do remember Buffalo
Amherst really
But I know there is so much more
that I've forgotten
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 11:17 AM UTC
Saturday mornings growing up
my mother made me clean the bathroom
. windex . bleach
. scrub brush . rags
. mop . bucket . broom . dustpan
. lots of paper towels
she insisted I clean the bathroom
every Saturday morning
before I did anything else
with absolutely no chance of an allowance
she paid me plenty she said
. shelter . food . clothing
. television . internet . video games
. books . some sort of education
not to mention
. life
“do it because you love me”
so waking up Saturday
meant cleaning the bathroom
it meant my hands reeked of chemicals
while my friends enjoyed games I couldn't join
it meant I missed the best of all
the cartoons everyone else watched
it meant I didn’t feel like loving my mother
for years I begrudgingly
. scrubbed . wiped . cleaned
that bathroom
until it sparkled - until it shined
like the top of the Chrysler building
. sink . mirror
. toilet . tub
. floor
all of it spotless
love you mom
then in college
there's this woman that I'm living with
this woman that provides me with
. shelter . food . clothing
. television . internet . etc.
and she makes me feel alive
so I clean her bathroom
and when she asks me, “why?”
all I can think to say is
“I did it because I love you”
and it feels like that's the truth
Jul 19, 2019
Jul 19, 2019 at 2:57 PM UTC
Wireshell trash can sweep-brushed
by Fusion, Alero, Chrysler Something.
They’re filled to the brim like sepia-stained
skyscrapers with swivel chairs and water cooler
pow-wows. Boss’ talking fax machines
and projections for the second fiscal quarter,
flipping a stock EKG reading on its *** We’re
all millionaires. All up like the NYSE at seven o’clock
in our living rooms watching the fireplace
playfully threaten our investments while CNN
sends money through the VCR slot. Cars, no
garbage trucks, cars, cars, scraping hubcaps off
the high sidewalks like beautiful harpsichords.
Neighbors. Suitcases and dresser drawers
packed tight with meat tape, paper towels,
and coffee mugs/fine China make heaped trash bags
seem obsolete. There’s no garbage here.
Downtown’s neon district makes enough
that they could afford a glowsign on every window,
every square inch of every lunch special, gallery opening,
or Salvation Army bell-ringer.
Forget New York,
we're the city that never sleeps.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
Perhaps it’s the chemicals
In the mulch
Or the heat of the sun
Or that it’s Friday
But I want to grip monkey bars,
Just once
Hovering over
freshly baked plastic
and burn my ***
Or scream that I’m it and
slap some chubby bully kid-
run like the cool wind
Thank gosh I am quick.
Impress Kylie with my
Kickball Kick
Or cry on the swings-
the playground’s gallows,
When I learn she is moving
come the fall.
Leaves roll in,
dragged in waves across pavement
Queens of the universe
speed by
late for classes in some far off world where there is no recess
But my time
is kept
by bright bells
The clanging of metal,
distant shrieks,
Tall red beams and
lines of dumb ducklings.
It begins with a voice
And ends with a sliding slam of
a Silver Chrysler door
It is sustained by light thunder
Of feet pounding woodchips
Leaving dust in the seams of jeans
My mother bought me at Kohl’s last week.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
if you had to talk without speaking would you touch, or just try and mouth the words? i will go through and like all your Instagram photos at once. i don’t care about the path less traveled, i am making my own path. i am trailblazing through the woods towards a destination that is completely unknown! often i drive my mom’s Chrysler van and crank the volume to the max. i’m sorry mom. i drive through the woods and put the windows down and let wind fly through my hair. i love driving through the woods almost as much as i love cities. catch me in the strangest places at the strangest times. i am in a restaurant on my laptop typing this and having a vanilla malt. this is diary entry #447. i have so much to tell you, there’s still so much that i haven’t said. well, if i had to talk without speaking words, i think i would touch.
May 22, 2015
May 22, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
Black Chrysler.
White Ferrari.
Loaded barrel.
Dark corner.
Back seat.
Trigger, trigger.
Streetlight.
Unmade bed.
Bathroom floor.
Bang, bang.
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC
My gleaming white constellation class Starship
(My ***** white Chrysler K car)
was out on patrol near the neutral zone
(I was driving back home from the bar)
It was then I received a distress call
(I urgently needed to ***
Some Klingons decloaked in proximity
(I sped past a cop car or three)
I called for more speed from the engine room!
(My transmission started to shake)
Klingons pursued in the neutral zone
(They motioned to me HIT THE BRAKE!)
“What seems to be the Tribble, Officer?”
I said to the humorless Gorn.
That Klingon impounded my vehicle
(They caught me exceeding Warp Nine)
If Kirk faced this “no Win” situation
He’d probably get off with a fine.
Dam Klingons!
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 8:52 PM UTC
I was born there
I hummed its famous tunes,
those unique harmonies and melodies
I drove its cars
Didn't everyone want one?
Those wheels were built by people like us
My father elevated his lot in life,
a Chrysler man by trade
In time, my parents fled its borders
to join up with the other suburban dwellers
This was before I was born
Few of us stayed behind,
the rest of my kin,
too poor or too proud or too scared to leave
I wish it could rise above its troubles
I wish I could brag about it instead
of feeling like a stranger to it
I can't call it home,
but I can claim it as my birth right
Nobody can take that away from me
Detroit, the place where I was born
Jun 28, 2010
Jun 28, 2010 at 7:50 PM UTC
Driving in on I-278
The world is in a hurry
When the skyline appears
The top of the Chrysler; The Empire State
A sea of mirrored glass and steel
Windows on the world
On the FDR
The East River by my side
Burnt out buildings stand hollow and haunted
And my mind is on you
Racing towards you through the gridlocked kaleidoscope
Five bridges surround me
Only one leads me to you
Wait for me… I am almost there
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
On their third date, Sue forgot
her diaphragm; the infant died at birth.
Second child was touched,
she & the boy moved to town.
Dave got the house, Chrysler
& an unfinished chicken coop.
Oct 4, 2016
Oct 4, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
I
expression for not in my culture
take it all slice of alternate
-universe
all height it all is all talks at last
II
it happened to the fuel what was
need to power it the apparatus I
-needed a
time machine if im ever going to
be anything other than this effing
nun I have to go back do something
take some action wrap again crepe
paper around the limbs nail christ to
the wall I want one of those when I
-come back
a hard body pantries full of fuel
have to go back and snort the hologram
ignore the urge to change my name to
-at the end of the world
III
-sinkholes
opened up next to a chrysler
wormhole to no-work-day to
a little late for the rodeo we
set an orange cone there its
raining underground where
- the circus
is an all year thing an
elephant jumps a pink horse
sings my mothers evil step
mother tells me not to wear
******* and tights at the
same time I think thats
nasty I tell about papas
-aliens
she says its his fault her
birth control failed now she
has to ask him for money
IV
the middle fuzzy like a
-peach colored
static bloom I believed you
were better and now I would pay to
waterfall over paint samples
-dissolute
stand solid in the end of the world
glasses full of muck fell off an
escalator got a scar in the shape
of a stiletto or maybe an asteroid
-they think of
a knife what cuts in the trim this
riddlin man this feral cat living
-life
on a soft backseat
oh and the driver
-being translucent
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 1:31 PM UTC
I heard one ole boy,
back in the hills,
chopped a Chrysler Aspen
And married it to a 60's Rambler,
He worshiped that hack,
called it his Asp Ram
Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 9:03 PM UTC
Nothing in this alley to crow
about—backboard and bent hoop
leans against an old refrigerator.
Over at McMillin’s place
bags of garbage pile atop
a turquoise Chrysler.
I’d give the family a pick
and shovel if they bury
their old basset after it dies;
it’ll probably keel,
the first cold day
of 2017.
My boots like this alley
even if my eyes don’t,
it hasn’t seen
a snowplow this winter
and, why should
it?
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 9:50 AM UTC
Back in
the day,
the 70's
and 80's
on the
west side
of Buffalo
at Nativity
Playground,
we young men
and women
were all
friends.
We all
tightly
hung out
together!
Some,
were much
more than
'friends'.
One SOBER
summer
night,
I was introduced
to Carrie
by the girlfriend
of my good
friend Wayne.
I wasn't
interesed....
at first.
I was sober!
Anyway;
She wasn't
ugly understand
but rather,
she just wasn't
my type...
well,
on that night
anyway.
The following night,
Carrie ended up
where I happened to be,
and on this night
I was partying
and getting
drunk.
I remember,
after each drink
went down...
Carrie was
quickly becoming
'my type'.
Folks were
skinny dipping
in the canal
and I began
taking a good
hard look at Carrie by the bonfire.
Before I
knew it,
my pants were unzipped
and in front
of everyone,
my *****
was in
her mouth.
It's then
I stopped her
to save her
a little face
and instructed her
to go up the hill...
and I would follow.
We ended up
on a
concrete pad,
no bigger
than 5 foot
× 6 foot
in the back of
the west side
rowing club
in the spotlight
with Carrie
riding me like
I was a horse
in the
Kentucky derby.
She was good!
Make no mistake,
Carrie was good!
The next
morning
I awoke and...
my underwear
was sticking
to my *** and
I was confused
as to why?
Carrie,
apparently rode
a winner.
I never had
brush burns
on my knees
as bad as the
brush burns
that Carrie
left on my ***
from that
concrete pad.
I dated Carrie
for the
remainder of
the summer
of 83'.
No reason to
wonder why,
right?
That summer
we went on
to christening
brand new
Chrysler Lebaron
Convertibles
of our friend's
parents,
Carrie climaxing
on church steps
with all of
our clothes on
in front of visitors
from Kentucky
and
so much more.
I swear that
song by Europe; 'Carrie'
was sung
about her.
written by me... ..
Jun 4, 2019
Jun 4, 2019 at 8:04 PM UTC
EVIL rides in SUVs with the windows all blacked out.
HONOR drives a plug in car that leaves no resdue behind.
APATHY rides in secondhand Nissans with the clear coat
flaking off.
CELEBRATION rides in limos with open tops for standing up in.
TRAGEDY rides in a long black hearse with all the horses
under the hood.
BRAVERY drives a bright red Moped that cuts in and out of
traffic.
POVERTY must ride the bus in a much too long commute.
ARROGANCE drives an escalade that’s the fourth left turn on a
yellow.
BOREDOM drives a station wagon missing the left rear
hubcap.
PANIC races in the family car where panting and blowing
isn't helping.
HAPPINESS drives almost anything with a baby in the back
seat.
MACHO drives a Ford F350 with wheels even bigger than
his ego.
MELTING *** preens in a souped-up Chevy that dances like a
hip-hop star.
PRETEEN rides a bicycle and dreams of a Mustang.
YOUTH hauls *** in a Jeep Wrangler with the rag top
down.
MIDLIFE CRISIS rides a Harley in a group of seven on weekends.
OLD AGE drives slowly in an ’83 Chrysler Imperial that
won't fit in the parking spaces.
LOVE floats along on hopes and dreams and has no
need of wheels.
ljm
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 8:54 AM UTC
kumukuti-kutitap
bumubusi-busilak
bigla nalang hindi nag-usap
Dec 7, 2019
Dec 7, 2019 at 9:46 PM UTC
What's in a god **** day?
Ten days ago, I was in the
backseat of
a 2008 Chrysler Minivan.
One hundred days ago,
I was stumbling and
climbing in
Burlington,
reborn.
What's in a god **** day?
What's in a god **** day?
Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I was trapped,
homeless and loveless,
in a private, Stepford-studded
sort of way.
What's in a god **** day?
You tell me--
but I've learned that while my streets may change,
the concrete is always the same.
One thousand days ago,
I passed the baton to Richie Sullivan,
thus turning my wild,
private reality
on its dainty little head.
Five thousand days ago, I learned that
Gregory was going to New Zealand
for three hundred and sixty-five days,
give or take a few. But
what's in a god **** day?
What's in a god **** day?
Yesterday I spoke with Janina,
today I did the same,
and tomorrow I will speak with her as well.
Yesterday I did not speak with Conor McCall
or Brian Gagnon
or Julia Ginsburg
though I knew them all once.
I will not speak with them today,
or tomorrow, either.
What's in a god **** day?
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 9:40 AM UTC
The metallic snake, so long and sleek
races along its trail
Predestined tracks it is cursed to follow
And follow it does,
beside roads riddled with mirage waters
Puddles that shine then flee
under the hot ember in the sky
The dusty ground tells sad stories to the sky
Hoping that it may conjure tears to fall
and wet its cracked skin
Black dried out piece of rubber
Once upon a time it helped a Chrysler travel this road
Till the rubber loss grip
and caused the whole journey to come to a halt,
leaving a well dressed man to wonder
and become a meal to the unforgiving wilderness
David Martin
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
Manhattan bathes in lilac-stained dawn,
patiently waiting for a new day to form.
Skyscrapers tickled by the flicker of confused lights
on
or
off?
Night
or
day?
they wonder
whilst light meets dark,
nodding heads
as they pass each other by.
Taxis creep around corners,
collecting the last of the night raiders,
breath sour and eyes wine-weakened,
allergic to morning light.
Cars groan and begin to carve today’s trails
exhaust pipes snoring
as they huff out polluted clouds into smokeless sky.
The 6.a.m. sun crowns The Empire State Building,
and glazes a million windows like honey-roasted ham.
Chrysler squints,
May’s rays bounce off her bronze-blushed walls.
Sleepless wanderers now sleepy crowds,
wine bottles now coffee cups.
Pigeons flutter between dragging feet,
pecking pavements,
catching the odd petal from the honey-blossoms
that stand like angels amongst grey steel.
A sea of suits cluster at the crossing,
people politely covering yawns
as they wait for the green man to give them instruction,
unsure whether the button has even been pushed.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC