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kenneth-springer
kenneth-springer
Venezuelan Write Drunk, Edit Sober
I was asleep when you came in. Wakening to the intoxicating tequila that drizzles from your mouth, You've already managed to start the discussion Combing you’re hands, lips and tongue to orchestrate A stroke of genius in full consequence, You now have my attention.. But you’re not alone,        Putting on my glasses I see you picked once again Navigating takes four hands ya know. Now choose: A spin-cycle or tune up, temporary vision, lost again. Each of you raves, You both used to dance. Looking at each other, synchronizing the helm. Yearning for violence you scratch the flesh That harbors you’re enthusiasm. Backbiting lust and forceful appetite, This is what happens when you Wake the Wolf.
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Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Waking the Wolf
Today, I got punched in the face, And I really liked it. My lip roughly grazing the surface of my teeth, Gently slicing my pomegranate edges. My blood, tastes of used battery acid Stinging my tongue on contact. My head swung back a bit As gravity seeks an answer And always comes to collect. I boomeranged back in place, Just in time to hear the ringing A deaf melody heard only by my ears. When it was over I realized My excitement was premature. it all happened so fast. Left me with the blues, a testicular protest.. I looked down at her. Told her: “Now this side” Today I got punched in the face twice.. And ******* loved it..
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Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
HIT ME!
She wants to know me, Whisper secrets down my throat. But like so many before.. I don’t see her name, but, I know everything about her. I discern her independent thoughts Her politely rebellious acts of defiance, How she shops at thrift stores Wearing old tank-tops to complement her Chanel, Paints her nails black and her index red. I know she says this, but really wants that. I know what makes her toes curl I know what she likes And how she likes it. I read her like an open book, Bold font size 45. She wants to know me, To explore ourselves together. But I recognize her from afar, So how could she ever know me…
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Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC
Exploring blank pages
This ******* heart beats thrice per second Pumping in and pumping out the black tar from my lungs. If the body is a temple, Then I have abandoned mine No one now kneels in this void. Baptized in whiskey, Circumcised with a machete. It’s no coincidence that, I was born on the full moon In the midst of a hurricane. Learning how to eat with no spoon But this is who I am. We each have a cross to bare Mine’s just covered in scalpels Sharpened bread knives, That draw wrinkles on my face.
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May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
Whiskey Wednesdays
Lost in thought I struggle to wake, Breathing in your toxic conclusions false preconceptions, Notions of refuge, receding to nothingness. Steadfast is my disposition, To go with what I believe, Rather than what they say. Because the judge will always lay verdict While the judged may only plea. And the plea is always guilty When it’s coming out of me.
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May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
Guilty as Charged
You were hovering over me, Violently yearning You whispered: “gummy bears can’t dance salsa” Under us the ground broke. And the choreography was immaculate, As we fell on one another Weaving our morals on the last door we passed, Before we made that right and went downstairs.   The puddle fell under me— icing my back, The fall silenced you’re moans, while the silence started the quiver, A treble in full effect. You’re song was in windings as the prophetic tongue wandered. Then they came to boast the steps, But one after another their dance lay deaf For gummy bears can’t dance salsa When you’ve chewed off their legs.
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
Gummy Bears Can't Dance Salsa
I was tired but still made it Took a shot to be festive, then another to loosen the noose. We danced for a bit but I was still stiff. Jameson, on the rocks—my substance of choice. Found you in the back, Finished that ****** joint you rolled. We laughed a bit and then you bit me. I pulled you close but then you ran. Kicked me in the shin, Flicked me off as you turned the corner. Love hurts they said. Literally…
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May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
Last Night
The cuts on my back, use them as steps, climb the ladder. The hole in my shoulder, use it as a grip, Rise over the edge. Once you get to the upper Look down from atop the scalp. Doesn’t everything seem small & insignificant? Do not fear the wind though, for this is just my sight. Use my windows to see over yonder.
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Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
Standing on a Giant's Shoulders
Counting the ‘pops’ on the popcorn ceiling Without sleep how can one dream. Without dreams how shall I see my future, My past or my present?       A fitting sentence     carried out slowly. To inhale, consume, **** and fight at will. Is it my fault? That I love to be wicked? Letting my “id” run rampant with immorality, the weight of the bags –Droplets of fatigue. So when the moon rises, don’t look for me, I won’t be home. Because the man with no dreams, Must turn his reality into one.
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Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
The Man With No Dreams
Moons ago I smoked till the filter, Drank Johnny’s backwash And slept hungry. How can you know an empty stomach, Without dancing in Tampa for a buck fifty? What’s for breakfast? “cowboy killers.” lunch I asked, “Kentucky deluxe.” Dinner? “A bent Porto Rican kitten.” But people are seasons And springtime had come. Now it’s easy, but still stiff. In the end of the day. ehh.
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Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
Lifestyle of the Poor and Dangerous