Best Convertibles Poems

Modern Vanity

tracks
weaves
hair color
fingernails
manicures
pedicures
inflated buttocks and lips
sculptured hips
workout
aerobic
liftup
tuckin
sixpacks
jog
rotate
walk
perspire
maintain
get that body
night masks
contour sticks
Facetime
Facebook
facelift
Instagram
Twitter
tummy tucks
lap bands
gastric by-pass
designer clothes
sports cars
convertibles
Teslas
toupees
tattoos
Men’s Club
blue pills
anything else?

7/18/17

Facebook and Twitter are creating a vain generation of self-obsessed people with child-like need for feedback, warns top scientist....

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we tend to forget the time when we ourselves were very young
our own parents did not understand some of the things we had done
we had our own style of music, our own dances and points of view
we fail to see that It's a curse every...

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A summer Saturday night brings them all out grates shining
spit polished chrome, driven by bald men with pates shining.

Candy apple red antique corvettes with white wall tires
soft topped convertibles from Isadora Duncan's estate shining.

Well preserved women with beehive hair in leather bucket seats
go out for...

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The suburban pressure cooker expelled its multiethnic horde north. Laden with implements of leisure, bicycles, kayaks, canoes and camping gear; world weary travelers of urban and suburban bent surged north ever, north. Bucking, they wrenched in unison at road repairs, shunted into single lanes by...

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BREATHE DEEP
Hugging the earth
With you since birth
Though invisible
Much is possible

Fun times in party balloons
Less often in hot air balloons
Kites built and challenged to fly
Planes and blimps enjoy the sky

Games played with inflated balls
Windmills make energy, not squalls
Top-down convertibles make hair stray
Clouds and fog begin the...

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Now here's a funny sight, my friends
People with extra long necks
Much like giraffes you see at the zoo
A really strange sight, by heck

They drive convertibles for obvious reasons
It sure ain't so great in the snow
Their houses are rather tall and skinny
How they sleep at night,...

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when the sun finally shines its last hot beams of
annoying rays down upon the slimy suntan-lotion-saturated 
bodies &
the convertibles get taken back in the garages &
the vast groups of lame ass motorcyclists who drive only during
the summer months (gliding on their gross neon-colored crotch-rockets)
disappear &
the...

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Thin ice fades away
Worms begin to stir beneath
Sprouted grass tickles ant’s toes

~

Fingerprints on glass
A blue jays nest on my eve
Babies sing its spring

~

Muck squash rubber boots
Rain sprinkles from heaven’s gate
Rainbows glow full bloom

~

Scent of white violets
Innocence blooms, babies smile
Sand grows in socks and shoes

~

Ah yes...

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Inside fleshy walls, wallowing in youth,
lava coarses corrosive through peeled licorice
onward, fleeing the thundering stone
vacillating at the center of a man slugging
elderberry wine, to become both numb and Dionysus. 
Yellow convertibles park on brown-banged boulevards
obstructing the ravishing, glacial blue hands. They stretch
unassuming, but firmly grab...

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Now here's an unusual sight, my friends
People with extra long necks
Much like giraffes you see at the zoo
A really strange sight, by heck

They drive convertibles for obvious reasons
It sure ain't so great in the snow
Their houses are rather tall and skinny
How they sleep at night,...

Continue reading...

Hand me a pen so that I may write the most stunning 
love poem in the world.
Hand me the most luxurious paper so the writing appears 
elegant and well placed.
Let the words flow from my mind, animate the pen so 
the paper absorbs to its...

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Roaming
that thick soup 
of a green countryside,
the black eyed Susans
were our only witness,
silent as corpses,
unaware that truancy was our creed as we 
drove to buy beer in souped up
shiny chevy convertibles
as we listened to Motown and sang 
to those tunes when we crossed the state...

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As the mercury starts to levitate,
and May hunts down chill residues,  

warmed breezes rummage the ground 
for ten sun-worshippers 
cruising in two dusty, 
floppy convertibles....

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This summer's evening still echoes
with the distinguishable city' noises:
the screams of adolescents,
the cranking of cars and motor-bikes
the loud rotating blades of helicopters,
and the blasting music
from luxurious convertibles
that unawarely tranfix...

We can get away
from this madness,
and find a silent,
infrequent place
where nothing has to be hushed;
where the firmament...

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Worship not your turtles on Tuesday
Driving a convertible in traffic is inadvisable
Places you at risk, in peril of bird droppings
Never yawn with mouth open and head up
Yawning is sacrilegious with seat belts off

If you have daughters, don't!
They are not turtles and this is not Vegas
If...

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