"overstressed" poems
The Pedicab drivers of Gotham all say
You should ignore a "Whale Hail"
because it just doesn't pay.
The city is hilly and
to pedal gets tough
when your passengers are,
shall we say, overstuffed.
Two tubby tourists out on the town
between them they weighed about
Eight Hundred Pounds.
They had wiped out the Sushi
at an all you can eat.
Much too lazy to walk
on their overstressed feet.
They hailed for a Pedicab
of which there's a multitude
Thats the sole explanation
for accepting their pulchritude.
Their ride started slowly,
but pleasant enough.
But then came a hill
and the going got rough.
He groaned and he struggled
as he trucked up the road,
but not even juiced Armstrong
could handle this load.
With two tubby tourists
ensconced in the back.
He slowed to a crawl
then stalled in his tracks.
Something had to give
with those two in the rear
The cab then turned turtle
chucking him in the air.
The two tubby tourist
were down on their backs
Their driver unconscious
and two tires flat.
An Ambulance came
and gave him first aide
The two tourists rolled off
and he never got paid.
If we banned too large colas
and sixty ounce beers
could we hope that these
land whales
might,one day, disappear?
Until then its risky
to pick such fares up
unless in a limo
or a truck thats Ram tough
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 10:38 PM UTC
I'm a little sleep deprived, a little too high, (a little too low) a lot hungry, a little overstressed, a little unfocused, (unconscious?) waiting, a little sick from-a little more caffeine please my cigarette buzz is going,
a little sore from running away, a little sore from being alone
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
She learned to open her eyes under water
She's living under sea
She,
who didn't knew how to swim.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
-on a person's 20th birthday
When I turned twenty I couldn't wait,
so sure was I to change the world.
Exactly right were all my thoughts
I couldn't ever stop to state.
So I turned fourty while I built and built
on top of my precisely stated schemes.
My loved ones warned me for collapse
but I would never stop, in it to the hilt.
When I turned sixty, felt a faint crack,
not in my infallible buildings
but in my overstressed back.
Now that I am eighty years of age
I know the way to perfection:
the missing line in your design
opens your cage for the future page.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 12:22 AM UTC
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Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 10:54 PM UTC
It seems frivolous
The frailties of humanity
Wasted potential
Perpetuated by sleep deprivation
And dehydration
Foggy eyed mouth dried
Dumbed down
Overworked
Overstressed
Then in the ground
What a waste
To waste away
In such a dreadful state
With only the hours between now and death
To enliven your dying breath
Perhaps there are better things to do
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
my feelings are too complex to be expressed
& even when i make them simple
they're still complicated and overstressed
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 1:22 AM UTC
And everything was hunky dory
And everyone was feeling A-okay
America is so prosperous
And wealthy
In the good old U.S.A.
And nothing difficult
Or trying
Could ever happen here
America is invincible
They think
But I find it all so queer
So strange
America teeters
On the brink
And our corrupt government
Does really stink
Just one event
And America this ship
Will sink
Now there is chaos everywhere
And if you drive a C class
Well no one really cares
John the plummer is hungry
And so is family too
It's a martial law lock down
Now everyone is *******
When the systems that
Hold our society in place
Are completely overstressed
This society will turn
Into one great big mess
America no longer a sovereign nation
It's debts it cannot pay
Then they'll bring in the New World Order
To rule the day
Massive military vehicles
Roaming the streets
Now the middle class
Has barely enough to eat
A terrible time is coming
I don't know when
Keep your wits about you
And don't be afraid my friends
I just want to make a decent living
And lead a regular life
But in this new America
There may be nothing but strife
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 9:29 PM UTC
Chaos in a wind,
A whimper in a death,
A poet stands in a crowd
And lulls the words to grasp
The emtptiness:
Let sleep the order,
Chaos in a passion's touch,
Feel the fiber of existence
And know that one is nothing
And everything to himself.
Chaos like the scream in agony
And torture of the dance
Under the forgotten night
When under the portico
You held back from destiny's
Melody and order killed
The unborn.
Quiet the noise of bitter
Memory, take in hand that
Chaos in a world of numbers
And lose count the minutes
That always seem fleeting,
And a poet overstressed,
Underwhelming as poetry
Became a job,
When time is put into words,
Take the first draft and run,
Let go The editor.
Take it,
Its still there,
And the order is a chaos too.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 7:12 AM UTC