Tell me about your traffic jam

Tell me how your are powerless
And a prisoner
When they sold you the car
On the back of an empty road
in a mountain lake on a dreamy ad
You embraced it
Yet you found when you faced it,
The rush hour had made a choking mess
Of it all.
Those painted hills are rainbows
The pots of gold,
Are the overthrows of flapping tarpaulin
Dragging from the wheels
Of a lame juggernaut.

Tell me about your traffic jam.

The lambs to the m6 slaughter
The cram em in,
Jam em in,
Racing salesman.

You bought it.
It’s your car you bought it.
Your fault.
You sport it,
The frustrated frown.
The deep burrowed rear view mirror,
Bolt upright drowned,
Expression.

You live in a goldfish bow,
In a car park the size of Europe.

The neon signs slow you down.
The matrix illuminated crown on the road,
Reflects in puddles.
drowns in snow
the wind and rain from windshield goes
Down.
The wipers slide
hypnotised
A prisoner.
Mute, solitary
Chewing gum.
Phonin mum.
Getting done
For standing still.
You’re personal space
Your route 66 drive,
Contrived ideas.
The old dears hold you up
As a demon.
in a rage they worship you
As a grandma utters words of deepest
Blue profanity-
Eff off outta the way young man!
Motor madness
Grandmas lost the plot

Tell me about your traffic jam

Tell me how insignificant
You really feel
As you orange peel
Yourself away
From the vinyl clad wheel
Boredom
As you steal a moment
And scratch your
Ass
Solitary confinement
A pickled glass sphere
A bubble of isolation
A going nowhere broken dream
Of the open road
The m6
A hot head ready to explode
At white van man
Undertakes
On his way to tarmac rakes
The boys and the black stuff
It’s their fault
They caused it
No it’s your fault
No his fault
No her fault- miss lippy
No his fault! - grandpa dippy headlights!
No!..err.....it's .. that bugger there, weaver bird,
dame thora herd

You great big bird's of muck,
Gett outta the way!

I’m the best driver!

Don’t dare stop me in the fast lane
I’m a nuclear submarine
A million pound machine
I worked for this toy
Don’t mock me
I’m a brilliant driver sat nav dvd
a macho A1 lollypop hider
I hide my lollipops under the dash
the crash pad suits me fine,
The white lines are for keeping time,
I count them after nine o’clock,
To stop the rot of falling asleep.

God I’m bored!
God hell get me out!
The car is supposed to be freedom!
My appointments I need them to live
I’m going be late...!
Oh here we go...... white van man!
 Sorry! bleep! ooops!
didn't see you....
Its just.....your arse is.... as big as... a lorry
I thought there was a weight restriction
On ten tonne trucks-?
A limit on dirty elbow, out the window looks!

Chewing gum,
Traffic jam.
Tell me about lipstick
and High heels man!

In a lorry, a driver,
Wees in a bottle, tosses it out the window
"Theres no toilets in traffic jam"
He shouts and says.
then In a lay-by gets prepared
For long distance kicks
His dicks ensnared in silky pants
He’s a cross dressing sycophant

Tell us about your traffic jam

Cost me a fortune this car.
but you look down on me
In a mucky lorry
And worst of all, we are all.....stationary.
I’m not equal to you! I paid more.
With one hand on the wheel
And the other in a rhythm
I know how we feel
The knuckle shuffle white
The gripper, the tiller, the keel
Bang on track
Time steals when you don’t move
Jaws lock rage rules
Grind your teeth
As You halted
Why?
Any excuse they salted the arse felt
Road.
Any excuse the operations
are
Overloads of concrete covered cones.
choked in the middle lane
Frustration
Stationary we are

Tell me about your traffic jam