"horsepower" poems
They gave us the sun to explore this earth, the moon to go back home ... For in your dreams is another reality, and one you rarely see... Lucidly at least... Your dream self has explored. Has suffered. Has laughed. Has felt the fear of not being able to run as real as you feel me pinch you. How can that not mean something? How can I wake up every single morning, and not take a second to appreciate the opportunity to go back home, but wake up here...
They had to make these experiences feel real. They had to make us believe that being "awake" was as good as it got. They can't make money off you if you live in your dreams...so they refuse to let you sleep...
Wake up! They scream. With their TVs and electro beats. With their Budweiser and whiskey. With there horsepower and responsibilities. With there everything.
Fall asleep. In DMT. find the path they don't want you to see, find the boy that needs to breathe, find the answer and use the key, because we have the power to accomplish EVERYthing. SCREAM. "LEAVE ME BE!"
Stay out of my bank account, stay off of my streets, take your big brother, and give me back trees....
Nov 21, 2012
Nov 21, 2012 at 2:19 PM UTC
Next week, I’ll be 61 years
working the same 93 acres.
The furthest field back
and the 2 joining Peter Burke’s
always been meadows.
Since before my time —
today it takes just 4 hours
to cut, bale and wrap.
Dad and the men wouldn’t’ve
half the first headland cut in that length.
I’d go back with Mom,
with tea and sandwiches;
brown bread and something sweet.
No more higher than the handle of the scythe —
I would try to swing.
Nearly took my leg off the first time.
When it was done, all saved
that was my favourite bit.
There’d be a gathering in the house.
Food, porter … the craic.
Someone would pull out a fiddle
or a tin whistle, the women would dance
it was beautiful — meaningful.
Friends, neighbours. Thankful.
The closest thing to expressing our feelings.
And us kids allowed to stay up late,
what a treat; a very rich treat.
I never did grow tall enough
to wield the scythe.
When it was my turn,
machines had been invented.
Lucky I was told I was.
They lightened the work
and lessened the men.
Horse followed horsepower.
Bigger, heavier.
But there was time for tea,
there’s always time for tea.
The scythes rotted;
the horses rotted;
kids flown into the city;
neighbours dead, don’t care or are foreign.
It’s just one man now doing all the work.
One man called John Deere
who has no time for tea.
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 5:56 PM UTC
I'm gonna motivate my love tractor
From the east coast to the west
Feel it's horsepower beneath my ***
The scorching heat from the exhausts
Blistering my legs
Throwing back rock and gravel
Scattering anything in my way
I want to see the ocean before I die
I want to stop at the Grand Canyon on the way
And a dozen greasy spoons
And a dozen more biker bars
It all leads my ***** *** to the beach
Might as well be the Ganges
Baptise me in that great body of water
I love huge bodies of water
Lakes, rivers, seas...but never seen the ocean
I could make it on a Harley
Overcome my fear
Do it by myself
Biker clubs are insane
They're where I need to be
I've been listening to Steppenwolf
All my life
Get that hog out on the road
The highway and the hog is all that exists
It's another of those "becoming One" situations
I can handle it
Stay on the state highways
Avoid interstates
Maybe I should start getting high again every day
Smoking **** at least 3 times a day
Why don't I think that would still make me happy?
But it's cut into my short term memory
It's been cruel and even driven me to my knees
I have a healthy fear of what it's capable of
But if I could ride a Harley cross country
Surely I could handle doing it high as a kite
Biker girls, sorry to break your hearts
I got a respectable old lady who won't sit on the seat of a Harley
We have discussed parameters
But the sum total is you won't be getting what you want
That doesn't mean you might not get something and something valuable and life-changing at that
It's all at my discretion
Because biker girls sweep me off my feet
And the "look but you better not touch" rule is a little too strict
Especially when we make it to the ocean
Our naked bodies like a school of shark in shallow Pacific liquid
Just a **** or two before jumping in the water
Feel in good, like singing with John Kaye
******* the pusher man
My Harley-Davidson's caked with mud and sea salt, dripping gooey red dirt
Watch over 'em for me
Cuz we gonna be here for awhile
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
Squares have disappeared,
and edges burred,
a root of the round
now abounds.
anathematic steel
has succumbed to rust.
horsepower has
reverted to horse and –
the kingfisher
will truly be king.
And the trees now thrum
and grasses dance
in the old bluebell wood,
the oak,
the ash,
the elm;
everything will be
as it should --
with the green man-
at the helm.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
Should I write a poem of sappy love/
Teenage emotion gone on a sneak-away ride/
Visigoth hormones usurping my pen, again/
Sad memories of those girls, oh, those girls/
High School dances like small caliber holes in my heart/
No exit wounds, the lipstick bullets fester in me/
Music so loud I can not hear her giggle to her coven/
About the way I tried to kiss her/
In the gym, in public/
Where all the Cool boys might see?
Or Should I, forty years later, just walk my dog/
And whistle as I bag up her ****
Enjoying the evening as we walk/
While she wags and is happy to be here/
Beside me, regardless of my haircut/
Or the horsepower of my car?/
Why start now? I never cared then/
About them, the Loud Pretty ones/
With the guns aimed at my heart/
The only thing they knew how to do was shoot and run/
Where's the fun in that?/
Come on back, ladies.../
I have years of dog-poop waiting for you.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 12:42 AM UTC
Approach the steps and the
bus driver says "Thanks You,"
ignoring the reality
he's driving a bunch of
broke-ass adults whose only wish
is to escape from the middle of nowhere.
Pass the cows, the one steer
in the dairy field stares at
me, looking down once we've left.
Eyes looked intelligent like he should've
been reading T.S. Eliot while sipping green tea.
The two-mile bay goes quickly, holding
its breath as we wave goodbye. It acts
like it never danced before.
Onto another town
the people can't wait to leave.
A crying child enters and the family moves
back, further back, to sit
behind me as I'm writing this poem.
I've never seen innocence so excited
to ride the Greyhound.
Innocence, why won't you shut up?
Failure, please stop glaring at her like that.
She's only a little girl. The smoke
stacks have no comment.
The truck driver keeps appearing
next to us trying to tell us we're all angels.
The trees around the lake agree.
The horses agree, if only
because we harness more horsepower.
The redwoods on each side of the highway
are blocking my view, but I don't
mind we're headed toward the future.
City lights are my future, fog
is my future. The 101 South is my future.
The woman two rows in
front of me sounds like a man.
(S)he is my future.
**** Rio Dell, there's nothing
to do there. Garberville isn't much better.
The green algae pond says hello.
"Will you save Richardson Grove?"
it asks. I didn't answer.
The winding roads are making
me insane. If I didn't
answer, would you notice?
Ferlinghetti must be driving because
he can't keep on track. Oh
where will you take us tonight?
I wake up to the mist on the
water holding my attention.
The Alcatraz of my mind saves
me from myself.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:48 AM UTC
1
Pete sets off the alarm as he walks in the doors
Tells me his new heart must be talking to the machines
He talks like Jimmy Stewart was from Boston
All elbows
While I am bruised ribs
Vera sounds like an airplane concession cart
With all the right liquor
Her faded blue walker
Drowns out her sighs
Maybe it’s her knees
I am not sure
2
Before our bodies blend
And I am part appliance
I want to love your sound
If your navel were a ****
I might turn your soft belly
Into a music box
So I could listen to your heart
Through your ribcage
After I bury my head there
Put me to sleep with your
Human sound
I want to hear the rust in your hips
With my head on your lap
The sweet sound of our lively decay
There is no better music
It is simple
Like my name
You can still say it while being punched
In the gut
You breathless barbarian
Just dance with me
Until it is all that we have
To know we’re still human
Dance like flames
Without the fear of swelling joints
Dance like waves trying to break the boardwalk
Dance for your future fake hips
Just dance
3
We link arms as we walk
Even through your jacket
I can tell how soft you are
I want to tell you about our footsteps
How when we are old
And we both have canes
When walking down hallways with linoleum floors
I know we will sound like the saddest horse
So I tell you that I will still love you
Even after our bodies are made into glue
You know me well enough by now
That this is just me being sweet
I kiss you goodbye
Listen to your car’s engine hum
It is so quiet
You might actually hear me sigh
When the sound of you driving away
Sounds like the horsepower of one sad horse
On his last three legs
Like
One sad old lady
Even if we’re just friends by then
I won’t forget
The sweet music of our decay
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 7:24 AM UTC
The moving pistons,
such massive horsepower,
his cc's are tipping the scales,
those valves & rods are clicking,
revving rpm's to supersonic speeds,
spewing emissions to the
shifting gears of love.
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 12:18 AM UTC
And then there was one,
From once when there was two.
A character in darkness,
Much in the same way as your likeness.
Foot passed before the other,
But then foot stepped under,
From up above eyes spotted thee,
Above the others who also walked under sea.
Ropes angled at stars.
But where do they lead?
You, your mother's seed,
Exist for a need.
The way past.
It is not wide but narrow,
The skies more than the seas are not deep but shallow.
Food sold and not eaten,
Just to make cake.
Horsepower, 28"s and heating
That's what is at stake.
Minds corrupted by "need"
Wise words they choose not to heed.
Encouragement given to seed,
To follow but never to lead.
Age given before their time,
Influenced by lyric and rhyme.
Many climb the ropes,
Many of them fall,
Many reach the skies of gold,
But then fail to love at all.
