Long Mechanic Poems
Long Mechanic Poems. Below are the most popular long Mechanic by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mechanic poems by poem length and keyword.
(Snaps fingers) Let's talk sonic alchemy, a cauldron bubblin' deep/
Rare groove rising, a phoenix from jazz vinyl's pyre/
Acid Jazz is born, setting the soul on fire/ in London's smoky clubs, back when the eighties roared/
A rare groove movement pulsed, a sound from nowhere that knows no bounds/
More like a fusion, a sonic, soulful thing/ Funk's greasy fingerprints, soul's sweet perfume, Hip-hop's swagger, and fusion funky-fresh, street hood blend/
breaking down old skool jazz/
60s Jazz got an electric shock, a story with DJs spinnin' without end/
Acid Jazz they called it, club jazz, groove so deep/ Psychedelic acid , with a Jimi Hendrix riff/
Man, think trumpets with a swagger, bass lines thumpin' thick and low/ A drummer hittin' harder than anyone you know/ samplin' Clyde Stubblefield drum playin' into four beats throbbin', layered tight, a tapestry of sound/ under a heavy sweety groove so damn tight/ the house club DJ scrachin and spinin' Mike Clark's breakthrough funk beat from Herbie Hancock's cut 'Actual Proof" into an Acid Jazz song that is killin and soul funk chillin’/
Vocals droppin' knowledge/ ladies and hipsters the acid groove is here/
From Western Europe rising/
to Japan's electric gleam?
Latin rhythms joining, a collaborative deep beat dream/
United Future Organization, a trio cool and sharp, Brooklyn Funk Essentials, makin’ sure the groove is a hip, tight, wicked mix, of spoken word off the radar chillin’ bland of nu funk horn street soul/
(Beatbox rhythm under the following lines) Club jazz, the Chambers Brothers “Time Has Come” psychedelic acid rock jazz at Its best/
Dig, you gotta let it go Bro/Acid Jazz and the word mechanic band, precise, and into the jazz flo/
Yo, jump out your set, hit the dance floor, you be burnin'' the joint down/
Smooth and cool with rare vinyl uptown charm/
the funk is heavy/ a vibe that chills and thrills/ Acid Jazz ain't just a sound/ man, it's the high life, still. (Snaps fingers again)
Written March 8, 2012
Death mixed with morning rain and darkness,
Icy patches hidden on the pavement
Lived comfortably on the outside
As I rode along in my car like the
Planchette of a Ouija board.
Unaware that the power(s) that be
Were battling against each other
To push my car on the board to
Spell out either life or death,
My morning thoughts
Were interrupted
By a 360 spin faster than
The distance between
Two thoughts...
Ending up muffler-first gagged on
A snowbank with nothing,
No one around for miles.
I gazed at the three-lane
Highway where LIFE
Was spelled out this time,
And realized that
DEATH may have been on the
Board thirty minutes later
During a busier time.
Thirty minutes later
Found me talking
To a mechanic
Instead of my family talking
About me in the past tense
And trying to communicate with
Me through the Ouija board.
Death inefficiently cheated
Marked off on My To Do list
For the day.
How many more times will
I be able to mark that off?
Dare I ask the Ouija board
Knowingly sitting in the corner
Of my closet?
Backyard Mechanic
by Bob Moore © 2019
I’m a guy of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s, a Ford man, or a Holden or two
we didn’t bother with garages, if the car broke, we knew what to do
We only needed a spanner, a shifter would fit all the nuts
another one for the sparkplugs, and enough room to get at the guts
Two screwdrivers, a straight and a phillips,
a hammer, in case things were stuck,
a few timely swear words to use on the way,
time to start now, so wish me good luck
We could fix the transmission, or gearbox, change the tail shaft
or even the diff, we didn’t care if the cars in the air,
we’d crawl under, without wondering “if”
Clean out the carby, so the float would now work,
change all the plugs and the points, check the alt, and the dizzy
the air cleaner too, then you can grease all the joints,
Blowing smoke, then change the head gasket,
a squeal in the brakes, check the shoes,
you can change the brake fluid, and hope that will do it,
glad we didn’t end up on the news
we knew that half of the things that we did
a real mechanic would not try to do,
they were smart and they said, those things would not work,
but not knowing, they worked fine for you
Those days are gone now forever, the cars talk with data and files
Just diagnostics, and computerised, and not a mechanic for miles
You put new parts in my car that didn't need to be replaced.
You claim to be a reputable mechanic but you're two-faced.
Because of you, people spend more money that they work hard to earn.
We need that money for food and bills, we're getting tired of being burned.
You know what you do isn't right.
How are you able to sleep at night?
You replaced my friend's driveshaft and I know it was something that his car didn't need.
You're laughing now but after I call the Better Business Bureau, you may not continue to succeed.
Your business practices are something that people truly detest.
I won't rest until you become reputable or are put out of business.
(This is a fictional poem but it's reality for many people.)
putrid rascal was a real truant
and also a junkie
and a somnambulist too
and wicked gourmet bought a new guillotine
then the rascal walked dizzily
like a mechanic dancer
around the cinnamon circle
right under the scythe
and underwent a severance
the staggering truth was quite vague
then a postwar prelude under the lurid sky
piccolo semitone
sacrament
orchids
silhouettes on a merry-go-round
the jetty broke up
and a castaway went away
right before dawning
beforethe stellar equinox
but journey was a humdrum
with nautical nausea
just a medley of flukes
so we hit the road
on the roof of a magic bus
not just figurative
really peculiar
and finally let behind
all the cold sensations
a marble queen visits
with a priest with no faith
and start gentle mutiny
the celestial journey
is over at ten p.m.
and all we got left
is a sobering lethargy
Whoops! Yours truly almost ditched the missus...
Who nearly knocked me upside noggin
property of self anointed Unitarian sheikh
yea... of course by accident,
nor lame excuse accepted
playing spontaneous hide-and-seek
game, and not exactly romantic technique
to allow, enable and provide sleek
move antithetical to marriage vows
but surefire guarantee
driving marriage to brink
immediately trending toward unique
modus operandi countdown seek
your ring bachelorhood
days numbering less than week
ushering hermit age regarding,
the creator and master of Mattspeak
understandable, she did shriek
feeling abandoned, ready to freak
out, she wearing easy to identify
floppy pink hat shielding incognito pique,
she gravely mistaken for banshee
series of unfortunate events not for meek
nor "Fake" feint of heart as blunderbuss
just amazingly graced
my smooth shaven cheek.
Predicament arose after I drove
2009 Hyundai Sonata wheel hove
(we love) to established local
CJ'S TIRE & AUTOMOTIVE SERVICES
8:00 A.M. today November 19th, 2019 at:
(1405 S Township Line Rd,
Royersford, PA 19468), formerly mangrove
bajillion years ago, thine spouse strove,
while awaiting emergency brake replacement
took short hike to purchase
supplies walking within distance to:
A.C. Moore Arts and Crafts
1824 E Ridge Pike Suite 102,
Royersford, PA 19468,
mine infinite wisdom
erred when I didst prove
thyself foolish heading by jove
to aforementioned store ex post facto
getting her name paged over intercom
only to loopback to
mechanic shop mentioned above,
upon returning to 2 Highland Manor Drive
she did Potchki while anchored, berthed,
hunkered within her cove
channel surfing for favorite program.
Once I had a little car,
I loved hr Oh so much;
But she was murdered by a man,
Who drove a big Dodge truck.
I looked around and finally found,
A car to take her place.
Who knew behind her pretty face,
The engine'd been laid waste.
She coughed and choked and gagged until,
She spit up chunks of carbon.
My husband bought her anyway.
He said that could be pardoned.
He said it was a minor thing.
He'd fix it right away.
It turned into a major bill,
That wouldn't go away.
It spent more time in the garage,
Than it di on the road,
And we were told to sell it soon,
For soon we'd need it towed.
Whoever'd worked under the hood,
For certain must be manic,
For from the looks of things in there,
He was no mechanic.
I felt so down, I'd spent so much,
This thing could not be worse.
I felt for sure that in this car,
I drove under some curse.
The ties broke as I drove it home.
I went right in the ditch.
I swear before we bought this car,
It was owned by a witch.
don't grab the steering wheel
while God is driving the car
just put your trust in Him
that you will travel very far
we have a tendency to pray on things
but of them we won't let go
we keep worrying about the problems
and won't let God run the show
instead of looking at the Lord
we keep looking at the load
we need to keep our eyes on God
and not on the road
so don't grab the steering wheel
while God is in the driver's seat
just be prepared to remain a passenger
until the journey is complete
there's no person too insignificant
and there's no problem that's too great
God's always on time, He's seldom early
but He never arrives late
so just sit back and enjoy the road trip
that is your life
and place all in the hands of your mechanic
Jesus the Christ
don't worry if you get a flat
Father God has a spare in the back
and don't worry if you run out of gas
the Holy Ghost has a full spiritual flask
and don't fret if you happen to a make a wrong turn
just consider it a lesson in life that you've learned
don't grab the steering wheel
while God is driving the SUV
just make sure you have on your seat belt
for the road of life tends to be bumpy
you won't need a navigational system nor a GPS
just trust in God to steer you safely through all of your mess
don't worry about the insurance
and you've already passed inspection
just don't try to be a back seat driver
and give God any directions
the road of life may twist and turn
down some valleys and over some dales
but as long as you stay prayerful
you might miss that exit going to hell
and if you get stuck in traffic
there's no need to feel overwhelmed
be anxious over nothing
remember God is at the helm
so hand over the keys to your life
and let God take the wheel
and believe He will guide you
towards those eternal Elysian Fields
so don't grab the steering wheel
while God is driving the van
as He'll get you to your final destination
according to His master plans
FRED
A hunter by the name of Fred Ryan
Was about to make a cub an orphan
But then his gun jamned
He said I'll be damned
The pride appeared, Fred clenched cheeks and he ran...
CLYDE
A sewer worker by the name of Clyde
Fell in a tank of raw sewage and died
Mourners brought lots of roses
Put clothes pegs on their noses
And the Vicar held the service outside...
THE SAINT
A young woman got drunk and felt faint
Was helped by an old man a true saint
He then showed due care
Helped her on a chair
Did not see the sign saying wet paint ...
SLOPPY WORKMANSHIP
Santa took in his sleigh for repair
Wanted more speed to get here and there
The mechanic was new
Forgot the magic screw
It broke down while flying through the air...
BAD SANTA
Christmas time is the season of great joys
Excitement for the little girls and boys
But there was tears and dismay
When they got up Christmas day
Santa so drunk he forgot to bring toys...
Written 12 December 2019.
Laughter floats
Playground voices;
Evening canopy
~~~~~~~~~
Brick laid walkway
Busy wayfarers;
Old man ponders
~~~~~~~~~
Sunset strip
Children at play;
Frolic greets fun
~~~~~~~~~
Humongous tree
People cluster;
Heritage spot
~~~~~~~~~
Antique shoppe
Ancient escapades;
Old proprietor stares
~~~~~~~~~
Old winding road
So many hotspots;
Happy hours lure
~~~~~~~~~
New lease
Old car charms;
Good to go
~~~~~~~~~
Mechanic laughs
Trouble-shoots faults;
Restores car health
~~~~~~~~~
Brisk salon tour
Charming hair styling;
White streaks highlight
~~~~~~~~~
Pain stabs
Broken heart bleeds;
Vitriol sorrow
~~~~~~~~~
Ancient rubber tree
Heritage monument;
Living story preserved
~~~~~~~~~
Crowded mall lift
People like sardines;
Lonely together
~~~~~~~~~
Overcast skyline
Rain on the verge;
Afternoon matinee
~~~~~~~~~
Lovebirds float
Old man watches;
Showtime walkway
~~~~~~~~~
Haiku moment:
Touch jazzy feel;
Somnolent drift
~~~~~~~~~
Why and How
Now and Here;
Spontaneous curl
~~~~~~~~~
Primal black beauty
Metallic contours;
Ergonomic mystique
~~~~~~~~~
Glimpses here
Thoughts untangled;
Adrenaline rush
~~~~~~~~~
Lines surge
Observe rules;
Cutting thought
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
17 March 2017
Singapore