"mustangs" poems
Sabi
My Bosnian honey
The rarest of beauties
Truly an Unicorn amongst steeds
With fleet feet
My heart races towards you
Like a rag of mustangs
Wild and free
As you are
As you make me
Though I'm a world away
I can feel your heart beside me
Beating
Thunderously
Like hooves kissing open earth
If only in spirit
It alone sustains
Our kindered hearts
Amongst the world's stampede
With wise words you used to mend
My open wounds past sustained
My debt remains unpaid
Having little to my name
I declare my love
My commitment
My everything
As a token of my endearment
As an answer to your affection
My dearest Sabina
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 12:57 PM UTC
I asked myself over a warm cup of tea, "what kind of beauty is there in finding mystery in yourself?"
I took a little sip, and had more thoughts.
And so I scribbled, a few words on a piece of paper.
a fine day indeed to be playing Thelonious Monk,
one of my favorite Jazz pianists.
y'know, his music has a certain type of soul to it, something inviting about it. I dunno.
with that cup of tea still in hand, I listened to the ocean dance while Monk rushed over the piano keys.
that cup of tea smelled like years of fear and peace to come.
that cup of tea reminded me of the first time I burnt my finger with a candle when I was still a kid.
that cup of tea reminded me of my first love.
it reminded me that I'm still 17, it also tasted like conversations I had with friends about girls we'd never have.
"that girl. she's the one, you'd probably have a chance with her. say something, you shy mo'fo."
but then again it wasn't about probability.
it tasted like 5AM in the morning after your first breakup.
it tasted like 4PM when you wrote your first poem.
it tasted like bitterness.
the tea tasted like my love for things that have aged.
'65 Mustangs and inked pages.
ripped jeans and new faces.
jazz music and new places.
its funny what tea can do one's mind once it burns your tongue and runs down your oesophagus to warm your lungs.
Monk's music in the background, I still scribbled words on a piece of paper.
if only this moment could linger.
cup of tea, cup of tea, what type of flavor did you leave in me?
see, when i stare at this cup, it seems as if it holds unneccessary emptiness.
but can still hold my deepest desires in liquid form - a warm cup of tea.
I probably wrote all of this after I burnt my tongue with tea.
but then again, this isn't about probability.
this is from the deep of things, with love.
sincurlyxbaki
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 7:46 AM UTC
I miss you,
West Texas,
You more than most.
I miss people
And things
But I’ve never missed more,
Than I’ve missed you.
One day, I’ll return to you,
And we’ll be together until I die,
My dear West Texas.
Some say your deserts are unbearably hot,
And I say,
It’s easier to make shade
Than a fire.
Picturesque cacti,
Blooming in the spring,
Sunsets that put oil paintings to shame,
And wild mustangs escaping man’s unyielding possession,
Just like me.
I can see them running along the dusty banks
Of a wide river in canyon carved by the Great Artist Himself,
West Texas,
I want to drive a rusty old truck through hot afternoons till frigid nights,
Miles and miles of sweet loneliness,
Until it’s just you and I,
And I can watch your brilliant display of stars move
Across the endless horizon.
Desert owls,
A serpent’s rattling warning,
Creatures that crave solitude,
As I do,
Emerge in the night,
Like the neon lights of lonely bars in the middle of nowhere,
Sweet prickly pear in perfect harmony with Jose Cuervo in my glass,
A tribute to my lonely West Texas,
Singing me a tune of cicada chirps and desert winds,
And the jingle of spurs on concrete floors,
As the men,
As old and covered in sand as the bar itself,
Make their way in from isolated jobs miles away,
To listen to Tejano,
And sip on that cactus nectar,
Distilled by the Great Bartender
For a night like this,
In my West Texas,
Perfectly lonely,
Perfectly perfect.
I just want it to be me and you
And your hot red sand,
I want to see those yellow blossoms bursting from the deceptively spiny hands of desert life,
I want to hang a dusty, wide brimmed hat above dusty leather boots when I come home,
I want the sky to explode with color,
As a reward for enduring a long day of the heat,
And when the rare jewels from heaven fall, and nourish your cracked ground,
And peace is sworn between all animals,
Predators and prey,
For that moment,
So that all may celebrate the loving dew sent by our Great Caretaker,
I want to dance on your planes,
Twirl in the rain,
And let the drops fall between my lips like the crevices of your canyons,
Brought to life when you are,
Slumber when you do,
Live each day as you live,
My sweet West Texas.
Oct 30, 2017
Oct 30, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
Red balloon: Amanda Mustang
Amanda Mustang : yes red balloon
Rb: are you left handed ?
Am: I don’t think so red balloon
Rb: why not ?
Am: why not why red balloon ?
Rb: well, how come your not sure ?
Am: well I only use my right hand mostly
Rb: but you do use your left one too
Am: yes, but not as much
Rb: then I declare that you
Amanda Mustang is both left and right handed
Am: ambidextrous red balloon
Rb: ambiwhich ? Amanda Mustang
Am: ambidextrous means using both your left and right hands
Rb: then you are ambidextrous Amanda Mustang
Am: not really red balloon, both hands must be as good as each other
Rb then I will ask each hand Amanda Mustang
Am: don’t be silly red balloon.
for hands and feet and ears cannot speak, they simply are not alive
Rb: but you are alive Amanda Mustang, you began talking the day I imagined you.The other balloons say that you are not real, but I know you exist. Maybe from your point of view I’m made up and the other Amanda Mustangs would say “stop talking to that balloon Amanda Mustang, for balloons and teddy’s and cats cannot speak and balloons and teddy’s and cats are not real”
AM: I’m sorry red balloon
Rb: why so Amanda Mustang ?
Am: well for doubting your existence and I apologize to you too both left and right hands
L and R H: That’s okay Amanda Mustang, we forgive you
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 4:23 PM UTC
steel
oil
engineering
labor
converge
round a
Rocket 88
dead man’s
curve
prescient
precocious
capitalists
concoct
Edsels
Vegas
Chevelles
leaping
Impalas
leak
oil
staining
every
American
driveway
Pintos
chase
Gremlins
across
The Great Plains
gassing up
at
Rt 66
fillin
stations
scramblin
Midnight
Ramblers
detour to
take refuge
with Goats in
Big Sky
Indian
garages
440
Mustangs
nip
327
Stingrays
and
Mach IV
Cobras
get
snake bit
by Dart
wielding
Mopar
muscle
cars
long fins
chrome bumpers
and round fenders
still get bent in
Havana
but
Motor City is broke
nations outta gas
whole **** country
needs an overhaul
Ike Turner/Jackie Brenston: Rocket 88
Nelson Riddle: Route 66
7/19/13
Oakland
jbm
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Long Valley lay outside my bedroom window
high desert Northern Nevada,
each sunrise
rose
brilliant red
spirals
spires
exploding
in the passing dawn,
to
the petroglyphs
we were drawn.
The asphalt became a dirt road
then the dirt road ended.
Along Long Valley
like some drive through zoo,
herds of wild burros
cattle
sheep
grazing
separated by Pinion pines
the white sage
the dust devils
and the tumble weeds
and a 52 Studebaker body
perfectly preserved
in the high desert dry air
one could only wonder how it got there.
Long Valley had its own expanse
its own vibration to the air
distinct and unique
filled with wonder
way out there.
The petroglyphs
10,000 year old drawings
at once was
the shores of ancient
Lake Lahontan
you could feel it there.
Trying to decipher
the lines and curly cues
circles and swirls
stars and shapes
of
an alien consciousness
from another land
another time.
This was no one rock
but
acres and acres
of generations
communicating with one another
the rocks worn away
from thousands of years of sitting
forming perfect lounge chairs,
perhaps sitting alongside
some receding shore line.
There were stone rock walls carefully stacked
mysteriously standing scattered
in the desert
no one knows what it really means.
While lost in the tones
the scents and vision
of the millennium,
on the hillside
through the Tamarack
and Pinion
there emerged
four wild mustangs
at a distance
on the top of the ridge
not those that wandered
into our Virgina City yards
But wild animals
tied to the horses of the millennium.
Power and Strength
spirit gods
reminding us of where we were.
The winds blew
the black mane
of the male in front
wet from sweat
chest heaving in breath
and then they were gone
over the hill
from where they had come.
The petroglyphs were silent.
The sounds of the winds
the sounds of the small stream
less than a drop
in the once Great Lahontan Sea.
