Best Maserati Poems
You may find this hard to believe
But I just saw a monkey
Drive by me doing eighty
In a Maserati
Eating rainbow ice cream
In a cone from Dairy Queen
I don't mean to sound mean
But should a monkey be eating ice cream
Just then I saw a cat
Right before he went splat
Jaywalking will often do that
And that my friend is straight up fact
The monkey swerved to avoid him
That's when he lost control and
Into a brick wall he slammed
As the ice cream went a flying
Since a cat has nine lives
He came to quite surprised
As Keith Richards does most nights
The ice cream landed just right
The monkey's now in heaven
The cat is ice cream licking
The Maserati is a has been
So I guess this must be the end
The sixth of July, the postman passed by
The stork brought little old me
Come rain or come shine I’d want to know ‘why?’
And wrote my name when I was three
I’d read and I’d write whatever the weather
But now I can’t string words together
And as such...
I don’t want a massive party
I don’t want a Maserati
Or birthday cards crammed in a sack
Nor a gizmo that makes coffee
Or a box of Devon toffee
I only wanna get my muse back
Don’t want no Hi Karate
Or a date with someone tarty
(Although she might invigorate my rhyme)
Don’t want no garage racking
Or a gift in birthday wrapping
Or special treats in some exotic clime
I need to scribble something
But I’m sat here like a dumb thing
This birthday boy’s brain is aslumber
Why not, someone says
Recount your birthdays
But I can’t remember the number
So...
Happy birthday to me
Now THAT’S irony
If it’s laughter that you’re after
Today, that’s not me
Unless...
This birthday cake that I have made
Turned out to be a bit flambéed
It just couldn't handle
This year’s extra candle
So here comes the fire brigade
I came home the other day and my Ole lady wuz like..I thought you was getting ah maserati,i'm not riding in that. I replied, I went to my buddy's carlot and he said he don't get those maserati cars too often..anyways my mechanic of some 30 years said he ain't too sure he knows how to work on a maserati car with that Ferrari engine in it.so my Ole lady mouth all stuck out still huffin and puffin she say you had me all ah glow-cruise to my friends and show-off that is,we may as well drive to the local farm and pick up some ducks in this Ole pick up truck.I
replied back in the day this ride would have been okay..come now let's not fight you know whut my credit is like don't worry honey sooner or later and down the road and not too far umma go to my buddy's carlot and git that maserati car.
Did Have In A Dream
Just woke up and this was in a
dream that I just had having
Oprah Winfrey in it.
Are always places where we should begin,
Or we want to repeat and start over again;
Son would sing,
Most anything;
Meet Oprah Winfrey some place or when.
Oprah had come a visit with us all to pay,
But while she would be driving this way;
Off road was run,
One day in sun,
And her Maserati she did swing and sway.
Oprah, never did get to meet her or see,
And all the rest of this is complete history;
So it would seem;
Did appear in dream;
She was never meant to be seen by me.
Jim Horn
Will have to put this on Oprah Winfrey
website. Any suggestions at to how I
should do this?
I owned a Hardware Store and a bar
at night that I ran. One of my sons
(Jamie) had gone fishing in the
Stillaguamish River south of Bellingham,
Washington. He drowned in it on the
morning of August 27th, 2005. This was
on our 39th Wedding Anniversary. My
son Shawn wanted to be a singer. This
is how my dream started.
Powerful tyrannic regimes, lovely sky, thunder
Eating doritos, ignoring culture
I'iz fat, I'iz lazy
Yet I previal, for power, wealth and fame.
I grow like a sunflower, flying through a Maserati.
Parked $20,000 luxury, beat'nic
$150k salary, a traditional rampage
What'O I say, it is funny, I can envision but breath like a pro.
Jump-shoot, aye, to my basket for basketball
I am evident to live with ...
Jump start skid, it is a lactose and tolarant premis
“I got this car, on my birthday,
What did you get?” Said the shade gray.
“Nothing too specific,” was my reply
Compared to the red Maserati with that guy
And this gave him another chance to sneer
Car keys in one hand, another had a beer.
He just needs a chance
To brag and feel proud
About things he didn’t buy
That is clear and loud.
“Can I touch it,” I heard a friend pray.
“But if something happens, you will have to pay.”
Burning in my belly was a fire red hot
When test seasons began, everything he forgot.
I want to seek a chance to show him that he is vain,
His car, his money, throw them all in drain.
Calling others names,
Your parents allowed
You are poor at other games
That is clear and loud.
Filled with self-importance, he is selfish and mean
Lies and frames others, insecurity is in his gene.
Stating like a chatterbox, cloaked in foolish gown,
Never does he succeed, put pulls others down
The car’s red will fade and so will his chauvinism
The truth will soon splash about his materialistic romanticism
So let me give you quid pro quo
Wrapping your hypocrisy in shroud
Your self-occupation will soon go
That is clear and loud.
You may think you are rich, but you are poorest at heart
The bird won’t see what it is shitting on, be it car or cart,
This money, this attitude and cheapness go hand-in-glove
What will be left out is what you earned with love
You may hide your weakness in the cloak of show off
When you will stand on your feet, nothing will be left off
You will realize all of it
When you will stand alone in the crowd
The cloth will be too large to knit
That is clear and loud.
When you’ve found the right car, you know it.
You know it’s the right one,
Because you didn’t buy it for the brand,
Color,
Style.
You didn’t buy the Red Maserati just because it’s a Red Maserati,
You bought the Red Maserati because it fits your needs,
Nice horsepower,
Good gas mileage,
Lastly,
It’s a red Maserati,
It’s for you.
When you’ve found the right girl,
You know it.
