"hitchhike" poems
It seems as though we all live in separate worlds..
In that case I'm hitchhiking through the galaxy, won't you come with me?
Hitchhike through this galaxy with me!
We'll see new and old worlds, hear some odd dialects, remember to bring your guide and babel fish and if we are lost we musn't panic!
We'd all love to be hitchhiking through the galaxy, so come on!
Hitchhike through the galaxy with me!!
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 2:38 AM UTC
Father, Son, Mechanic…
Man, I’ve wanted to talk to you – really talk to you – for some time now.
to see your face in front of me, instead of dangling from necklaces,
or hanging, melancholy, over sexless couples’ beds.
I’ve spent a lot of time reading all that stuff you wrote (supposedly),
and I’ve enjoyed it, Man, I have.
but I keep wanting it to be a letter, when in the end it’s just
a bipartisan explanation – an engineer’s guide to
building a pretty vehicle around a faulty engine.
I always see you, arms spread,
sprawled across the older bitter-america’s steering wheel.
my mama would tease me, saying you’d want me to help some day.
but you and your cronies drove me like a beat-down El Camino,
joyfully taking me through wrong turns and bumpy streets
waiting for my chassis to split.
and once I ran out of gas to offer, you refused to touch me at all,
letting me rot in your cobweb garage.
and all those ******* in turtlenecks and polos popped,
they’ve gleefully branded your logo on their chemical biceps
and gaily explain how close you were.
how they knew you like no one else did,
how you guys didn’t have a connection, but a relationship.
people should only let their mechanics touch their cars, though,
and keep their innards free of oily fingers.
to be honest, I don’t think I’ll be coming back to this establishment again.
it’s a little too clean for my taste, and your prices are way to high
especially when all you get is a little peace of mind and a sense of humbled grandeur.
don’t worry about the car, though – you can keep it.
you’ve sort of spoiled all its good intentions,
so I’ll be buying a new one sometime soon.
I guess I’ll be taking a taxi.
No, actually.
I’ll hitchhike home.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 11:20 PM UTC
Inhaling, hushed, from hashed cigars
my mind implodes in Malimar
where Naiads bathe in caviar -
I dream of dwarves and three-eyed tsars.
The captive kiss of Princess Mars
(who talks in tongues at seminars)
burns red beyond Her blue boudoir -
I writhe within Her pale peignoir.
Her Maids gloss lips with cinnabar,
bedizen cheeks in dusts that mar,
serve teas beside the reservoir -
I sip them from a samovar.
Disguised in smoke and lamps of spar
Her Genies gender gold dinars,
evoking flames in ginger jars -
I plea before the Commissar.
At Princess’ neighbourhood bazaar,
white shadows slip through doors ajar
to drape my dreams in ash and char -
I long await the Avatar.
Her Merchants (preening, proud Hussars)
paint pretty scenes on VCR’s
while sailing ships to Zanzibar -
I strum the strings of warped sitars.
Her Prophets sometimes cruise in cars
else while at each and every bar
to speak of space and time bizarre -
I pass my pride for small pourboires.
Her Necromancers trace in tar
tall tales of wisdom flung afar,
transported by the Registrars -
I hitchhike on their handlebars.
Her seers conjure repertoires
where She and I are on a par
in infinite surreal memoirs -
I sometimes sense the void is ours.
My Princess never sees the scars
cut by Her whispered “au revoirs” -
I often wake to ask ‘who are
these Gods that sail the distant stars?’
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
I inserted a suppository right after I had been using super glue.
My hand is stuck in my **** and I don't know what I'm going to do.
When I went to the hospital, the doctors and nurses laughed.
They were in hysterics from laughter and they called me daft.
When they laughed, it offended me so I kicked the doctors below the belt.
They kicked me out and blacklisted me because they didn't like how it felt.
Because of my problem, I can't drive a car or ride my bike.
I can't afford a taxi so to get to places, I have to hitchhike.
The drivers also laugh and I have to slap them to make them keep their mouths shut.
It's been three years and I don't think I'll ever be able to get my hand out of my ****
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 5:23 PM UTC
She asks me,
To calm the ocean storm inside of her.
To harbour in her fickle fears,
And quell her urge to fly or run away.
She asks me,
To silence her cacophony,
A chatter's choir, passion’s angry mob,
And I soft my fingerprints, a lover’s mark,
On the pout of her red, red lips.
Talk to me in confidence and whispers,
She purrs,
As I undo the buttons on her dress,
She says,
Tell me,
No,
Convince me
You have missed me.
She shifts her shoulders,
And
A curtain call of fabric falls free,
Her dress,
A parachute,
Floats into a pretty bunch,
Settles round and round her ankles in a heap.
Sigh.
Sigh as if I'm your last chance to be free, she says,
Her hands in yoga pose behind her back,
Her bra disappears,
A red memory of elastic,
Tribal indents in her skin,
Temptation’s fragrance overwhelms,
Becomes a taste.
She turns her back to me.
Her thumbs hitchhike inside her ******* waist,
She slips them down
Steps out of them,
Naked in high heels, she pirouettes,
Hands above her head,
Her *******
Stiff and brazen buds,
They point and accuse me,
Of some premeditated crime.
Her voice in echo, hardens my intent,
She offers me a carafe of oil,
Warm wet,
Her fingers find the best of me,
Through the thin fabric of my disguise.
Make me shine she murmurs,
Make me slippery and easy to handle, she begs,
My slick hands fill with her,
And I fall fast and forward,
To slip and disappear into a passing cloud.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:01 PM UTC
A post apocalyptic tongue
Weighing heavy and dormant in your mouth
As you hitchhike south,
Stopping only to say hello to the
Forget-me-nots
On the side of the road.
Your lips are chapped, dry.
One bite away from blood.
Your blonde hair snarls and snaps
Around your finger.
A Venus fly trap.
You are Venus.
A beautiful weapon of mass destruction.
You can start wars
With a face like that.
You spread your legs for
Boys who smell of wine.
You spread your legs for
Men with wallets fatter than their bellies.
You spread your legs for
Yourself because it feels good.
They brand you a sinner.
Construct a neon sign and
Point it at you.
You forget
Girls don’t do that.
And girls don’t drink
And girls don’t smoke
And girls don’t curse or kick or fight
Or hitchhike south
Or embrace their beauty
Or say hello to the forget-me-nots
On the side of the road
Or stumble home,
Wherever home is,
Drunk and reeking of
Cigarettes and ***** with
Last night’s lover still in their hair.
But you are not a girl.
You are Venus
And you are dangerous.
A bouquet of cries for help.
You sit in diners
With strangers and speak loudly of
Of rashes and scars.
You sit in ivory towers,
Knitting dresses and scratching
At the stone.
You stand on the sidelines
And snap your gum.
They tell you you can’t.
Your voice stings their eardrums.
Your voice is a thunderstorm.
You are a thunderstorm.
You are hitchhiking south with a
Hand full of forget-me-nots and
Blood rolling down your chin.
You are not a girl.
You are Venus.
Mar 10, 2014
Mar 10, 2014 at 3:35 PM UTC
Jimmi was riding a little yellow cab
when mr. Rodino came and offered him a job
he pulled his black case and showed a stack of cash
and Jimmi's eyes burned to the ash
and then he said : stop the car right there
and wait for my signal, come on boys
we have to be fast, don't give the time a rest
chasing the sun, running from the rain
a blue-red combination pull down the vain
mr. Rodino had a master plan
a new life in mexico, and a little green
just to make it the best than that's ever been
with a glass of confidence and variety of smiles
now step it son, step on the gas
as he was just as much involved in this
Jimmi took an opportunity to live at least
you know when you get to that point in your life
where everything seems so simple, but the ways are hard
he took his name and offered himself
to be more than just a driver, to be a man
Jimmi stepped into the mud
his shoe got stained, just like his life
mr. Rodino applauded for the task well done
let us celebrate with a glass of my finest vine
one for all and all for ONE
the car was running high into the night
Jimmi had that same old spark, same old light
he knew that he won't get his share
that he is just a man to spare
another worm in a simple task
a master's slave
and he just lost his life
the night was dreamy, gloomy and alive
like a hundred bullets running through his mind
Jimmi stopped the car along the road
there was just no turning back
i'll start the show
he pulled his cold knife
and killed Rodino and his guys in their sleep
no one's gonna play me off, don't worry, your money i will keep
he got rid of the car, took the money, running far
time to hitchhike along the road
Jimmi's gonna start the show
a man stopped and told him to get in
and that he'll take him in the city of the sin
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
I know I’ve always said
I’d make a better puppy than a man
Run your fingers through my face fur again
You sweet demon
I always walk away like the ending of a bad movie
With a dusty roaded hitchhike thumb
Only I can drive myself home
I know I am so much smiles
And bad words
I like bad words
They feel good
So much passion in them
Like a Tourette’s prayer
Let me sing your song of profanity
Like a compulsive howl at the moon
I mean,
This poetry is so much sound
That I might make a better wind instrument
Than a man
My lungs feel like a one way accordion
When you smile because of me
You perfect pedestrian
Dressed in slow moving smoke signals
Push all my buttons again
It won’t matter what keys you press
I am always loud, obnoxious, bitter music
Off key like the ***** twang
Of my harmonica exhale
Nothing pretty comes from this
Even the music
I’ve read between these lines
Enough to rewrite paragraphs and pages
Each version
There’s still you in the middle
Still you at the end
And If I were a man
A good man
I’d pick up the confetti
That falls
All inked up bits of paper
From words I chewed and choked on
Trying to tell you
If I were a man
I’d love you like one
Mar 18, 2012
Mar 18, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
thumbs to the sky as we cosmically hitchhike, distances we can't find on earth but somehow hide inside our minds. ignition sequence, a countdown said in rewind. one more time for the sake of headlines that will seek to remind the exploration we've stopped and now just pantomime.
we are a planet sized diamond or the birth of galaxies in ultra-violet; the fusion of an atom or the things that science can't fathom. the creation of a star and the worlds that are suddenly becoming less far. Let's hotwire a rocketship, vacation in zero G. we'll redefine gravity and finally understand relativity.
this is the last time I go to NASA for an answer.
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
*I would swim a never-ending ocean,
Climb a mountain
That reaches into the sky,
Hike through treacherous bushlands,
I would challenge any staircase, Regardless of how high!
I would inhale the Earths atmosphere,
I would pocket every galaxy and star,
I would drain every deep-sea,
Lake, lagoon and river,
Anything to keep them nearer,
Rather than far!
I would fly to the edge of reality,
I would hitchhike across the globe,
I would skydive from the heavens,
I would carry a mountainous load...
To be with my five precious daughters. .
By Lady R.F. (C)2017*
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 3:15 AM UTC
I
A scream scares the day away and makes the night a dark eternity.
Mating calls lurching behind barstools talking about nothing and jumping deeper into conversation over the bovine carcass at Applebee's.
Desolate honkytonks fueled by Percocet and chlamydia, fat musicians and anthems of Beer drunkenness hanging over the toilet to ***** their soul away for a buzz.
Coal diggers and gold diggers painted in black and red and the pinks drips down their leg to a puddle of shame. Crying in the corner for a fix with their broken knees and backs and their black lungs and their pharmacies of solutions that end up being their prison. Poisoning the air with the smoke of death and masculinity with broken hands punching the walls until the blood pours.
The **** of the body and land in unison in mind, flutters from our corner of the world to the coast
then to the heavens where it again rapes. Where it forces itself upon the consciousness of a nation
That buys it up and sells it again for naut. Souls of the lost gather for your final baptism in pain, together,
Ready and willing for more.
Trailers like tombstones in the distance at the end of hollers buried beside their dignity in the mines. Eternal monuments to good enough sprouting from every seed wasted in the divine Goddess who is reduced to the ***** of Hazard and surrounding counties.
Repeat the cycle of suffering.
Churches of skeletons praying for that divine **** of death,
reap what ye sew,
Harvest of the men in plenty,
eat for your fill!
II
It has been a cold winter, and I have traveled to the land of my heroes, who live now only on the page and in spirit alike. I have bussed cross nation, gone to Boulder and Denver and dear Allen Ginsberg I found out the time. I search for the street where I can find you, curl up in your beard, hear your stories, and hitchhike with you to Nirvana. I have snowshoed high and happy with friends and have no regrets only that I didn't stay longer. Played music on the top of mountains and felt them dance under me. I have been reborn with life and friends and it is good enough. Dislocated souls connecting in the ephemeral plane somewhere between Kentucky and Colorado in dreams and though and music and poetry and body and soul.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:18 PM UTC
I want to hitchhike down
those highways
(the long streaks of color
in your eyes)
past your thoughts and into
our garden
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
My question to the world is
Have you ever been lost?
Or felt like no meaning?
Empty and cold
Like a drug addict fiending
Drop everything
Just to pick up nothing
Put up a strong front
When you knew you were bluffing
Now you're hollowed out
Like a turkey no stuffing
And the universe is on you
With weight so crushing
You're walking in slow motion
And everyone is rushing
You're falling behind
So you open your mind
Only to find
That it has been confined
Now I'm left in the dust
To sit here and rust
Hitchhike with this sign
That says "Sanity or Bust"
Jun 13, 2010
Jun 13, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
Black and white country
Novel youths hitchhike state sites
Kodak Kodachrome
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Digital photos
Novel youths hitchhike websites
Black and white country
Jun 10, 2018
Jun 10, 2018 at 2:24 PM UTC
I'm gonna leave this godforsaken town
I'll hitchhike out west
To California
To the beach
The infinite ocean
Doesn't know who I was
It gives me the opportunity
To a clean slate
Oh god how I need that
I'll get to start over
I'll leave the past behind me
And I'll look forward to what lies ahead
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
It was a Monday in November 1971
A cloudy afternoon
When the school sent me and another kid out to find work
As part of our vocational-ed class
My companion said, Hey, let's go to Louie's
So we wandered way down near downtown
And I was happy to find myself in an apartment rented by two kids
The first time I had been in a place emancipated from adult suzerainty
We didn't do much
Just listened to albums
Until the evening finally lazed in
And I had to get back on the highway and hitchhike back alone
(I was surprised to learn my companion lived in that far-flung area where we had wandered)
A grim thirtyish woman picked me up
Told me she was going to a job interview
Then she said, "Nah, I'm not going to that interview.
