Short Nascar Poems

There once was a chap from Madagascar
Who was nuts about women and fast cars
   He left the island
   Invested in nylon
Now he's an executive at NASCAR...

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Around and around the track they go

And who will win, well you just don't know.

When they crash or spin out

That's what it's all about.

Without it , it's a pretty lame show.






for Royal Trevinos sports limerick contest...

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Sometimes she reminisce about suicidal accounts, As a result she didn't possess money in her account, Subconscious playing NASCAR because her Brain/Heart occasionally racing, Attempts regaining Love nonetheless she always end up chasing.
- Loverboi...

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What first comes in green, then turns yellow and then eventually turns rotten?
Take your pick. It's either bannanas or every politician.
Politicians should wear uniforms like NASCAR race drivers 
so that we the people can identify their corporate sponsors....

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~ NASCAR's Lowered the Confederate Flag ~


Until Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd's tragic deaths
Bubba Wallace was just a black NASCAR race-car driver

But watching their gruesome videos ignited a spark in him
  ~ Now Bubba's the driver of NASCAR's race change car...

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I miss his smile
His laugh
The traits that made hi
Leaving a lasting impression
His fresh mushrooms
His country home
The smell of the woods
As we cut firewood
The smell of beer
As he clicked one open
I miss our talks
Watching nascar '
But most of all
I miss him...

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He is a nascar legend,no one will forget his name.
He drove with an attitude on the track, racing was his game.
The intimidator is what they called him,his car was number three.
He won the hearts of many but now his soul is free.
His accident was such a terrible twist of fate.
But now he's up in heaven looking down on eighty-eight....

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a nascar napolean quick with 
    a word and slow with his step.

     wanders out of oscars the bar across 
the freeway from my house where
 cars race by like clovered bees.

    they honeysuckle to a pack of camel
 cigerrettes mixed in with a hefty dose of canoe.

 that sweet sweet bottled fragrance, draped
 around the men as they wander out to thier
trucks.  

68 chevelle slightly lifted....

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watching Nascar and petting the cat
eating Chee-tohs and getting fat
zero to zero in nothing flat

listen to the blue jay singing scat
while putting a diaper on the brat
zero to zero in nothing flat

Got to go to work, double drat
I wore my coat, but forgot my hat
zero to zero in nothing flat

I don't understand life, imagine that
it's like playing baseball without a bat
zero to zero in nothing flat...

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Here lies a grave,
a conglomerate headstone
without a name.
weeds and cobwebs 
wrapped tight around the heartless edge.
Caretaker rides his rusty deer
pretending he's a nascar stud
waking the dead and stirring mud.
He take's his lunch beneath a tree,
eating twinkies with green fingertips...
For his love he'll steal a wreath,
and place it gently on her grave.
That bears a scar called, 'long forgotten"
A grave he's coined"no name"....

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Lips puffy
         like kids in snowsuits
Cellular layers of passion
Dramatic curves
                  like red apples
But soft
Moveable
Sensory organ
             pulling me near
             small parachutes of matter
Smooth corners on the track of NASCAR racing
Telltale signals of attraction
              gravitational skin pull
              that sends me spinning
              all the same








Poem Composed: April 2020...

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