Gazing In A Daze At The Scenery
To play someone cheap,
Is an expensive undertaking...
For someone accustomed to riding,
In the passenger's seat.
Gazing,
As one who is comfortable does...
Feeling free to daze,
At the scenery.
And not be concerned,
To question the abilities of the driver.
The one who is thoughtlessly considered,
Not to be able to multi-task.
But not a bump on a treacherous road,
Has been felt.
In fact...
Those who have ridden in the past,
Assumed for this driver...
The rode taken had always been paved!
How does one believe,
These skills have been acquired?
This does not happen,
By hearsay gossiped...
Or transmitted by way of rumored innuendo.
This event experienced,
Had to have taken time to develop...
For the nurturing of it to go undetected.
As a smoothness delivered goes unnoticed.
Almost as if...
There is an automatic switch to 'on',
One hits.
Without giving a single thought to it!
Or drips a bit of sweat...
From a cool brow.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Passenger Side
Hey, wake up, your eyes weren't open wide
For the last couple of miles you've been swerving from side to side
You're gonna make me spill my beer,
If you don't learn how to steer
Passenger side, passenger side,
I don't like riding on the passenger side
Roll another number for the road
You're the only sober person I know
Won't you let me make you a deal,
Just get behind the wheel
Passenger side, passenger side,
I don't like riding on the passenger side
Should've been the driver, could've been the one
I should've been your lover, but I hadn't seen...
Can you take me to the store, then the bank?
I've got five dollars we can put in the tank
I've got a court date coming this June
I'll be driving soon
Passenger side, passenger side,
I don't like riding on the passenger side
I don't like riding on the passenger side
song performed by by Wilco
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Safe Drive
The capability of a driver is depending
Whether the passenger is feeling safe or not
Even though the driver is driving carelessly
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bus Driver and Bella
Bella used to catch the bus from church gate;
Everyday took same bus which was never late.
Not to miss Bella, driver always reached in time;
Reaching office daily in time, Bella also felt fine.
On seeing her, the driver opened the front door,
She stepped forward smilingly and used to board.
He started feeling joy in heart, never felt before
Cherished in his soul, towards her he was lured.
Whenever not seen her, the driver became sad,
Moved slowly with grave soul feeling the day bad.
Suddenly she stopped coming but he held his time
Reaching the bus stop chanting her names’ rhyme.
When the bus was about to reach that bus stop,
The driver used to see all around but Bella was not.
After a long, Bella was seen standing near the stop
Driver delighted and thought for few words swop.
Driver at once opened front door, asked her to rush.
She too thrown sight and smiled; turned towards bus.
To surprise Bella kept outside and looking at him told
That she had got a car standing near that billboard.
She was waiting for her husband who was nearby,
She wanted perfume for car, he had gone to buy.
They got married a month ago, she was on vacation
Driver put his foot to give bus maximum acceleration.
S.D. Tiwari
email [email protected]
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bussing Blues (Fun Poem 56)
I caught a bus and bought a ticket
to the end of the route.
As I bought the ticket,
the driver asked
if I was going all the way.
I said I was
as cheerful as can be.
Great can you show me where to go,
as I’ve never driven this route before?
Gladly I said and showed him the way.
Now some might find that funny
a passenger helping the bus driver
to which way he should take.
The truth of the matter this really did happen
as I went home today
and that passenger that helped him was me.
24 January 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. Cab Driver
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to let me in
Mr Cab Driver don't like my kind of skin
Mr Cab Driver you're never gonna win
Mr Cab Driver won't you stop to pick me up
Mr Cab Driver I might need some help
Mr Cab Driver only thinks about himself
Here we go
Mr Cab Driver
song performed by by Lenny Kravitz from Let Love Rule
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death Alley Driver
Rough and ready rider
In a supersonic sound machine
Rock and roll survivor
Chrome pipes between your knees
Running all the red lites
Your gonna make a dead stop
But you just cant see the signs
Oh - youll never win the race
But you cant give up the chase
Death alley driver
Living at high speed
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...who knows what you need
Death alley driver...
One hundred twenty five smokin on the turns
Always on the hit and run
But you never learn...
Running from the man... and youre running
From yourself
Another dirty angel heading straight to hell
Oh - youll never win the race
But you wont give up the chase
Death alley driver...
Live in overdrive...death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...ride to stay alive
Death alley driver...
Lets go
Red lights in the mirror
Danger on the band
Got to take a detour cause a road blocks up ahead
He takes you on the corner with a wave of his hand
Death is in the back seat of a big old black sedan
Oh - youll never win the race...
As you turn and see his face...
Death alley driver...
Movin for the kill
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver...
Time is standing still...
Death alley driver...
Always on the run cause youre a...
Death alley driver
Love the way it feels
Death alley driver...yeah
Death alley driver
Hell on wheels...
Death alley driver... ooh -
song performed by by Rainbow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You cannot expect the guy who drove the car into the ditch to navigate it out of the ditch. You have to put a new driver in the seat. I'm not saying the new driver is going to be any better, but we need a new driver. Kerry is the only choice.
quote by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Country
I saw lots of dust,
From the bus through South Dakota.
I was a passenger on my way to L.A.
I wish I took a train or a plane,
From Minnesota.
Instead I took my time,
And went the cheapest way!
Riding that seat on the bus,
Every bump my rump and the wheels
On that bus had found.
I couldn't stretch,
To lay my tired body down.
I looked around from the window,
And spotted a Caribou.
I stopped my cussing long enough,
To enjoy the view.
I felt a bit country!
As I started to hum a tune.
I thought of Mount Rushmore,
And Buffalo roaming plains!
I felt a bit country!
Thinking of things I'd do!
Like hiking and biking...
And skipping L.A. to see!
I saw lots of dust,
From the bus through South Dakota.
I was a passenger on my way to L.A.
I wish I took a train or a plane,
From Minnesota.
Instead I took my time,
And went the cheapest way!
And began feeling country.
With a native Indian mood.
Thinking of the tribes who survived,
The Wild Wild West!
I sat feeling country.
Changing up my attitude.
Imagining the Sioux...
And those rough times that they knew!
When I arrived in L.A.
I had forgotten I had wished I'd flew!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rusted, Busted But Will Not Give Up
The car stalls.
And...
Wheels on it seems corrupted,
By a collection of dust...
No one has thought,
To have ever cleaned...
The build up of muck,
That has it stuck.
Rusted, busted but will not give up,
Are those riding inside...
Demanding from the driver,
To push!
While those riding inside decide,
If it is to their benefit...
To assist the driver,
With either a push or a pull.
OR...
Maybe someone should consider,
Perhaps there is a need for gas.
And...
Who should pay the price.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm an awful driver. I'm not going to lie about it. I'm not a good driver. I tried for a long time to pretend that I was. There's a lot of road rage and a lot of times it's directed at something I've done on the road.
quote by Kristen Bell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knocked And Ran
He, on a road, was standing
Ignorant of the road-laws.
He was in his tattered clothes;
A poor village child he was.
I was sitting in a car
On the left of the driver.
When the car came near the child,
It was slowed by the driver.
He sounded aloud the horn,
But the child did not it care.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
Remained standing mutely there.
He was aping the gesture
Of the driver of the car.
How joyful in his action,
As if he were in the car!
He was moving round his arms
In driving his unreal car.
The driver, taking the side,
Safely steered his real car.
But a truck from the front side
Down the road speedily ran.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
The truck driver knocked and ran.
poem by Aziz Ahmad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Was I always going to be here? No I was not. I was going to be homeless at one time, a taxi driver, truck driver, or any kind of job that would get me a crust of bread. You never know what's going to happen.
quote by Morgan Freeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knocked And Ran
He, on a road, was standing
Ignorant of the road-laws.
He was in his tattered clothes;
A poor village child he was.
I was sitting in a car
On the left of the driver.
When the car came near the child,
It was slowed by the driver.
He sounded aloud the horn,
But the child did not it care.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
Remained standing mutely there.
He was aping the gesture
Of the driver of the car.
How joyful in his action,
As if he were in the car!
He was moving round his arms
In driving his unreal car.
The driver, taking the side,
Safely steered his real car.
But a truck from the front side
Down the road speedily ran.
The child, in his tattered clothes,
The truck driver knocked and ran.
poem by Aziz Ahmad 'Aziz Moradabadi'
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Mr. Limousine Driver
Hey, mr. limousine driver,
Can i ask you a favor, please?
Let her in my door and don't look back here no more,
I know you can do it with ease.
Although, we're on our way from the show,
And you don't like to get off the track.
Please, mr. chauffeur, let's talk things over,
'cause she says she loves me and that's a fact.
Can you hear what i'm sayin', it's not like i'm prayin',
You know, because you've done it before.
So, why make me wait, please don't hesitate,
Just get back here, and let her in my door.
Hey, mr. limousine driver,
I know you know where it's at.
Too late will be later, you just read your evening paper,
And don't worry 'bout what's goin' on in back.
Hey, mr. limousine driver ...
Hey, mr. limousine driver ...
song performed by by Grand Funk Railroad
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The difference between sentiment and being sentimental is the following: Sentiment is when a driver swerves out of the way to avoid hitting a rabbit on the road. Being sentimental is when the same driver, when swerving away from the rabbit, hits a pedestrian.
quote by Frank Herbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No One Wants To Listen To Him
Why are those people screaming,
At the driver of the vehicle?
He didn't cause the wheels to fall off.
I thought they hired full time mechanics,
To monitor the safety of it.
'They do have full time mechanics.'
Shouldn't they be the ones found,
To be at fault for the wheels falling off?
That is in 'their' area of expertise.
I would think.
'Yeah. I agree.
However...
Here is the dilemma.
You see...
They were not hired because they were qualified.
They were hired because they had the look,
And the presence of being mechanics.
Now...
Those that actually had qualifications,
Were denied because they knew the driver...
And supported his position as the best driver around.'
Oh?
But still,
It makes no sense to hold the driver responsible.
'That has been the argument of the driver.
And he has been the one,
Trying to keep the passengers together.
To get the mechanics that were hired,
To at least make attempts...
To get them all back on the road.
But no one wanted to listen to him,
To get the vehicle fixed.
And yet...
They want to convince everyone within listening distance,
That the driver is the reason they are in their present predicament.'
Perhaps they have other reasons and motivations to blame him.
'Oh. you mean the obvious? '
What other reason could they have?
And who are those other people,
Welding the wheels to the frame of the vehicle?
They 'look' as if they are foreigners.
'They claim they just arrived from overseas.
On a sightseeing vacation.
And volunteered their services for free.'
Aren't you a bit suspicious about that?
'Who me?
I could care less who does what to who and why.
I don't mind walking to my destinations.
I have things I want to get done and do,
With my life.'
Why are those foreigners winking at you?
'I have no clue.
Maybe they are overhearing our conversation.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Male Testosterone Invincibility
myth postulates teenage males
perceive themselves as invincible
consider themselves bullet proof
personally speaking as a past male
teenage survivor that rode the wild side
walked limped away where others died
accidents over 100 kph on open roads
accidents where nine out of ten died
I walked away from more than nine alive
friends used to come up touch me for luck
riding at speed in fools gear not full gear
living legends survived others swiftly died
back in the day when perfection was hourly
the impossible of course took just a little longer
strange even to this day accidents hurt badly
were all in cities low speed safe road rules obeyed riding
where people in cars talking on their cell phones driving
wasted flesh driving straight into you swift escape sped
yes proud superman and I were to stop cars
with nothing else except our body on highway
but it is a bit much when car drives over foot
when your immobile at a red light waiting for green
but that was an Indonesian car driver in no rules Jakarta
where speaking on cell phone driving is driver’s norm
hate cell phone driver’s driving all over road if you like
but keep eyes in the back of your head survive you might
coz getting run over by a ton of metal is heavy duty hard
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Easy Driver
Easy driver, shes a wicked rider
Shes smooth and shes skinny and shes probably mean
Easy driver, pull up beside her, roll down the window on this fine machine
Chorus:
(ooh ooh ooh) dont turn away, (ooh ooh ooh) just give me a sign
(ooh ooh ooh) dont be afraid, (ooh ooh) love is so hard to find
Easy driver, get on up beside her, she dont drive like she knows the way
Easy driver, roads getting wider
Theres room to run and she might skate away
Come on back, baby what you say
Chorus
One lane away from love, the story of my life
Could I be good enough for your lonely avenue tonight
Its a lonely avenue tonight
Chorus
Easy driver, shes a wicked rider
Shes smooth and shes skinny and shes probably mean
Easy driver, get on up beside her, roll down the window on this fine machine
Easy driver, oh oh oh oh, easy driver, easy driver, easy driver (easy driver)
Easy driver, easy driver, easy driver, easy driver
song performed by by Kenny Loggins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Waiting For A Bus
We got the mother and the kids
we got the guy and his date
we all get mad
we all get laid
looks like somebody forgot about us
standin on the corner
waitin' for a bus
say hey mister driver man
don't be slow
cause I got somewhere I got to go
say hey mister driver man
drive that thing fast
my precious time keep slippin' past
lets call the mayor lets complain
looks like the city's done to us again
tied up in traffic what'ya know
the damn city bus moves so slow
I said hey mister driver man
don't be slow
cause I got somewhere I got to go
say hey mister driver man
drive that thing fast
my precious time keep slippin' past
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lying Truth
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
Because we got it from a 'reliable' source,
And who told you it was a 'reliable' source.
Ha, Is there any thing that is really called the truth.
For, every 'truth' told in this twisted and sinister world,
A lie is invented, concocted, told.
And when a question is asked, and the truth is required,
And if told, many events, considered dire,
Happen in response,
A white lie is told.
But the whitest lie, considered the truthful lie,
Thought up by those considered wise and selfless,
Is really the darkest, blackest, most deceiving lies of all.
Over time stories, true stories, turn to myths, myths to legends.
so why not lies, white lies too.
Centuries, years, maybe even weeks and days,
Turns the most deceiving and evil lies into the 'truth'.
So I come back to my original question,
But don't misconstrue my words,
For I dear not defy the truth,
The truth, so rare, that passes us unnoticed, unseen, undetected,
The rare truth that exists in this dark, sinister world.
So yes,
How do we know we are speaking the truth.
The truth, the truth, the lie.
poem by Michael Devenish
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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