Before the sun went down
we needed to leave
driving along the sides
of dry river beds
up rocky hillsides
along the electrical lines
to the dirt road
to the asphalt
as the Long Valley
sunset shot
spires of red.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 10:26 AM UTC
Between empty junction gullies of the Dogskin mountains,
the BLM has once again released their Judas horses
luring the free ranging mustangs into capture corrals.
Their crime --- thriving in a battle of survival.
I assure you the Comanche do not dance around the fire,
nor does the ghost of Cortez roll in the wildflowers of El Dorado.
Ironically this native species is now considered feral,
introduced in the very habitat which shaped its evolution,
arcanely empowered to exceed enviromental carrying capacity.
The lands of nature are so dear: rejoice their freedom!
The mountains do not judge, they merely shelter.
Let the mustang graze unfettered through winds of dawn.
Mar 21, 2012
Mar 21, 2012 at 5:56 AM UTC
As the world slowly turns
And governments try to rise
It will surely please my sight
To see them fall before my eyes
Everywhere I turn to look
A new law is being created
For what? Why so?
To traumatize and belittle us
Why must we obey a human power
All we need is the Lord thy God
To govern us and lead us abroad
No need for following the devil's
Dark angels of havoc and chaos
I am with the lawless
I'd rather govern myself
As should we all..
Let's come together people
Let us rise up in revolution
And stake claim our own land
"America, land of the free" they say,
Can someone show to me
What is free in this place?
We should be able to do whatever
To be allowed to ingress wherever
But instead we are bound by rule
This society must someday change
I am in a state of nihilism
Let us run and do what we please
I surely refuse to remain enclosed
Living in attendance to injustice
Me and my crew are ready for war
Time has come to overthrow
Let's make the law's ship flounder
Sinking to the abyss of nothingness
Rise anarchy rise!!!
The trillions of dollars they sit on
Let's take it from their sacred places
I'm ready to orchestrate dominance
Let's machinate the takeover
If blood shall be spilled,
Then let it be spilled honorably
In battle as one
As long as we accomplish our goal
To become a heavenly anarchy
Making peace reside in our land
No more indescriminate deaths
No more unhealthy eating
No inhumane death of animals
We must live freely
As wild mustangs on grassy plains
If anyone stands by me
With a load of support
It will happen
Just wait and see...
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
O the mustangs stung like mosquitoes,
fast as lightning & thunderbolts,
liberators & fortresses,
hurricanes & tornadoes,
hell cats & bears,
invaders & dragons,
good grief Lord,
those mighty Gordons!
O wily foxes & quick lancers,
avengers & vindicators,
swordfish, barracuda,
some tuna, albacore.
Gladiators in the gauntlet,
zig-zagging & spitting fire,
spewing molten hot-lead,
bright-tracers in the night,
forever fighting
with their all their might,
bombing their daylights out
and into submission,
la morte, stone dead.
O they sank the Rising Sun,
'cause they had that *****
battling against all wrong
& protecting only
what was right!
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
**Walking fish and dancing trees, fire flies at noon and whispering leaves; come be weird with me.
Let's run where the Mustangs ride,
Let's roll with blue waves on summer's tide.
Let's gallop with sea snails and tell ancient tales, come be weird with me.
Let's chase the place where the common dare not go, let's dance and chant with African Tribes in Europe. Let's share with the stars the secrets that we keep, come be weird with me.
Let's Waltz with the antelope and hop with the impala, let's walk on frozen water, let's dance to sound of silence.
Come be weird with me.
Let's embrace our pillows,
Let's cheer up the willows, let's purr with the dogs and bark with the cats,
Come be weird with me.
Let's swim on green grass, let's be high on Earth, let's discover our true selves that we lost at birth, come be weird with me.
Let's take a road trip in our imaginations, let's back pack in our minds.
Let's be transparent in the Festival of Colour, let's be exposed in camouflage
Come be weird with me.**
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 5:01 PM UTC
And because canyons
sever the earth
as tremors widen the divide
Go ahead, pick a side.
