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Every little detail in the bus is something that's personal to me.

quote by Miranda Lambert
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
Comment! | Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian

Personal

Anything you want from me
Ill do
But first
Lets get personal
Personal
Personal
Personal
Lets get personal
Personal
Personal
Personal
Personal with you
Were sittin havin dinner at your parents home
Some of the finest food Ive ever known
But I need some sweetness on my tongue
And it aint a type of sugar oh no
So maybe we can go somewhere
Neighbour room girl I dont care
Wheres the bedroom
(its upstairs)
Ill meet you there in a minute
Girl so we can get
Lets get personal (ooh yeah)
Personal (tight baby)
Personal (maybe we can get)
Personal (just a little, just a little bit)
Lets get personal (ooh yay)
Personal (I wanna get personal)
Personal (come on baby, just trust me)
Personal (I wanna get)
Personal with you
Im behind you in your bedroom with your hands against the wall
But keeping one eye on the door
Got your t-shirt and your panties on
Ooh I feel so right, cant be wrong, no
I know you like it when I touch you there
Girl just keep it quiet or theyll hear
Feel the tremblin all down your leg
Id love to head to your bed
So that we can get
Personal
Shhh
Should I take off my clothes (no)
Put the lock on the door
Let go of your deepest inhibitions
Let me fulfil your fantasies girl
Like me touching you there (yeah)
The way that I play with your hair
Emotions running wild until we stop
Yeah

[...] Read more

song performed by Craig David
Added by Lucian Velea
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Magic Bus

Every day I get in the queue (too much, magic bus)
To get on the bus that takes me to you (too much, magic bus)
Im so nervous, I just sit and smile (too much, magic bus)
You house is only another mile (too much, magic bus)
Thank you, driver, for getting me here (too much, magic bus)
Youll be an inspector, have no fear (too much, magic bus)
I dont want to cause no fuss (too much, magic bus)
But can I buy your magic bus? (too much, magic bus)
Nooooooooo!
I dont care how much I pay (too much, magic bus)
I wanna drive my bus to my baby each day (too much, magic bus)
I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it ... (you cant have it!)
Thruppence and sixpence every day
Just to drive to my baby
Thruppence and sixpence each day
cause I drive my baby every way
Magic bus, magic bus, magic bus ...
I said, now Ive got my magic bus (too much, magic bus)
I said, now Ive got my magic bus (too much, magic bus)
I drive my baby every way (too much, magic bus)
Each time I go a different way (too much, magic bus)
I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it ...
Every day youll see the dust (too much, magic bus)
As I drive my baby in my magic bus (too much, magic bus)

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bus to Nevermore

The snow lay deep on the countryside
When they left to catch the bus,
Heading out to Milwaukee, first
They left New York in their dust,
The guys were happy and laughing then
To be off on the winter tour,
The pickers picked and the jokers joked
On the bus to Nevermore.

They'd had a couple of hits or three
And they'd topped the charts with one,
The kids were mad for their rock 'n roll
At each auditorium,
The towns they travelled were tiny towns
But the audiences roared,
They rocked Kenosha, then headed out
On the bus to Nevermore.

The heater failed and the bus, it froze
And the smiles then died away,
They huddled up in the cold and dark
But they played each town by day,
They switched their buses, more than once
When the diesel ceased its roar,
But every bus in its turn was just
The bus to Nevermore.

The bus broke down on a lonely road
As the snow fell through the night,
The fields were a winter wonderland
But the cold began to bite,
By the time that a roving patrolman
Found the bus, they were more than sore,
The drummer suffered from frostbite
On the bus to Nevermore.

The tour was running in circles
From Wisconsin to Iowa,
To Minnesota and back again
But nobody seemed to care,
Except the fellows that rode the bus,
Each day they cursed and swore,
'This bus is part of the Devil's fleet!
The bus to Nevermore.'

Tired and dirty and cold they drove
To Appleton, Green Bay,
Then overnight they had huddled up
For the trip to Clear Lake,
They played the show in their crumpled clothes

[...] Read more

poem by David Lewis Paget
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bang Your Pans If You Wish

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

You're not the only one,
Who has loaded shoulders.
Today the young and older ones...
Have little to eat.

You're not the only one,
Whose shoulders are bent over.
Who needs to lay their head somewhere,
And get some sleep!

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

Bang your pans,
If you wish...
With empty cans,
If you wish...
And then demand,
If you wish...

To make your situation,
Like a personal damnation.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Bus ride at night

At quarter to five
the driver refuses,
that I get on a bus
in Burnett street
because it is already full.

There are men, woman and children
and we talk various languages
while we wait for the bus
and I see a car guard
dancing in the street
while he does tricks like a clown.

We wait on the next bus
and the afternoon passes
and the bus is very late
and it stays away
and just Putco and North Star busses
stop at other places.

At dusk the bus appears
and it’s got a double deck,
but is also full
and on the top level the roof is so low
that I bump my head
while it draws from the curb.

There’s no place to sit down
before we travel halfway to the city
and there’s a crowd of people around me
and we sit tight against each other
and in the front a child is holding onto a bar
while she licks the window with her tongue
and try to draw spit lines.

The bus braids through cars,
but it takes longer than an hour
to ride two stages
and a woman calls her husband
to pick her up at church square.

In Visagie Street the cars stand in a traffic jam
and it becomes night
while we wait in the traffic
and I embark from the bus
and twist through the pedestrians
and everywhere there are people
that stand in dark corners
and alleyways
and shout at each other in foreign languages.

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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The wheels on the bus

‘The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Round and round
Round and round
All night long’

The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
The driver on the bus goes
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
Rush rush rush
All night long

The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
The children on the bus go
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
Wow wow wow
All night long

The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
The fathers on the bus go
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
Blush blush blush
All night long

The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush shus
Hush hus hush
Hush hush
The mothers on the bus go
Hush hush hush
All night long

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Another One Rides The Bus

(parody of queens another one bites the dust)
Riding in the bus down the boulevard
And the place was pretty packed (yeah!)
Couldnt find a seat so I had to stand
With the perverts in the back
It was smelling like a locker room
There was junk all over the floor
Were already packed in like sardines
But were stopping to pick up more, look out
(chorus)
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus
Another comes on and another comes on
Another one rides the bus
Hey, hes gonna sit by you
Another one rides the bus
Theres a suitcase poking me in the ribs
Theres an elbow in my ear
Theres a smelly old bum standing next to me
Hasnt showered in a year
I think Im missing a contact lens
I think my wallets gone
And I think this bus is stopping again
To let a couple more freaks get on look out
(chorus)
(weird sound effects)
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus
Another one rides the bus ow
Another one rides the bus hey hey
Another one rides the bus hey-ey-ey-ey
The window doesnt open and the fan is broke
And my face is turning blue (yeah)
I havent been in a crowd like this
Since I went to see the who
Well I shouldve got off a couple miles ago
But I couldnt get to the door
There isnt any room for me to breathe
And now were gonna pick up more
(chorus)

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
Added by Lucian Velea
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I Traveled Once by a Spare-bus!

I traveled once by a spare-bus;
It was from my grand-mother’s house;
I was in hurry and therefore,
I boarded the bus, my college to go.

The seats looked ripped and so much torn;
The old-bus’ body’s bad weld shown;
The iron frame-work shocked to touch;
The window’s glass looked cracked so much;

Without good lights, the bus was dark;
Across the road came dogs to bark;
The diesel-engine’s cranky noise,
Drowned the passengers’ loudest voice.

The cassette played a hoarse, dull song;
All had to listen to the gong;
The conductor, a man quite stout,
‘Tickets, tickets, ’ he began to shout.

While the bus sped up curved roads,
The golden moon too sailed thro’ clouds;
And when it rained, the water came,
Thro’ windows, roof- Oh, what a shame!

Despite all shutters downed (half-torn) ,
The bus was almost flooded soon;
The driver drove the bus so fast,
And soon, we were amidst the ghats.

My body was in severe pain,
For hours, it was a torrential rain;
The driver honked: a dog had crossed!
The bus came to a halt and paused.

The bus was stopped by an old cop;
And very late, I reached my stop;
‘Oh, What a journey! ’ I then thought,
My travel by a spare-bus brought!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-25-2006

poem by John Celes
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The Yellow School Bus

The yellow school bus with the black wheels took sick children to school each day.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether or not the sky was gray.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels went pass three streets and up a hill.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was driven whether sunny or chilled.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels always brought a smile to little kids face.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was filled with love and filled with grace.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels kept breathing until that final breath.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels was painted red with blood and death.
The yellow school bus with the black wheels and the little sick children were all of friends.
But the now dead children will never take a ride in the yellow school bus again.

poem by RaShawn Ince
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Fruitcakes

Fruitcakes
By: jimmy buffett, amy lee
1994
--spoken:
You know I was talking to my friend desdemona the other day she
Runs this space station and bake shop down near boomtown. she told
Me that human beings are flawed individuals. the cosmic bakers
Took us out of the oven a little too early. and thats the
Reason were as crazy as we are and I believe it.
Take for example when you go to the movies these days, you know.
They try to sell you this jumbo drink, 8 extra ounces of watered
Down cherry coke for an extra 25 cents. I dont want it.
I dont want that much organziation in my life.
I dont want other people thinking for me.
I want my junior mints. where did the junior mints go in the
Movies. I dont want a 12 lb. nestles crunch for 25 dollars. i
Want junior mints.
We need more fruitcakes in this world and less bakers!
We need people that care! Im mad as hell! and I dont want to
Take it anymore!
Chorus:
Fruitcakes in the kitchen (fruitcakes in the kitchen)
Fruitcakes on the street (fruitcakes on the street)
Struttin naked through the crosswalk
In the middle of the week
Half-baked cookies in the oven (cookies in the oven)
Half-baked people on the bus (people on the bus)
Theres a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us
Paradise, lost and found
Paradise, take a look around
I was out in california where I hear they have it all
They got riots, fires, mud slides
Theyve got sushi in the mall
Water bars, brontasaurs, chinese modern lust
Shake and bake life with the quake
The secrets in the crust
Chorus:
Fruitcakes in the kitchen (fruitcakes in the kitchen)
Fruitcakes on the street (fruitcakes on the street)
Struttin naked through the crosswalk
In the middle of the week
Half-baked cookies in the oven (cookies in the oven)
Half-baked people on the bus (people on the bus)
Theres a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us
--spoken:
Speakin of fruitcakes, how bout the government?
Your tax dollars at work.
We lost our martian rocket ship
The high paid spokesman said
Looks like that silly rocket ship

[...] Read more

song performed by Jimmy Buffett
Added by Lucian Velea
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Halloween Quartet No 1 Graveyard Special

Standing at the bus stop waiting,
when the stranger asked.
“Has anyone seen the Graveyard Special?
I hope I haven’t missed it
or they won’t let me out next year.”
I shook my head and said. “Sorry, no.”
The stranger turned to me.
He wore a tuxedo, bow tie and patent polished shoes.
He looked like a dancer
and an odd smell rose around him
that of rotting decay.
“Been a nice night, hasn’t it.”
“Yes, but they forecast rain.”
“Been out with your girlfriend
and now catching the last bus home? ”
“No, I haven’t got one.”
A cloud passed across the moon
and the strangers face became partially visible
under the pale light of the moon.
A pale face with a sullen look
engraved with hard shadows.
“Going home? ” I asked,
“Yes, we are only allowed out once a year.”
“You live in an old people’s home? ”
“Something like that.” Returned a whispery reply.
A mist descended and swirled around us.
“My bus I can see it.”
The mist became thicker swallowing us up.
The brightly lit bus stopped,
its destination board read Graveyard Special.
The stranger got on and the bus doors shut.
Into the mist, it went to be swallowed up.
The mist then evaporated as quickly as it came.
My bus arrived and as I paid my ticket I remarked.
“I didn’t know the bus company
put on a special bus just for Halloween.”
The driver shook his head and said.
“They don’t, that bus is for the dead ones
who get out once a year.
I have been following it on its route
as it picks them up one by one
to take them back before
the first streaks of dawn appear in the sky.
It takes them back to the graveyard
for another year to stay.”
Getting my ticket, I sat
my hands trembling at the thought
that I had spoken to a ghost.

poem by David Harris
Added by Poetry Lover
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I wonder what a bus ticket buys

The driver fights with a passenger
that she thinks sleeps at times
on the top level of the bus
and something must be wrong
in her life
as she climbs into a child
because he did not take a school bus

I wonder what
a bus ticket buys,
but it stays far better
to take a bus
than to have to walk a long distance.

I wonder
if it takes a special person
to drive a bus,
or what rights it gives
above that of other people
if you climb behind the steering
of a bus?

Somebody asks the white
bus driver lady
for what she is looking
this morning and suddenly
she’s silent
and I can ride in peace further
while she swallows her tongue.

Bus drivers that are rude
I have experience a lot of times
and it has happened
that one stares hateful
at me
because I am white
and wanted to cut
every ticket of the coupon.

Still I am thankful
to use a bus
when I need one
and that some drivers
makes it a pleasure
to drive with them.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Madurai To Nellai By Bus

So much excitement over a bus ride
Had experiences though in my teens
Long after now from northern side
Madurai to Nellai southward on wheels

Colourfully odoured the bus-terminus at Madurai
Trying a faster pace myself behind husband
Roamed around sufficiently the many sundry
Caught the bus finally, me in pushed

Almost a bare bus.Thanked God
Possibly my teen bus was now stale
However felt jolly; Hubby too did
After decades old couple enjoying quite hale

The running bus metrically jolted us
Lapping meteoric curvetures shortly curtly
My musical mind enjoyed the meters
Hubby, his usual self of berating loudly

My usual self shirked him
Slicked a little aside
Evening crept in with a prayer hymn
Hubby, dozed with a slight slide

Night came yet not our destination
Started counting the stars seen out
Slowly fell asleep dreams woven
So far nowhere did the bus halt

Steadily whirred and whirred
Somewhere at the depth were we asleep
A sudden break, a sonorous horn stirred
Kovilpatti did the bus stop

There did I first fuss disturbed
Nudged me a vendor with a cut cucumber
' Nothing has yet changed 'I opined
'Since my teen time older'

Civics cremated by those vendors
Better to be cautious not to be diseased
Hubby got out of the bus
Just to be uncaged a while indeed

Our trip intermitted only once just
Happy hubby couldn't get out often
Lest would be mine a pulsating heart
Waiting in search off and on

[...] Read more

poem by Indira Renganathan
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A Psalm Of Resignation

In spite of his imposing plea,
A freeman whom the truth makes free
Is often fairly up a tree,
And marvels why it should be thus.
Then reasoning in his tin-pot way
That honesty can never pay,
He loses faith, as well he may;
Yet he has simply Miss'd the 'Bus.

Concerning noodles who profess
By moral rules to gauge success:
Their thinking tackle's in a mess,
And they are wrong to Tartarus.
Don't say the worthiest lead the van.
That gag is deader than Queen Anne.
If it were straight, no honest man
Need grieve that he had Miss'd the 'Bus.

All are alike in Satan's grip,
If we accept your Shakespeare's tip,
Who hints, per Hamlet, that the whip
Is earned by every one of us.
Which is absurd (as Euclid says),
For all have good and evil traits,
Though some go smoothly all their days,
And some are doom'd to Miss the 'Bus.

Even the Yiddish Sage confess'd
He had to give this problem best,
Namely, to find desert express'd
In terms of Need and Overplus.
He saw not damper to the wise,
Nor gonce to men of enterprise,
But Buckley's prospect of a rise
For anyone who Miss'd the 'Bus.

What agencies manipulate
This economic drafting-gate
Through which we pass to find our fate,
It would be futile to discuss;
But any man with half an eye
Can see that mysteries underlie
The great 'Whaffor'? — the age-long, 'Why'? —
Required by those who Miss the 'Bus.

Some swell-coves, narrow'd by their luck,
In Evolution's rut are stuck,
Like that wool-bearing reptile-duck
Which bushmen term the platterpuss;
Whilst in our class we often find

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Furphy
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Goodbye Routemaster

The iconic (damn, I swore I’d
never use that word..)
red London bus
was designed by the lively minded
for the active lively – those who
take a few chances with life,
look for a little excitement,
test their limits, enjoy
– the French have a phrase for it –
the little happinesses, sweetnesses, or
good fortunes, it doesn’t
translate quite so well –
let’s say, exhilarating moments?

viz.:

the back platform, a step
nearer the ground, is open; rubber-floored;
a central vertical bar,
wound with a grip-fast plastic,
midway on the edge of the platform; then
on the vertical edge of the rear bus-back,
a substantial holding bar
which never lets you down;
another horizontal bar
the other side
to steady you either getting on or off

so

you’ve just missed the bus as
it begins to pull away?
Don’t worry – you’re young to middling,
the driver’s still to change from low gear as
he pulls away from the kerb and queue;
you check the platform’s clear;
a short run;
grab the upright bar with the right hand,
right foot on platform, then
left hand on vertical bar –and there -
a small but significant personal achievement,
a confirmation that life’s for the winning;
the breathing deeper, healthier;
quicker than the gym or marathon

and correspondingly,

you’re on the bus, you’d like to get off soon
but it’s quite a few yards, or chains, or furlong
to the next bus stop - but eureka! – the bus slows

[...] Read more

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Why it’s so only to me?

Why it’s so only to me

I was getting ready
To go to office
Dressed up
Reached dining table
For breakfast

I heard my wife
“The milk got spoilt
The bread got charred
Why it’s so only to me? ”
You were telling something

I asked my wife
“Just thinking something”
She said, making me realize
That I am now blessed
With the power of
Hearing what others think
“Why it’s so only me”

With this thought dominating
I stepped onto the road
I would not have made
Even 100 steps
I heard a voice
“My master is wonderful
He gets me anything
I can think of
But the problem is
He will not allow me
To piss on this good looking lamp post
Why it’s so only to me? ”

I saw a dog being guided
By an elderly gentleman
My sense is so sharp
It can decipher what animals
Can think
But again the puzzle
“Why it’s so only to me? ”

I reached the bus stop
I saw a middle aged lady
Running to catch
A bus already on the move
The door of the bus closed
And the bus left without her,
Who was gasping

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Ending

Ending,
fending the ending,
off
pending, you wait
through your fate;
you queue for the bus
you pass
the lasting seconds

You're pending
nearly ending,
you fend for dear life
it's unavoidable
it's death again

you suffer
yes you do,
don't deny
you endure
taking the bus
the Santa Fanta fuss
to the emergency shopping centre

still you can't see;
so much mending
the offending,
outrageous outcome,
tear in the very fabric,
rending
heart-wrench beauty.

Ending,
just fending the ending,
pending snow
bending the bamboo
you sigh
Can my
love die?
the last stop,
bus terminus?
can I go round again?
is it a circle?
a straight line to the point?
do I amount
to a mere passing,
second-hand seconds,
bamboo bending
death again sending
an arranged funeral
of music

[...] Read more

poem by William Pryor
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Too Personal

Youre to to to too personal
Youre to to to too personal
Well you keep talking about love -
Well what do you want
We have fun alright - so what do you want
The idea of fate its all in the mind
We are the ones who control our own time
Look dont get me wrong
But if you keep on Im gonna go
Youre to to to too personal
Youre to to to too personal
You say everyones lonely and insecure
All because of living in hate and fear
Well if love is possession baby you better change
No ones gonna keep me in those chains
Look dont get me wrong
But if you keep on Im gonna go
Forget your personal problems
Think about somebody else
Im gonna think about them - right now
Youre to to to too personal
Youre to to to too personal
Youre to to to too personal
Youre to to to too personal

song performed by Billy Idol
Added by Lucian Velea
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Waitin For The Bus

Have mercy, been waitin for the bus all day.
Have mercy, been waitin for the bus all day.
I got my brown paper bag and my take-home pay.
Have mercy, old bus be packed up tight.
Have mercy, old bus be packed up tight.
Well, Im glad just to get on and home tonight.
Right on, that bus done got me back.
Right on, that bus done got me back.
Well, Ill be ridin on the bus till I cadillac.

song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
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Waitin' For The Bus (live)

Have mercy, been waitin' for the bus all day.
Have mercy, been waitin' for the bus all day.
I got my brown paper bag and my take-home pay.
Have mercy, old bus be packed up tight.
Have mercy, old bus be packed up tight.
Well, I'm glad just to get on and home tonight.
Right on, that bus done got me back.
Right on, that bus done got me back.
Well, I'll be ridin' on the bus till I Cadillac.

song performed by ZZ Top
Added by Lucian Velea
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