"hyundai" poems - Hello Poetry

she lay next to him at night dreaming of a ghostly icon, gold little-headed monkey god on an island nigh the cape of bone marrow. & now she bounds into humble years, house cat, domesticated little smiles, little daughters, little flowers at the supermarket. good morning. pull her hair, as if to tree & family. seed shoved down her throat & diamonds. she remembers the jewel runners, their chunks of wet rock. & birds slipstreaming away their days above africa. slug to the chest & she awakens in a hyundai under the beaming heat of a vacant strip-mall sun. gravity feels soft in this lesser pungent life. dreamt only, of choking temp and humid archipelago nights, the gibbons & the thieves. the treasure chest lairs of chieftains and tribal nobodies. war profiteers. men of fang island fantasy. fake it. p.t.a. and butter spread it, to toast and/or corn. the sun is rising & falling & truly just travelling ‘round. marinated artichoke hearts. [baby dreams] of waves on shore and handshake, of altered mother moons, she is hidden in reflection & time. happy with the furniture. plentiful on extra lunch meat.

0

Aug 22, 2015

Aug 22, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC

CoopLee

lagoon nebula

she lay next to him at night dreaming of a ghostly icon, gold little-headed monkey god on an island nigh the cape of bone marrow. & now she bounds into humble years, house cat, domesticated little smiles, little daughters, little flowers at the supermarket. good morning. pull her hair, as if to tree & family. seed shoved down her throat & diamonds. she remembers the jewel runners, their chunks of wet rock. & birds slipstreaming away their days above africa. slug to the chest & she awakens in a hyundai under the beaming heat of a vacant strip-mall sun. gravity feels soft in this lesser pungent life. dreamt only, of choking temp and humid archipelago nights, the gibbons & the thieves. the treasure chest lairs of chieftains and tribal nobodies. war profiteers. men of fang island fantasy. fake it. p.t.a. and butter spread it, to toast and/or corn. the sun is rising & falling & truly just travelling ‘round. marinated artichoke hearts. [baby dreams] of waves on shore and handshake, of altered mother moons, she is hidden in reflection & time. happy with the furniture. plentiful on extra lunch meat.

36

Within the four doors that make up my Hyundai Elantra surges gasoline of sublime ecstasy. *I'm gonna lose my mind and sail the ocean. 'Cause somebody told me there were cherry blue skies...* Reverberates my radio and pours out of my chords to the tune of the bliss hiding in the highways ahead of me. Sometimes, I let my voice steer the wheel and my hands touch the happiness in the follicles flying through the winds of the roads. Other times, I drive without reason-- Without a destination or time limit or objective. I drive to dream about *Waking up too early Maybe we can sleep in Make you banana pancakes Pretend like it's the weekend now...* Or to caress the breeze of the sunset's gentle gust grazing my fingers and the spaces between them. On the surface sits a black car, but inside travels the life inside of me that I cannot manifest anywhere else. As *Don't stop believin' Hold onto that feelin'...* Turns the corners and the lyrics to my wheels Come crash into me... I can't help but thank the gravel that I drive on and embrace the euphoria that I breathe in and love the life that I live.

0

Jul 27, 2014

Jul 27, 2014 at 1:20 AM UTC

Dania

Little Black Car Break

Within the four doors that make up my Hyundai Elantra surges gasoline of sublime ecstasy. *I'm gonna lose my mind and sail the ocean. 'Cause somebody told me there were cherry blue skies...* Reverberates my radio and pours out of my chords to the tune of the bliss hiding in the highways ahead of me. Sometimes, I let my voice steer the wheel and my hands touch the happiness in the follicles flying through the winds of the roads. Other times, I drive without reason-- Without a destination or time limit or objective. I drive to dream about *Waking up too early Maybe we can sleep in Make you banana pancakes Pretend like it's the weekend now...* Or to caress the breeze of the sunset's gentle gust grazing my fingers and the spaces between them. On the surface sits a black car, but inside travels the life inside of me that I cannot manifest anywhere else. As *Don't stop believin' Hold onto that feelin'...* Turns the corners and the lyrics to my wheels Come crash into me... I can't help but thank the gravel that I drive on and embrace the euphoria that I breathe in and love the life that I live.

20

she had her lingering pale blue eyes and long blonde hair skin like paper dotted here and there with freckles She was the first way back when in the first grade her name haunted that old farm house she was the first A friends sister back in the sixth grade she was two years older than me and **** it she carried it well I'd sit next to her on the sofa waiting for my friend to come down the stairs so we could walk to school The short brunette who loved the Chicago Bears watching that super bowl in the rec room of my parents' house truth or dare a peck on the lips my seventh grade conquest bathed in nostalgia I don't remember who won I don't even remember who was playing high school came and brought with it a new field of roses some of them wilted all of them perfect I told her she would have made a great mother and I meant it my best friend's girl The little church girl little robin red cheeked prom night photos suits and dresses and smiles and holding crystallized in the flash of a Nikon The girl with her guitar and her poster *carpe that ******* diem* her upper teeth came out below her curling lip and when she smiled a hint of gums a hint of pearl the one that time placed out of reach in some other place with some other people For one night there was the blonde bombshell she came to town once a year like a hurricane a natural disaster that I stood outside waiting for with my umbrella The ones who were smarter than me the ones who loved me when I didn't the ones who laughed at my smart *** comments the ones who were there to pull me from the flipped wreckage of the silver hyundai accent that I miss so much the ones who wouldn't take any of my **** the one's I see walking by on the street the one's I only see behind closed eyelids the special love I have for all of them all of them my baby blue

0

Oct 9, 2013

Oct 9, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC

harry-j-baxter

Baby Blue

she had her lingering pale blue eyes and long blonde hair skin like paper dotted here and there with freckles She was the first way back when in the first grade her name haunted that old farm house she was the first A friends sister back in the sixth grade she was two years older than me and **** it she carried it well I'd sit next to her on the sofa waiting for my friend to come down the stairs so we could walk to school The short brunette who loved the Chicago Bears watching that super bowl in the rec room of my parents' house truth or dare a peck on the lips my seventh grade conquest bathed in nostalgia I don't remember who won I don't even remember who was playing high school came and brought with it a new field of roses some of them wilted all of them perfect I told her she would have made a great mother and I meant it my best friend's girl The little church girl little robin red cheeked prom night photos suits and dresses and smiles and holding crystallized in the flash of a Nikon The girl with her guitar and her poster *carpe that ******* diem* her upper teeth came out below her curling lip and when she smiled a hint of gums a hint of pearl the one that time placed out of reach in some other place with some other people For one night there was the blonde bombshell she came to town once a year like a hurricane a natural disaster that I stood outside waiting for with my umbrella The ones who were smarter than me the ones who loved me when I didn't the ones who laughed at my smart *** comments the ones who were there to pull me from the flipped wreckage of the silver hyundai accent that I miss so much the ones who wouldn't take any of my **** the one's I see walking by on the street the one's I only see behind closed eyelids the special love I have for all of them all of them my baby blue

77

Hit heartbreak in a Hyundai goin’ about 45 Still jerks you like it was a hundred when the breaks are finally hit Been shaving the rust from my bones To make guitar strings Because I still got a song in there Might not be much But it’s somethin’ Comes out all tinny Like when live radio sounded like it was comin’ from a can Hide the fact that I can’t sing Sound isn’t even affected by 45 miles an hour Still perfectly audible Didn’t even have to raise my voice so I could keep on sayin’, I’m Sorry For the battle I caused you And for the place that I left you in From across the street Even houses sit on the side of the road Any side can be the wrong side Any throat can be a gutter When the noise starts pouring out Sounded more like rushing water than anything else Anybody can be a trash can With all the soda and beer and broken wine bottles Makin the outside sticky Lemme sing this to you While we both wash away our ***** I know I’m done letting my glass poke through the plastic Never even realized how much it cut you Le’me sing the song before my voice starts breakin’ again Before my throat becomes a gutter And my eyes become a fire Before I wake up on the wrong side of the street again

