"volkswagen" poems
You have ripped bellbottoms a shaky smile,
The sandy curls that cascade down your back.
You smoke till your lungs go black,
You sit in the blazing sun meditating till you go tan.
You play the tunes of The Beatles and Jimi Hendrix,
That suede jacket you wear every Tuesday.
You decorate your room with blankets so the colors keep you company,
The daisies you wear in your hair till they go brown.
You let your cigarette dangle from your thin lips,
That gritty sound you make when you form words.
Your eyes are always clouded with memories,
You wear those circular shades to hide from people.
You wipe the tears off of people’s faces,
Smile when theres nothing to smile about.
Your hands are tatted with henna, and you wear the shirt of a tie-dye spider.
All you eat is trail-mix of pistachios and sun-dried apples.
You ride in a Volkswagen with windows down to feel the breeze.
Your peace sign is like “the healer” to all pain.
You take a pull off hookah and a bite of shrooms just to chase away the madness.
You create your own reality.
When the rain falls down you fling your head back and yell to the world,
The face you make when you see animals.
He’s like an eagle, ready to sore through the sky and bring positivity.
Don’t ever tell me you’re not a hippie, because I’ve never seen anyone as unique as you.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Let's walk hand in hand
where the wildflowers are.
Let's draw flowers
on an old VolksWagen car.
Let's plant seeds next
to every road.
Let's decorate the pavement,
with a flowery quote.
Let's start tending the rainbow
on the ground.
Let's just do something,
before there's no flower to be found.
-ZvZ-
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 1:18 PM UTC
There was a time when your lips were painted
bright red-
but this was not when you had painted
me goodbye in the car-park, and somehow
left me grey,
as your little red Volkswagen
rolled softly away.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
Gold glitter
Only stays on the ceiling
When the upholstery is gray.
Church gyms are suddenly
Piggy banks to play
Basketball upon.
I will draw a city on
The bulletin board
And owl pushpins will inhabit it.
My mind is no longer in a
Casing of gray rick-rack
And suppositions I do not feel.
It is a precarious thing to
Play a solar piano
Under the midday sky.
Have you ever heard
A pumpkin-flavored
Volkswagen van?
It happened suddenly
That everything I could possibly
See became a photography contest.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 8:16 PM UTC
I am a Brobdingnagian octopus.
Blue is my hue.
Floating taciturnly in the abyss.
Within my tentacles I embrace Volkswagen busses.
Nov 17, 2011
Nov 17, 2011 at 10:20 PM UTC
Part1
This body is full of worms
Glowing
And moving forever
If I could match their movement
I might know what it means to be still
This body is afraid of rusting
I shave ***** red banjo strings
From the creak in these joints
This body moves like a song
String snap at a high note
I want you to kiss me with your brake lights
Fast enough to snap a knee cap
Reset my gait
This body is falling apart
Like an old Volkswagen in your dad’s front yard
All rust and ***** engine rumble
Even at red lights
We idle like earthquakes
Feels like a bike rider taking up his own lane
In front of you
Makes you nervous
It takes patience
Not to speed up
It takes patience to stay
Part2
She smiles like I am a child
Asking silly questions
Think softly she says
Your body is dust
Swirling in daylight
There is your rust in the soft glow
It is free
And you are alive
You are still like water
A steady current
Your body is fish and worms now
They move and eat
They are free
And they are alive
Your body is a furnace for glass blowers
The men inside make marbles
They are blue
And gold
And green
And warm
Let her hold you awkward now
You are free
And you are alive
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 1:09 AM UTC
A Volkswagen sinks in tainted ink
The purple bunny’s been painted pink
The hare is teetering on the brink
Of broken limelight square.
He rings the thing; it starts to sing
A duckling, suckling **** goes ping!
A nettle stings the bunny’s wing;
The duckling gets no share.
A shard apart that scarred the heart
Ripped out the one who passed the start
And darting past her cart, remarked
Upon her vacant stare.
A stare so vast that sticks and lasts;
She’s passed the post, she’s missed the mast,
What matters most: what’s passed is past,
Surrendered into air.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
Mr. Mole
stayed in a basement
but lived inside a tent
and everywhere that he went
took this cute little thing
he took under his wing
a hedgehog
named Olivia!
It was not really sad,
not really bad
Not terrinble at all
this basement it was finished
no comfort was diminished
some furniture and plants
this was his sanctuary
A little scary...
Mr. Music
this was his real name
no one knew and such a shame
no one he could ever blame
as he played guitar
she was quite tame
Miss Olivia
his life
he thought so lame
but at least he had her
and that were
true
until the day
Olivia said had to say Goodbye
only time
I think he cried
the day she left
the day she died
tears, fears...and years
streaming down his face
and then he sighed
her death implied
time to do other things
let people hear your voice, go sing
And so..
Mr. Music
he decided to go to work
duties no longer can be shirked
off in a Volkswagen Vanagon
Painting houses
As a star employee
worked at times, he did...for free
Dedicating his labor
to his Little Miss Olivia :-)
Called himself
a Mole he did
Never grew
up
that great big kid
he is still living this tale today
perhaps a slightly different way
without dear Miss Olivia.
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 2:14 PM UTC
Robot Kills Man at Volkswagen Plant in Germany
"BERLIN — Automaker Volkswagen says a robot has killed a contractor at one of its production plants in Germany. A spokesman for VW says the man died Monday at the plant in Baunatal, about 100 kilometers (62 miles) north of Frankfurt. Heiko Hillwig said Wednesday the 22-year-old was part of a team that was setting up the robot when it grabbed and crushed him against a metal plate." (source MSN, 7/2/15)
It begins . . .
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
i was watching batman (1989) and batman returns (1992)
today, and i couldn't stop layering over birdman (2015)
over both films, it was such a comedy, you knew
that it wasn't a serious engagement
in the role, i just kept picturing
the internal monologue -
the action scenes were already
a gimmick when in the birdman
the explosions start with the critique
of what people actually like to see -
and that critique that the joker
is no more a weird'o than batman
dressed in black leather / spandex -
i just wish heath ledger took a break
from acting, and they did the same
sort of film about the actor behind
the joker, but how would they internalise
the essence of the role: the laughter...
internalising a husky voice can be easily
done when the actor in a different role
can talk easily and speedily without that
haunting husky role of the original part...
but the laughter? it would never work,
which is why jack warned heath
about playing the role... 'son, beware
the laughter.' still, what an enjoyable re-watch,
putting over the birdman nostalgia
over the seriousness of the acting in the
originals, you can actually imagine him
going for a coffee break and taking a ****
when the original screening took place,
the whole: back to reality - it really amplified
the films in a quirky way;
and i still think the joker is the only
doppelgänger that can't be tamed: i'm guessing
because of coulrophobia -
and i could still see remnants of this mythical
doppelgänger on heath in the imaginarium
of dr. parnassus... the clowns are onto you,
you can't steal one of them from
the jammed mini or volkswagen beetle with 20 of them in it,
plus the crying clown, everyone's heard of that
one, they mime laughter, this vocalised doppelgänger
of a clown is cursed -
because unlike actual mimes they don't surd
bewilderment being stuck in a box, or touching
a brick wall obstacle... they surd laughter,
and they share it among themselves in a circus,
vocalising that surd is a curse,
since vocalising an actual mime leaves you
without the actual abstractions,
and from what i heard, brick walls are silent
like graves, unless of course you punch one
or smash a car into one.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
My aunt had a yellow Volkswagen Beetle
As bright as her hair, as fierce as her mind
With a sharp tongue, she left every man behind
She thought she could change him
But
My aunt is the one bearing the scars.
-lf-
Jun 5, 2013
Jun 5, 2013 at 12:57 AM 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
i chanced to see a
tin foil car
in the library parking lot
yesterday
the carpet, molding, side panels
all removed
tin foil
had been duct taped
on every surface that
was not glass
even the shift ****
and the steering wheel
wrapped and wrapped
in tin foil
a Volkswagen Faraday cage
i searched the faces
of the people about me
would it not be obvious who
would drive around in a
Faraday cage
listening to voices
chasing around
their mind
tin foil car
reading Julian Huxley
and muttering about telepathy
or reading Faraday to get rid
of those nagging radio-frequency
electromagnetic radiation signals
in a hollow conductor
but, then why leave the radio in the car
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 9:44 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
I love life, because in living you get all problems
I love eating because you can constipate if you eat a lot,
I love women because they reduce pocket giants to beggars,
I love children because they instill economic tension to parents,
I love trees because green snakes derive poison from them,
I love poor people because their life is pure experiment,
I love rich people because they snobbishly love themselves
I love motor vehicles because they depreciate in a decade,
I love Americans because they have drones for Gaddafi,
I love Americans because they know nothing beyond their borders,
I love the British because they have a monarch in their democracy,
I love Europeans because they were perfect in colonialism,
I love Africans because they are natural stooges, but very showy
I love the Chinese because they are all short, young and commutalists,
I love the Catholic Church because it has liberal piety,
I love Muslims because they are not intellectually tolerant to Rushdie,
I love young girls because they rarely sense danger,
I love Germans because they made a beetle car; Volkswagen,
I love the Japanese for honesty; they declared me Shinto of poetry,
I love my wife for her spendthrift culture
I love my son for his disgust of school and books,
I love myself for being a poetic rapscallion,
I love everything for in love you display your folly,
I love music, wine and money; they expose you to the robbers
I love short people for their mediocrous thought pattern
I love tall women; they are dull, honesty and rarely divorce,
I love English hunchbacks for they are famed for being erotically strong.
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 6:50 AM UTC
It's been a few weeks since it rained,
and even longer since I've let myself go.
But I'll always remember the day I did.
It was the last day of sophomore year,
and we were itching for a little fun.
You and I went out for a celebratory drive,
belting old Taylor Swift songs
at the top of our lungs,
and not giving a ****
what anyone else thought.
All of a sudden, a storm hit
and you pulled the Volkswagen over
with a twinkle in your eyes.
You pulled me out of the car,
and we danced in the middle of the road.
Within seconds, I was soaked
through my dress, through my bra,
sending raindrops coupled with chills
all the way down my spine.
The rain stopped as soon as it started,
but I'll never forget that day.
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 1:06 PM UTC
The flowers blooming, all around
Native birds making native sounds
People dancing through the grass, not needing to feel that they’re first class
They’re feeling free within their youth, instead of city girls in a photo booth
Wasting money they could blow, on things they need, not a photo
Breathing in the great fresh air, girls with flowers in their hair
The feint jingling of rusty old keys, to the old Volkswagen full of dreams
Of the young free people staring at clouds, quiet outside but their minds are loud
Thinking of what life is leading them to, it be making art, or travel to Peru
But they don’t know that yet, they are still dreaming
Faces in books, their youth is still gleaming
Now let me leave you with one final quote
The more that you read
The more that you know
The more that you know
The more places you’ll go -Dr.seuss
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
My mother,
small thick and
sixty-two this year.
I know her advice on daily measures
resonates much deeper than I admit;
always seeming to pry at that
lone heart-string.
Sometimes, when I am home alone,
I go through her things;
her old photographs,
her high school yearbooks,
her letters;
and I read them.
I imagine her this way:
young, like me,
and in love,
married,
driving a babyblue
Volkswagen Beetle,
telling of how it was the
best car
she ever drove;
the American Dream.
I like to think
my mother
was a pin-up girl instead;
her peroxide hair
glowing in the sun;
the summer of 1971.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
A year out a year away I yearn for freedom far away
Far away far beyond to the place where cars go bomb
I would have joined the boys at the bar
But instead I’m off to join Hezbollah
When I arrived I jumped the cue
The bulletproof Jeep was waiting for me to
The rifles round the waist the men at the door
I had funny feeling telling me I had gone to far
Did I really just leave home to come this place
To join Hezbollah and their CIA mates?
Its all happening so fast I said after my first fast
What’s with the black robes and the cotton face masks?
Can I not just watch do I have to do?
Who are these mercenaries we have here to?
I hope you got my message amongst the blah de blah
In the letter I sent you from Hezbollah
I was lost but now I’m found mum, Iv been shown around
On the back of an armour plated Volkswagen I was driven around
I saw the desert slums, the graveyard pits
But the road was greasy from oil slicks
I was told iv grown up I was that I’m a star
I think I might stay here for a while with Hezbollah
It was goats knee that was fed to my face
Three days before I was to leave this place
Because I was chosen and I’m a star
White upper-class turned Hezbollah
Chosen amongst many to do what few will do if any
It was an open invitation on a Facebook group conversation
So to this night I say goodnight, till tomorrow and the good fight
I will not die in vain my pain shall be relieved with fame
I’l see you soon my ma and pa thanks to my savour Hezbollah
Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Tomorrow is my birthday. I will be 60 years old. Where have the years gone? They seem to have pulled along like a Volkswagen behind a large semi...
When I was 5 years old, I was petrified of death. My mother would tell me I have many years ahead. But I knew it wouldn't be long before I was old and gray. I was right.
I am no longer afraid of death. I know how unimportant this life is. This is merely a testing ground... To learn the lessons of obedience and love. What we know is this world. But there is so much more...
I am not in any hurry to leave, as I have a job to do here. But I can't wait to be with Christ. I dream of it. But no dreams I have could possibly ever match the Wonders that await me. And indeed every believer Redeemed by Jesus.
This Temple... it is getting very worn out. It is arthritic and has a lot of other problems. And God has not seen fit to heal me yet. I am not complaining, actually. I know I brought my condition on myself because of the way I lived before I met Jesus. But I can't wait to have a perfect body again. One that can never get sick. Won't ever be in pain. Can never die...
I wish I had known Jesus all my life. But that was not to be. I have a much more powerful testimony being a former atheist. I am not going to give you a lecture on atheism. But my belief in an afterlife has comforted me so much... and I would not wish to believe as I did before. I was in constant fear. Now I know that God is in control of everything and works everything out for my good no matter how bad it seems to me at the time.
I'm sorry I have not been on this site reading as much as I would like. I've been very busy in the last few days. But after my birthday I will get back to reading and writing again...
Take care, my friends! I will see you again soon...
♡ Catherine
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 1:03 AM UTC
There is so much
I need to apologize for
Even though
I already know
you'll tell me not to be sorry
I'll always feel bad
for the little things
like my smart *** comments
or my loss of control
every time I see a Volkswagen
But then there are the hard hitters,
matter on a larger scale
Such as my perpetual depressive state
or my impaired sense of
proper intimacy
My largest fear is you
one day realizing how difficult
I am;
I don't want you to learn to despise me
like all those preceding you
I'm sorry for being
so very broken
You don't need to pick up my pieces
But if you'd like to,
I might not argue
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
She was winter & I am spring
I was a budding poet
Her voice was pristine
I yearned that she sing to me
hear, she'd hold those notes in symphony
here, I grew to love her
there, in the twining of our love
in twain, we loved
she loved
I loved
She adored the lyricism
the play of my prose
the waves of emotion that
flexed curls in her toes
I arose
in ways akin to my nature
like wetting a letter
mail in the mailbox
unknown sender
I never let her in
but she did me
this way and that
in twain, we loved
I loved
she loved
I loved the shivers of her soul
sending quakes into my heart
the flute of her throat
the notes of her tears
bitterness, sadness, madness
she let it all free
in voice
in me
I cried, let it stop
let me out
let me not
I will stay
till I'm weary
till I'm old in springtime
till you're teary
In twain we loved
in twain we grew apart
old tires on the Volkswagen
ambling along
singing the old song
on and on
in twain, we loved
in twain, we wanted more
I wanted her to sing the same songs
she no longer loved her voice
she stopped singing altogether
I was wondering
Are we together
In twain, we loved
In twain, we grew sick
I ached for her touch
a poison like pancakes
sweet... for toothaches
the cavity of my desire was a trench
a gorge
with stench
that she despised
don't touch me
I'm not in the mood
don't look at me like that
like what
you know what
In twain, we loved
In twain, we sought freedom
I began writing the new chapters
the new adventures
enraptured
the tales spun like endless yarn *****
endless inspiration
endless distraction
you won't spend time with me
all you do is sit at the computer
don't you care about my dreams
don't you care about mine
I did care but you don't sing anymore
you know why
I don't
you should
In twain, we loved
In twain, we broke free
I wasn't rejected
look, an advance
that's nice
aren't you happy
I am, see
who's that
a friend
you only laugh with him
he's funny
I'm not
you are, just
what
this isn't working
not today
then when
not today, I can't, my dreams
I like him
I can't
this is my decision
why is this happening today
you chose
I choose you
you could have written songs for me
I did
you wrote songs for yourself
I'm sorry
me, too
In twain, we said goodbye
Yet in goodbye
We were together
She was fall, and I'm the summer I always dreamed
Basking in the sun of my destiny
Absent of the kiss of cold, where I left my innocence
Absent of love, where I left my heart
Along the westward road where seasons never end
Along the westward road where sweet songs end in silence
Feb 17, 2022
Feb 17, 2022 at 1:16 AM UTC
#
Crooked teeth, yes
but a finger-puppet's face
leaves no bite-mark, trace
Shiny wrenches, swung
by hands on sirens, sung
A heinous intent here
has began..
..begin?
Begun.
Shovel in hand--
the torso will go there
the head, over here..
won't that be a hoot?
Mom won't carry the evil
that you gladly, choose to wear
*(still.. your little, yellow Volkswagen
is so ****** fucken cute)*
You're an addict, Ted
nothing more.
Your self- celebration,
nothing but a dead-end street.
Stay sweet.
May 10, 2021
May 10, 2021 at 12:49 PM UTC
Round and Round we go
This story might be a bus you know
It involves an amusement park
But let me narrate to give you the start
It was when I was young visiting Coney Island
There were rides galore
But what caught my attention was a bus for sure
There were many vehicles, but it was that one Volkswagen Bus
It was that bus I wanted to ride being an absolute must
Since I am bus lover
I had to ride that multi Vehicle Merry Go Round
As I stepped in, for me it was an adventure to begin
So I was at the steering wheel
I had to get that driver feel
Yet, every time some kid wanted to control
I had firm and was plain bold
That bus was my sheer delight
In fact, it was total excite
I was smiling like a bright light
Buses have always been my passion
But that specific vehicles go round I was never forget
I am thinking with no regret
However, it was the bus that captured my heart
The vision being a bus
My enjoyment having no fuss
It was simply that Volkswagen bus
It’s a passion I said, and the bus wheeling being remembered
A bus a bus, but there are many bus fans, and this is the illustration of us.
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 1:57 PM UTC