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"nissan" poems
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care barely there g-string thin cotton underwear nothing loud to upset your understated figure slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A' nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein containing so much love without clutter in your frame a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire flutters in your eyes with minimal flare but deep desire
0
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:54 PM UTC
anthony-williams
My Bonsai Ballerina
You're just a tiny bit minimalist in your own unique way a white star I have to squint to see in daytime sky not a Mercedes five point but a Nissan Micra car you park neatly in a three point turn by my netsuke and put a circular dent on my platonic furniture Your two humble rooms devoid of any bold sculpture except a fold-out table and a miniature bubble chair and a futon for a bed which is troublesome to share you draw the line at adornments but allow a wallflower A bulb in a bowl is your ornamental garden feature mealtimes a nibble on grated carrot celery cucumber you run so long on empty you're an eco friendly teacher stretching out the energy is a passion of my lover engaging in lessons on sustaining a resourceful nature Your shoes two pointe ballet slip ons easy to care barely there g-string thin cotton underwear nothing loud to upset your understated figure slight as a pin drop your bottom's semi-derrière sits so light on feet I'd swear you float on air I rarely get to hear you come before you're in my hair with a voice pitch high as a smitten kitten's purr your upper reaches get a score sized single 'A' nice when it fits into our schemes of feng shui I carry your bundle home on the roadway rivers of light yet you only burn one ray of candle power at night born of scintillating atoms which flow along each vein containing so much love without clutter in your frame a brave star small as wings formed of minuscule wire flutters in your eyes with minimal flare but deep desire
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30
In the burning right hand of the bald city, denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups. Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less  pizzazz and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan? As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head, The dusts off my breath sing homilies With letters of broken leather whiskey, For even in the most dishonest jest, clandestine toothbrushes are overrated and every first false lie is the only truth.
0
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 8:02 PM UTC
ugochukwu-charles-onyewuchi
Who yawned the most head
In the burning right hand of the bald city, denizens frame calories and count instagram blessings while beacons of hope refund inspiration in USADA *** cups. Abyssinian maids wail over yesterday lovers who wore Ginsberg’s skirt with less  pizzazz and watched bedbugs **** blood off knee caps wondering, what if Jesus Christ drove a Nissan? As bullets of paragraphs fall Vietnamese pesticides on my head, The dusts off my breath sing homilies With letters of broken leather whiskey, For even in the most dishonest jest, clandestine toothbrushes are overrated and every first false lie is the only truth.
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13
Body Two bodies, in a bed, on a quilt in a field, in the backseat of an '88 Nissan Pathfinder. Two bodies, touching, squeezing, caressing, biting. Blood, pooling under the skin, rushing to the brain, rushing to the genitals, sticky/hot. ****** candy, the curve of lips around a lollipop, the drinking of whiskey from the bottle, the burning sensation of MDMA insufflation. Clothes strewn across your mother's kitchen, ice cubes traced down spines, ******* ******** Oral *** with ice cubes in the mouth. Frequent ************ and a sense of unwellbeing, if you'll allow me this one usage of an unword (I can't help myself)
0
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
jeremy-duff
A Portrait of the Artist Desiring ****** Touch.
Body Two bodies, in a bed, on a quilt in a field, in the backseat of an '88 Nissan Pathfinder. Two bodies, touching, squeezing, caressing, biting. Blood, pooling under the skin, rushing to the brain, rushing to the genitals, sticky/hot. ****** candy, the curve of lips around a lollipop, the drinking of whiskey from the bottle, the burning sensation of MDMA insufflation. Clothes strewn across your mother's kitchen, ice cubes traced down spines, ******* ******** Oral *** with ice cubes in the mouth. Frequent ************ and a sense of unwellbeing, if you'll allow me this one usage of an unword (I can't help myself)
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23
A few years ago I fell in love Racing 60 mph down a 45 zone Clutching the seat and the door Of a 98 nissan sentra Hoping to get the hell out of that car Because i couldn't stand him anymore His reckless turned me on though In a way that opening that car door Seemed like an exit strategy I didn't need to take after all The darkness that encased the car around us Seemed like the perfect mood setting For the thrill we both wanted And for me what i needed Love didn't understand that My fear for speed Resembled my fear for life Life always seemed to flash by to fast Like it always had some place to be And i wanted to remain still I wanted to take a picture Because i knew it would last longer Instead of it always changing And rearranging itself Love drove me through the streets many countless nights Expanding my perspective Reversing my sense of direction A feeling of protection That i didn't have before Love gave me reasons To speed through life To not be scared To every once in a while Let go of the handle That i strictly held onto Love became my life And i thank god Each and every day That i didn't take That exit strategy That i sped away into the night And lived an actual life.
0
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
megan-wilcox
Speed
A few years ago I fell in love Racing 60 mph down a 45 zone Clutching the seat and the door Of a 98 nissan sentra Hoping to get the hell out of that car Because i couldn't stand him anymore His reckless turned me on though In a way that opening that car door Seemed like an exit strategy I didn't need to take after all The darkness that encased the car around us Seemed like the perfect mood setting For the thrill we both wanted And for me what i needed Love didn't understand that My fear for speed Resembled my fear for life Life always seemed to flash by to fast Like it always had some place to be And i wanted to remain still I wanted to take a picture Because i knew it would last longer Instead of it always changing And rearranging itself Love drove me through the streets many countless nights Expanding my perspective Reversing my sense of direction A feeling of protection That i didn't have before Love gave me reasons To speed through life To not be scared To every once in a while Let go of the handle That i strictly held onto Love became my life And i thank god Each and every day That i didn't take That exit strategy That i sped away into the night And lived an actual life.
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44
innuendo sushi is usher asking Sienese disowns shown plops aside ask dud NCOs debs downwind UBS mayo Iowa. Laos Nissan seis *** so enemies Sandusky snails used iOS somehow Owen haikus eye owl ensues diss worsens skinned unique. ushers witted hub woman's newish naval cavity sis wish lend USB [rage typing doesn't work with auto correct]
0
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
maybella-snow
this isn't a poem, but this made me laugh
innuendo sushi is usher asking Sienese disowns shown plops aside ask dud NCOs debs downwind UBS mayo Iowa. Laos Nissan seis *** so enemies Sandusky snails used iOS somehow Owen haikus eye owl ensues diss worsens skinned unique. ushers witted hub woman's newish naval cavity sis wish lend USB [rage typing doesn't work with auto correct]
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4
I’m thinking of the faded checkered pattern that has been smoothed away by time on the dark cloth seats of a Nissan Pathfinder                                           driving down Ryan Road on a hot day in June. My mother, in the front seat, singing along to a Spice Girls cassette.   I’m thinking: red, plastic, crab-shaped sandbox and                                       McDonald’s Happy Meal toys.   I’m thinking: light princess pink, seafoam green, and robin’s egg blue.   I’m thinking of a framed cheetah cross stitch, hanging on the wall of what                                       used to be our bedroom at my grandparent’s house. I’m thinking: Barbie doll houses and Hot Wheels and a cul-de-sac at                                                                                      the end of the street.   The sweet smell of cigar smoke.  The ice cold splash of the garden hose.  The pop of a bubble.  The sting of soap in the eye.  Dreams by The Cranberries.  As Long as You Love Me by The Backstreet Boys.  A HelloKitty boombox slowly spitting out vapor when the deck builders hit a power line while digging.  The deer in the backyard looking for corn.  The faded wood of a playset that was never really played on. My father: sitting alone on a splintered bench by the firepit at the edge of the woods, empty beer cans at his feet, chain smoking cigarettes, and humming along to a song that is stuck—forever stuck—on the tip of my tongue. I do not know if this happened.  I cannot ask him.   (I’m not sure if I would want to ask him.)   But I can make an educated inference that that line of fiction is really nonfiction.   A memory that feels like a phantom limb.                               Sounds like the sharp crinkle of static.                                                        Covered in a gossamer, dreamlike haze.   There is a distinct otherness to this memory, to who                                      I think I was before the trauma.   We are two different people.  A yin and a yang.  A day and a night.   The hermit crab is soft beneath its hard shell. The asbestos is not apparent within the insulation.   You cannot see the lead in the paint. The mold inside the fruit.
0
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 2:46 AM UTC
taylor-st-onge
Imagine This Poem as a 4x6 Walgreens Photo Print From a 2002 FujiFilm Disposable Camera
I’m thinking of the faded checkered pattern that has been smoothed away by time on the dark cloth seats of a Nissan Pathfinder                                           driving down Ryan Road on a hot day in June. My mother, in the front seat, singing along to a Spice Girls cassette.   I’m thinking: red, plastic, crab-shaped sandbox and                                       McDonald’s Happy Meal toys.   I’m thinking: light princess pink, seafoam green, and robin’s egg blue.   I’m thinking of a framed cheetah cross stitch, hanging on the wall of what                                       used to be our bedroom at my grandparent’s house. I’m thinking: Barbie doll houses and Hot Wheels and a cul-de-sac at                                                                                      the end of the street.   The sweet smell of cigar smoke.  The ice cold splash of the garden hose.  The pop of a bubble.  The sting of soap in the eye.  Dreams by The Cranberries.  As Long as You Love Me by The Backstreet Boys.  A HelloKitty boombox slowly spitting out vapor when the deck builders hit a power line while digging.  The deer in the backyard looking for corn.  The faded wood of a playset that was never really played on. My father: sitting alone on a splintered bench by the firepit at the edge of the woods, empty beer cans at his feet, chain smoking cigarettes, and humming along to a song that is stuck—forever stuck—on the tip of my tongue. I do not know if this happened.  I cannot ask him.   (I’m not sure if I would want to ask him.)   But I can make an educated inference that that line of fiction is really nonfiction.   A memory that feels like a phantom limb.                               Sounds like the sharp crinkle of static.                                                        Covered in a gossamer, dreamlike haze.   There is a distinct otherness to this memory, to who                                      I think I was before the trauma.   We are two different people.  A yin and a yang.  A day and a night.   The hermit crab is soft beneath its hard shell. The asbestos is not apparent within the insulation.   You cannot see the lead in the paint. The mold inside the fruit.
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27
After My Little Black Dog Died of Melanoma. After the Lumps on Her Small Brittle Body Slowly Burned to a Pile of Ash in the Vet’s Office.  After My Step-Father Drove in His Ostentatious Truck to Pick Up Her Remains.  After I Cried in My Dorm Room and Tried Not to Wake My Roommate.   Realization that My Loss Does Not Make Me Different.  There Are Graveyards That Span For Miles and They Are Filled With More Dead Bodies Than I Have Ever Seen.  There Are Hundreds of Thousands of Children in the Foster Care System That Have Never Met Their Parents or Maybe They Did and it Just Didn’t Work Out. Kids Who Might Have Lived With Their Terminally Ill Parent(s) For Years Not Just Days.  Kids Who Never Sat in the Opened Up Trunk of Their Mother’s Black Nissan Pathfinder at the Drive-In Movies.  Kids Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Old Grandparents or Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Dead Grandparents.  Kids Who Were Never Told Not to Throw Snowballs Because There Might be Big Chunks of Ice in Them.  Kids Who Never Had a Childhood Dog to Cry Over.  Kids Who Don’t Like to Read Because They Were Never Read Bedtime Stories When They Were Younger.  Kids Whose Mothers Never Called Them Tweetie or Pumpkin or Honey or ***   Kids That Were Not Told to Just Go to the Bathroom When Their Tummies Hurt Instead of the Health Room.  Kids Who Never Listened to the Spice Girls’ Album Spice World on Cassette on the Way to the Store.  Kids Who Never Got a Peach Drink Out of a Vending Machine at the Pick’N’Save on 27th  Street and Still Don’t Know Exactly What 50¢ Peach Drink Their Mother Bought For Them.   There Are Thousands of Dogs Euthanized Each Day Because of How Sick They Are or Because They Were at a Shelter For Far Too Long or Because They Are a Pitbull or a Rottweiler or Some Other Irrationally Feared and Disliked Dog Breed.  We Didn’t Euthanize My Stage-Four-Cancer-Stricken Dog or Even Get Her Treatment Beyond Pain Medicine Because We Were Selfish.  We Do a Lot of Things Because We Are Selfish.  We Waited Five Days to Pull the Plug on My Vegetable Mother Because We Were Waiting For a Miracle That We Knew Would Never Happen Because She Stopped Breathing the Moment the Aneurysm Burst.  My Sister is Getting Married in June and My Grandfather is Going to Walk Her Down the Aisle in My Mother’s Place.  My Grandparents Had to Move In With My Sister After My Grandmother Fell Down Too Many Times and Didn’t Take Her Health Problems Serious Enough.  There Are Repercussions For Thinking You Are Safe When You Are Really Not.
0
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 10:18 PM UTC
taylor-st-onge
Sadie
After My Little Black Dog Died of Melanoma. After the Lumps on Her Small Brittle Body Slowly Burned to a Pile of Ash in the Vet’s Office.  After My Step-Father Drove in His Ostentatious Truck to Pick Up Her Remains.  After I Cried in My Dorm Room and Tried Not to Wake My Roommate.   Realization that My Loss Does Not Make Me Different.  There Are Graveyards That Span For Miles and They Are Filled With More Dead Bodies Than I Have Ever Seen.  There Are Hundreds of Thousands of Children in the Foster Care System That Have Never Met Their Parents or Maybe They Did and it Just Didn’t Work Out. Kids Who Might Have Lived With Their Terminally Ill Parent(s) For Years Not Just Days.  Kids Who Never Sat in the Opened Up Trunk of Their Mother’s Black Nissan Pathfinder at the Drive-In Movies.  Kids Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Old Grandparents or Who Lived Too Far From Their Too Dead Grandparents.  Kids Who Were Never Told Not to Throw Snowballs Because There Might be Big Chunks of Ice in Them.  Kids Who Never Had a Childhood Dog to Cry Over.  Kids Who Don’t Like to Read Because They Were Never Read Bedtime Stories When They Were Younger.  Kids Whose Mothers Never Called Them Tweetie or Pumpkin or Honey or ***   Kids That Were Not Told to Just Go to the Bathroom When Their Tummies Hurt Instead of the Health Room.  Kids Who Never Listened to the Spice Girls’ Album Spice World on Cassette on the Way to the Store.  Kids Who Never Got a Peach Drink Out of a Vending Machine at the Pick’N’Save on 27th  Street and Still Don’t Know Exactly What 50¢ Peach Drink Their Mother Bought For Them.   There Are Thousands of Dogs Euthanized Each Day Because of How Sick They Are or Because They Were at a Shelter For Far Too Long or Because They Are a Pitbull or a Rottweiler or Some Other Irrationally Feared and Disliked Dog Breed.  We Didn’t Euthanize My Stage-Four-Cancer-Stricken Dog or Even Get Her Treatment Beyond Pain Medicine Because We Were Selfish.  We Do a Lot of Things Because We Are Selfish.  We Waited Five Days to Pull the Plug on My Vegetable Mother Because We Were Waiting For a Miracle That We Knew Would Never Happen Because She Stopped Breathing the Moment the Aneurysm Burst.  My Sister is Getting Married in June and My Grandfather is Going to Walk Her Down the Aisle in My Mother’s Place.  My Grandparents Had to Move In With My Sister After My Grandmother Fell Down Too Many Times and Didn’t Take Her Health Problems Serious Enough.  There Are Repercussions For Thinking You Are Safe When You Are Really Not.
