Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2017
alternatively known as: trying to sober up... but keep on drinking.

i remember this time,
when a girl i was ******* slapped me
silly...
    because i assumely lied to her...
about getting a university degree...
and oh, what a pain that slap was,
given the ****** that came after.
throw a ******* penny into the fountain
for the last ten minutes i was trying
to sober-up,
      and yes, i was slapping myself
in the face... over 6ft...
     and weighing over 100 kilograms...
a slap by me... i felt it on my cheek...
i almost lost a tooth...
and i had a case for stating: my neck!
my neck!
         but you know what was
agry. puzzlig, painful?
        it wasn't the memory of being
slapped by a russian girlfriend,
and then her fetish for mirrors,
and how she loved looking at her herself
getting ****** in the mirrors...
oh... what an image to glare into...
            no, but i was slapped on cheek by her...
so today, i was reading the newspaper,
meaning: it was a *sunday
...
    i started drinking, and then slapping
myself in the face...
      but that wasn't painful...
    what was? the magazine read the headline:
100 albums you have to hear
before you die...
     in the live rubric:
     stop making sense - talking heads,
mtv unplugged in new york - nirvana,
  1969 the velvet underground - the velvet undergroeund,
live at massey hall 1971 - neil young,
live! - bob marley and the wailers...
  now... slapping yourself in the face
to rememeber an ex-girlfriend is past painful...
it's just itchy...
         it's just an idea of a mosquito...
    you get used to it, like love might be compared to malaria,
you can take a hundred girls slapping
you in the face,
   after which you start slapping yourself
to estimate that 100 girls could slap you and
that you'd still **** them...
  what's painful? the 100 album playlist...
   what the **** happened to tom waits'
  live album         glitter & doom (live)...
which is akin to the doors', roadhouse blues
live...     i really would prefer to slap myself toward
a 1000 times silly... than excuse tom waits' album
not being mentioned in the century of
worthwhile albums...
    come on... live circus?!
          come on!              goin' out west?!
goin' out west live, is as good as the doors'
version of roadhouse blues!
the studio version doesn't match-up to it,
not even half as much!
      sometimes recording music, live,
      propagates the need for a judas...
                    you really need a thief somtimes...
i mean, sometimes the art-work comes with the audience,
rather than "claustrophobic", locked in a recording studio;
it's basically the energy, of the immediacy of feedback.
Mateuš Conrad
Written by
Mateuš Conrad  36/M/Essex (England)
(36/M/Essex (England))   
245
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems