Best Limos Poems
Another day
Another memory fades
Le jardin que toujours existe
Has disappeared, disparu
An army of 40,000 destroyed
All that my childhood held dear
They arrive in planes and limos
Coal fired three piece suits
They lectured the poor
They sold platitudes like souvenirs
They had Trudeau promise all and yet nothing at all
They had the press, polluting just as the rest
Paris 2015
The grandest of caviar conferences
Performing Eco terrorism in front of your very eyes
You all applaud when in fact you should all cry
They will tax you until you die
As you breathe the fumes of their failures
They are the magicians of false hope
Singing to the masses of global complacency
I will not dance or sing
This clown as left the ring
The carbon you all hate keeps seeping in
The cows and goats feel is no sin !
Las Vegas nights
Bright flashing lights
Guests arrive in droves
To visit gamble and let loose
Their private jets and stretch limos
Hollywood royalty on tour
Dressed for a neverending gala
The glamour and the pomp
Living it up at The Sahara
Exclusive parties in penthouse suites
Cocktail waitresses in skimpy outfits
Pouring lavish drinks as you desire
High on oxygen pumped through the air
A different era of glitz and glamour
Has less than everything really changed
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.2~ 2020
AP: 1st place 2020, Honorable Mention 2020
Out of touch in their Limos and jets
making promises not fulfilled yet
they can't hold a candle
to the pair who wore sandals
vote them all out of power? You bet!
Lear's & Lemo's
Written: By Tom Wright
1/4/99
With what we have
seems we're never content,
We reach for plastic
when our money is spent.
With more month than money
we'll figure the float,
Then like Investment Bankers
sit back and gloat.
We dream of a Lear Jet
or a chauffeured Lemo,
For we're tired of traveling
by truck to and fro.
While appearing content
we're reaching for more,
And what we can't spend
we'll invest or store.
We borrow from Peter
so we can pay old Paul,
Inwardly denying we're broke
just badly bent, that's all.
Money is at the root of all evil
I've heard it said true enough,
That must be why we hurry
to get rid of the stuff.
We return from the mall
with scrapes that bleed,
Packing all of our booty
most of which we don't need.
After an hour of unloading
with each thing in It's place,
It's painfully obvious
we need more cabinet space.
But we feel good for our part
toward combating inflation,
For while buying things on "sale"
we've helped save our nation.
But come the first of the month
we're paying bills again,
Then heading to the mall,
for to save would be sin.
So cut up your plastic,
and continue driving your truck,
Buy only what you need,
try saving that other buck.
While we dream of chauffeured Limos
and of Lear Jets to fly,
Truth is, we're extremely lucky
if ends meet and we get by.
An ardent longing for the finer things ...
Vodka from eggs - bedrooms with wings.
Bugatti's and coffees topped with gold,
Armani, Brioni, and true absinthe, old.
Bottega Veneta or a Lanvin wool coat,
Yachts that are really just mansions that float.
Valets and limos and luxe high-rise suites,
Beds dressed in D. Porthault Jours de Paris sheets.
Bluefin sashimi, Kopi Luwak,
Yubari Melon, and real Dark To'ak.
Matsutake Mushrooms, Wagyu Beef,
South Devon Crab with fresh saffron leaf.
Almas Caviar, Bonnotte Potatoes,
White Alba Truffles, Canarian Tomatoes.
Heligan Pineapple, Densuke Black
Watermelon, sweet. In pocket, a stack.
Milan designed leather shoes and gloves -
Oh, I'm cursed, eternal, with such lavish loves!
So what is the claim, if extravagance deems?
I hope for tomorrow, and believe in my dreams.
For naught yet compares to my imaginings' wealth,
All the money on earth can't buy my good health.
So I dream, but I'm happy with all I've been blessed,
And MAYBE, in time ... fate will see to the rest.
Mickey Mouse and Winnie the Pooh played ball
at the old schoolyard next to my friend’s house
after they were done only Pooh stood tall
we all looked at each other where’s the Mouse?
Pooh was sweating and panting out of breath
I handed Pooh a towel and he smiled
Pooh started crying about Mickey’s death
Mickey just vanish like a losing child
I never thought Mickey as a sore sport
out of nowhere two stretch limos appeared
Mickey called out lets go to the resort
after the Disney Buffet we all cheered
Walt Disney has brought happiness to all
our childhood memories will never fall
City Street Lights
Soft yellow eyes peek down cluttered alleys
sad candle like glow for dumpster diners.
Children hurry home at street light curfew
drawn to the aromatic kitchens glow.
Blue lights of limos cruise the downtown lanes
basking in the cold fluorescent neon,
glaring invitations to fine dining
precursor to the evenings rising tide.
Harbor ferries bob like Chinese lanterns
gentle beacons adrift on loving’s sea,
edged by arcing glow of throbbing city
ablaze against the crushing cone of night.
TARNDAI
John G. Lawless
Find the Puzzle – Poetry Contest
9/29/2014
My story is not one of overnight sensation
It isn't even one that would get a standing ovation
No crowd cheering for another encore
No limos or screaming fans outside the door
My story is not one of great success achieved
If I told you it was so you would truly be deceived
No mountains of cash storing up in the bank
Sometimes not even enough fuel in my gas tank
My story is truly one of faith and trust in God
This journey I travel to some may seem quite odd
But it is through my faith that I find strength on a daily bases
And am able to ignore the penetrating looks on people's faces
My story is trust that God is with me wherever I may go
And He tells me I'm special to Him and this I'll always know
Don't need to be a star on earth cause I am in His eyes
No need for ego boosters cause God keeps me on the rise
My story is simple and plane to be told
I'll always choose Jesus over silver and gold
I'd rather have something that's truly guaranteed
Instead of something achieved purely through greed
With tattered coat and mangled soul,
I sit.
On cold concrete, and shadowed streets,
my pit.
My soiled hands extended out, my voice
cries, "A dime?"
My wandering eye peers out to them
in time.
They rush, ignore, but know they see
the crumpled me.
The city blazing with noise and motion
and activity.
Steam from beneath billows through
the crowd.
Taxis, limos, trucks with their calls
so loud.
Can no one stop? Can no one see
the blessing?
They are so lucky. So ever free,
but missing?
Missing what's the point of our being.
Our existence.
Able to do, and live, and be
without resistance.
Able to send one simple act my way.
to fray...
One cost of one meal, one bill, one drink
today?
Ah, if only I could be so true as to
be you.
Would that I could show such a
kind act or two.
Or would I too walk on?
The world rushes by, my heart cries
my spirit blue.
For I hear it clearly...but wait...
...or is that you?
Home, James
By Elton Camp
The usual hallmark of the one percent
Is that by chauffeured limo they went
If Astor, Rockefeller or Vanderbilt
You knew they were loaded to the hilt
When they were ready to leave the scene
They loaded into a waiting limousine
“Home, James,” is what they would say
It must be such fun to get to do that way
Limos now are nicer with different name
But those who ride in the back are the same
They have more money than they can spend
And only to other millionaires are they friend
I just wonder how much income tax they pay
Or if they get out of most of it by some way
President Obama seems to think they do
And, as far as I can know, it might be true
Intelligence
Knowledge
Ivy League
State Educated
Working Class
Upper Class
Held in high regard
Or a lowly security guard
Single Parent
Family of 10
Reared in a Pen
Holidaying in the Hampton's
Penthouse suite on the corner of 5th and Central
Bus commute to work
Or Chauffeur driven limos
And Broadway shows
Or pint of beer and salt and vinegar crisps
Hand me downs and a handshake from dad for a birthday gift
Can't buy love
Can't put a monetary price upon it
Its priceless
Everything else is window dressing
There are as many if not more
Unhappy wealthy people than there are poor
At first we were creatures,
Now here we all are,
In this celestial lab,
Within a glass jar.
Pleading our innocence,
Underneath the scope,
Perched on our doorsteps.
Searching for hope.
Beneath the heavens,
Under the sheets,
Just a boy and a girl,
Two insignificant beasts.
Within this pre-loved world,
There's no-one else to blame,
As we destroy life each day,
Without any shame.
Carved by biblical floods,
Soil torn into slithers,
We turn water into sewage,
To pollute our rivers.
The fattening corporations,
Accept no hidden flaws,
They purchase stretch limos,
To fund on-going wars.
Why don't we ever stop?
Those production lines,
That cause corpses to rot,
Around billets of lead?
Upon cut rainforest trees,
We write slogans on paper,
Let us do what we please,
Save our world for later.
We hold firm our phones,
In case we capture that shot,
Of a jumbo jet falling,
Or that child time forgot.
So if everything fails,
What does it matter?
Memory cards will prevail,
Should the earth shatter.
I guess we'll become,
An archaeological find,
Funded by aliens,
At some distant time.
As our beacon of hope,
Continues through space,
Please return to lost earth,
We destroyed it through faith.
(c) 2016 PJ Bayliss
MARIINSKI THEATRE - SUMMER AFTERNOON
Crowds sweep past anonymous
Each a lost individual.
A Russian voice unsmiling -
The girl looks western with heavy mascara
Trying to ape a skinny euro-model.
Her man could have stepped from a tv show -
Russian face with blue jeans and MP3 in ear.
They are a lost nation.
The folk-tune accordion on the corner
Is drowned by decibels of ABBA
And ostentatious noise
From SUVs and stretch limos.
Cyrillic letters are swamped with latin alphabet
McGonalds is brighter and bigger than home cafes
Home signs are outshone by Cepsie Pola
The palaces are topped with neon not crosses.
Native culture has committed suicide
It has left home in search
Of an alien ideal
Note:
Mariinski Theatre was better known in the west for many years as the Kirov Theatre.
So, now you've got your flashy
SUV,
you zoom around the neighborhood
to see
how flattering all envious eyes
can be;
but then, nobody seems to ever
mind,
their jaguars, porsches, limos
make them blind,
not yet, you're still not one among
their kind;
you think you've made it big with one
freebee,
well, better luck next time, who knows,
maybe,
seems you're still way far behind them,
baby !
Climate Change Envoy
Haiku: Tom’s opinion
10/31/2021
Eighty five Limos;
reduced emissions meeting;
bunch of Hypocrites!