I'll stand to the north
where headwinds blow
as mustangs run wild
And you'll scamper to the south
when hurricanes begin to collide
As earth cycles and days turn to night
an eternity passes, plain in sight
Mudslides will fill the valley
and make things once more new
but until that time comes
I'll wait right here for you
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 7:51 PM UTC
I rode in the black back seat
at the age of three
From Wichita to Selma
in this land where nothing comes free
Across Texas , Arkansas , Mississippi
under stars I dreamed
While a heartbeat
was ever following me
Strange the things we choose
to remember and recall
Are the things maybe trivial
But are another brick in the wall
I lived in Panama City
until I was twelve
Swam with sharks and rays
Fell in love but on it I won't dwell
I ran with wild mustangs
in the wilds of Spokane
Climbed up the Rockies
Trekked the snows in a winter wonderland
I slept in the desert under
the most gorgeous stars
Ate mushrooms and peyote
trying to figure out who I are
But there's no place
No place , like the one
Where you were born
No place
on earth
Can lead you away that's far
There's no where
Like the dirt running
through your veins
There's no place
like the place where
you got your name
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Dolly Madison kisses me back sweet-like
outside of Ruby’s
where we sip elixirs and giggle
at the sidewalk staggers
of late night downtown.
“I don’t want someone directing me,”
She says, unexpectedly
(and it comes out like a question),
“but I don’t want to tell someone else
what to do, either.”
“Oh oh,” I say
“Like two mustangs.”
And she says, “what?”
“Two mustangs,” I reiterate.
Not a rider and a horse
or a horse and a rider,
with the digging of spurs and
the crack of crops,
but two steeds, side by side,
running for all they’re worth.
Dolly’s eyes stare
before they
roll up and to her left.
I make my hands move forward
up and down and
side to side,
together.
She lights with a slow smile and says, “yeah”
and kisses me harder.
In my mind the mustangs
sweat.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 8:50 AM UTC
Walking fish and dancing trees, fire flies at noon and whispering leaves; come be weird with me.
Let's run where the Mustangs ride,
Let's roll with blue waves on summer's tide.
Let's gallop with sea snails and tell ancient tales, come be weird with me.
Let's chase the place where the common dare not go, let's dance and chant with African Tribes in Europe. Let's share with the stars the secrets that we keep, come be weird with me.
Let's Waltz with the antelope and hop with the impala, let's walk on frozen water, let's dance to sound of silence.
Come be weird with me.
Let's embrace our pillows,
Let's cheer up the willows, let's purr with the dogs and bark with the cats,
Come be weird with me.
Let's swim on green grass, let's be high on Earth, let's discover our true selves that we lost at birth, come be weird with me.
Let's take a road trip in our imaginations, let's back pack in our minds.
Let's be transparent in the Festival of Colour, let's be exposed in camouflage
Come be weird with me.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:33 AM UTC
We place our wishes
in the canines
of spackle.
Above us the teeth
wait
to be broken.
While we watch
the Dog Whisperer
breaking
mustangs,
I wrap my arm
around the eternal flatness
of your shoulder.
We say nothing,
we don't even whisper
as our dreams fall around us,
in an automatic spray.
I get on the coffee table,
to fix the fan.
You arc your neck
around me,
like a diamondback
you coil until you feel the heat
of the tv in your eyes,
on your cheeks,
on your lips.
As you watch Cesar
more than me,
I dust our dreams off
of the fan.
I am a sculpture
that you must break your neck to get around
as I fidget with the monkey wrench.
There is nothing eternal,
we burn our love
like shoots of wheat,
so much beige grass
extending over your shoulder
into forever.
What kind of dogs
are we?
The ones that no longer
know the plains
of each others' fur,
the fire in our teeth,
the sun of each others' eyes,
the rain of our lips.
There is too much heat between us,
too much dryness now,
not enough calcium raining
from basalt clouds.
What I'm trying to say,
is that I do not explode
like a force of nature,
I am rock.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
Girls who drive Mustangs will break your heart
They want what they can't have and know from the start
Semi-pro, they drive. Even when damaged-
Leaving behind boys they have hunted and scavenged
Girls who drive Mustangs are fast and deadly
As soon as they have you they'll spit you out empty
Treat them like trash and you're sure to score
Just be careful not to fall in love at their door.
Girls who drive Mustangs will tear you apart
Don't give them your all, just give them a part
Know they have others, it's never just you
Don't give them control, they'll run you right through
Girls who drive Mustangs have a look that can melt
They have a touch that can silence, a voice that can smelt
They have lips that can poison, skin that can light
A smell just like summer, just put up a fight
Girls who drive Mustangs are not to be trusted
They should only be used, mis-treated, and lusted
It isn't cruel, they know it's the truth
They need to feel something, no matter the ruse
Girls who drive Mustangs don't play by the rules
They are cunning and ruthless, they are nobodies fool
I once had a run-in with a girl just like this
For I was the road, and the speed limit, she missed.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 1:11 AM UTC
Wild mustangs running free
"Mother, when will I be free?"
She looked at me and paused
"Don't you feel free now?"
What does she think of me?!
I'm not free!
I can't run around being happy
I can't have a saying in anything for my environment
But my loved one is free
Sven is free
He runs and plays with his other friends
He gets to be with ones who care about him
Will I be free like him?
Someday I will be free.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
Pay attention!
rap rap
said the big fat bus,
with the big fat bootay.
i say
i have something
to say
to you!
a wee bit of advice to you
you so sweet
young lasses
out and about
on hot summer nights
in camaros
and vans
and pintos
and mustangs.
and mom's
station wagon's.
# 1
when that eager
young lad's hands
are a crawlin' all over
you.
yes YOU missy,
your sweet nubile
young territory,
the time will come
when you shall
want all these
shennanigans to
STOP!
so i give to thee
some wee
words of advice.
#2
Be firm with your delivery.
Do not waver.
Strong even voice,
increase volume if
necessary.
to the
Kind sir,
the,
young lad..
say!
i do not beg you,
i command thee ...
be sure to understand!
keep those roving
hands to thyself.
for you can
rest assured,
this playground is closed!
this is a no nookey zone!
#3
blue *****
you claim,
they are a ailing you?
for you i give
this sound advice,
say!
introduce yourself
to your right hand,
and ifn' you be a wantin'
a menage eh of three,
invite
your,
left hand
to
come along!
#4
Be firm and be sure,
you are sitting on
a sacred fortune of gold,
don't let them
miners be gropin'
around,
be a gropin'
you.
it is only for you
to sacredly unfold
your divine
femininin-ess.
if you want to do it,
do it...
but search your heart long before you do.
at least think you are in love
before taking the plunge.
first loves are sweet
and last long
in hidden recesses of
mysterious minds.
take your time,
30 and more,
is the age
we big fat busses
with big fat yellow bootays
come into our own.
no rush.
nowhere to go.
all the time in the world to get there.
there is,
i assure you,
no rush.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
Some poems are like classic cars
They're old, bestsellers and great
Very famous and heavyweight,
Their legendary tales told at the bars.
Some poems are like Lamborghini
Fast, loud and stir up different emotions
They are magical and perform like Houdini
Taking us beyond our wildest imaginations.
Some poems are like a Ferrari
Fast, loud, costly and mindblowing
Some went through fine tuning
Ready for the adventurous desert safari.
Some poems are a Mercedes SLK
Fast,affordable,famous,people's favorite
Upon sight, people just stand around and talk
Every time we see them we celebrate.
Some poems are simple and great
Some are so good and impossible to rate.
Some will keep you woke
Brilliant and so off the hook!
Some poems are so romantic
Appealing to one's fantasy
Some are just so demonic
Embellished with total heresy.
Some poems are like a Rollsroyce
They intrigue us
Classic, historic, famous
They embody royalty, very luxurious.
Some poems are like a Bugatti Veyron
very costly, fast, collectible
Loved by kings and Barons
Making our speed appetites insatiable.
Some poems are Mustangs
Muscles, deep, street savvy
Gruesome like hunger pangs
They are powerful and heavy.
Some poems are like Teslas
Clean, smart, rich people's favorite
Costing the average people accessive dollars
They are smoothly written and moderate.
Some poems are like a Koenigsegg
Fast, rare, collectible and very costly
They instantly sweep you off your one leg
leaving you like '' seriously! ''
Some poems will make you go WOW!
And some will make you bow
Making you feel inferior to the poet
Especially the ones written by a laureate.
Some poems are mundane
containing things to drive you insane
Some poems are just cool
but contains useful cools
Some poems have powerful impacts
they contain deep knowledge and facts
Some poems are very good
Some will nourish you like food.
Some poem will bore you
Some poems will entertain you
Some poems will enrich you
And reach you wherever you are.
