I had an idea for this forum, which I used to do on an AOL message board back in the day. What you do is, someone posts a topic, and everyone writes and posts a poem on that topic in the thread. Sort of a competition, but with no winners...or rather, no losers. Just a fun thing to do. Each new topic should get it's own thread, with the subject title written like this one. I'll start it off with something easy: "automobile" A Driving Nation Mass produced, any color you want As long as it's black Black like the collective soul Of a driving nation Hop in your car, neighbor And leave me in your dust, your exhaust A mobile notion from ocean to ocean Where mere motion replaces Any and all purposeful action Abandoned the community The neighbors and friends And the strangers in a pub What time have we for idle conversation When there's places to go People to flee? So we run to and fro To everywhere and nowhere But a bottomless pit of isolation Who'd have thought it A set of rubber wheels and a motor A better division than any fence or wall
too far to walk, some where there are wheels, there’s a road trip all the way home Chuck Berry knows where it's at... Maybellene, why can't you be true, oh, Maybellene, why can't you be true, you've started back doin' the things you used to do. As I was motivatin' over the hill, I saw Maybellene in a Coup de Ville, A Cadillac a-rollin' on an open road, Nothin' will outrun my V-8 Ford, The Cadillac doin' about Ninety Five, She's bumper to bumper, rollin' side by side. Maybellene, why can't you be true, oh, Maybellene, why can't you be true, you've started back doin' the things you used to do. The Cadillac pulled up ahead of the Ford, The Ford got hot, wouldn't do no more. It then got cloudy and started to rain. I tooted my horn for a passin' lane. The rain water blowin' all under my hood, I knew, that was doin' my motor good Maybellene, why can't you be true, oh, Maybellene, why can't you be true, you've started back doin' the things you used to do. The motor cooled down, the heat went down, And that's when I heard that highway sound. The Cadillac asittin' like a ton of lead, A hundred an ten, half a mile ahead. The Cadillac lookin' like it's sittin' still, And I caught Maybellene at the top of the hill. Maybellene, why can't you be true, oh, Maybellene, why can't you be true, you've started back doin' the things you used to do. Encore, Chuck, encore! My ding-a-ling When I was a little bitty boy my grandmother bought me a cute little toy Silver bells hangin' on a string she told me it was my ding a ling My ding a ling, my ding a ling I want to play with my ding a ling My ding a ling, my ding a ling I want to play with my ding a ling And then mother took me to Grammer School But I stopped all in the vestibule Every time that bell would ring catched me playin' with my ding a ling Once I was climbing the garden wall I slipped and had a terrible fall I fell so hard I heard bells ring but held on to my ding a ling Once I was swimming cross Turtle creek many snappers all around my feet Shure was hard swimming cross that thing with both hands holdin' my ding a ling This here song it aint so sad the cutest little song you ever had those of you who will not sing You must be playin' with your own ding a ling My ding a ling Your ding a ling, your ding a ling We saw you playin' with your ding a ling My ding a ling everybody sing I want to play with my ding a ling
what a complicated metaphor you have invited into your life. i am the hitcher, and you the driver of your own fate; your own automobile. say i know that there is a way there is always the hollow to fill the infrastructure is what i call the system. that's what it is. insufficiencies shall be corrected in time. and so you pick me up for i am a hitcher and you drive me where we are both going in your automobile.