You know she’s the one,
Because you didn’t want her for her looks,
Figure,
Money.
You didn’t marry the hot blonde because she’s a hot blonde,
You married her because you love her,
Can trust her,
She’s smart,
Hard working,
Lastly,
She’s a hot blonde,
She’s for you.
The Gardener
She’s twenty-three and he’s eighty-six
He walks with a Zimmer, she watches Netflix
He has a mansion and a Maserati car
She has her diamonds and uplifting bra
They have a gardener, Chatterley like
He calls her miss, she calls him Mike
The Zimmer frame plods, slow to react
The house has a mystery, lover’s pact.
She shops online for all she desires
Mike cuts the wood, mends fences, builds fires
The Zimmer makes its way until out of sight
She fills up with chocolate, champagne and sprite
Mike is now naked stripped to the bone
The Zimmer appears a long way from home
The Gardener obliges and helps him undress
Kissing together out of sight of the press
She buys designer clothes, Armani, Dior
He is quite happy when she asks for more
The paperazzi claim, she’s dug up her gold!
Zimmer loves the gardener his story’s untold.
David Cox 17/06/20
A narwhal frolicked in the Oval Office
and stirred the status quo
They tried to remove his potent tusk
but they wound up eating crow-
Much to their great dismay
babies were a little safer
the economy was aurora hot.
He thickened up the thin blue line
and wove a welcome mat for God-
He poked the giant panda in the snout
plugged a hole in our leaky bank account.
Come 2020-it'll be tough to ride a braying donkey...
when we've been purring along in a Maserati
Said the short man in the three inch lifts,
To the woman with the Botox lips,
“People today are all so phony
How can we know what’s not baloney?
How do we find out what is real?
And how do we know how we should feel?”
Said the woman with the tinted lenses,
To the short man honing his defenses,
“Can’t you just believe in what you see?
The sooner you do the happier you’ll be.
Why do we need to find out what is real,
When we are working so hard to conceal?”
There’s a part of me inside,
That I try my best to hide,
Living in a guarded place,
Tucked away without a single trace.
None may enter and none may see,
‘Cause if you did you might hurt me.
So I only show the parts I want,
To throw you off when you start to hunt.
Said the short man with the facial hair,
To the woman with the wide-eyed stare,
You’ve got a beautiful augmented body,
Can I drive you home in my Maserati?
Even if it’s only lust that we’ll incite,
We can fall in love at least for tonight.
Said the woman with the perfect nose,
To the short man, here’s what I propose,
Let’s drink and dance right here for a while,
Throw me a glance and I’ll give you a smile.
Let’s give it a chance and maybe who knows?
Let’s wait to see if anyone shows.
There’s a part of me inside,
That I try my best to hide,
Living in a guarded place,
Tucked away without a single trace.
None may enter and none may see,
‘Cause if you did you might hurt me.
So I only show the parts I want,
To throw you off when you start to hunt.
Maza-ratee! (Maserati)
The computer of choice.
A tele-byte of memory, plus,
a few extra sticks for looks.
You can see into the main frame,
from the side of the box,
clear… as crystal.
Heaven on the net…
I am coming.
I have all that I need,
to succeed.
Honey, it's almost Christmas
and you're such a slacker
do I have to call Nicky
to give me an answer.
The elves are so antsy
to hear the bells ring.
Honey, it's only money
did You buy Me some Bling?
So, a nice Rolex
Diamonds and platinum.
You know I like ice
To keep me in fashion.
OOh, a Spotted Wombat
cute furry little thing.
I could fit it in my mink
When we hear the elves sing.
Maybe a Maserati
shade passion punch.
I could drive it to Shasha's
for breakfast or brunch...
Inspired by Eartha Kitt
Santa Baby.
The body is a biological car,
maybe you inherited
a Rolls Royce, a Lamborghini,
a Maserati, most probably you got a Prius
or a work-truck.
Sooner or later,
whether a Bentley or a model T Ford
all vehicles end up the same.
In the end you will be driving a clunker.
Engines go phut, and
that old engine cannot be un-phut-ted.
The engine is not alive without you.
For the never-living there is only the scrap-yard.
Only what lives can never die.
Herein lies the only spiritual lesson
you need ever take to heart,
but then you must ask
what lives?
I make a perfect dry martini,
I read and write and speak Français,
All my suits, and shirts, and shoes are custom-made.
I own a Porsche and Maserati,
A house on Acapulco Bay
With scores of floors of marble tile that's all inlaid.
I have a staff to fetch and carry,
My every wish is their command,
If I drop things, I just leave them where they lay.
All I need do is snap my fingers,
Someone's always close at hand,
And they look after Señor Jim in every way.
I host the most elaborate soirées,
They're in society's upper niche,
On my birthday and, of course, on New Year's Eve,
Where the hoi polloi and high-born
Mingle with the nouveau riche,
And they're all the better for it when they leave.
This all may seem a bit pretentious,
And I don't mean to self-inflate,
For wealth and fame, of course, do not equate with happiness,
But in my dreams my alter ego
Will oftentimes exaggerate
And make seem real what, to be sure, is pure "b..s".
I'll miss you Melissa my lovely
Melissa I'll miss you my dear
You're so very special Melissa
There's very few others come near
You've always been there when I need you
You'd put a big smile on my face
With your elegant form and your figure
Your style, deportment and grace
Your voice is like music Melissa
Just to hear it is heavenly bliss
It's breaking my heart that your going
So I'll just give you one final kiss
Dear Mel you're a fine Maserati
And I'm sorry how this story ends
But I'm trading you in in the morning
And buying a Mercedes Benz