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Apr 2017 · 266
What the future holds
Blake Bourland Apr 2017
It never really ends
Just sort of twists and unfolds
Never ever cured
Just under control
Someday he'll **** me
Or the both of us I suppose
If she's lucky
She'll be spared the worst
Hope
Cause in reality
No one is.
Nov 2013 · 1.0k
Tag lines
Blake Bourland Nov 2013
need  
street  
just  
like  
gin  
time  
vermouth  
****  
blue  
beer  
man  
glass  
drink  
liquid  
shattered  
away  
bar  
notice  
feel  
soul  
right  
set  
main  
shadow  
white  
*****  
haiku  
perfect  
match  
shot  
big  
mornings  
past  
saw  
light  
join  
edge  
black  
candy  
make  
words  
elephants  
*******  
olive  
eyes  
poetic  
sound  
way  
long  
passed  
die  
motion  
page  
drain  
dallas  
yesterday  
martini  
brine  
passage  
window  
brand  
highway  
blank  
icy  
hills  
night  
sitting  
cheap  
carpet  
holding  
filled  
gulped  
condensation  
women  
pint  
quick  
imagine  
dive  
gripped  
professors  
stem  
point  
false  
self  
peace  
hardwood  
epiphany  
highball  
unspecified  
downed  
crystal  
means  
sting  
cinema  
percent  
mixing  
forget  
bukowski  
sifted  
fingers
a collection of all the things important in my writing according to hello poetry
Oct 2013 · 1.3k
What's it feel like?
Blake Bourland Oct 2013
like benny profane
@ the sailors' grave
boot heels etch
Hieroglyphic cuneiform
on saw dusted floors,
while blobs of mercury
nailed to the bar
drip
down
nauseatingly poetic
accomplishing nothing
proving even less.
Oct 2013 · 1.2k
What!?
Blake Bourland Oct 2013
Black smoke                    Binomial random
Exhaled, white                    Variable
Light                        Pr­obability mass
Condensed   Labels  Function
     humanity macro micro
         into seasonal index
meditative chants
Conceptualized meaning attempt
at poetry / waste of time
Death in a lecture hall behind
a prison of silver screens.
can you tell where my stats notes end and the real poem begins?
Oct 2013 · 407
the perfect shadow
Blake Bourland Oct 2013
Beautiful in a way seldom seen
Knowing all too well
this is an illusion
Perfect shadow in name
it is neither.
Oct 2013 · 618
...and drink beer.
Blake Bourland Oct 2013
Why then can't we just
****
and drink beer?
Surely those words must have
been written by
more men than just me

Your face is in the lights reflection
off the ice cubes in the bottom of every
scotch on the rocks

It's your skin I can feel
When my hand touches the
polished edge of the bar

when I drain from the bottle
I can see you
breathing life into
me

So why then can't we just
****
and drink beer
Why is it ever more than
just that?

Because of the mornings
******* mornings.
Blake Bourland Oct 2013
And I drank a beer for the
Poet,
         lyrically gripped on
                                             to the
stem of peace and understanding

I downed a shot for
                                   the
Women clutching their highball
                 of shattered self importance

I gulped wine from a goblet
for the professors, the teachers
holding their stein filled w/ false prophecy
              and cheap hopes.

And I shattered my glass on
                  the floor
                                                   Just to prove
                                                           ­     a point.
Oct 2013 · 597
An epiphany
Blake Bourland Oct 2013
The pint glass sitting
on the edge of
the nightstand full of
gin and tonic
watching the condensation
roll
down
to the warped hardwood
for the first time
I imagine
a quick sweep of the
wrist,  shattered
glass in the carpet.
Blake Bourland Jan 2013
I had a Bukowski in me
but I had to finish mixing my drink
The next best seller
but I had to add the vermouth
It was poetic genius
you cant forget the olive
but i’ll lose it if I dont move
I need a pen, i need to get to my computer, i need to do something fast
but it’s long gone now
sifted through the frontal cortex like so much sand through my fingers
and it was going to be the next big one,
the one that would get me out of here
make me the big shot
published author
but no...
the worst part of it is
I used too much vermouth
Aug 2012 · 1.0k
The next one
Blake Bourland Aug 2012
Stay away from that victory gin that causes rebel rouses, but no elections
Go join the 99 percent and never graduate your fafsa dreams don’t intimidate me
**** your mace brand justice
and your senior citizen abuse.
join the merchant sailors like the greats. be some one who can change,
******* it what we need right now is someone who can wright this right of passage.
we need another Kerouac
we need another Ginsberg
cause all i ever did in Dallas was die
all i ever did in Dallas was die.
set me free from this pretentious tyranny of name brand sweaters, and lemon bars,
your art house cinema fulhouse applause can’t match the street grit grime of my soul.
too much vermouth with much rancid brine has made me a bitter soul of conquest.
the tomorrow is wasted youth on main street on a wave of *****, and appletini *******
sugar sweet synth pop and black liquorice hip hop spewing out of every show off trendy water hole.
the sixth street, fry street, main street, bourbon street of our fathers will swill down the drain
to make room for the next
for the next
for the next.........
after all we ever we wanted to do was last.  
where do we go from here?
Jul 2011 · 1.1k
Drunmk at my compuper
Blake Bourland Jul 2011
Gin soaked Tommy gun ******* sun
of saints and sinner **** trash
poured fourth from some .......
hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh­hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgkiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiijjjjjjjj­jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjgbvfcccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccccc
­**** it.
Nov 2010 · 901
Window Sill
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Crystal Blue pierced by blinding white
Lamp post shadow runs long on concrete
Icy winds sting uncovered flesh
Behind the window glass
I feel only the sun's glow
Nov 2010 · 537
This day and age
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
News feed scrolls by
Digital information
Inject in our brain
Nov 2010 · 878
Fade
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Works will not become
Lasting memories in time
Memory fades away
Nov 2010 · 721
Liquid Candy Motion
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
******* man
intrinsic blue flame jet set smoke and green neon light smacked right into the main cable.
Thick liquid bass thump with the breakbeat bump
in sight and sound of tasted color.
Makes a meandering soul to twist
and twilight the highlight of the lowest man to find.
Pounded feet on cracked side street
****** that sell out the unrelented love.
When one starts another mixed in to beat match strike and spark
to set it off.
Down the highway flyway light streaked past in transient sound
of the spatial distorted.
Become the freak high sung from these beats
spilled down from heaven in this divine golden potion.
From oblivion to the tree tops on a flow of
Liquid
Candy
Motion.
Nov 2010 · 1.4k
Martini Haiku Part 2
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
No, not a *** crime
Naked and ***** just means
Brine, no vermouth
Nov 2010 · 1.4k
Martini Haiku
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
*****, or Gin
Either way you mix it
You need an olive
Nov 2010 · 810
Unlikely Traffic Accident
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Thud, Burst of feathers
Windshield meant to save
Too bad for the bird
A bird hit my windshield on my way to work one morning. I'm pretty sure it died, and I feel terrible about it.
Nov 2010 · 610
Actualization
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Tending to the flocks
Realizing his purpose
Man becomes human
Nov 2010 · 637
Traveling
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Bright eyes pass by
Divided by stone wall
Blanketed night sky
Highway man begs toll
Destination, Nigh.
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
Hills, White Elephants
Printed tip of iceberg shown
Hemingway, you drunk.
Nov 2010 · 587
Blank Page
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
The Blank page, lined blue
Barren landscape, Ideas
Flourish, or Perish.
Nov 2010 · 450
Passage of Time
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
.                                                Today
Passed into...
                                                         ­                          Past it will become....
Passed by me
                                                              ­                     ...
Yesterday.
Nov 2010 · 862
Classroom Haiku
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
College in thy name
University, The same
No. real. solution.
Just something I wrote in class while thinking about the need for higher level education.

— The End —