Long Trucking Poems
Long Trucking Poems. Below are the most popular long Trucking by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Trucking poems by poem length and keyword.
There's a long road ahead
Best be gettin' on when you can
The day's light won't last forever
And you'll never be the same again
There is wit and wisdom found
Even on gas station bathroom stalls
And idiocy in the walls of Congress
But the truth will resonate in your soul
No matter how long or arduous
You best keep trucking in the face of adversity
Because your momma gave you the keys to success
And your daddy gave you the vehicle to take you there
Nothing in life comes easy
And it might seem like everyone is out to get you
But true friends are never far
To light the way in the darkest hours
Believe in yourself
And don't forget where you came from
Chasing down them dreams
Lest you cast a suffocating shadow
Before long the rigors will make you stronger
And the challenges will make you wiser
And that young boy will blossom into a man
With righteous fire in his heart
You're a 28 year old kid
But this world is yours for the taking
Don't think of lost time
Because today is the present
There's a long road ahead
But one day it's going to end
Life's light won't last forever
So make the most of it
Just Now, I Started To Feel...
All Stopped Up With Writer's Block
Thus lack any idea about
what to type out until aye
reach the end, and
even then cannot
make any promises (promises -
this aint no typo typo),
to meet (even ill)
equipped outback
with or without an alley bye,
which dismal situation unlike earlier,
when fount of literary creativity
unstoppably gushed profusely
lichen wherein rub
barb plants for rain dee cry
hence, just imagine situation
(**** guss) to
being constipated, and dry
miss daisy crazy regarding
(collective soul sigh'n noses)
begs for antihistamine,
asper nostrils to get dry
from congestion - so envision
both symptoms (for real)
affected this guy
bodily woes simultaneously,
while conservative flash mobs
sprout like pollen haters
trample grass roots
activists chanting jai
guru dev donned as barenaked,
foo fighting, nirvana
seekers no lie
trucking with pearl jam
hued open skyz
passing one black crow
did house after another
jet ting via reo speedwagon
greeting village people
mix ultra liberal protesters,
who peaceably demonstrate my
self included holding recycled
placards, sans
targeting well nigh
Republicans Putin on the Ritz
must be ousted,
cuz them that har pry
ha merrily bilking work
a day citizens seated
on their tushy in expelling qui
yet deadly flatulence athwart
cushy congressional seats
to ease government lackeys,
who trumpet "FAKE" news.
We went to Florida, as Al's friend was living in Florida, and he asked us to come down
there. We packed up and moved down there. When we arrived there; Al got a job
with his friend working for a trucking company. His friend told his boss that I cussed
right in front of him, to upset my husband, Al.
We were at his friend's house and his friend told my husband to make him at me so
that he leave me there at his house. He already had sex with his wife but Al didn't
leave me there; so his friend could also have sex with me. Al didn't listen and wanted
to take me home.
On our way home, he started calling me bad names. I raised my hand, to stop him
from calling me bad names. He stopped the car and started beating with his fists
on the floor boards of the car. When we arrived home, he made me stay inside the
car and sent the babysitter home.
He yanked me out of the car and threw me into the bathtub.
03/13/24
Our tribute to the eighteen year old boys who were sent to Viet Nam
Was to be chill, chillin, and chillax’in as a tribute to those soon gone.
We were groov’n, and groovy, beatnik style, but we called ourselves hippie.
We were funky, groovy, and pretty nifty, copacetic, stoked, and thrifty.
Wearing our hip hugger bellbottoms, our flowered shirts and necklaces too.
Traveled the country in VWs, singing folk songs with a home fry or two.
The true hippies ran to Berkley when they left their parents’ crib.
Lucky to find shagged carpeting, pet rocks. Stoked with each other, glib.
Seventies amazing, pretty out-of-sight, our threads lasted night after night.
Fab time for us whether we were dorks, dudes, foxy mamas, putzes so bright.
Getting the low down was a bummer, but flower power was alive all summer.
Did not feel the need to rip anyone off, shared love with each newcomer.
Learned some stuff about ourselves in these days of lava lamp and Woodstock.
We could give each other skin, and keep on trucking, sharing a bong or a rock.
When boys returned from Viet Nam I am not sure they spoke the same way.
Many of the survivors put soldiers down which was an ignorant, mean play.
I'm over fifty and picking up speed
And I'm not talking about my car.
Oh, I'm doing alright, I'm walking a lot
But not nearly quite as far
It's just that this road I'm taking
Seems to be going down hill
But I'm doing ok, I'm doing just fine
As long as I take my pill
Yes, my blood pressure's up
My belly's falling down
And I don't see as well as I did
But, that's ok - that's alright
After all, I'm no longer exactly a kid
I look around at all my friends
And wonder if they've ever been told
"You look ok," "You look just fine"
"But gee, you look a little bit old"
Yes, I'm over fifty and picking up speed
But I'm still trucking along
I'm doing ok, I'm doing just fine
I'm still going plenty strong
The Obiden Administration is the yeast infection of society.
The improv of impropriety.
The B squad strip club-bullet scarred-in line item
veto
of buffet line, Golden Corral of Megiddo of Communism in the sub zero Winter of our discontent manifest manifesto, with supply lines severed and trucking lines red line crossed white line fevered,
picking up hitch-hikers instead of towing the bill
of more spam, poltical theater,
this time at the border,
Jihad ampetheater.
Where's the oil drilling, refineries, manufacturing (besides lies)
where is the poor and middle class relief?
Where's the Beef!?
Our former lives.
Well its been burned in processing plant fires,
alot of them.
Got Milk?
Got your vaccine?
Get moving this line isn't for gasoline.
Its for booster shots, the other two for media education and guillotines.(I will add this here, so there isn't 1666 characters in the box) now, 1591,
...there, oops it went down again
~Anastastia O....
Verse:
Calamity, atrocity...
Lord, if you please,
we need a little help.
Monstrosity, ferocity...
Here on our knees,
we pray for your strong Hand
To ease this pain, bring on the rain;
wash clean the scenes
of violence and abuse.
Nightmares and flares of hatred,
war and trafficking,
these days, are too profuse.
Chorus:
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free
from the wickedness that strangles,
the temptations that it dangles;
this world's knotted up in tangles.
Set us free.
Verse:
We know you care; Your love for us
beyond compare;
we doubt You want our fall.
We've come so far, so many scars
show who You are;
please, harken to our call.
Humanity can do so much,
but so much still seems
way beyond our reach.
We've gotten ourselves in this mess,
we do confess;
Your help we now beseech.
Chorus:
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free
from the wickedness that strangles,
the temptations that it dangles;
this world's knotted up in tangles.
Set us free.
Verse:
I've never really asked before,
but I implore You
please, don't look away.
Help pave the way for all astray,
those lost, uncertain, in decay
and those who really
could not love You more.
Please make anew, this world askew,
' least clean it of its vile, foul debris.
Help plant the seeds of dignity,
of righteousness and unity
with hope, joy, peace, and love
always in view.
Chorus:
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free
from the wickedness that strangles,
the temptations that it dangles;
this world's knotted up in tangles.
Set us free.
Set us free.
O Lord, we beg You, set us free.
Even though our struggle's real,
we can't deny Your presence here;
be ever with us, Lord, until
we are free.
Set us free.
O Lord, have mercy, hear our plea.
We won't give up, not giving in;
we'll keep on trucking to the end.
Oh, won't it be amazing when
each broken heart is on the mend,
and we are free?
~Jodie 2024
She was a less-than-truckload lady
Who’d signed a contract for the long haul
With the interstate driver she married.
But that trucker kept a bogus bill of lading
And a logbook full of lot lizard flings.
So now she’s rolling down the big slab
In her hubby’s bobtail bulldog,
His gooseneck flatbed stranded in the wings.
She’d just renewed her CDL for diesel;
Her unexpected dispatch wasn’t forced.
Her old man was a cracker-headed weasel.
She left him feeling semi divorced.
Semi divorced, like a rider unhorsed.
She took away his way to keep on trucking.
Semi divorced was the judgement, of course.
He fooled around with fire and got a f*cking.
What you say?
I say, he fooled around with fire and got a f*cking!
We hear dat.
They think I’m mean but I’m really just shy
They call me aloof when I’m afraid to say hi
They call me a b*tch cuz I’ll look you in the eye
They think I’m cold but haven’t seen the tears that I cried
They think I’m spoiled but I just hide behind my pride
They don’t see the nervous tension hidden in my stride
They want me to talk with my mouth open wide
But these fine ears have been fed too many lies
I’ve been misunderstood in so many ways
Might have something to do with how I was raised
Ive been yelled at and hit so I’m utterly unfazed
You call it self-deprecating, I call it self-praise
I grew up too fast, my childhood took a dive
I’ve been self-sufficient ever since I was five
The shell that protects me is why I survived
The dark broken pieces are what keeps me alive
My family and friends? Did they run and hide?
I’m the only damn person that stood by my side
And I’ll keep on trucking as a father-less bride
‘Misunderstood’ on my headstone whenever I die
RUN OVER
a child’s mind at play
with the words
“he was run over by a mack truck”
his books flew as he crossed the street
from the public school not far away -
a most busy street.
did i say there is a school there?
kids ne’er slow down -
they keep trucking along.
a huge tire track across a brown grocery bag
the cover of an english book.
a teenager on crutches (years later)
on crutches, on crutches...
how slow does a truck have to go to miss
a small child with books?
a child’s mind at play -
the words had nowhere to go.
i was still learning how to form sentences.
how to express awe and place interjections!
you cross our sleepy village,
near the firehouse,
(they don’t run over children)
and cross the busy busy street
to get to the school.
i rode a bus to Catholic school,
safe -
except for one crazy nun,
who’d run over some.
5/7/2019