taxi poet

taxi poet Poems

A taxi driver full of woe,
The punter don’t know where to go,
...

2.

Words are useless, Words are bold,
Words get fainter when you get old,
Words are something we rely on,
Words are something to get by on,
...

The days of my youth have long since gone by,
But the memories flood back with a smile, or a sigh,
...

We are standing here together in prayer,
Not just to show that we care,
But to send our love to you,
And knowing you’ll receive it too.
...

Still I’m Sad

The man has called the end of the day,
A god send to some’ the fast way,
...

My Valentine

Another day, another year through the passage of time,
Another day, another year still wanting for you to be mine,
...

50th Birthdays are Banned


You’re banned from having birthdays, a new rule has been made,
...

Taxidave says goodbye
To the Italian girl I've tears in my eye
...

Do not stand and start weeping,
I’m not there; I’m not sleeping,
...

Uniformity
...

Salute to Youth


Honourable child do not bow,
...

12.

My Valentine

The 14th of Feb. someone decreed,
A man has to show his love, his need,
...

She’s Still Here

I’m sitting here on the net,
Lucia’s here with me yet,
...

Our Gav

Gavin Robinson is pronounced dead’
How can you get this in ones head?
...

I’m Sill here

You all were there at the pub last night,
I was there but out of sight,
...

taxi poet Biography

Fat old taxi driver.I get board sh*tless sat on the rank so I doodle poems about owt and nowt. Please read my trash and coment. Sometimes you may find the words a bit mixed up that is because I am dicklicksick. Taxipoet)

The Best Poem Of taxi poet

Ode Of The Taxi Driver

A taxi driver full of woe,
The punter don’t know where to go,
Full of booze and brain dead,
Does not know which way to head,
Then she say’s just take me home,
Where is that this side of Rome?
You should know you bloody freak,
You took me home just last week,
Been in this car and in the back,
Or one just like it I know its black,
A yellow sign on the top,
So hurry up and dropp me off,
Take me home she yells at me,
I’m busting for a bloody pee,
The driver takes off down the rank,
Up the high street past the bank,
Opens the door sets her free,
Pointing to the lavatory,
Into gear and off like a rocket,
With her five quid in his back pocket,
Back to the rank for another prat,
Easy money just like that.

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