0

Jun 17, 2011

Jun 17, 2011 at 11:10 AM UTC

jon-tobias

The Wrong Side

Hit heartbreak in a Hyundai goin’ about 45 Still jerks you like it was a hundred when the breaks are finally hit Been shaving the rust from my bones To make guitar strings Because I still got a song in there Might not be much But it’s somethin’ Comes out all tinny Like when live radio sounded like it was comin’ from a can Hide the fact that I can’t sing Sound isn’t even affected by 45 miles an hour Still perfectly audible Didn’t even have to raise my voice so I could keep on sayin’, I’m Sorry For the battle I caused you And for the place that I left you in From across the street Even houses sit on the side of the road Any side can be the wrong side Any throat can be a gutter When the noise starts pouring out Sounded more like rushing water than anything else Anybody can be a trash can With all the soda and beer and broken wine bottles Makin the outside sticky Lemme sing this to you While we both wash away our ***** I know I’m done letting my glass poke through the plastic Never even realized how much it cut you Le’me sing the song before my voice starts breakin’ again Before my throat becomes a gutter And my eyes become a fire Before I wake up on the wrong side of the street again

33

The gravel crumbled underfoot, leaving a stony imprint on the Earth. The sun gleamed, ascending its rays down to the walked upon path. My jeans, dirt covered. Simple. My shirt, wrinkled, I’d forgotten to iron it. The hotness left it’s maroon imprint on my shoulders, a sunset across my face. I felt each step crack, the gravel snapping down. The swelter began to leave my head damp, as if tears were escaping my pores. I looked at the metal box. 2005 Hyundai. I looked at the brick wall, the windows tinted as the flower curtain flitted through. The porch was old, gossamer cobwebs had began to sleep in its corners. The front door creaked softly, nobody is home. I stare at the house, the sun glowing brightly. She left me, and now I occupy this prison alone.

0

Sep 19, 2015

Sep 19, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC

tristan-whitney

On My Driveway

The gravel crumbled underfoot, leaving a stony imprint on the Earth. The sun gleamed, ascending its rays down to the walked upon path. My jeans, dirt covered. Simple. My shirt, wrinkled, I’d forgotten to iron it. The hotness left it’s maroon imprint on my shoulders, a sunset across my face. I felt each step crack, the gravel snapping down. The swelter began to leave my head damp, as if tears were escaping my pores. I looked at the metal box. 2005 Hyundai. I looked at the brick wall, the windows tinted as the flower curtain flitted through. The porch was old, gossamer cobwebs had began to sleep in its corners. The front door creaked softly, nobody is home. I stare at the house, the sun glowing brightly. She left me, and now I occupy this prison alone.

13

Times between night and mornin, Just when the chill about sets in, Limbs frantically search for that crumpled quilt Increasing warmth and ahh sweet grogginess. A dream floats in my blank sleep You and me tootling along a forgotten, familiar street In a battered old Hyundai Santro?? it is. Twenty years of acquired cobwebs melt Evoke fond memories and unexplored possibilities Overlaid with a wild imagination, the images move in slow motion Me driving, your gaze surveying the landscape You are older and plumper, I have a beer belly and a bald patch There is not much to say, or too much to say but no time. Four Eyes frequently lock and search for something Knowing it but daring not to say. Your sultry liquid voice breaks into a song, an old Urdu ghazal, Of obscure origin and meaning, The notes glide and acquire shapes in your husky abused throat, Silvery quicksilver, flowing, and always round at the edges Unfettered and undisturbed by the bumpy ride and noisy springs Brings whole of creation in the Battered old Hyundai Santro Still. The vocal vibrates and resonates in my bones and skull and in my soul Stimulates humours I didn’t know exist Eyes lock again, a mild smile is exchanged, We understand each other Know the limits and improbabilities Its not going to be in this life time dear. Let’s seal it with a kiss An embrace exchanged over the gear levers and handbrakes Oblivious to the barreling old Hyundai Santro Your tiny ******* and Pantene scented hair Your lips still perfect, soft, warm, moist and downy at the corners,. Unfamiliar yet so familiar.

