"prius" poems
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet
There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara
He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat
But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe,
I think... apparently.. who knows?
Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe
This is my song in defence of the fence
A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence
Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet
There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama
He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore
But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah
And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up
And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say
I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence
I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence
We divide the world into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedo's
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into status quo and scary
Yeah we want the world binary, binary
But it's not that simple.
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive
And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius-
ROCK!
I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence
I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence
We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks
Into atheists and fundies
Into tee-tot'lers and junkies
Into chemical and natural
Into fictional and factual
Into science and supernatural
But it's actually naturally not that white and black
You'll be
Dividing us into terrorists and heroes
Into normal folk and weirdos
Into good people and pedos
Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer
And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future
We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened
Into wrong and into right and
Into black and into white and
Into real men and fairies
Into parrots and canaries
Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101!
The more you know, the harder you will find it
To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find
You can't see which grass is greener
Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier
To see the difference
Cause it's not that simple...
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
hit with the brush of heat and the super likes
i light my cigarette and lean on my phone and
a 90s volkswagen parked next to a brand new prius
tell me don't make me wait forever, superman
is this what you want, things are changing all around us
and i could have sworn i was doing okay (finally) when
i was without you, before i even noticed your eyes
i was with trevor after class and i could've sworn
you opened your locker after i caught you staring at me
today i walked outside without your hand in mine
and i didn't know what to do with it at all
not speak of such conviction that i think the same thing
that i could be better not knowing what you're doing
who you're seeing, who your sleeping with in cold calculation
the revenge of symbols rearranging themselves
into a broken heart, summer's round the corner
and i'm wasting away thinking about you again and again
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 12:13 AM UTC
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-
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
He is a man among men
no equal has there been
named Kyle not a pile
been friends for quite a while
Not in the Prius, I just said that, makes sense it does not
Long gazes, pauses, Madden, GOD **** IT SCOTT
I love you always and forever
One day we'll live together
It will be so **** great
As long as you don't hear me **********
With an opening of hand,
we can change fates plans
Best friends forever yo,
You my favorite **
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 12:00 AM UTC
pinks and blues and golden hues
sunset simmers in the sky
and inside
I look in your eyes for the first time-blue
backwoods and a warm beer
my *** is sore sitting on this rock
my hands a mess but I don't seem to care
somehow I find myself already thinking about your ****
the night turns to black
you ask to go back to your car
I warily oblige aware of what's to ***
the first time we've met and we're going to take it too far
we find ourselves in the backseat of your prius
its hot that you care like that
chest to chest, we begin to neck
excuse me, I guess you can't mind your hands
once you find yourself inside I scream
I know it feels better for you than me
it always does
I'd prefer a few fingers and some tongue
when you drop me off at my place
you salute with:
"good night,
homie."
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 11:16 AM UTC
it goes on and on like this
a hundred hours
of attention grabbing
feeling you up
life goes on and on
like this is it
a whole game
in my hands a computer, strange
I’ve got a virus
world pollution can’t be fixed with a Prius
numinously vetting
editing, all the Love I don’t know how to give
selfishness
it isn’t what it is
please restore me to factory settings
Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 11:44 AM UTC
I buy the gluten-free protein bar, peanut butter and chocolate, because this is who I am now. This is me. This is me as a lighthouse of personal fitness, a man of discipline, of a principle or two. And I surf only the most densely populated dating apps, looking—somewhat feverishly, I must admit—for a likeminded woman, a scholar, a child of the moon, a frequent quoter of the Dhammapada, an insatiable and acrobatic lover, and I imagine her driving the dark streets seeking me. Polly in a Prius. My future muse, near but out of reach. We'll reclaim the arts district. She'll piggyback to the open mike, her ****** shoes clicking in her hand. We'll spend a year politicizing every ****** encounter. Consensual assaults in perpetuity. And she'll say I'm a white man. And she'll say I think this is my privilege. And she'll say she's into leather and she finds my *** offensive and she'll hold my head against the wall. And at the end, if there's an end, I imagine our naked bodies wrapped in a stained comforter, all of the desire spent. I imagine our minds sober and clear, wondering how we could have ever been so kinked out, so on fire for something, and yet so ******* unable to remember a single ****** or whether or not we transcended. I'll vacuum the apartment. Polly will take her Warhol prints, pack up the Prius, and go anywhere, anywhere not here. Seattle. Maybe Portland. A few weeks will pass, and I'll find a note in whatever book I'd been reading before she left. It'll say: I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max. I loved you to the max.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
In greying room sits my idle stare
glassy I outside see Baltie air
foggy white whiskers, a comely face
Smiling mouth vacant. A circle lace,
Within contact eyes sparkling fair
Uneasy on moving teeth despair.
Zoom, zooming a Prius black streaking there
in between Baltimore, heaven's stair
up collective vibe, woodie brown palace trace
knowledge bit worker, foe uncommon hairy race
Discovering an escaped boar upon hidden lair
Greasy lit padding with dollars flare.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 2:37 AM UTC
After the end
she wore the beige bra that she bought for him
because he liked plain things
under a dark turtleneck that meant she was mourning
their loss even if maybe he wasn't
she shivered into the street
and watched the palm drop on the moon,
the stars pop out like street lights whose bulbs you couldn't change,
their high up light bleached the night,
falling over the Prius, bouncing off the half-bumpered Honda, sliding down the metal window connector of the neighborhood's only El Dorado before ending up on pavement like most things do
the garage seemed to radiate and
other people's windows glowed yellow
as she turned to go
a cat rolled across the four lane road
like it was a meadow
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 3:44 AM UTC
did we know that today
in 2016 we'd be reading the future
about the Great American
soft
depression interlaced
August 16 with Lehman
Goldman
Sach King David
how this time it will be
different but the bubble
starting
in 1995 always burst
even if its only two years
later Elizabeth Montgomery
died we were joining the Academic Mafia
around Circle Drive
Korean BBQ
Blues Caravan and
cruising around East Los
in a Blue Toyota pickup truck
now
there's a parked Prius
because we're too busy
running
numbers a racket
in Cambridge that leaves us
just a bit of fried egg in the morning
with coffee vorleser-ing and documenting
just
as any moral Hannah would do
in 1939 to say hey this is the way
we wanted right boxcars leading
to abattoirs today we do our best
imitation
of a weak McNamara
mea culpa
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 7:49 AM UTC
When I was young and needed wheels
my father helped me buy my first.
He worked then in a funeral home
and got a great deal on a hearse.
When first he handed me the keys
I thought there must be some mistake;
A Station Wagon for the dead-
Most dates would do a double take.
True, it had low mileage,
but a ghastly MPG.
It was very roomy in the back
where the coffins used to be.
I thought it would be hard to park,
and in that, I wasn't wrong.
Dad said the horn was customized-
when pressed it played "the Munsters" song.
Its capacious bay proved useful
when transporting beer and wine.
It even helped me to get "lucky".
a "Goth" girl thought it fine.
Pale white skin with tats and piercings'
those memories still can thrill.
Though I found it disconcerting
that she liked to lie so still.
These days I drive a Prius
in an effort to be "Green"
I work out and eat "healthy"
as I'm no longer quite so keen
to be caught lying in the back
of a flatbed limousine .
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 7:31 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
This morning we drove to work and argued. You were wearing your Starbucks shirt that you washed last night and I was in my oversized sunglasses and my green pants. The Prius go-karted through the trees and the mud puddles but you sat still and moped while I listened to my favorite music.
The mountains around us jammed out with me. They knew the words coming out of Stevie's mouth before I did, landslide was written about them.
I have decided that you have no desire to stand out or enjoy yourself. That you would rather go through life without ever being embarrassed, too afraid of rejection to put yourself out there, to roll the windows down and listen to your music as loud as you want. Someone might see you, maybe the mountains wouldn't approve?
well, WHO ******* CARES?
I think you think that the world would explode if you didn't go through your day exactly the same as you did yesterday. That if you didn't put lotion on in the morning your legs would spontaneously combust or maybe if you made toast in the toaster instead of on a pan the house would catch on fire.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 9:25 AM UTC
I took my meds today.
No one should get mad, but I'm still on fire. My limbs are mobile and vibrant and alive, and I want my fingers to pound and scream but I'm in a quiet room and that would be disastrous.
I cannot focus, my mind is only on the words, the little dancers in my head, the heroes in my horror story. If only typing was silent, I would flutter my fingers across the keyboard, making a frenzy of frightfulness that create my creative heart.
Shaky shivers spread on my shoulders, like too much butter on too little bread, the twitches are real, the quaking is real, disrupting my system and destructing my thoughts.
I want to write. These distracting classes with their loud voices and their incessant questions, I just want to sit back, type away, and write. I want to be happy, but I'm stubborn and manic and me. I'm happy doing what I want to do, and in the zooming car chase between the semi truck that is life and the little Prius that is me, the semi-truck is winning by magnificence.
Blue ring around my finger, beckoning me to do its will, do what it wants, be the me I want to be and forego all the consequences.
I'm tired and alert and a dying sun in a body made of stars, and I wish only to be a moon, changing and waning and growing and loving, just something different. That would be nice.
Guess pills or no pills, I will feel what I feel. Manic, depressive, level, whatever, its all muddled in the puddle that is my brain.
Time to fly and forget it all.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
Don't tell me about Long Distance.
I have known Long Distance
since the day I saw you waving out of the back window of that silver Prius.
The snow banks insulating my car
because i spent the last 47 hours with you
and held you while you cried
because you weren't ready to leave for the marines yet.
But your body said other wise,
your muscles sharp and deadly.
It's been a while since you've written,
and it's been 8 months since my blankets have stopped smelling like you.
I couldn't help but notice
the way my body drowns in these sheets
because you were my life vest
but you were not there when i jumped in.
I looked back at the dock before my head went under
and i saw you just sitting there,
watching me struggle.
I tore you apart in my head
every single strand of thread and love was separated
until every bit of silence that was woven in has been exposed.
But these strands don't hold any value when you're drowning,
what I have done is destroyed the only thing that could give me buoyancy.
Now I am left with extra weight on these shackles
i bear and water filling up my lungs
like a measuring cup to a recipe from Hell's kitchen.
In your last letter you asked
"Are we okay?"
but you don't just tell someone you love them then let them drown.
I have known Long Distance since you came back home today.
You are so close to me
but I still feel like you are not present.
There is something to be said
about missing someone who is right next to you.
Usually it is the person at home
who gives up on the one in the military,
but you found your home inside of those bunks and those guns.
You have only taught me to never make homes out of human beings.
I have to keep reminding myself
that you are a woman to never be slowed down
because you will leave everyone else behind
and I never wanted to come last to you
but i never wanted to beat you either.
I have known Long Distance
when I reach my hand out
and you've always been just slightly out of my grasp.
You were a goal to work towards,
a beautiful woman sitting on a pedestal waiting to be won
and I've always been too inadequate to be the one to have you.
You are the Epitome of Long Distance,
and I have known you for much longer than I would have liked.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Today –-
I think I’ll go
play in traffic
like I used to when I
was a kid
...just for old time’s sake.
I wonder
without my
wide eyes
bushy tail
and dimples
will the headlights
even bother to swerve
this time?
the underside of
a ******* prius
being the last thing
I’ll ever see
at least it gets better mileage
than I ever did
my guts
spilled out across
boiling asphalt
they belong there
they were wasted
inside me
someone should waste me too
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
pain, pain,
regardless of the pain
i will be here in the rear-view
skating past and saying
'hell-ohhell-no'
to the passerby's in Jeep's and Prius
and Camry's
and Adidas shoes
all tattered and bled along highways
and back-roads of life.
when Robin Williams died by belt self-suffocation,
i was back in the dark of a previous mind and i cried
*** i saw myself in his suicide.
i saw my darkness colored in with pitch-black pastels,
*****
grass-stains,
and infidelity..
toffee from a homeless man
and
i hand him a cigarette.
my lungs were never my life-force - -
my lungs were never my life-force - -
all the blurry peripheral city lights
dancing in my withheld tears
as i marched from Douglas to Yates
and the old Korean karaoke bar
with the silent tv
dancing asians moving mouth-muscles for nothing
as the song sings someone else to sleep in Seoul..
the unwashed windows 3 floors up the office building are the strangest thing i noticed in this delicate flood of hopelessness, seagulls screeching from spider-men perches
on street-lamp,
power-line,
construction crane
"I want to be a man again
I want to be a mannequin."
Jun 7, 2017
Jun 7, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
Dear Rebeka,
Is it the same for you?
Anxiously bouncing your knees
while furiously scribbling notes.
Always taking glances
out the library windows.
Looking for nothing.
Nothing in particular.
just anything... ANYTHING OTHER
than a laptop screen
or another god **** lined piece of paper.
Upon exiting the prison, you find the outdoors enticing.
The sharp breeze flushing your cheeks,
The soft glow of evening
soothing the afterimages of fluorescent lighting.
So cold your breath is tangible,
Hands tucked safely in your pockets,
Inhaling the night's air
like your drinking a tonic.
Thinking about home, and it's all so romantic.
Trying, but failing, to be more pragmatic.
**** it.
**** it.
**** it.
Let's drop everything...
... and hop in the Prius.
All my love,
Jill
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 4:38 PM UTC
11/20/2012
Fifteen years will not find me a suburban home.
Not minivan nor prius in my driveway.
You see, I need space to roam.
I was born for the open highway.
All I need is a 'vette and a Jeep.
Just a cabin in the mountains,
A condo on the beech,
A suite above the Vegas fountains.
I'll never settle, not when old,
And I'll not be tied down by any wife.
I refuse to fill the common mould,
I was meant for the free life.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
War is warning of chaos if the dragon is slain,
whathe-el, yes,
god, yes,
we have a myth for for this, for now,
a metaphor, aforethought, it is
that Promethean redemption,
aha, the sun goes down,
let the healing begin,
this is a classic,
not every inspiring thing has origins in a book.
Word, gramma say, way back,
-- reminds me, I put gas in the Prius today,
as I walked in to buy some papers,
in the little store where the
**** bays was, back when I first heard
Johnny Cash, thinking' he was some kinda
man in black, from assorted darkness legends,
I hear him singin'
I fell in to a burnin' rang o' fire, went
down
down,
the flames shot higher…
I was about seven… **** bays was where
hot-rodders and cruisers hung out,
if you grew up on a paved road
to California and Nevada,
at a junction in time and space,
~ 150-170 miles south of all the tests,
same winds that brang rain t' St. George…
The moment, the music, a crossover hit,
hallelujah,
like
-- reminds me,
as I walked in to buy some papers,
in the little store where the
young Chaldean manning the store hears me,
as I -- say, ********* HAHA, as I re-cogitate the first
bars of I walk the line, then I see the
guy behind the sneeze, wall agree,
I love this music, we both say,
and he goes on to say,
I wonder what it was like to be alive
when he was alive…
I swipe my card and say, it was like
being alive when I was alive.
like
-- reminds me,
mark that fact - you spoke to an old man
buying papers, this is the future,
did you never read of the last being first?
the boy bade me have a nice day.
So I did.
Nov 3, 2020
Nov 3, 2020 at 8:31 PM UTC
Diner was calm.
The tv off not on.
We sat there like statues.
Pretending everything was fine.
Yes pretending was something you've always been good at dad.
I knew you lost your job.
I knew your car capped out.
Never once did I speak.
You knew I had relationship problems.
You knew I was becoming sicker.
Yet never once did you speak.
You were a homophobe.
You didn't want to believe half of it.
I didn't want to see your life go downhill.
Especially now.
So to ease the tension, I picked up the baby and got in the Prius and drove to my girlfriends house.
Just for you I kissed her like there was no tomorrow.
I'm sorry.
Me too.
The baby cooed.
She smiled gently.
Yes everything was okay.
But at the same time it wasn't.
I guess that's alright.
At least I have her and I'm still alive.
The tiny life will keep her company when I'm gone.
The tiny life will need her when I'm gone.
I can't be sad.
Looking back on the life I had.
A happy, for the most part, family.
Beautiful baby girl.
Beautiful significant other.
Beautiful childhood.
Surrounded by beauty.
Yeah life was good.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC
Just a republican girl
living in a liberal world
took the 4Runner going anywhere
Just a democrat boy
living in a conservative world
took the white Prius going anywhere
A singer in a smokey room
the marijuana's like perfume
for a puff they can share the night
it goes on and on and on and on
Strangers waiting
the traffic on the 5's insane
the endless cars stretch through the night
streetlights, people
there's no escaping anywhere
hide me somewhere in the night
too many beards and beer
there are "rainbows" everywhere
politics are in your face
all the time
some will win, some will lose
there are only reds or blues
the fighting never ends
it goes on and on and on and on
Strangers, waiting
the traffic on the 5's insane
the endless cars stretch through the night
streetlights, people
there's no escaping anywhere
hide me somewhere in the night
don't stop believing
that you can escape the city
street lights, people
don't care at allllll
don't stop believing
that you can escape the city
street lights, people
don't care at allllll
don't stop believing
that you can escape the city
street lights, people
don't care at allllll
Aug 1, 2019
Aug 1, 2019 at 4:31 AM UTC
a sign outside reads stay fresh, and
it's like "got milk" so I'm forced to take this seriously
It's painted over a brick wall, tan, gray, mostly tan
and adjacent to tthe wall are a prius, a nexus, a bmw and on the far side typical cream van, not white.
there is a bookeeping and taxation building that is now in ruins, remains from a few decades past, probably owned by the state with no useful occupation, yet.
hobos swear at each other in the street, over bananas and marbarlos and gatorades
Far adjacent, another abandonded building. Could've been a school
Stay fresh, thank god I have my milk
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC