Best Gasoline Poems
Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream…
No tears, no complaints, far cheaper than gasoline!
7/21/202.
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Gasoline lips fueled our adenosine kisses
filling up on whiskey and cigarette wishes
your rubber met my asphalt, land mines
dodging, heaving blame on both fault lines
worn the tread off our poor tired hearts
trading each other for cheap spare parts
Revving my engines under a new hood
Stick shift ready,I'll grind his gears good
Grab the dark side by the waist.
Plant a kiss on its dead black lips.
Sow the light into the darkest soil.
Toss the halo and the horn.
Into the fiery pond of mind.
When truth makes love to lie.
Set goals-come up just shy.
Breathe the smoke of defeat, the death of hope.
Tap dance, flint-heeled on gasoline streets.
Savor the dew drops of brief victory.
Then collapse in one big heap.
Gasoline tears
The truck
Plows forward
Into the masses
Blood and destruction
Morality hijacked by abduction
Evil deeds pervade these cloudy days
Compassion is tossed into the sea in place of the devils seduction
Humanity dances with both tears and foe, the meek shall be the victors
Satan’s followers shall face the garrote, headless will be those boa constrictors
Do not be fooled by silent ones and men behind masks disguising their petty angers
Humanity dances with both tears and foe, the meek shall be the victors
Rays of the sun, the glow of the moon, and the beat of loves heart
Flower gardens shall grow tall, on the soil of the rotten evil ones
Goodwill shall peak behind the clouds, hugging humanity
Compassion shall dance on angelic wings
Love and passion triumphant
Plows forward towards
Eternity
I met you once,
in dreams of youth;
flushed with curves,
wide open in summer's sun;
toothy smiles,
innocent wiles;
laid out patches,
of perfume and gasoline;
blazed across the endless miles,
of then...and now;
years burned down,
chromed dull in faded glory;
yellowed hollow,
seasons past;
of governed throttle,
clogging choke;
the boy,
like you;
left back now,
far behind;
dusty,
in a poem.
At least BP, despite the oil spill,
is giving us a break, not the thrill;
plan a luxurious cruise ship...
pop that champagne cork and slowly sip!
Uncle Sam, be kind...pass the bill!
To soothe the cornered inferno
Consuming a sanctuary abandoned
Spider's silk like snow kissed ground
Walls caressed by a nurturing moss,
A mausoleum of birth
The detached ruins we carry
A firefighter's hose spouts curses
To cauterize a ghastly flame
The fire fights itself separately
So the lever pullers on the dispatch
Call into the ears of a healer
To douse themselves in gasoline
There is no pain, for in
Recognition there is warmth
The exiles of the charred asylum
Need something true to human heart
An acknowledgment of all their parts
Like fire and gasoline
There is sure to be
An explosion.
I'm exploding
Everyday I awake
And see that
My world has not change.
Simple interaction
Ignites a spark
Trying to get it right
Explodes into a ball of fire
Setting my flesh a flame
Like lightening
I reach for the truth
But it leaves me burning
Wrangling on the ground
For some water to cool me.
A cape to smother the fire Bursting, hotter hotter in me
I submit to the torture
I have no more strength to endure Inhale
"Watch out for these two! A disastrous inferno" - quote by poet.
Talk about the definition of trouble!
Two people tainted with potent toxicity.
As if either of the two isn't bad enough.
Such up-to-no-good partners in crime
Walking down a crooked primrose path.
Keep a sizeable distance from them!
They're a fire and gasoline twosome;
An oil and water combination, no doubt.
Think of a Bonnie and Clyde dynamic.
Think a film noir femme-fatale...
And a malleable, meek private eye.
Oh, the twisted mind games they play;
It's a constant game of one-upmanship
And manipulation against one another.
Did I mention they rob and kill, too?
I love the smell of gasoline,
my senses set off with a match;
Instability ends in explosion,
the aroma lingers all over you;
My senses set off with a match
Revving up my engine hard
the aroma lingers all of you;
Scrubbed you inhale your hands;
Revving up my engine hard;
Instability ends in explosion,
scrubbed you inhale your hands;
I love the smell of gasoline.
The scene gets uglier each and every day.
Just pull up to the pumps at any gas station.
Have you recently seen the prices of gasoline?
Higher and higher, they continually go.
It costs a small fortune to fill up the tank.
Does anybody know the reason for this?
Do the oil companies care that this stifles the economy?
Most of us are too dependent on our autos.
Most of us are individuals who like to drive alone.
Many people don’t like public transportation commuting.
Demographically, we have moved away from the cities.
These factors contribute to our dependence on gasoline.
It's black and muggy....
a little bit of black ice
to burn my tongue
A hint of lemon
for that sour, exotic flavor
I sip and swallow
cough and puke..
A glass in one hand, a box of matches in the other
a flame, a warm feeling in my throat
and an unquenchable thirst...
You want gasoline?
You will pay a higher price
When you reach the pump.
Sellers just don’t care
They’re out to get your money
And they want it all.
Will it ever end?
It does not look like it will
Greed is what they have.
They know you need gas
The car won’t run on water
Just what will you do?
Truth has been backwashed with an elongated shadow.
They've made corruption just a bit more palatable.
Polluting the masses with exaggeration and lies.
Maintaining power, they have a great lust to divide.
We were great when battling against rabid tyranny.
Now we goose-step to war for the comfort of oligarchs.
Our children are sacrificed for the greed of oily kings.
We, the sheep, are led to high cliffs by false prophets.
They say it takes a village to raise our children,
But the village is brimming with idiots and sinfulness.
Our courts are stacked with jesters who turn a blind eye.
The masses are slowly losing their God-given rights.
I don't see another Gandhi or King on the horizon.
I'm not holding my breath for our slothful messiah.
My faith has been tainted by deception over time.
It's time to marry gasoline to forgiveness and ignite.
It isn’t my hand that runs down the pews.
It is the boys with emptied hearts
The girls with arms full and rocking
The treatable gone.
Plastic jugs are more dangerous than they seem.
Knives don’t carve secrets like kerosene does.
Pitchers with pungent swirls jostle as I walk.
They have never before felt a holier water.
Down the aisle to my fate as many did before me.
The Blessed Virgin lies not within the marble form above me
Christ did not die on the wooden wall hangings
And the gold adornments had God melted out of them long ago.
This is not a holy place, but a husk.
The lessons drench the priests’ robes.
What nests here cannot be allowed to breed another season
To gorge themselves on tinkling laughter
Have your god strike me down. I hold the noose and will cinch it as I go.
My God makes matches.
I need only swipe them across a stone.