Some poems will set your mind on fire
And leave lasting impacts like screeching tires
Some poems are just incredible
Revealing things that are relatable.
Some poems are wonderful
And some are prayerful
Some are a little bit radical
And some are somehow political.
Some poems are just ordinary
Yet they're devotion to start early
And motivation to use during the day
Something to take you all the way.
Some poets are so creative
their poems are just amazing.
Some are outright provocative
Yet their works are just fascinating.
©️ #IvanBrookspoetry✍️
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Completely and utterly mystically sane,
I drive through the forces that carry my weight,
Visions through your eyes , but you never mentioned my name,
I'd die a quick and painful death without knowing the strain,
No limations left swear i fill up pain,
Indebted the affection but battled with the thoughts that came,
Popular teens riding in mustangs , while you have to walk in the rain,
Life isn't always good,
When karma is on your *** all the time,
Asking god why have you forsaken me,
Without ever being rude,
But slowly telling it you hate it too,
Retorting and overreacting,
Drinking too much to know your name,
To the heavens your shouting,
But this love I have could not be replace,
For the weirdest reason.
Jul 29, 2015
Jul 29, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
I think I was dreaming
Until I met you
I've been sleeping restlessly
All of this time
When you kissed my lips
I opened my eyes
And saw you in the daylight
That I had never seen before
I knew I was awake now
When you held my hand
Your skin was so warm
Nothing like in my dreams
You led me from fantasy
Straight into reality
Taking me on magnificent adventures
That I never could have imagined
When I saw your boyish grin
And realized I was the cause
I was completely taken aback
My voice strangled in my throat
You take the breath from my lungs
And you paint the smile on my lips
I wear my favorite shade of happy
Tickle me pink, just for you
Nowadays we dream together
But it's nothing like it was
Before you kissed my lips
And I opened my eyes
Our dreams our endless enchantment
Full of wonder and whimsy
We allow our imaginations
To run wild and free
With you and me
Our dreams are boundless
There are no fences to corrall
The mustangs of our Will's
Full speed ahead and ********
Galloping with ferver
Together we ride in open fields
The daylight a fresh perspective
My eyes were opened
Because of you
And I will never let them close
Not now, not again, not ever
The days I spent dreaming
Are a memory far behind
I remember what it was like
But I don't wish to go back
I wish to stay with you
Riding our mustangs
Letting our Will's be the reigns
Our eyes open, in daylight.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 9:56 PM UTC
He died late last night,
I held him in my arms so tight
until the morning came.
I pleaded with time to freeze,
I didn't want him to leave,
Goodbye goodbye goodbye
Sweet husband of mine.
We had twenty-seven years,
Two children dear,
You held us together my love,
When the wars came to tear us asunder,
You never quit on our lives.
Our life it was so complex,
A thousand moments of joys and distress,
We walked in high desert valleys,
Wild mustangs grazed on our front yard,
Really a lifetime spent so charmed,
Goodbye goodbye goodbye
Dear husband of mine.
Sleep on my dear in this peace,
I know you have found relief,
The troubled genius,
The poet's dance,
You gave love where you could,
You always tried to be so good.
We had our ups and downs
ins and outs,
The tides may have rolled out,
But we always rolled back in.
Now all I have is this empty space,
A few clothes to carry out,
Details to figure out.
Memories will forever stay,
The light of day before my eyes.
goodbye goodbye goodbye
sweet husband of mine.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
Mustangs , best beasts on hooves
Fly all day without wings
Tough as a Rocky Mountain blizzard
Unforgiving as any rings on reins
Tough as any ******** rider
I tame my phillies like Mustangs
With gentle persuasion
And kisses of sugar
Hugs aplenty
Make them my best friend
I whisper softly , come here philly dear
Let me whisper in your ear
I am cruel , hard , it appears
Soft unto your soul
Make me your fool
With whip and rope I pace you
Around until I mount you
Taking you by your mane
I will make you
Make your mind , mine
My you strut your stance
You do dance untill
I take you by force
And of course
Make you whinny
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
When you come of age
among Camaros, Mustangs,
GTO's and Challengers,
it seems somehow sad
to hear the pussified sound
of a Prius go puttering by
like Death driving
something sensible.
~mce
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC