This car runs on hate
oh, the milage you will get from doing milage. the more upset and red the better. why fuel or charge when you can loath, detest or despise?
have a passanger? they can help too. all you need is to piss them off.
you know, what to do:
be inconsiderate, fight over the AC, or the playlist. the car will thank you for it.
with built-in annoyance guarenteed, you will soon turn livid.
the outrage makes for major savings.
the car comes with either a smoked-out taxi scent or forgotten PB&J in the back. don’t miss the thrill of winding the window down. you’ll see what i mean..
The Race that is Life
Sand is falling
The future's calling
Time is moving day by day
I am chasing
So I won't be dragged away
I see others
All of them are racing too
But some are walking
Some are mocking
Yet so far by me they have flew
I think are winning
Some even grinning
How did they get there at all
But one by one
They are done
In front of me they start to fall
They are sleeping
Or just lying, weeping
On the ground through them I run
Can see it rise
And finally then I see the sun
Up from the ground
I look around
I can see I'm not alone
I see the line
And fall behind
Right past me they all have flown
But I smile
For a while
And others eyes I meet
Because thats it
I have passed it
Now I have somewhere to rest my feet
Why Start Now?
I gave you my heartfelt apologies and sympathies
Swallowed what you’d left of my pride
Played out like a somber, drawn out symphony
To make a connection, you never even tried
I didn’t owe you anything
All you’d left me with was trauma, anguish, and pain
You sat pointing a loaded gun
Pressed tightly against your head
This child’s mind instantly unraveled and undone
Starving for forbidden, affectionate words unsaid
Instead filled with beguiled nostalgia
Broken promises and false road trips
Painful, blistering whips, busted lips
Flimsy bones and adults abandoning ship
Illegal fellowships, adulterers commit
Childhood dreams clouded by the darkest overshadowing eclipse
Your strung out eyes dare not meet mine
Shame consumes every bit of your being
Emptiest of souls, no contact with the divine
Your hatred forever breeding
You pretend I don’t exist
Until that awkward moment you face
Like a persistent, infectious cyst,
You’ll have to accept and even embrace
I’ve grown immune to not having you around
And bonded with my idea of what you should be
But like every other dream unfound
It was only soothing lies, fabricated imagery haunted by a bewitching scenery
You never wanted to get to know me
Never showed interest in the adult I grew to be
I’ve learned to cope with no parental guidance
Stronger than you could ever hope to be, you’re cowardly and spineless
I wish I could just put you in my past
Conceived throughout space, daughter of the stars
Generated by the galactic, beautiful vast
Created from some celestial bizarre
But I can never forget you, you’re a rotting part of me
And you always will be, unfortunately
You’ll die missing bittersweet pieces
And when you perish, what remains of you in me weakens
“Goodbye and good riddance,”
I’ll say another day
When I’ve forgiven and acquired transcendence
Emotions not in constant disarray
Hopelessly wishing I’d gotten to know your mind
As well as I’ve gotten acquainted with my own
But your soul being so wickedly confined
You’ve disintegrated yourself to calloused stone
You’re chilled to the dissected depths of your bones
Growing more relentless and alone
Until the execration has possessed and overthrown
Buried deep within the ancient catacombs
Only perceiving your ancestral remains within my endogenous chromosomes
Extracting your enigma until archaic ruins are bare and shown
There will be no more to dismember, no longer tormented by the curious unknown...
I stare at the world
my eyes searching
for something more
as it all comes into life
stardust on my fingers
the milky way under my feet
the universe at my hands
a light lost in space
darkness spread on the edge of my mind
a loving heart
cradled in your arms
now again without a home
barefoot I stand
sharing my soul
confiding in your thoughts
yet they leave no trace
of my tries
of my hopes
of my love
I hit a void
just after I crash against your walls
don't hold me back
when I want to fly
don't put me down
when I want to be held
I need the warmth
yet I get none
I yearn for the fire
to burn my fears
and cover myself in ashes
so I can be reborn
I want it... but do you?
Oh, To Live on the Moon
To swallow my pride
Is to swallow a rusty nail
The rules I must abide
Put me in a windowless cell
My brain imprisoned by shackles
My heart captivated by chains
The man in the corner cackles
Freedom quarantined, speech detained
My soul yearns to be freed from this penitentiary
Screaming and wailing inside
Searching for its karmic destiny
But my true path has been denied
Wish I could fly far from my prison
My spirit belongs to the stars
Behind tired eyes I envision
Embracing with wonderment, the beauty of Mars
The physical is not my home
This realm is not my fate
Born feeling it deep in my bones
I isolate and alienate
Because I’m so far from my home
I dream in shades of indigo
And seas of lavender crystal light
Sea sick with nauseating vertigo
Blinding me of my third sight
So I travel down the lonely road
Into the darkest of night
Where on Earth I feel I most belong
The moon and stars I see
Singing their siren song,
“Come away with me,”
“One day, my friend,”
I whisper to anyone who will listen
When this nightmare finally ends
And I travel the sea to the cosmos that glistens...
A Duel Piece
You shuffle your time,
I shuffle mine,
Distractions fill us,
As we try so hard to get closer.
Fighting the distance,
fighting the precious time, we get nearer,
only to get further away.
I want to beat this zone of missed opportunities,
So, I can reach your heart.
Here there and everywhere,
six in the morning when one here,
or noon here and five there.
Different languages spoken,
different attitudes toward life,
and we all share one bond:
expression of inner-self.
Above it all,
be it a thought,
a story, a poem, even just one word,
one stroke of a key;
we are bound as one.
@anarosewood and I made a challenge to each other. She was surprised by another post I did when I said I wrote it under 10 minutes here on my post. I joked and said maybe 9:53.
That's where the challenge came about, and with a slight nudge from @Msh, we, anarosewood and myself agreed to a topic and a time for us to each write what we would cojoin. Three minutes each. And as she said, she wanted seven, but I wouldn'r budge. Yeah, I can be a bossy old man at times!
But in essence, this piece is for all the Prosers out there from all four corners of the Earth. Thank you all for what you put here for us to share your tiny corner of life.
A duel piece
staring at the clock
you shuffle your time, I shuffle mine
distractions fill us,
as we try so hard
to get closer,
fighting the distance,
fighting the precious time
we get nearer,
only to get further away...
I want to beat this zone
of missed opportunities,
so I can reach your heart...
Here there and everywhere
six in the morning when one here,
or noon here and five there
different languages spoken
different attitudes toward life
and we all share one bond
expression of inner-self.
Above it all, be it a thought, a story, a poem,
even just one word, one stroke of a key,
we are bound as one.
This was a little challenge that I "made" @Danceinsilence do...
well, actually he was in the race before I even finish the first word.
The first part is what I started at and the second part is his.
All written in flustrating 3 minutes... I wanted 7 ;)
Writing is a funny thing. There are moments where it is a meditation, a prayer, simple as breathing— deep and complete— to clear the conscious for the next day's sensory onslaught. At other times, it's a record, a document— a multi-faceted snapshot— pocketed for later to avoid Memory's insidious hide-n-seek. And at it's best, it's an orchestration of Thought— a map. Sense leading the senseless to the source of Art, by mere suggestion and shared illusion, so that we might all be disabused of Ourselves— our hands and faces pressed against an ice cold reflective glass. Writing is like some unsought conquest, a brain game, to which the intellect is challenged to the Death by the grinning mask of Life itself— with a toast and a jest. Though I may drag my feet, the gauntlet is mine, and I am inexplicably called to pick up the fight, no matter the length or cause of my retreat. And we make gains from time to time— because writing always helps us, somehow, to individually and collectively survive amid the infinite cobwebs that are always crisscrossing our subconscious mind.
#WhyWrite #Challenge #Addendum