Tampered Plates

[Harroldinho]

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Tampered plates

I miss that new car smell.
Fresh rose ribbon.
That piercing red
riding through the hood … good up to this point. Passable wordplay
like laser-guided 
double-dutch strobes. - how is a strobe laser guided? What is a double Dutch strobe? 
I hate your prickles 
you should shave them. … a switch back into something sensible 
They hurt my hands, and I’m a 
Carpenter. ….we’re not even in dad joke territory now 
Not the last name though. …. Why is this needed?
I pray to Juno,
we’ll be blessed with you know
the thing itself. …. At this point, it’s clear that the poet isn’t attempting to make any part of the poem less cryptic 
Little lamb, I can save
you from these sc 
alprs — these paparazzi 
birdhouse-looking clankers.
You’re getting scammed.
The flock arrives – a murder.
Anguish.  …. Sheer nonsense by this point. The poem gives me no reason to try and resolve what it’s trying to say. It’s simply not good enough to warrant the effort.

MINI-VAN ROOF-RACK
HA-LO SHIN-ING.
WRN-KL3S 
RIP-PLE MY-PAINT.
SCH-OOL MOR-NING
TRA-FFIC MAN-EUVERS.
BAR-REL ROLLS
LE-AVE YOU-IN
FIX-ATION PLA-TES.  …. Yeah, yeah, plates. I get it. Not good enough.

You’ve blessed my lens. …. The rest is just unreadable nonsense. I check out at this point 
Stored in amber,
heard you deserved it.
Querying through clouds,
collected like hot wheels cars,
unhealed blisterpacks—
childhood scars.
I’m up here crucified
while you spread blatant lies.
In my black cap,
Joe Goldberg,
you stand out from the herd.
Wait, that’s not you.
You’re slimmer than I,
with my all-seeing eye.
I’m like your 
big brother. 

AL-BAT ROSS-CANT 
SH-OOT MED-OWN.
PH-OTO SHOOT-IM 
A-SELF DRI-VING MO-DEL.
THE-RES NO-SECRET.
IS-TRUT DOWN-THE 
FREE-WAY. GET-YOUR
PAP-ER PLATES.
H4N-DL3 THE-SE 
WIN-GS.

Imported, exotic.
I love your features.
Fluttering wipers
with a wide bumper.
You should show your
grille more! Wendy’s
biggiebag crumbs on the seats.
Love your handles
and the way you handle.
Unlike these American
Kia’s.

A-2002 TRANS FIRE-BIRD.
LAD -LAZA RUS-IRISE 
WITH-MY RED-HAIR
EAT-MEN LIKE-EYRE.
RAT-HER CHOO-SE 
THE-BEAR.

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Summary feedback: it’s rubbish and should be rewritten

The concept of the poem is to blend/compare flock cameras with the male gaze and how humans are similar in a surreal way that they become blended and indistinguishable. 

I think I was inspired similar to this poem about blending HR language in a surreal way https://imgur.com/a/i2DOcbn

Was the flock camera metaphor not working? I think I have found I need a specific audience to understand the references since I will admit there are alot.