Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
david badgerow May 2013
Jack be nimble
Jack be stiff
Jack Daniel's please ****
Taylor Swift.
just a quick one to get the day started.
david badgerow May 2013
on nights like this it's
old man Sanders across the hall
struggling with his sterility
and raising his wife's ******* son in silence
to be a man who will one day
manipulate a woman's emotions
in a train station at 4 a.m.

it's too early to be this drunk
yet i am
and
he is too
i can hear him shouting at
himself, his wife, and his half breed redheaded son
at the dinner table,
over something like Blondie in the background
and something about baseball in the morning.
david badgerow May 2013
i don't usually rhyme much
but my thoughts are coming quicker
i'm lifting into the sky right now
drunk on a curious liquor

i recall a scene in a bar last night
one involving a french tickler
i'm seeing her much more clearly now
my memory no longer flickers
i offered to take her eyes home with me
and her body didn't bicker
i took her to a street in pound town
and oh god, did she take me with her

at the top of her lungs, she called my name
sometimes she called me mister
but alas, it's the next morning now
and i think i'll have to ditch her

98 bottles of jack on the wall
my stomach is getting sicker
my mind is sharp like a noodle
my tongue is getting slicker

wish you could see me right now, mom
*******, i'll take a picture
david badgerow May 2013
while the young kids
burn their lips on
unfiltered cigarettes
and the poets
are distracted,
i'm kneeling in an alley
flushed with desire
clutching your number on a napkin.

while the children
and the saints
are crying in dysentery
behind guerrilla masks and guns
i'm imagining the flesh of your stomach
folded over the length of my thigh
and the roar of a volcano
in your heart.
david badgerow May 2013
someone robbed the Glendale train
last night
while i was peering into a dream
i was dropping pennies down a dark well
when i woke up
i was ******* into a ***** kitchen sink.
david badgerow Apr 2013
i'm still a poor *******,
i'd still give a canadian a cigarette,
probably won't ever **** a man
but if i do,
he'll die with my
respect.
david badgerow Apr 2013
i remember that night on your front steps
smoking cigarettes and talking with your mother
while
i cradled your heart and
you cried on my chest

i remember middle school english class
and your first thong,
pink and white and blue

i remember we made that bourbon summer
last until december

i remember bottle rockets and champagne
the morning your brother died

i remember carrying you home
in the rain
the day after you escaped from the hospital
and you cried then, too.

i remember lying on the cold ***** tile
of your mother's kitchen
whispering Neruda in your ear
shivering & sweating with you
that night we took ecstasy

i remember the first night
you let me slip an honest prayer between your lips
Next page