On these streets
the bus is my chariot,
the driver my king.
He whisks me down
this bitter city.
A blind girl
on the sidewalk
may never know
how beautiful she is
or who is staring.
But I feel the eyes
scratching at my back
spiraling up my thighs
glaring at my expensive
boots.
On these strips of asphalt and
skin and blood
the eyes of the wandering
attempt a connection
but I am on a mission.
The streets
they know me by name.
I am beautiful...
I am a mangy bitch
in the same utterance.
On these streets
the bus is my chariot,
the driver my king.
He whisks me down
this bitter city.
the bus is my chariot,
the driver my king.
He whisks me down
this bitter city.
A blind girl
on the sidewalk
may never know
how beautiful she is
or who is staring.
But I feel the eyes
scratching at my back
spiraling up my thighs
glaring at my expensive
boots.
On these strips of asphalt and
skin and blood
the eyes of the wandering
attempt a connection
but I am on a mission.
The streets
they know me by name.
I am beautiful...
I am a mangy bitch
in the same utterance.
On these streets
the bus is my chariot,
the driver my king.
He whisks me down
this bitter city.
2 comments:
Hey, thanks for commenting my poems. I just have to say that "Some Favorite Lines" isn't my poem. It's some of my favorite lines taken from poems and lyrics. But the others are mine. Anyway, i like this new one.
"He whisks me up and down this bitter city," and " On these strips of asphalt and skin and blood," jump out at me.
P.S now, you have to read White Oleander, her writing is SO descriptive, puts beautiful images in your mind, and her writing is really inspiring.
Hi,
I re-did that poem. You were right. I just took some lines out that really didn't mean anything, and added lines that made the poem more what i wanted it to be about. So thankss for that comment.
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