Long years back writing just was a job,
To my boss— a bugbear, my pet lob,
It then turned to hobby—
To numb noise my Dolby,
My life’s passion by now consigned FOB
Of an unpaid cabby,
A do-not-so hubby,
A horse in harness, show-off doorknob.
_________________________________
FOB: Free on board as in shipments
Reflections |02.05.2023| humour
Categories:
cabby, humor, husband, journey, writing,
Form: Limerick
believe it's only make believe believing make believe only
it's only make believe.
it's only make bell eve!
it's only ma, cab? e'leave.
it! son; ly! make bell leave.
i! t's on lime, ache'belly eve?
it's only ma cable; eve?
it's on lee, make believe!
it's on!!! lee? make believe.
aye! t's only mack bell; eve?
aye! t'son lie ma; believe!
itch only- makebeli; eve?
itch on lime ache, be! leave!
itch on, lie, make believe.
aye, t'sun lie, make a'bell! eve?
it's only make cabby leave
it's only ma; cab? he leave
it's on; lie, make a belly eve!
it's only mack, believe
it s'only ma; ache n'believe.
hokeysmokeyrollyamacarolli
stan sand
Categories:
cabby, abortion, meaningful,
Form: Free verse
In-between the babel of a troubled soul
In abeyance, the thought of neglection arose
The blood boiled, the body cooked
The figure fell in flat command
The jurist justified themselves unjust
multitude babbled, the wise bundled
Oko-Oloko dun Pokete
Prita Iyalaaje, Aloo apaamo
The world, the storyteller
No baccalaureate for success
Potentials would have been seen
We fear no test or challenges
Drive not us like cabby
We own our world, we rule our world
in pain of the real, you laugh
Children will clap it in moonlight story
Our mouth will be open in laughter in your tears
The world will read the reality
Painting life like it has no remaining
Hope traded for bread, hunger present
Faith traded for cloth, nakedness covered
Sleeping-waking, friction projected
They laughed our wacky life.
Categories:
cabby, abuse, betrayal, conflict,
Form: Ode
Many a book comes
With collage on covers
Some become chums
A few of them lovers
When you have read
The poems and tales
The salty moon pales
There waits the cabby
We are in the look out
For new word and story
If you have your clout
You are in your glory
If this sounds airy-fairy
Eat drink and be merry
---------------------------
5/16/2015
Categories:
cabby, addiction, allegory, allusion, april,
Form: Verse
Sometimes music
takes you away
a few bars of Sebelius
cuts through the clutter of
school lunch preparation.
and I'm in the fiords
the soul home
I've never seen.
I know little of Finland
and first met Matti
at a meeting in Dallas
where he a two day visitor
argued with the cabby
over the best way downtown.
When we arrived,
he gave an excellent tour
of the corner
where JFK ended.
Later, another meeting.
this time in Wisconsin
as we shared our duty free.
he spoke of his son's summer job
folk dancing on a ferry
crossing the Gulf of Bothnia.
Running the next morning
in the cold spring air
I realized
the big flat winged raptor
high overhead
was an eagle.
Chatting with our four year-old
he explains
that although Godzilla
is a boy's name
she laid eggs
one remains
and do I know
what attack means?
Categories:
cabby, friendship, music, my child,
Form: Free verse
Stevie was a city boy,
He wore an old school tie,
His life was full of sex and booze
And other things you buy.
He occupied a penthouse
That overlooked the Thames
And plastered it with modern art
To overawe his friends.
But one night in a taxi home
When chatting to the cabby
The latter asked our hero
Whether he was really happy.
Now Stevie wasn't prone to
Letting others take the piss,
So he smashed the cabby's lights
And drove his car into a ditch.
But the violence didn't kill
The mem'ry of the thing he'd said;
"Are you really happy?" was
Still buzzing round his head.
So he popped along to Harley Street
With his philosophic woe,
Slipped a doctor fifty quid
And screamed 'I need to know!'
The doctor nodded kindly and
Reached under the desk,
From where he raised a felling axe
And chopped off Stevie's legs.
While tarring up the stumps the
Doctor said 'You might feel crappy,
But you'll have a clearer mind when
Someone asks you if you're happy.'
Categories:
cabby, life, satire,
Form: Rhyme
A bonneville mustang with
A dark purple hood
It’s distinct. The lighter
Purple shade of paint that
Covers the remainder of the
Car gleams in the sun. Inside the
Cabby are leather seats; real. Accompanying
That is the wooden dashboard with
A chrome trim. It even has dice in the mirror;
This is his pride and joy.
A stuffed rabbit in
A pink, flower patterned cover.
It’s once white fur now
Old, dusty and worn. One
Eye is missing; a stitching attempt
Failed; the little tuffs of cotton
Sticking out confirm it. But the
Hands that crafted such a horrid
Creature are long gone.
This is his pride and joy.
Categories:
cabby, childhood, confusion, lifepride,
Form: Free verse
A cabdriver's day can be
partly bad luck, partly glee;
just always be on your toes,
you won't get a bloody nose.
There, backseat lovers snuggle,
softly coo to each other;
next minute they just quarrel,
snarl, shriek and commit murder.
A celestial chick hops in,
stuns you cold with just a wink
and a magnum in your rib,
gets your cash, you fail to think.
A jealous hubby tells you
to zoom after a chopper
for his wife and her lover;
leaps out your door, game over.
Scared bank robbers kick you out
of your cab, your mouth they gag;
in panic they leave behind
oodles of dollars in a bag!
Categories:
cabby, funny
Form: Rhyme
TaXiCabby
As I was awaiting for the Bus Sun Tran,
I noticed the thing before I had planned
to etch this poem for all the land:
to read.
What happened then i can only inscribe;
a fantasy man,a thought not unkind,
but not planned, as ewe begin with this:
to read.
The Driver (The Cabby)
He pulled up in the lot.
His Pistol he held and he shot and he shot.
All of his bullets came every which way,
but not one of them found me
they all missed they mark.
I was open to wonder and time.
A fantasy fight is the thing that i had.
Not a reality thing but just fancy of flight.
What if they did that for real ewe may ask.
Then I would have cleaned my poor britches.
And not on the bus I would ride.
I would walk so much slowly
?until I could find.
Some new clean pants.
I wander and wonder.
A fantasy man.
The Cabby of Taxi.
He rides.
Categories:
cabby, imagination, parody, people, social,
Form: Free verse