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37
I get so lost some days I feel like I am rubbernecking lightning Just waiting for the flash And life is a Nissan brake-checking your awe People say you can tell how close the storm is By counting seconds between lightning and thunder If you can see it It is always close enough I don't mean to romanticize everything But it's what I do The clouds look like scabs In front of some bolts Before they mesh back into the smooth blackness I wish I healed that fast
0
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 5:02 PM UTC
jon-tobias
I Don't Mean to Romanticize Everything
I get so lost some days I feel like I am rubbernecking lightning Just waiting for the flash And life is a Nissan brake-checking your awe People say you can tell how close the storm is By counting seconds between lightning and thunder If you can see it It is always close enough I don't mean to romanticize everything But it's what I do The clouds look like scabs In front of some bolts Before they mesh back into the smooth blackness I wish I healed that fast
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14
Leather seating, closure in these moments while we’re on the longest of this drive, Maps stuffed in the glove compartment; where shall we go on this long road? Not giving hearts, but giving you my word, in a blue chassis ride, skipping gears to get to five. Going down hill, and I’ll put it down into glide. I’m not as neutral, to express my eyes, reflecting all the pretty mirrors of your body. Lap sitting, holding onto my steering wheel, hand on a rear; wipers set on low. And I’ll kiss you one last time, as if the last becomes the first. _Blue Nissan,_ tell me if you’ve even been in a ride like this before? When your empty pockets are full, and you’re driving a car you could never afford. I promised myself, not to do the wrongs I do to myself to someone I love. To not go on stealing hearts, as if this world doesn’t have too many bandits. My hands are vowed to only rest their desires on you. These lips are a secret only to know your ears. This love I can only gladly give to my God, You, and His people. Death isn’t an end to us, but just a new beginning we can only get to one by one. So keep my seat warm up in Heaven, and I’ll keep yours too if it’s me to go before you. Whether sickness is chasing my lungs, cancers diagnosed on my list of problems, Let’s just be running towards the days of life you and I both still have. And like this drive, with no rush to our final destination, But enjoyment of all we’ll experience on this road of life.
0
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 11:46 AM UTC
OddOdysseyPoet
Blue Nissan wedding vows
Leather seating, closure in these moments while we’re on the longest of this drive, Maps stuffed in the glove compartment; where shall we go on this long road? Not giving hearts, but giving you my word, in a blue chassis ride, skipping gears to get to five. Going down hill, and I’ll put it down into glide. I’m not as neutral, to express my eyes, reflecting all the pretty mirrors of your body. Lap sitting, holding onto my steering wheel, hand on a rear; wipers set on low. And I’ll kiss you one last time, as if the last becomes the first. _Blue Nissan,_ tell me if you’ve even been in a ride like this before? When your empty pockets are full, and you’re driving a car you could never afford. I promised myself, not to do the wrongs I do to myself to someone I love. To not go on stealing hearts, as if this world doesn’t have too many bandits. My hands are vowed to only rest their desires on you. These lips are a secret only to know your ears. This love I can only gladly give to my God, You, and His people. Death isn’t an end to us, but just a new beginning we can only get to one by one. So keep my seat warm up in Heaven, and I’ll keep yours too if it’s me to go before you. Whether sickness is chasing my lungs, cancers diagnosed on my list of problems, Let’s just be running towards the days of life you and I both still have. And like this drive, with no rush to our final destination, But enjoyment of all we’ll experience on this road of life.
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36
1 where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before had a coffee at the center caught up with some friends watched a movie and bought some stuff for home and now I can’t find my car though I’ve searched past 10 minutes where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before no, that’s not mine that’s a Mercedes; that one’s too shiny; and maybe it’s this one - no, mate, we won’t go any nearer this car is too clean mine will look like it’s not been washed since Noah where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before 2 well, yes, help me look out... it’s an old Nissan blue faded into white; no, nobody ‘ll steal that and the only people who’d give it a second look will be the traffic police who’d wave as if to say: Pull over, Sir; let’s have a look at your rego and front tyres now, where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before well, **** I’m sure it hasn’t moved it’s not that sort with smart technology self-park, self-drive or with sensors; it’s like an old useless dog completely lost without its master where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before now that we’ve looked about 30 minutes or more I’m not sure if this is the right level; Oh, did I stop at Yellow Level or Blue or Green or Pink? was it level 1 or 2 or 3 or 9? it’s completely out of my mind where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before ah, there it is that old boneshaker; thanks mate, for helping me look You were saying you want a lift – yes, come - I'll drop you…no trouble… yes, it’s just on the way… Hey…Where you going? What? Don’t want a lift? You’d rather walk home? Hey, what’s wrong with my car? OK, suit yourself… at least I found my faithful car… where did I park my car? it was Level 5, Yellow Sector Lot 125 all the while and that beauty was here each second an old helpless dog, waiting for its master
0
Sep 24, 2010
Sep 24, 2010 at 3:23 AM UTC
raj-arumugam
where did I park my car?
1 where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before had a coffee at the center caught up with some friends watched a movie and bought some stuff for home and now I can’t find my car though I’ve searched past 10 minutes where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before no, that’s not mine that’s a Mercedes; that one’s too shiny; and maybe it’s this one - no, mate, we won’t go any nearer this car is too clean mine will look like it’s not been washed since Noah where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before 2 well, yes, help me look out... it’s an old Nissan blue faded into white; no, nobody ‘ll steal that and the only people who’d give it a second look will be the traffic police who’d wave as if to say: Pull over, Sir; let’s have a look at your rego and front tyres now, where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before well, **** I’m sure it hasn’t moved it’s not that sort with smart technology self-park, self-drive or with sensors; it’s like an old useless dog completely lost without its master where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before now that we’ve looked about 30 minutes or more I’m not sure if this is the right level; Oh, did I stop at Yellow Level or Blue or Green or Pink? was it level 1 or 2 or 3 or 9? it’s completely out of my mind where did I park my car? I’m sure I left it here on this level just hours before ah, there it is that old boneshaker; thanks mate, for helping me look You were saying you want a lift – yes, come - I'll drop you…no trouble… yes, it’s just on the way… Hey…Where you going? What? Don’t want a lift? You’d rather walk home? Hey, what’s wrong with my car? OK, suit yourself… at least I found my faithful car… where did I park my car? it was Level 5, Yellow Sector Lot 125 all the while and that beauty was here each second an old helpless dog, waiting for its master
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83
Lol Failure Too much time to change your mind on the way down. Plus your scared of heights Bandages and shoe laces stop that **** hide it with tattoos on the wrist Too violent, big mess, GSW fail now a vegetable and someone's burden A lynching? Quit it! KKK gets no favors Peace and quiet in the car, garage door closed. Then your favorite song comes on. Took too long after all. Don't you drive a prius? Like you don't know how to swim. Sharks don't live in lakes Nissan, lexus, most new GMC all have auto detection braking. Get back on the side walk dummy. Too high of a tolerance you druggy and every Corner has an ER. Now your on the list with diarrhea Police knows the world is watching they'll pepper spray before they draw now. Now your blind and got your *** whipped with a. Night stick Honey? Bears? Really? Circuit breakers homie! Now you have soggy toast. Smile and shovel the pastries maybe you'll get lucky and cholesterol will stop ya. Insensitive? Yes,but none the less, Guess That's my LOL Failure. -Xin-
0
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
alexis-j-meighan
LOL Failures
Lol Failure Too much time to change your mind on the way down. Plus your scared of heights Bandages and shoe laces stop that **** hide it with tattoos on the wrist Too violent, big mess, GSW fail now a vegetable and someone's burden A lynching? Quit it! KKK gets no favors Peace and quiet in the car, garage door closed. Then your favorite song comes on. Took too long after all. Don't you drive a prius? Like you don't know how to swim. Sharks don't live in lakes Nissan, lexus, most new GMC all have auto detection braking. Get back on the side walk dummy. Too high of a tolerance you druggy and every Corner has an ER. Now your on the list with diarrhea Police knows the world is watching they'll pepper spray before they draw now. Now your blind and got your *** whipped with a. Night stick Honey? Bears? Really? Circuit breakers homie! Now you have soggy toast. Smile and shovel the pastries maybe you'll get lucky and cholesterol will stop ya. Insensitive? Yes,but none the less, Guess That's my LOL Failure. -Xin-
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16
She rolled her brand new electric car. Well she was aiming to turn over a new leaf.
0
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 2:24 AM UTC
martin
Nissan leaf
She rolled her brand new electric car. Well she was aiming to turn over a new leaf.
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2
Engine died The car is in the shop It's been a week, still not fixed - cannot afford a payment, so have to wait Meantime, driving my brother's twenty-two year old antique - a collectible - Nissan Sentra Over forty miles an hour it starts to shake and grumble under the strain, so we go according to how it feels on a given day It's like driving a stick shift - deep concentration, manual thrusts. Hope no rain; sunroof leaks - have to wear my rain gear So quiet, yet so LOUD - no radio ... The sounds of the moving machine keeps me wide awake, alert. I can hear it squeak and groan. Feel every pebble and crack on the pavement No complaints - it's reliable, durable Takes me where I need to go Built of real steel - very old - reliable
0
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 3:48 PM UTC
jackierutherford
Old Reliable
Engine died The car is in the shop It's been a week, still not fixed - cannot afford a payment, so have to wait Meantime, driving my brother's twenty-two year old antique - a collectible - Nissan Sentra Over forty miles an hour it starts to shake and grumble under the strain, so we go according to how it feels on a given day It's like driving a stick shift - deep concentration, manual thrusts. Hope no rain; sunroof leaks - have to wear my rain gear So quiet, yet so LOUD - no radio ... The sounds of the moving machine keeps me wide awake, alert. I can hear it squeak and groan. Feel every pebble and crack on the pavement No complaints - it's reliable, durable Takes me where I need to go Built of real steel - very old - reliable
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24
cold night in palo fierro they say the world is ending and it's twenty past at home on the east coast but i'm tucked away on the pacific taking a quick walk down the street afraid to stay in the cold too long too cold while that clock keeps ticking i see something in the brush a cat perhaps a coyote lord death himself but he's gone before i will ever know and the breath hangs in front of my face before it disappears as well and the brake lights of some passing nissan altima disappear and so it seems it all disappears the world is ending they say hope it's by fire could really use it in this binding cold out on the west coast time tick ticking toward some inevitability always stepping forward to meet us whether tomorrow or two million tomorrows what does it matter they say the world is ending not with a bang but with a whimper not with a bang but with a whimper the devils sang while the angels whispered the bodies hang while the souls flickered not with a bang but with a whimper that end won't come quick enough
0
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
craigverlin
Cold Night in Palo Fierro
cold night in palo fierro they say the world is ending and it's twenty past at home on the east coast but i'm tucked away on the pacific taking a quick walk down the street afraid to stay in the cold too long too cold while that clock keeps ticking i see something in the brush a cat perhaps a coyote lord death himself but he's gone before i will ever know and the breath hangs in front of my face before it disappears as well and the brake lights of some passing nissan altima disappear and so it seems it all disappears the world is ending they say hope it's by fire could really use it in this binding cold out on the west coast time tick ticking toward some inevitability always stepping forward to meet us whether tomorrow or two million tomorrows what does it matter they say the world is ending not with a bang but with a whimper not with a bang but with a whimper the devils sang while the angels whispered the bodies hang while the souls flickered not with a bang but with a whimper that end won't come quick enough
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52
There are days where we meet up To walk under cool crisp skies Made up of indigoes, lilacs and light crimsons Sunnier afternoons. Skimming to and fro The slates of English Street. The plains of Sprucefield Sprawling in front of us. Boulevards of Cookstown That stretch far and wide, skirted with shops Owned by unloved mannequins. We journey further In our red Nissan Silvia, with the roll-down windows With a pile of yellowed copies of the Beano in the back. Mine, of course. I like to read. You taught me to. Blur upon blur, we share whispers with each other The alphabet, songs. I can count to ten, on my own. I did it once In Marks & Spencer. Everyone was proud. Taking our bag of tricks with us, we sup from place to place Chicken nugget Happy Meals. Crumbs of a german biscuit. Half of a sausage roll at the Trian. Twilight falls, the blurs Become darker, curiouser. Soon I am home. The day is done. There are other days where we meet up Under a slightly greyer tinge. I laugh I can’t change that, I tell you. The weather sometimes. Less skimming, less journeying. Sometimes I’ll say Remember that red Silvia? All the places we used to go? But there’s no answer. The whispers have gone.
0
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 8:36 PM UTC
anthony-mckee
Journeys
There are days where we meet up To walk under cool crisp skies Made up of indigoes, lilacs and light crimsons Sunnier afternoons. Skimming to and fro The slates of English Street. The plains of Sprucefield Sprawling in front of us. Boulevards of Cookstown That stretch far and wide, skirted with shops Owned by unloved mannequins. We journey further In our red Nissan Silvia, with the roll-down windows With a pile of yellowed copies of the Beano in the back. Mine, of course. I like to read. You taught me to. Blur upon blur, we share whispers with each other The alphabet, songs. I can count to ten, on my own. I did it once In Marks & Spencer. Everyone was proud. Taking our bag of tricks with us, we sup from place to place Chicken nugget Happy Meals. Crumbs of a german biscuit. Half of a sausage roll at the Trian. Twilight falls, the blurs Become darker, curiouser. Soon I am home. The day is done. There are other days where we meet up Under a slightly greyer tinge. I laugh I can’t change that, I tell you. The weather sometimes. Less skimming, less journeying. Sometimes I’ll say Remember that red Silvia? All the places we used to go? But there’s no answer. The whispers have gone.
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24
driving down the street weaving through cars and people and cars and people the **** AC is broken and the heat is oppressive melting through reality down to white lines on asphalt and all roads lead toward madness windows down the whole world drags and ***** in the summertime some ******* speaks salvation through tin can speakers unexpected absolution nineteen ninety-nine for a limited time and the heat makes it Christ through the static and the birds don’t sing it's so **** hot or maybe they just want Christ too the red nissan ahead billowing with bumper stickers and ******** brakes too fast all these ******* people all these ******* roads and all roads lead toward madness the whole world is in on it sweating and spitting suckling away at our high octane addiction 3.69 a gallon can you feel the buzz Christ has left the airwaves and now its life insurance a happy guarantee once your gone at least you’ll be worth something but probably nothing on these roads toward madness the trees bend under the weight of the sun stars explode and no one notices except the dead staring forever upwards and i’m almost there almost there men in black ties woman with car seated children screaming their own obscenities to the universe kids blasting music to erase their own depraved silence the list of offenses goes on and on everyone on the road got to be somewhere got to do something or else nowhere nothing with the sun bearing down closer closer closer burning our throats tick ticking towards that sold out salvation act now or you’ll miss 1-800-holy-ghost tick tick tick the line is busy the cars arent moving the heat has gutted my soul tick tick tick the dead see it and maybe the birds see it but no one else sees it tick tick tick as we strugggle inches down the street so hot so incredibly hot stars explode all roads lead toward madness and its hot Christ is gone again all roads lead Christ is gone toward madness gone. tuez-les tous, dieu reconnaitra les siens
0
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
craigverlin
Rush Hour
driving down the street weaving through cars and people and cars and people the **** AC is broken and the heat is oppressive melting through reality down to white lines on asphalt and all roads lead toward madness windows down the whole world drags and ***** in the summertime some ******* speaks salvation through tin can speakers unexpected absolution nineteen ninety-nine for a limited time and the heat makes it Christ through the static and the birds don’t sing it's so **** hot or maybe they just want Christ too the red nissan ahead billowing with bumper stickers and ******** brakes too fast all these ******* people all these ******* roads and all roads lead toward madness the whole world is in on it sweating and spitting suckling away at our high octane addiction 3.69 a gallon can you feel the buzz Christ has left the airwaves and now its life insurance a happy guarantee once your gone at least you’ll be worth something but probably nothing on these roads toward madness the trees bend under the weight of the sun stars explode and no one notices except the dead staring forever upwards and i’m almost there almost there men in black ties woman with car seated children screaming their own obscenities to the universe kids blasting music to erase their own depraved silence the list of offenses goes on and on everyone on the road got to be somewhere got to do something or else nowhere nothing with the sun bearing down closer closer closer burning our throats tick ticking towards that sold out salvation act now or you’ll miss 1-800-holy-ghost tick tick tick the line is busy the cars arent moving the heat has gutted my soul tick tick tick the dead see it and maybe the birds see it but no one else sees it tick tick tick as we strugggle inches down the street so hot so incredibly hot stars explode all roads lead toward madness and its hot Christ is gone again all roads lead Christ is gone toward madness gone. tuez-les tous, dieu reconnaitra les siens
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95
the outside of the house was looking rather dull and over a color chart I did ponder and mull a shade of maroon made for great appeal so did a rich shade of Kensington teal with the color decided for the paint job into the local hardware store I did nonchalantly lob the chap behind the counter asked if he could assist I said of course you can as I waved my wrist we walked to the paint and putty section of the store where there were gallons of paint sitting on the floor we discussed the advantages and disadvantages of exterior gloss and I opted for a shade known by the name of Rock Moss the paint was placed in the trunk of my Nissan four wheel drive I then set out for home with a paint which would bring my house alive the overalls that were in the tool shed I quickly hauled on and I proceeded to paint the exterior walls with great aplomb there I was on ladder high slapping the paint brush around when all of a sudden I landed face first on the ground the house painting job came to an abrupt finish ye olde ladder and I parted company after the skirmish a painting contractor is finalizing what I didn't quite complete and by next Friday week he'll have the outside of the house looking neat it has been an adventure improving the exterior of my home yet I wouldn't have had the adventure but for the ladder wanting to roam
0
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 7:24 AM UTC
ElizabethSquires
Ladder Wanting To Roam
the outside of the house was looking rather dull and over a color chart I did ponder and mull a shade of maroon made for great appeal so did a rich shade of Kensington teal with the color decided for the paint job into the local hardware store I did nonchalantly lob the chap behind the counter asked if he could assist I said of course you can as I waved my wrist we walked to the paint and putty section of the store where there were gallons of paint sitting on the floor we discussed the advantages and disadvantages of exterior gloss and I opted for a shade known by the name of Rock Moss the paint was placed in the trunk of my Nissan four wheel drive I then set out for home with a paint which would bring my house alive the overalls that were in the tool shed I quickly hauled on and I proceeded to paint the exterior walls with great aplomb there I was on ladder high slapping the paint brush around when all of a sudden I landed face first on the ground the house painting job came to an abrupt finish ye olde ladder and I parted company after the skirmish a painting contractor is finalizing what I didn't quite complete and by next Friday week he'll have the outside of the house looking neat it has been an adventure improving the exterior of my home yet I wouldn't have had the adventure but for the ladder wanting to roam
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48
I want to love You In text Possibly in *** Not with interest But a blooming **** Needing to eat a seed Contracting the cold Ending the clutch Of life Everlasting In a haven of oil Sidelined to be controlled And subordinate To ambition Fur is my harvest Wool, not grain Or wheat Definitely not grain Or a Nissan The constant Japanese falsehoods Toyota is Japanese But it is true and sound Without regret Regarding And obeying Its self-check-up I'm enthralled By decision To buy from the dealership
0
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 12:19 AM UTC
dakotajdawson
Toyota's Embrace
I want to love You In text Possibly in *** Not with interest But a blooming **** Needing to eat a seed Contracting the cold Ending the clutch Of life Everlasting In a haven of oil Sidelined to be controlled And subordinate To ambition Fur is my harvest Wool, not grain Or wheat Definitely not grain Or a Nissan The constant Japanese falsehoods Toyota is Japanese But it is true and sound Without regret Regarding And obeying Its self-check-up I'm enthralled By decision To buy from the dealership
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30
8/8/16 i thought i lost this at the psych unit and now i wear it so i don't forget where i'm going and why i'm going there so i'm not strung along the day-to-day of the metro suburbs in the nation's capital where it's all hustle, bustle, or get out of my way red line of blue line? silver or green? somewhere in the masses i am part of the chaos blurring past corporal company buildings and stockholders the metallic blue nissan in a sea of teslas, porsches, BMWs i won't throw around the cliché to "grow where i'm planted" but supposedly this is where i'm supposed to be for now with no one left to impress but a fantasy it's crazy what our minds will entertain a year ago i was wandering on a godforsaken island and now i waste the days folding silverware it's okay and so am i
0
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
haleygreene
crazy town
8/8/16 i thought i lost this at the psych unit and now i wear it so i don't forget where i'm going and why i'm going there so i'm not strung along the day-to-day of the metro suburbs in the nation's capital where it's all hustle, bustle, or get out of my way red line of blue line? silver or green? somewhere in the masses i am part of the chaos blurring past corporal company buildings and stockholders the metallic blue nissan in a sea of teslas, porsches, BMWs i won't throw around the cliché to "grow where i'm planted" but supposedly this is where i'm supposed to be for now with no one left to impress but a fantasy it's crazy what our minds will entertain a year ago i was wandering on a godforsaken island and now i waste the days folding silverware it's okay and so am i
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15
I saw my grandfather today, He's been dead seven years. His smell still lingers, On his old jacket that hangs in my mother's closet. Sometimes, I take it and breathe him in. His voice, coarse in his last few fighting days, used to ring deeply. I hear him sometimes, whispers from the air. I saw my grandfather today. He was driving, The same green Nissan The one my mother now owns. He had his favorite blue cap on It hangs in my room, one in a sea of many that adorn my dead-limbed coat hanger. I saw him, Same wide starry-eyed grin. He used to smile like that when he was racking up a game of eight-ball mischievous twinkle in his eye. Skilled hands that knew the game And never lost. He was there, same "old spice and everything nice" scent. It reminds me of the summers days winding into hours I spent them all in the cool, fan-whipped air of his game room. Our sanctuary. Maybe you know your own sorrow when a loved one goes. Maybe. You know how memories feel now that we are hollow and alone.
0
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 2:30 PM UTC
terra-marie
Paw-paw
I saw my grandfather today, He's been dead seven years. His smell still lingers, On his old jacket that hangs in my mother's closet. Sometimes, I take it and breathe him in. His voice, coarse in his last few fighting days, used to ring deeply. I hear him sometimes, whispers from the air. I saw my grandfather today. He was driving, The same green Nissan The one my mother now owns. He had his favorite blue cap on It hangs in my room, one in a sea of many that adorn my dead-limbed coat hanger. I saw him, Same wide starry-eyed grin. He used to smile like that when he was racking up a game of eight-ball mischievous twinkle in his eye. Skilled hands that knew the game And never lost. He was there, same "old spice and everything nice" scent. It reminds me of the summers days winding into hours I spent them all in the cool, fan-whipped air of his game room. Our sanctuary. Maybe you know your own sorrow when a loved one goes. Maybe. You know how memories feel now that we are hollow and alone.
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46
while taking coffee in a particular place ******* on chocolate torte slightly melted, the lord of the manor, reading. grew a headache from the stuff, too much sweet , too much information, all too true to pattern. so we dtrove home, and got on with it. nissan huts. sbm
0
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 1:52 AM UTC
sonja-benskin-mesher
810 .having read.
while taking coffee in a particular place ******* on chocolate torte slightly melted, the lord of the manor, reading. grew a headache from the stuff, too much sweet , too much information, all too true to pattern. so we dtrove home, and got on with it. nissan huts. sbm
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15
Just jumping in. Everything comes to a halt. The first few moments don't seem as bad. Depending on length. The line of cars. In a sea of metal Something wow happens. Metal crashes into metal. Causally passing by. Everyone is okay. Making sure to see what happened They drop speed. The police attempt to make it through to the scene. Little to no debris. No never-mind to the expensive cars brought to a halt. The Mercedes Benz, the Porsche out of place slow moving along. A Black Nissan Sentra with two kids playing in the backseat. The other side is free to go as they please. Compared to most places this is nothing. Try New York. Atlanta. Texas to name a few. You just jump in, moving from point A to B. Life is admittedly too short to walk a great distance. A two car pileup a few miles ahead. Bumper to bumper no one gives space to breathe. A Cadillac honks in frustration. The Black Nissan honks back in attempt to get over. Inching closer to maneuver it's way in front. After everyone takes a glance at the pileup. Traffic is back to normal. The two kids continue to play like nothings happened
0
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 3:06 PM UTC
kewayne-wadley
Traffic In Memphis
Just jumping in. Everything comes to a halt. The first few moments don't seem as bad. Depending on length. The line of cars. In a sea of metal Something wow happens. Metal crashes into metal. Causally passing by. Everyone is okay. Making sure to see what happened They drop speed. The police attempt to make it through to the scene. Little to no debris. No never-mind to the expensive cars brought to a halt. The Mercedes Benz, the Porsche out of place slow moving along. A Black Nissan Sentra with two kids playing in the backseat. The other side is free to go as they please. Compared to most places this is nothing. Try New York. Atlanta. Texas to name a few. You just jump in, moving from point A to B. Life is admittedly too short to walk a great distance. A two car pileup a few miles ahead. Bumper to bumper no one gives space to breathe. A Cadillac honks in frustration. The Black Nissan honks back in attempt to get over. Inching closer to maneuver it's way in front. After everyone takes a glance at the pileup. Traffic is back to normal. The two kids continue to play like nothings happened
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30
I Squat, under a Viney-Maple,     bursting with orange…         the Fall Chanterelle.         II Pine needles mound;     perfect little rolling hills          cover the forest floor, Chanterelles are coming!         III Her eyes shine bright,      the excitement of the hunt.           Chanterelles!         IV Five buttons in the bottom of the bucket…         V Quick movement out of the corner     of my eye;        squirrels like Chanterelles too.         VI Buzzing becomes the only reality    as another bees nest has been disturbed…     There are many perils         involved with Chanterelles.         VII Closed eyes bring forth    images of fields,      orange and extended,         as there are more Chanterelles in this patch             than anyone has ever seen. A cold sweat follows.         VIII A blackbird sits high    on a Fir limb,       lookin’ like a muthafucker in the club,           below him, a Chanterelle.         IX The scrambled eggs smell divine      when one cooks them with a fresh Fall Chanterelle.         X I throw a steak knife     with a barbeque brush duct taped       to the handle           into an old bucket I drilled holes in the bottom of                 and toss it into the back of my 1984 Nissan 4x4.                           Today I find Chanterelles.         XI The smell of musk fills the air.      A giant pile of bear ****           next to a Chanterelle.         XII Three sets of tracks lead into the undergrowth,      cut butts jut up from the floor,          someone already found                these Chanterelles.         XIII Stopping by a dear friends,     I leave with them my treasure…       three pounds of fresh         Fall Chanterelles.
0
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 1:22 PM UTC
s-lyman-temple
Thirteen Faces of the Fall Chanterelle
I Squat, under a Viney-Maple,     bursting with orange…         the Fall Chanterelle.         II Pine needles mound;     perfect little rolling hills          cover the forest floor, Chanterelles are coming!         III Her eyes shine bright,      the excitement of the hunt.           Chanterelles!         IV Five buttons in the bottom of the bucket…         V Quick movement out of the corner     of my eye;        squirrels like Chanterelles too.         VI Buzzing becomes the only reality    as another bees nest has been disturbed…     There are many perils         involved with Chanterelles.         VII Closed eyes bring forth    images of fields,      orange and extended,         as there are more Chanterelles in this patch             than anyone has ever seen. A cold sweat follows.         VIII A blackbird sits high    on a Fir limb,       lookin’ like a muthafucker in the club,           below him, a Chanterelle.         IX The scrambled eggs smell divine      when one cooks them with a fresh Fall Chanterelle.         X I throw a steak knife     with a barbeque brush duct taped       to the handle           into an old bucket I drilled holes in the bottom of                 and toss it into the back of my 1984 Nissan 4x4.                           Today I find Chanterelles.         XI The smell of musk fills the air.      A giant pile of bear ****           next to a Chanterelle.         XII Three sets of tracks lead into the undergrowth,      cut butts jut up from the floor,          someone already found                these Chanterelles.         XIII Stopping by a dear friends,     I leave with them my treasure…       three pounds of fresh         Fall Chanterelles.
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