Oct 10, 2012
Oct 10, 2012 at 2:26 PM UTC
Standing on a rusted
sidewalk plate, contemplating.
Let me bleed
like a slaughtered sunflower.
Let me walk away
from this wilted bar stool.
Death waits for the weary,
Knock kneed.
I trample through rotten hops.
Scotch on the rocks,
aged like the
half-lit bar sign
with three Xs
and a poisoned skull.
Chasing fear, exhausted.
Legless horsepower, monstrous.
Grinding my fingers on Grainbelts
before the crack of fall.
Stained oak pillars,
star mangled manors
Let me bleed.
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 6:16 PM UTC
The bluest of oceans
Reside
In your beautiful eyes
Your gaze speaks eons
Of your hermit heart
Yet not one speck, I sense
Of lonesomeness
In your life
All I can pick
Is your joyful vibe
Your horsepower mind
Intrigues me
How you solve mysteries
That bind you in a world
Smaller than your universe
How you escape, lost in an expanse
Where you feel more at home
How with the darkening of the sky
As the snow reflects moonlight
Your energies rise in unison with the tide
How your howl feels more like a hymn to meditate on
What are you, wise soul?
Such beauty wrapped in mush and fur
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
A phenom pursue movement
by midnight if entrained encampment
flush by her heels while quatrain will absorb
when she only a heaping there in life with
hers round circumference as deeply met
for a week if her sorcery became a tempest rife
in horsepower with such antigen that an earthquake
with even more liquefaction than mere mention
on cruises her regression must also play into her automobile
and forebode her ritual in speeding in class action.
Jan 26, 2017
Jan 26, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
And then there was one,
From once when there was two.
A character in darkness,
Much in the same way as your likeness.
Foot passed before the other,
But then foot stepped under,
From up above eyes spotted thee,
Above the others who also walked under sea.
Ropes angled at stars.
But where do they lead?
You, your mother's seed,
Exist for a need.
The way past.
It is not wide but narrow,
The skies more than the seas are not deep but shallow.
Food sold and not eaten,
Just to make cake.
Horsepower, 28"s and heating
That's what is at stake.
Minds corrupted by "need"
Wise words they choose not to heed.
Encouragement given to seed,
To follow but never to lead.
Age given before their time,
Influenced by lyric and rhyme.
Many climb the ropes,
Many of them fall,
Many reach the skies of gold,
But then fail to love at all.
Dec 6, 2012
Dec 6, 2012 at 12:17 PM UTC
Im burning in the inside
Not pride but desire i cant hide
Ambition my ammunition
Im ambiguous
Thats my definition
One or more descriptions to decrypt him
GOD called me to handle some business
Especially in depictions
Im a instrument
With significance
Set apart from the existence
Of my glory so no comparisons co existing
Its cool to be different
My flow you can swim in
Inside my hair is lake michigan
My waves spinning
Thats a bay is you kidding
You wont see no fishes
Only sharks that live in
So dont try to flow wit em
Its a new beginning
That you'll witness
Got an new engine
Horsepower in it
Its only been driven
But nobody seen it
One of the meanest
Monster trucks breathing
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
My red and rolling eighteen horsepower
think tank has been the catalyst to many a
welcome thought , spurring many a good
decision
A much needed , twice a week , two hour
break from the scatter- brained everyday
illogical world ...
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
rocking in my
fishing boat
a red skeeter
twelve feet
a hundred fifty
horsepower
a blue Coleman
cooler at my feet
the sun on
my face
the graphite rod
at my side
the worms left
in the car
the sun on
my face
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
raise a woman an inch above a man,
and you will raise an hippopotamus
above an elephant.
jokes sided.... the piston works, yes?
the horsepower is ferrari or ford?
make a tagline of the treadmill lost
to the *******
tools are missing: hammers and other additives,
but the rich boy turned into ***** sniffer are aplenty:
next best seller, arab carpet seller turned into
a capitalist we are fathomed with!
raise a woman an inch above a man,
soon stilettos will not do, but the skulls of other men
for the tormented walk.
let man’s optics suffice... let woman’s felt suffice:
as her ****** of the closed eye prove: man
sufficed pleasing her with eyes glorifying open
and her skin numbed to a loss of a virgin’s pillow fight sleepover:
made man into a disquiet animal of her ennobled sacrifice of having
to live beyond his burial as a widow that
once spun web, then as widow spun doubly
an architecture of lies as the once spun
netting for enclosing a man for pure mechanics.
fools are we to attest such nature,
but double fools are we to succumb to it.
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 11:14 PM UTC
Thank you, I needed that.
Because now, more than ever,
I burn
With the horsepower
Of a hundred suns,
Aching to prove you wrong.
For I am the dwarf star
That will reborn itself
Into a red giant.
And though the coldness of your words
And the void of your superficial gaze
Rip my heart apart like entropy,
I will not atrophy.
No,
I will eat
And work
And push
And grow
And burn
Bright, blinding light.
And I will gather your gaseous glances and metallic spite
And like a solar system forming from cosmic dirt,
From chaos,
I will stand.
Through the searing pain,
Through the soul-sucking cold,
Through the craters you leave on my skin,
I will stand.
Even if it takes me a thousand,
A million, a billion years,
I will stand.
Little by little, inch by inch,
I will stand.
As certain as the stars,
I will stand.
I will stand.
Now,
I stand.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 11:00 AM UTC
The dimmed sky, but no sign of rain
The ticking watch signaling rush hour
Being compressed in an overpopulated train
The heavy traffic composed of horsepower
The deadlines to meet and the city's commotion
The crowded streets like scattered jigsaw
My missing glasses and blurry vision
And the sight of you that **I still saw **
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
"Got To Have Wheels"
written by: David Wayne Clare
(Reggae/Pop/Do-Wop/Techno)
You got to have wheels, if you want to have fun
In the evening when the sun goes down
Got to have a back seat if you want to have a girlfriend
And cruise around with the bass up loud...
I wanna ride, I wanna ride, all over town
In my pocket, there is some English pounds
etc...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels if you want to get the green light
From the girl that's breakin' your heart
Make your dolls face light up way so bright
When she hears your motor start...
Jump for joy, jump for joy . . .
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Riding on, making fast time
That's when she gives her lovin' to me
When we start we never ever slow down
Got to reach loves harmony and destiny
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels if your going to drive uptown
To get that money from a bet you won
Heaven knows that this night ain't going to end soon
Got those wheels? Then you're the lucky one
I wanna ride, I wanna ride, all over town
In my pocket, there is some English pounds
etc...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Well, the girls are young and the girls them strong
They want a man with ambition
The girls you show them horsepower
They don't want a man with a flat tire
Jump for joy, jump for joy!
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Hey baby, let's go shopping and to the movie
Wheelin' and wheelin never slow down
I got the car, I got the money
In my car is the champion sound...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
Got to have wheels, you got to have wheels...
(c) In Perpetuity david John clare all rights reserved
Clairvoyant Music / BMI
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 3:50 AM UTC
living a lie
split in two
a secret reality
created by you
course correction
going 90 in fifth
gotta block those thoughts
with a louder exhaust
maximize horsepower
before i lose it all
so much at stake
need a high flow intake
living a lie
split down the middle
need some major upgrades
for the fantasy to continue
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
it’s not difficult
to know what to do
with 500 heads of garlic
but the garlic scapes
that’s another question
i’ve been grinding them
with basil, oil, nuts
and parmesan and freezing
the pesto
but the freezer is stuffed now
with strawberries and soon
the beans will come
then the broccoli
and the kale
i’m not a survivalist
but if the electricity
were ever to be cut
for a day,
well, i’d have to
haul out the generator and
today I picked up my old
two horsepower pump
from the shop
i use it to draw water up from
the pond which is 10 meters
lower than the garden
i am gradually learning to
look after myself
it’s been a lifelong project
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
Self discovery is the best discovery
Self-will drive is the best automobile
Willpower is unquantifiable in horsepower
Peace of mind, the best place to be
The best resource is self
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 5:45 PM UTC
All I have to do is go around the corner
To the other entrance to the parking lot
This should be easy
Driving is easy
I pull up to the road and look both ways
And horror strikes me to my core
The street isn’t empty
My knuckles turn pale as I grip the steering wheel
Like a cross to keep myself from shaking
My foot is on the gas pedal
The direction that this 3,000 pound machine goes
Is under my control
I lose control of my breath
I pull out onto the street
Swerve into the left lane
My mind says
There’s a family next to you
A mother singing along to the radio
A father stressing about his job
A little girl playing video games in the back
Next to her baby brother, still in a car seat
Their lives are fragile
My mind tells me
Slaughter them
I stop at the stop sign and look both ways
Humans are made of paper and glass
They collapse and shatter in a gentle breeze
And with this car I am Prospero
I can call tempests
I can crush their ribcages
Beneath the weight of metal and horsepower
Even if mother and father live
They must live with the empty space
Left behind by their much more tenuous children
I am collapsing under the weight of the power I hold
I am overwhelmed with visions of what I could do
What I might do
What I fear I will do
I turn the corner
I want to reach into my skull
And rip my brain free from its cavity
I do not want it to control me
I have no power over these obsessions
Despite the cocktail of medications I am prescribed
Despite the therapy
The conditioning
I can always pull the steering wheel
These intrusive thoughts will always infect me
They spread from my head to the rest of my body like a disease
I am sick
I pull back into the parking lot
May 11, 2020
May 11, 2020 at 2:11 PM UTC