0

Nov 22, 2016

Nov 22, 2016 at 1:35 AM UTC

ajit-patel

A Forgotten Song

Times between night and mornin, Just when the chill about sets in, Limbs frantically search for that crumpled quilt Increasing warmth and ahh sweet grogginess. A dream floats in my blank sleep You and me tootling along a forgotten, familiar street In a battered old Hyundai Santro?? it is. Twenty years of acquired cobwebs melt Evoke fond memories and unexplored possibilities Overlaid with a wild imagination, the images move in slow motion Me driving, your gaze surveying the landscape You are older and plumper, I have a beer belly and a bald patch There is not much to say, or too much to say but no time. Four Eyes frequently lock and search for something Knowing it but daring not to say. Your sultry liquid voice breaks into a song, an old Urdu ghazal, Of obscure origin and meaning, The notes glide and acquire shapes in your husky abused throat, Silvery quicksilver, flowing, and always round at the edges Unfettered and undisturbed by the bumpy ride and noisy springs Brings whole of creation in the Battered old Hyundai Santro Still. The vocal vibrates and resonates in my bones and skull and in my soul Stimulates humours I didn’t know exist Eyes lock again, a mild smile is exchanged, We understand each other Know the limits and improbabilities Its not going to be in this life time dear. Let’s seal it with a kiss An embrace exchanged over the gear levers and handbrakes Oblivious to the barreling old Hyundai Santro Your tiny ******* and Pantene scented hair Your lips still perfect, soft, warm, moist and downy at the corners,. Unfamiliar yet so familiar.

33

Get into my Hyundai I call it my Ferrari It goes hard when I'm at the wheel Take me for a test drive I'll show you how it feels A body so hot it will make you melt I'll take you to heights you've never even felt. ©2018 Written By Benji James

0

Apr 16, 2018

Apr 16, 2018 at 5:58 AM UTC

BenjiJames

THIS IS SO DUMB I'M CRYING WITH LAUGHTER!

Get into my Hyundai I call it my Ferrari It goes hard when I'm at the wheel Take me for a test drive I'll show you how it feels A body so hot it will make you melt I'll take you to heights you've never even felt. ©2018 Written By Benji James

9

She wore a red dress It was Saturday night To the football game To the school donning Red and white Red was the color of her lipstick Red was the color of jealousy as she rocked her hips But Red was also the color of blood The color of lust At a football game That was a hell of a combination She was a sorority chick Reputation of a confused **** At the game, she said “Why the **** are we losing?!" Exasperatedly... And slightly tipsy Not knowing that she would be watched By boys who wanted to win Who just wanted to **** Red was also the color of passion Touchdown after touchdown She celebrates with her friends as it happened The home team prevailed and won The boys were staring at her Waiting to pounce As her ******* bounced They were bros Waiting on her They were easily drunk Looking at her plump **** They had a plan They struggled to keep it in the pants She lived on campus Her friends didn’t Their beloved team was still undefeated Before long, they had to go their separate ways She lived in the Village dorms It wasn’t far She was a big girl She was brave They rolled up on her In a slightly used Hyundai Told her “Baby girl, do you need a ride?" She respectfully declined They asked again She decided against it All of a sudden she felt something was wrong She felt someone come from behind Next thing she knew, she felt confined “Hey, baby girl, what’s good?" The driver said “Why don’t you go chill with us in our hood?" Two of them had their hands on her thighs She wondered was this her demise? With tears in her eyes They still had that look They stopped the car Evil was afoot **** baby girl, why you crying like that?” One said. “Yeah, we just wanted to chat.” Another one continued. “We just wanted to know if the rumors are true." And finally the driver said... “And we want to see it too.” The bros pounced They saw red The color of her bra and ******* Were red They groped like animals At her ******* Their scratches were red Their repeated thrusts After angry ****** After angry ****** Made her bleed red Insult After angry insult Was venomously red Their marks of territory All over her body Were red And when they were done... “Baby girl, mmm.” They were satisfied.

0

Apr 26, 2017

Apr 26, 2017 at 4:28 PM UTC

TheTristan104

The Red Tragedy

She wore a red dress It was Saturday night To the football game To the school donning Red and white Red was the color of her lipstick Red was the color of jealousy as she rocked her hips But Red was also the color of blood The color of lust At a football game That was a hell of a combination She was a sorority chick Reputation of a confused **** At the game, she said “Why the **** are we losing?!" Exasperatedly... And slightly tipsy Not knowing that she would be watched By boys who wanted to win Who just wanted to **** Red was also the color of passion Touchdown after touchdown She celebrates with her friends as it happened The home team prevailed and won The boys were staring at her Waiting to pounce As her ******* bounced They were bros Waiting on her They were easily drunk Looking at her plump **** They had a plan They struggled to keep it in the pants She lived on campus Her friends didn’t Their beloved team was still undefeated Before long, they had to go their separate ways She lived in the Village dorms It wasn’t far She was a big girl She was brave They rolled up on her In a slightly used Hyundai Told her “Baby girl, do you need a ride?" She respectfully declined They asked again She decided against it All of a sudden she felt something was wrong She felt someone come from behind Next thing she knew, she felt confined “Hey, baby girl, what’s good?" The driver said “Why don’t you go chill with us in our hood?" Two of them had their hands on her thighs She wondered was this her demise? With tears in her eyes They still had that look They stopped the car Evil was afoot **** baby girl, why you crying like that?” One said. “Yeah, we just wanted to chat.” Another one continued. “We just wanted to know if the rumors are true." And finally the driver said... “And we want to see it too.” The bros pounced They saw red The color of her bra and ******* Were red They groped like animals At her ******* Their scratches were red Their repeated thrusts After angry ****** After angry ****** Made her bleed red Insult After angry insult Was venomously red Their marks of territory All over her body Were red And when they were done... “Baby girl, mmm.” They were satisfied.

86

You've crossed that line for the final time try to keep my head held high but you're dragging me down I know it's apart of life But it doesn't mean I don't stand up for my rights Everyones singing about there haters But I'm not sure anybody reads What I write onto this paper I don't think anyone can even stand my voice but what I put into my songs is one hundred percent emotion it's not easy telling stories about me people think you're a poet But I can guarantee Just about everything I say it's the truth Don't need to live a double life to make this reach you Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on Cruising through the streets in my Hyundai Trying to figure out the next line I want to make this the best rhyme As you hang on these words When I sing to you You're still standing there Trying to discover the truth What is he saying What does he mean Is this really the way his feeling Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on See so much confusion when I look at the crowd But when I sing the melody They scream my name out loud Still can't figure out where to go from here everything drowns out trying to be sincere Can't stop pretending that I don't care Can't stop procrastinating This time will be the last time I share my air When my lungs are struggling to keep on running Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on When everything felt like it was starting to go right The world backed out and left me in the sand to die Hey, I said I'm going to okay Don't go looking at me that way I don't give a **** You don't need to say It's going to be alright There are plenty of fish in the sea I can't let this emotion go to waste I can't let her go I can't watch her walk away Yeah you can look me in the eyeball tell me everything will be alright Well I've got news for you I was already dead Never really knew the cost Oh no there goes my soul Lost the last part of dignity Got nothing left to show Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on Guess this is all an illusion Time to stop me from choosing the path I'm going to be walking Death or life, Better think twice It's a big decision I must have kept on forgetting the drive that kept me going for all of this time I wonder if she ever looked back on her life And felt something was missing Did you realise that I'm not there keeping you comfortable? Yeah it's alright There is no need to keep on fighting Temptation get on the plane Do another show, pretend I'm not alone This is life, Don't want to grow old on my own Should embrace it Not sure if I'll even make it past thirty It'll be a miracle if it wasn't real but from I can see its crystal clear I wasn't supposed to make it here Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on ©2018 Written By Benji James

0

Jan 30, 2018

Jan 30, 2018 at 6:30 AM UTC

BenjiJames

Crossed That Line

You've crossed that line for the final time try to keep my head held high but you're dragging me down I know it's apart of life But it doesn't mean I don't stand up for my rights Everyones singing about there haters But I'm not sure anybody reads What I write onto this paper I don't think anyone can even stand my voice but what I put into my songs is one hundred percent emotion it's not easy telling stories about me people think you're a poet But I can guarantee Just about everything I say it's the truth Don't need to live a double life to make this reach you Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on Cruising through the streets in my Hyundai Trying to figure out the next line I want to make this the best rhyme As you hang on these words When I sing to you You're still standing there Trying to discover the truth What is he saying What does he mean Is this really the way his feeling Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on See so much confusion when I look at the crowd But when I sing the melody They scream my name out loud Still can't figure out where to go from here everything drowns out trying to be sincere Can't stop pretending that I don't care Can't stop procrastinating This time will be the last time I share my air When my lungs are struggling to keep on running Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on When everything felt like it was starting to go right The world backed out and left me in the sand to die Hey, I said I'm going to okay Don't go looking at me that way I don't give a **** You don't need to say It's going to be alright There are plenty of fish in the sea I can't let this emotion go to waste I can't let her go I can't watch her walk away Yeah you can look me in the eyeball tell me everything will be alright Well I've got news for you I was already dead Never really knew the cost Oh no there goes my soul Lost the last part of dignity Got nothing left to show Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on Guess this is all an illusion Time to stop me from choosing the path I'm going to be walking Death or life, Better think twice It's a big decision I must have kept on forgetting the drive that kept me going for all of this time I wonder if she ever looked back on her life And felt something was missing Did you realise that I'm not there keeping you comfortable? Yeah it's alright There is no need to keep on fighting Temptation get on the plane Do another show, pretend I'm not alone This is life, Don't want to grow old on my own Should embrace it Not sure if I'll even make it past thirty It'll be a miracle if it wasn't real but from I can see its crystal clear I wasn't supposed to make it here Nobody's going to save you From who you are You have to keep on moving Or this world will get to you So baby keep on moving on and on ©2018 Written By Benji James

116

Oy Vey Smear - More'n' $500.00 For Car Repair! Hence mine plaintive strut forward doleful poetically lamentable forlorn shell shock mental state Hyundai deniably forced me to absorb, sans requisite auto repair tab this (Sonata kidding) reality steered me sigh key - wracked (in my pinion) into abysmal suspension tooting horn aye didst painfully, palp ably, and pathetically, (albeit mutinous on bounty of life) envisioned good bye regarding woebegone condition wallet sadly, how checking account suffered near mortal blow - cents less lee principally reason cry ying yup possibly heard, asper the doll la bills blues and die, perhaps hastiness dashing off metrical missive blindsided, clouded, and obscured wheely tired call for Eli (schwa sound) to whisk this mister where angels fly essentially taking Matthew Scott Harris goodbye from money shortages, away high yar into the outer reaches of the twilight auto zone yet...deep down I dear lee would rather engine ear a rescue attempt by claiming fear less flyer self as charity and gear legitimate funding to help a worthy cause, but such chutzpah, would be here see within thy coda, dogma, and car ma, thus eye shed headlights for "NON FAKE" truth to app pear.

0

Aug 14, 2018

Aug 14, 2018 at 9:38 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Oy Vey Smear -

Oy Vey Smear - More'n' $500.00 For Car Repair! Hence mine plaintive strut forward doleful poetically lamentable forlorn shell shock mental state Hyundai deniably forced me to absorb, sans requisite auto repair tab this (Sonata kidding) reality steered me sigh key - wracked (in my pinion) into abysmal suspension tooting horn aye didst painfully, palp ably, and pathetically, (albeit mutinous on bounty of life) envisioned good bye regarding woebegone condition wallet sadly, how checking account suffered near mortal blow - cents less lee principally reason cry ying yup possibly heard, asper the doll la bills blues and die, perhaps hastiness dashing off metrical missive blindsided, clouded, and obscured wheely tired call for Eli (schwa sound) to whisk this mister where angels fly essentially taking Matthew Scott Harris goodbye from money shortages, away high yar into the outer reaches of the twilight auto zone yet...deep down I dear lee would rather engine ear a rescue attempt by claiming fear less flyer self as charity and gear legitimate funding to help a worthy cause, but such chutzpah, would be here see within thy coda, dogma, and car ma, thus eye shed headlights for "NON FAKE" truth to app pear.

44

I was 15 it was a Sunday night, and my curfew was 11.p.m we slipped outside of our homes and into her 2016 Hyundai making sure to leave in minimal time keeping in mind that we had $20 and 1 phone number. it took 6 puffs and i was no where but everywhere at once it was the brink of happiness it was the brink of being a teen

0

Sep 29, 2017

Sep 29, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC

london-blue-b

first high

I was 15 it was a Sunday night, and my curfew was 11.p.m we slipped outside of our homes and into her 2016 Hyundai making sure to leave in minimal time keeping in mind that we had $20 and 1 phone number. it took 6 puffs and i was no where but everywhere at once it was the brink of happiness it was the brink of being a teen

7

less than half a dozen hours remain here in Lake Woebegone, an idyllic enclave, where legal tender, liquid assets, minted monies by the metric ton loot, et cetera replaced with sharing home good humor spun prevarication, or a pun where this Norwegian bachelor farmer, now sets timer counting down to the one hundred and fifth International Women's Day, hence dada's taxi service necessitated (asper my own volition) none forsaking a substantial block of time to ferry (via 2009 Hyundai Sonata) thine eldest (of deux darling damsels doggedly, diligently, and definitively) whose maternal hue ma in instincts (staking out vocational, interpersonal, Jew dish hiss lee courting biological objectives Since matriculating At University Of Pennsylvania she seriously eyed the engineering curriculum, and as an inherent high achieving civilian, this rugged cerebral terra firmae terrain emitting a signal calling she knew tubby meant foe her, thus this proud papa his new wish availing self less father summoned, pressed, and mustered joyriding glommed within mental motor queue thus despite experiencing a minor panic attack (with nausea more pronounced than usual), aye did not want Eden (her first name) to feel disgruntled toward pop (hood rather die) as opposed to slacking off where fatherhood concerned strove to be a beneficial guy especially before the stroke of midnight will usher well nigh till next year long overdue attention, now bequeathed during these twenty four hours when non gun shy textile women (shunted subaltern second class workers) in New York (circa 1907), but said event opened to dispute, but less in doubt historical records indicate 1914 International Women's Day held on March 8 since then continued along a linkedin chain in case you wondered why.

0

Mar 8, 2018

Mar 8, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

international women's day march 8, 2018

less than half a dozen hours remain here in Lake Woebegone, an idyllic enclave, where legal tender, liquid assets, minted monies by the metric ton loot, et cetera replaced with sharing home good humor spun prevarication, or a pun where this Norwegian bachelor farmer, now sets timer counting down to the one hundred and fifth International Women's Day, hence dada's taxi service necessitated (asper my own volition) none forsaking a substantial block of time to ferry (via 2009 Hyundai Sonata) thine eldest (of deux darling damsels doggedly, diligently, and definitively) whose maternal hue ma in instincts (staking out vocational, interpersonal, Jew dish hiss lee courting biological objectives Since matriculating At University Of Pennsylvania she seriously eyed the engineering curriculum, and as an inherent high achieving civilian, this rugged cerebral terra firmae terrain emitting a signal calling she knew tubby meant foe her, thus this proud papa his new wish availing self less father summoned, pressed, and mustered joyriding glommed within mental motor queue thus despite experiencing a minor panic attack (with nausea more pronounced than usual), aye did not want Eden (her first name) to feel disgruntled toward pop (hood rather die) as opposed to slacking off where fatherhood concerned strove to be a beneficial guy especially before the stroke of midnight will usher well nigh till next year long overdue attention, now bequeathed during these twenty four hours when non gun shy textile women (shunted subaltern second class workers) in New York (circa 1907), but said event opened to dispute, but less in doubt historical records indicate 1914 International Women's Day held on March 8 since then continued along a linkedin chain in case you wondered why.

53