I don't want that job."
So she dropped me off
And made a U-turn
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
I know I’ve always said
I’d make a better puppy than a man
Run your fingers through my face fur again
You sweet demon
Touch my face
I always walk away like the ending of a bad movie
With a dusty roaded hitchhike thumb
Only I can drive myself home
I know I am so much smiles
And bad words
I like bad words
They feel good
So much passion in them
Like a Tourette’s prayer
Let me sing your song of profanity
Like a compulsive howl at the moon
Or we could dry ****
Or something
I dunno
I just feel more like an animal most days
More than I ever do a man
Touch my face again
With your rough love
And then I can walk away
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 4:41 PM UTC
The ghost of you won't follow me,
Though I try to lure you out.
Never do you fall for my tricks,
I never did doubt
Your capabilities and your wit
I know you float, magical broom
stick your finger in the air.
You'd hitchhike the galaxy
I know you'd dare.
Mar 20, 2021
Mar 20, 2021 at 7:42 PM UTC
Your halo starts to fizzle
Like a vampire in the sun
We’re sitting in the darkness
And no one’s having fun
Up ahead the ceiling’s
Closing in upon our heads
Just like all the angels
Who flew from heaven’s bed
We try to pretend that
We can’t see their eyes
All the coward rebels
And their sheepskin disguise
Our souls begin to hitchhike
Without a help or guide
Along the holy road
That leaves us dumb and blind
********* cigarettes
Bodies languid
Laughing like idiots
Crucifying language
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
i’d use my thumb
to get me some-
where past this side
of a distant galaxy…
can
i grab a little heart-flight
hitchhike from DFW to
the field where lovers lie?
i wish to lay
my head down soft
and hear a tune
hummed from the blue,
a song from some-
one like you
Mar 21, 2022
Mar 21, 2022 at 11:11 AM UTC
Oh I want to write you
Exactly how I want to **** you
With no gaps left
Your margins filled
Your ruled ribs rioting
Ink and blood and moans running
Turning your navel into a well
Your clavicle into the sea
You in the world
And then hitchhike your entire being
I want to write you like I want to **** you
Fill you up, tear you down, pull you apart
Like a boy who found the first toy of the world
And doesn't know what to do with it
Except nothing and all can be done with it
So he does it. He plays, flay, slays, wails and kisses.
Leather bound journals? Loose sheets of cheap paper
I cannot afford your delusions of romance
Just the functional lust of your body
And the minimal madness I have to spare.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 9:54 AM UTC
look at my nothingness
and tell me everything you see
look at my emptiness
and tell me how to be full
look at the way my heart is sinking
and pull it back up
swing it
to the moon and back
so i can create stars with my fingertips
take it to foreign lands
so it can learn the language of love
and how to be
someones everything
hitchhike with it in the desert
and let it become so dry
that it almost greets death
that way
it will learn that this life
doesn't go on forever
and love
won't wait
travel to the west and show it the mountains
point out the crests and the peaks
where lovers have stood
and found themselves
in each other
maybe one day
my heart will find me
Apr 28, 2013
Apr 28, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
got a backpack full of burdens and i'm walking this road alone.
didn't pack any clothes for the trip to the end of the world.
oh no i didn't.
and i have a worn out soul-on-both-of -my-shoes
and im getting tired of running
oh yes i am.
oh yes i am.
so im gonna hitchhike with serial killers and there killer smiles
oh yeah,
smile for me baby
yeah,
green thumb facing the sun
daddy long leg outstretched on the side of the gravel-road-red-carpet
they will come like ants to breadcrumbs
pull over on the side of the road
put your bag of burdens in the backseat and won't even ask for your name.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 12:15 PM UTC
Runaway, escape
Travel to a distant land
Do whatever makes you happy
Who cares if it's not planned
Jump on a plane
Catch the bus
Hitchhike, if you must
Be spontaneous
Let out a sigh
Leap
Let your freak flag fly
You could live without adventure
You could live a lie
You could live in vain
Anyone can
But why?
Why not shout til your heart's content
Why not live without having to pay the rent
Why struggle through the pointless, heavy burdens of existence
Don't settle for the path of least resistance
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC