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Taxi Poems
 

The Midnight Ride 

By: Terence B. Gelber

© All Rights Reserved

 

Listen my children and you shall hear

Of the midnight ride when I could not steer

T'was the eighteenth of April, not all was well

And I didn't know if I'd live to tell

Of the cross town tremors and the uptown woes

That shook me down from head to toes

But as you can see I'm still here

To speak of that famous day and year

Of the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

I was thinking as my cab sat in the pale moonlight

I might skip this town and give up the hack fight

When down on the corner of Church, north of Duane

The extended arm of a hailing fare was quite plain

She climbed in with a smile, an American doll

Gave a curt destination, held a rain parasol

So with me in the front and her in the rear

The clock struck twelve, I prepared to steer

 

She had just come out of one of the downtown joints

Once in my cab, to ninety-second she points

Up to Grand, over to Bowery, up to Third and ninety-two

Not too fast she explained just a smooth ride would

So I pulled on the handle and dropped into gear

Thus began the ride when I could not steer

But as I stepped on the gas and reached Thirty-five

A strange sound from the steering box clanks as I drive

She says What's the matter I have nothing to tell

 

My foot switches pedal's, I find no breaks as well

I see the light turning red at Canal Street near Green

My destiny changes as right then left I must lean

Sirens and lights from behind me then blare

Wouldn't you know a cop would be there?

When I have no way to explain to this cop

That my steering is faulty and breaks do not stop

And the women Im driving now travel's in fear

On this midnight ride when I can not steer

 

At Grand I downshift, hit the curb and bounce right

One hydrant, one scream, and I'm off in the night

Alive still but dented, my fare starts yelling

Of future courtroom drama she's telling

I say "You needed a cab I'm the one that you picked

She sat back and huffed, the meter clicked

Through little Italy we race, at Bowery I'll need north again

The meter is gleaming half of ten

Behind us the sirens loud and clear

On the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

But the curbs won't work, as Bowery gets nearer

I can see at the crossroads each inch getting clearer

A van, now abandoned, a light post, some trash

Like a caroming cue ball off each one I crash

Still in flight and still breathing another success

I'm sure the law on the chase will confess

To superior talent they could not commandeer

On the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

North bound on Bowery off we go

To continuous sirens and lights flashing glow

When true turmoil besieges my deep inner strength

Now faced with the fact I was lacking the length

For me, the light at Houston to clear

On the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

Hell bent on surviving now six on the meter

My fare in the rear prays for me to unseat her

Clear Heavens above only ninety blocks to go

Passenger relations at an all time low

Breaks non-existent but I'm beyond any fear

On the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

Cars screeching all around us he intersection's passed

Thirty-Five is a memory and fifty's not fast

Hundreds of coppers now in pursuit

She starts swinging that umbrella at my head to boot

I'm duckin, still truckin, 62 miles per hour

No more tricks I can think of left in my power

When out of Fourteenth Street more police cars appear

On the midnight ride when I can not steer

 

But I shoot past 14th not a second too late

The sirens and lights then met their fate

As those north bound behind me met those east bound and west

Piling up behind them all of the rest

My passenger still fencing with umbrellas in the rear

On the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

At 24th Street we'll encounter our first sequential light

So I yell to "Hold ON!" increasing her fright

22nd, 23rd and 24th are all yellow

But my mind is resolved to deliver my fellow

New Yorker, who whimpers for this ride to be over

To forget now and forever the driver that drove her

For whom I think she should stand firm and count of a cheer

For defying no breaks and no way to steer

 

She resigns to her fate on this uncharted trip

So, through all of the thirty's I let the cab rip

Seventy-Five at 42nd and Third

Two cars and one two truck now need be interred

As we travel at light speed past cars up ahead

Each crisis behind us, nothing to dread

With me in the front and my fare in the rear

On the midnight ride when I could not steer

 

57th, 68th 86th almost there

Which side of the street?

My fare does not care

To stop the cab, I ram a bus

Nothing fancy no uncalled for fuss

In tender resignation she offers me cash

A twenty she cries Keep it

I refuse for This bash is on me

I'm no average slob

If I needed the money I'd get a real job

And give up my life on the asphalt tier

And Midnight Rides When I can Not Steer.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Central Park

By: Terence B. Gelber

© All Rights Reserved

 

I cruise the empty road that runs through the park at the center of town

Long after dark when there's no one around

Tree's, phantom leaves hangin down

While I'm alone in the park at the center of town

 

Surrounding this park are mountains of light,

concrete, steel and glass purging the night

No one in sight, I'm not makin a sound

Just the wind through the trees of this park at the center of town

 

Fear not the legend of what will be found

If you venture out towards the center of town

There's little that counts until you take this ride

Enter the park and come out the far side

 

Soon all I see will face the new day

I won't be alone once my city's at play

Then if you look you won't see me around

Until its dark in the park at the center of town

 

---------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

On The Seat                                                                 July 21, 1991

By: Terence B. Gelber

© All Rights Reserved

 

Lady killers walkin, struttin their stuff

I'm lookin on from my retreat

I've heard those lady killers can play kinda rough

Wish there was one I could meet

Lately in the evening I cruise on by

But I've surrendered any thought of ever givin em a try

And I doubt they could ever take the heat

Of this grueling life on the seat

 

Lonely tourist cameras hangin from the necks

of full fledged world travelers from Rome

got all the balances, passed all the checks

How else could they be so far from home

But when you're that far away, you forget the cost

You'll pay any price to avoid being lost

So you hop into a yellow car with a man who might steal and cheat

It's a Goddamn lousy life on the seat

 

Halloween is wild night, costumes for the queens

Make up and paper bags for those of lesser means

Park Avenue and Amsterdam, go their separate ways

The lonely kid who drank too much is the only one who pays

with unreported income, at the policeman's gala treat

Just check your soul and uniform and come cruisin on the seat

 

Miles of City streets go rollin by each day

Towers view the suburbs from aloft

Second story windows blow those sites away

Showin me reality so soft

I hold my position, I gamble not to lose

I keep my car in drive always set to cruise

Like a keystone cop, I'm on the beat

I love it on the seat       

 

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

One More Night with You

By: Terence B. Gelber

© All Rights Reserved

 

For one more night with you

An evening Heaven sent to me

Dusk till dawn, you proving now

What you once meant to me

 

Oh, for one more night with you

I�??d sell the farm and get a job in a dusty factory

I�??d suffer pure ingratitude, unfriendly attitude

If it would bring you back to me

 

For just one more night with you

There would be eclipses of both the sun and moon

As oceans rose and night stayed dark till noon

Cause you spent one more night with me

loving you with tender hands and hungry heart

Pounding strong from inspiration from your touch

That somehow will not give us another start

 

That begins with one more night with you

Remembering all the things we once did and said

While all the stars were shining bright and

Moonbeams, dancing all around our bed

 

Where I�??m spending one more night with you

Shuddering, within my grip, as sweat pours down our brows

With exhaustion set in, as we love again and again

unconscious of our forgotten vows

 

Which lead me to one more night with you

Alone and grown and in control of me

One thing sure in all we do

Neither, will ever be alone or free

After one more night with you

 

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Yellow Car

By: Terence B. Gelber

© All Rights Reserved

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

This poem is part of the archives of The Museum of the City of New York. It was written and performed by Terry Gelber at the Museum to honor the final resting place of one of the last Checker Taxis in the New York City taxi fleet. The retired cab was accepted as part of the permanent collection of the museum in 1992

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

 

Checker car of yellow tone

Befriended and driven by one woman alone

For municipal need you traveled quickly

With butcher, baker, strong and sickly

Beneath your duties�?? shining light

Endowed with your seats now timeless sight

You hold your memories of situations

Well delivered generations

Who hold for you infatuations�??

In awe of your life of destinations

 

Checker car where have you been

What escapades were logged then seen

Share tales from the heart that within you beat

As you rolled the length of each cobbled street

Name the names of the few, the many,

Your gallant deeds all or any

 

What of new born babes beneath your roof

Debutantes, reserved, aloof

Physicians, counselors, cops and robbers

The sly, the slick, the high hob-knobbers

What clergyman have blessed the ride

As down the great white way you�??d glide

With actors, teachers, students all

Of your City�??s life through rise and fall

 

Speak to us on this final day

Of how you polished the Apple along the way

Tell us of friend and foe alike

From down each lane, along each pike

Of battles and injuries suffered therein

Confide in us, your grace and sin

In your yellow world of yellow thought

How many rides have you thrown and caught

 

Checker Taxi on the stand

Checker Taxi ever grand

Now, at last where all meters�?? cease

Checker taxi rest in peace

 

----------------------------------------------------------------

 

Lady killers walkin, struttin their stuff
I'm lookin on from my retreat
I've heard those lady killers can play kinda rough
wish there was one I could meet
Lately in the evening I cruise on by
But I've surrendered any thoughts of ever giving them a try
and I doubt they could ever take the heat
Of this grueling life on the seat

Lonely tourist cameras hangin from the necks
of full fledged world travelers from Rome
Got all the balances, passed all the checks
How else could they be so far from home
But life always happens, no matter the cost
You'll pay any price to avoid being lost
So you hop into a yellow car with a man knows the street
Its a God Damned lousy life on the seat

Halloween is wild night, costumes for the Queens
make-up and paper bags for those of lesser means
Park Avenue and Amsterdam go their separate ways
the lonely kid who drank too much is the only one who pays
with unreported income, the Policemen's Gala treat
Just check your soul and uniform and come cruising on the seat

Miles of city streets go rolling by each day
Towers view the suburbs from aloft
second story windows blow those sights away
showing me reality....so soft
I hold my position, I gamble not to lose
I keep my car in drive always set to cruise
like a keystone cop I'm on the beat
I love it, on the seat

(c) Terence Gelber 1991
All rights reserved
 
The deluge continues, I am numb from the rains,
that scour my essance enroute to the drains
now full from the storms relentless attacks
taking credit again as my resolve again cracks

I have done nothing wrong, I yearn to be true
yet I stand here alone as rivers wash through
making easy my life, to be seen through the storm
cut loose from its moorings, hard to get warm

The storm rages within me, fear ebbs and flows
I know what I feel, don't care if it shows
confusion, delusion, shown clarities mark
On destinies roadmap, ever so dark

I have already climbed to the great mountains peak
And back to the valley where solace I seek
evades me and haunts me, puts me to task
granting no pardon for questions I ask

So back to the mountain, upward and onward
looking over my shoulder to know the way forward
bankrupt, befuddled, alone and dejected
praying for guidance, and to be protected

from actions of martyrs caught in that river
delusions last victims wanting me to deliver
salvation, atonement, redemption, on tap!
a spiritual cleansing, regardless the gap

between rightly and wrongly here stalled in mid-air
a hundred years hence not one sould will care
as their river rises and their lifes flood stage calls
amidst lifes convenience as their sanity stalls

and madness proclaims to those burdened by choice
to choose one or the other the invisible voice
screeching, and screaming with ultimate candor
to that place in your heart where the devil will pander

to the weekness of man and the strength of resolve
both guided by fortunes yet to evolve
in the guise of adornment and statues bedecked
from the past to the present agenda unchecked

(C) Terence Gelber
All rights reserved
5/5/2010
 
Why do they call it Times Square, do you care
And of the recent caper, bombed, almost says The New York Times Paper
And the Herald Tribune, at Herald Square, don't sit and stare
They are looking for you everywhere
the New York Times with world wide reporting
to big lay offs resorting
Always pandering, courting
the crowd that is sporting
the best of the best and the best of the worst
longing to be free of what is deemed cursed
by the crowd of the moment, the crowd of the hype
talking points convert, we all know the type
On the left or the right, bellowing fairness or freedom
how do ya beat 'em
how to stay calm
what does it take to feed the beast of the Times Square "Almost A Bomb"
43rd and 7th Ave...the building of the Bomber
BEavis and Butthead, the simpsons, a charmer
for all to see and all to watch in terror
was the van with the almost bomb an error

(c) Terence B. Gelber
All rights reserved 5/5/2010
6:53AM
 
across the platform sea, we are slick
petroleum nation, aghast, we gasp
we can not see the basin floors
across the heart and hope to die we smile not
upon the untouched stage, the watery grave
unimpressed by what we gave
to call this place of rolling peace
a sanctuary of long-term-lease
and pump, and drill, and work and die
where fish and fowl shant swim, nor fly

Sacred alms scattered here
float to where our deepest fear
flails about in thickest sorrow
hope alone describes tomorrow
blessed by trouble's longest hour
cursed in fact atop the tower
echoing the voice of fate
perfection in this tattered state

do not leave me, hardy friend
sit a while, while I defend
the sea, the land, the air, the fire
sludge the glaze for new attire
glistens now as urchins wallow
Gods own hand is forced to swallow
all that is which howls our name
dignified despite the blame
ravaged for the common cause
none of which suffers pause

(c) Terence B. Gelber All rights reserved
May 1, 2010
Gimme a reason, hold back the crime
Hallow the season, precious the time
I spend in your absence, dedicate in your name
pondering glory, to eradicate fame

Merry the worker outside the shop
Happy the farmer away from the crop
taunted the teacher, school books in hand
denies passing failure when he roamed the raw land
as the actor of record in the minds game of chance
clinging to snapshots of his dignified stance

Of this you will teach me??? Or remind your cold heart?!
In the days once so splendid when you were a part
Of your world and time, the critical juncture
Fighting times dagger aiming to puncture
the myth we create in a sphere well controlled
Salutations and virtues expertly extolled

I live for the moment until it is gone
carrying torches, I'm forced to go on
by the fires of venture, the pilot of faith
which carries me closer as some lie in wait
for the chapter unwritten, the verse still unturned
the bank note still crumbled, respect still unearned
Yet, in rapture life wanders, remorse is decried
Screw down the lid and mumble "I tried".

(c) Terence Gelber All rights reserved
4/30/2010
 
 
     
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