Long Driverless Poems

Long Driverless Poems. Below are the most popular long Driverless by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Driverless poems by poem length and keyword.


The 21st Century

This new age technology
Have me confuse I must confess
Cause while I spending more money
Everything else is getting less

I will give you some example
Hope you don’t get depress
But if I’m telling the truth 
Just answer and tell me yes

Our telephones now
Are all wire wireless
And them new stoves
 Now are completely fireless

A woman in Trinidad washing cloths
On the tree she throws her dress
I ask her why not use a line
She say she going wireless

Google making new cars now
That is driverless
And you just press a button to start
Its is also keyless

They even changing fast food also
To make them completely fatless
So you can eat all you want
While your wallet become cashless

A woman in Malaysia
Have to children who are jobless
And she quarrelling with her husband
Because them wives today are fearless

So while the cost of living rising
Our value become less
The world is in recession
Those leaders are directionless

Today you see young couples
Some of them cheat so heartless
Because to them relationships
Are completely meaningless

Some today have bad attitudes
And live life so careless
And when you tell them good morning
They say mind your own business

 My friend the romantic dude 
With then women he has success
But if he don’t marry one
Then he will be living wifeless

The fees in universities are expensive
While education are become valueless
And everywhere in the world today
You will meet people who are manner less

A man buys his wife a perfume
They call it timeless
Then he trying to lose some weight
so he drink is completely  sugarless

My girlfriend gives me lunch in a bowl
It was completely soup less
Them ask me if my belly full
Saying today we going foodless

So I tell her yes darling
It was so delicious
Because if I hurt her feeling
She might leave me loveless

Yes the 21 st century
Has everything is getting less
But still am and optimist
And will keep my hope endless


Premium Member Science Fiction

What hypothesis led us to ever believe in evolution? If humans evolved from a lower form, why did we stop? Is there a process that will propel us 
to our destiny, or have we reached it already? Is it really science, or does it better qualify as fiction? I'm trying very hard with this topic but seem to be moving in slow motion. There are things going on in our world that my father would not have imagined. He did not believe in evolution, but perhaps he could have imagined a driverless car. I think if he had a glimpse of artificial intelligence, he would still have preferred his own. Honestly, outside of my Biblical World View, I am one lost turkey. Anyway, I'm not a scientist and might be merely of average intelligence. I'm not a scientist, but I understand gravity, motion, space, and time.  If I jump off a building and fall straight down, that is not fiction but fact. If Superman(fiction) doesn't come to my rescue, I'll become 'one-with-the-pavement'(fact). After landing, if I'm not dead or experiencing broken body parts, believe me, that is pure fiction. If I step from a fast moving vehicle and keep in step as before, that's fiction, not fact. Not to worry, I'm not and niether should you try that stunt at home or anywhere else. What may be science fiction today, given process and time, might be true science tomorrow. If for no other reason,  science, as I see it, makes sense to me because it demands an origin, a process, and a destiny.   Sometimes, I understand fiction, especially when it is defined and presented as such.  But unlike science, fiction, as I see it,  has no absolutes and demands nothing.  Any way and on the contrary, my Biblical World View has both absolutes and clear cut demands, and it seems to be binding  me like glue.  Therefore, I'm sticking to it. 03092018 FB PS Contest, Science Fiction, Deborah Beachboard

The Aimless Wanderer

The lights of the city reflecting from the aqueous pitch, pavements in a kaleidoscope of colours create a melancholy ambience for the few who venture within. The city is transformed as the animated bustle of people, seemingly with purpose, abandon the streets to their suburban abodes, leaving a nugatory melting pot of the "Ill at ease" to pursue or solicit rudimentary shelter to respite their weary frames.

The man is homeless.......

To the city streets he is confined, incarcerated by their invisible partition that circumscribe his ability to breach the tenticaled alleys and lanes. For buzzing in his mind, "I'm not aloud" echoes through his sub conscience cerebrations. Involuntarily his legs move his ageless body, one foot in front of the other in timeless motion like a driverless carriage aimlessly meandering through the city thoroughfares.

He sits to repose on a lichen encrusted slab that has entreated a myriad of his ilk for generations past and assuredly for many more to traverse. For the briefest moment the fog that clouds his mind is pushed aside by a gentle puff of memory as he is transported to a place where children's laughter fills the room and a woman sitting at a dining table, her auburn hair comfortably resting on her slender shoulders as she gazes admiringly at... Then thunderclouds rush over him like a tidal wave to the sound of, "Move you filthy wino", he scurries off as the fog settles back into its occupation.

Lost within the multitude of human quiddity, like the leaves of a plane tree aquiescing to the winds dominating gusts. He is swept along the tide of life, existing but never living, obedient to every buckle and wrench, never adapting to the changing seasons, accepting feeling of cold and heat with equal passiveness. The drum of life ever beating, yet his march is incessantly out of step.

Boyhood Bureau -

written a long time ago

Aghast
Sans shutting the dresser fast
Lest drawing to cloths to the past.

Akin to dredging up sedimentary muck
That metaphors me whence getting stuck
During adolescence – which lasted decades 
each 'n to barreling driverless 

   heading toward 
   a garbage disposal dump peed truck
   when me entire being felt utter yuck

Holograms of former life inhabit 
 childhood each dresser drawer
Which furniture about five feet from top to floor
Encapsulates invisible fractals 
   of me and contrived lore

Iron nick lee, the latter increases 
   as sands of time increase more
Find mine gaze drawn to hash marks 
   (from Matthews’) fingers did score

Within the veneer epitomizing strife that tore
And rent psyche asunder 
   exemplifying unseen civil war

That raged within façade of placidity
Hosting mailer daemons in this yahoo – 
   nobody could see
Re:

Clawing to cleave copper handles of me
Synonymous with malevolent genie
Hell bent of wreaking havoc 

   and thus clamored to break free
From shuttered jumbled wardrobe 
   stale garments some mold e
bereft of taking a tumble 

   in washer and dryer to air
Perspiration from boyhood pores, 
   with a skinny body when bare
As would be immediately clear
By many I did fear

Whose gaze akin to a scorching glare
Exhuming a suffer 'n soul silent leer, 
   especially when viewer near
Gaze glued at tchotchkes 

   like skeletal frame, with palm sized rear
Analogous to that boudoir – over there
Where housed baggy garments,
 
   yes even under wear
Ill fitting hardly worn hand me downs 
   a haunting clasp from yesteryear!
Form: Elegy

Premium Member Brave New World of Cars

Automotive experts clearly agree
Driverless cars are the thing for you and me

How did they arrive at this brilliant conclusion?
Perhaps by illusion or via delusion
Perhaps by a bit of Malthusian confusion
  --All I know is it leaves me in deep disillusion

Yo, Honda Corp, Mr. Yamada, did you ask me about it?
Yo, Nissan Corp, Mr. Saikawa, do you think that I tout it?
Yo, Toyota Corp, Mr. Toyoda, can't we live without it?
Yo, Subaru Corp, Mr. Nakamura, why don't you doubt it?

The 'cool corporations' want driverless tech
Not one of them is willing to stick out his neck
Yelling like heck:
  "I want my independence
   I want my freedom
   Whatever sights can be seen
   I want to see'm!"--
Not sit in the backseat fiddling with a device
While the bot in the driver's seat ignores his advice

America's highways and byways, her mountains and valleys
Lo, her fields and her meadows, her side streets and alleys
Were meant to be driven, meant to be seen
  --Not merely imaged on a tiny phone screen 

"See the USA in your Chevrolet
America's the greatest land of all"           (Dinah Shore, TV ad, 1950's-60's)
Keep humans in the driver's seat
Spring, Summer and Fall
  --Don't slow this country's love affair with the auto to a crawl. 

So, all you pundits of prescience, prediction, precision
You fearless-faced forecasters of science-less fiction
Before you commit me and my friends
To a future none of us desires
  ~ Think twice: Cars may just lose all their buyers
Form: Rhyme


Futurescape

Steam rises up from sidewalk grates
The sounds of the city is dense and cacophonous these days
As dark and shadows all that's seen
As the light has given way
And nature has just turned to dust
Made way for brick, glass and neon lust
Wall to wall media and advertising
Government messages prioritising
How people should live life
Driverless cars stacked end to end
And new age miniature space ships cruise in flight
Around these congested city streets
As the acid rain pours down on the people beneath
Scurrying around speaking a multitude of languages
This is the result of technology
When it's pushed without thought in the name of greed
Half of society now robotic
But people forgot even tech can be satanic
Like the old satanic mills of long ago past
That holds the death and oppression
The awakened know
Will we ever be able to regain the light?
Will we ever be able to put this right
Very little food and conspiracy theories akin too Soylent Green
This world's not big enough for you and me
The human population has spread like a cancerous disease
A virus eating it's host ravenously
Is this a future that we want to see
And technological nightmare
And stuff of bad dreams
Illuminated by a neon light scene.
Form: Epic

Q

She sits in her old four door car
Jittery as a stick shift
All day every day

An old fashion woman
Smoking a pack of Camels
With all the windows rolled up

Goldfish
Staring out
Blowing bubbles in her dirty bowl
To the trolling park people

Who step from their slick driverless SUVs
Into the woods
With their dogs properly leashed

If only they knew
The poetry she was writing
Rhymes flicked away
To her spy ashtray

Who are they
Anyway?
No better than her

As she
Hides
From her lost job gonner kids and Fentanyl bibs

Q will show her the way
She ain’t so alone
With her hours of boredom
And Trump Putin and Xi
Khamenei
Saved like treasure
In her crumpled hands

She’s noting the march of our deaths
Every day
Out here in the open

Not the other way around
As I had intended for this poem

There’ll be a time
Soon
When she unleashes her door
And gets out

Breathes the same air

Armed by the unholy words
Take back what is yours.

Musk is a Farley's Rusk

Demagogue not pedagogue

Aghast & agog

Perfidious insidious fog

Reeks of the past

Slog through the smog

Musk seeks to flog

Earth & its serfs

Downed & drowned

In his dystopian bog

Even starry nights

Elon’s neon satellites

Seedier media perch

Utter nutter besmirch

Thriving in the gutter

Conniving depriving church

Vex "X" & Tech T-Rex hex

Or next bogus Rogan

Bogan slogans prevails

Alpha male tales derails

Sod the planet’s scars

Cruise trips to Mars

Odd bod driverless cars

Spawn a fake Tarantino 

Remake.."Musk till Dawn"

Devil may care lair..

Loads of lies..skies chock a block 

With spies...all eyes on the prize

Everyone Everything Everywhere dies

Let's not parley with gnarly snarly

Musk...takes the mickey & the bicky

In the dock for running amok

Time guys he did finally own up

To being as grown up..

As a Farley’s Rusk (a British biscuit/bicky for a wee kiddy)
Form: Rhyme

No One Behind the Wheel

Curse inscrutable highways for their immortality, 
behind limps the past of desolate reality; 
perceived with a hindsight too late for us all, 
ahead only graveyards, shadowed by nightfall. 
Bug burst emotions, martyred on the screen, 
their blood wiped away as if it had never been, 
dust devils with sermons to howl at the land, 
spew gravel and guilt at the hopeless and damned. 
And I drive like a madman and feel snapping bone 
fragment in my ribcage yet never atone 
for the sins I laid on you, the veins that I bled 
hating fate and myself with my heart all but dead. 
Out of control speeds this driverless shell 
with promises broken and dreams shot to Hell, 
an ocean of tears will not say how I feel 
heading nowhere with no one behind the wheel. 
My poor love yet combusts with a gasoline purge, 
undying yet drove with a tortuous surge 
for the pain and remorse and the loss I now feel, 
heading nowhere with no one behind the wheel.
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.
Form:

Workless Future

Workless Future 

We are fast approaching the time when robots 
can do 98% of the work, the middle classes will disappear
altogether; and here is where a universal pay will
kick in someone has to buy what robots make.
But if you think you will get a pay packet every month
you are mistaking it will be in the form of stamps you
can use to buy foodstuff and the more expensive things you
buy, the more stamps are used.
There will be two types of stamps. Blue and yellow the last
for entertainment such as going to a restaurant, if you 
use all the yellow ones it is possible to bribe the waiter
to accept the blue ones.
Driverless cars are for monthly rental; you can also save
on stamps and buy one that way.
There will be no election as there are no parties
to elect and the authorities will be a remote entity that
cannot be reached: I wish you well in a life of no work,
except if you are a chef, robots only makes bland food.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

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