ALCOHOLISM
wading in mushy mucky mad
i can't pull myself out
my inner strength draining out of me
i try to set myself free
but this filthy swamp ***** me deeper
the banks are far off sight
how i wish to start this all over again
old habits are hard to ****
i have been swimming in this mess
each lapsing day without a miss
alcoholism seem to be the only -ism
am subscribed to because it raises my
esteem
sipping the accursed drink has become
a leisure
sauntering and wobbling and at times
seizure
seizes my ****** body
each time i open my mouth to shout
for help
i ends up with a full gulp
then i would let a string of expletives
as the drink slice me like thousand
knives
i live in a nightmare
as i dread a new day to appear
horrified by last night deeds
i always cower in a corner as my pulse
speeds
as i wait for doom to be spelled
disgraceful,outrageous and antisocial
i need to veiled
when the sun-day comes
in abject terror i call out to gods
with despair i cry to unseen powers
maybe my prayer can open heaven
showers
and clean my dirtied shell
and be saved from this hell
am clinging to this thread of hope
i reflects my pathetic life
since i don't wish to die a slave
in this alcohol logged swamp
but here still i am with steel clamps
holding me;alcohol drowning me
i have to fight tooth and nail to be
free
((poetry from the heart))
[[the dumb speaker]]
<<kayvoh the poet>>

Done, ends stitched in a seam—set
to be worn over yourself.
A stain so bright, you sparkle.
Too far forward to flip. The sipper,
the straw, the soda. Bleeding ink
every blink, but still brimming.
Ripped apart like a rainbow.
A love letter to life still
in the works.

So dead you’re divine.
Only visible in the love-light.
Weird as a plant that bites
the bully, as a phlox
sprouting through sand.
Wingless like wind, fin-less
like a fluid. Lost but
listening to your own heart.
Found.

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smagen af cigaretter minder mig om dig
jeg tumler rundt i et mørke af savn,
imens stjernerne lokker mig ud i natten
en blanding af mørkeræd og trang
til at glemme
jeg drukner i et hav af hvide lagner
som er som sne, uden dig
forsøger
at glemme tanken om
at du ikke er her hos
mig
i nat
lader musikken bære min tristhed
når jeg lyser min telefon op,
men dit navn er der ikke på displayet,
så jeg
sipper endnu en tår fra rødvinsglasset
og beder til at du også
tænker på mig
i nat

Subtle sipper of love, use the Big Dipper
To ladle it out, into the trash can you drink of,
Toilet paper stacked against the mattress,
In your stomach, they scream he'll get sick,
Without shoes on, but he doesn't have a heart,
To fail, to stop its beating, just a hallow cave,
Where memories go to die, I watched him,
Shrug & grin, satisfied with solitude,
I'm ready for a tire swing lullaby,
No jokes or games, every,
Thing, out in the open,
He clambered down my words,
And sat in the mulch to die.

med spids mund skærer *** små skiver af sure citroner
hælder en håndfuld af dem i et højt glas
og sipper let til hendes vand
"jeg synes bare det smager friskt," siger *** galant og *** trommer med fingrene på bordpladen, nipper til en müslibar
bilder sig selv ind at den intetsigende vand, smager godt
en iskold dåsecola med et sugerør er i den grad fortrukket
og en kebab med ekstra dress til at mætte sulten
men ikke mere
for det er altså nu
det er nu *** skal vise slanke, lange ben og enn fast røv
slentre ned af gangene, trække blikke
vide at mens drengene vil have hende
vil pigerne bare være hende
det er nu *** skal trække let på skuldrene og sige "jeg har bare højt stofskifte" når veninderne ivrigt spørger og spørger hvordan har du en så flot krop?
det er nu at der altid er cigaretter og stimerol i tasken,
for det der kan ryges, tygges og spyttes ud kan aldrig ende på lårene
det er altså nu at et bad om onsdagen
ikke er lig med et bad af tårer
det er nu at fremmede 1g piger på instagram
vil anmode om at følge hende for at se hvem pigen fra 3g det er, som drengene synes er så lækker
det er nu, siger *** til sig selv, og løber lidt mere på løbebåndet
lige nu
for i hendes øjne
er der langt fra kebab og cola
til skønhed og lange ben
og der skal ske noget
og det skal være *lige nu

I dream in drops of April showers
Each note prismed,
                          some soft,
                                             some sharp
Into blossomed bright hued midnight edges

Secret flowers I hold close with asfault heat
Shift souls that once fit into each groove like all wreathed-in-mystery creators
I once dreamed of you in crimson letters
Swamped in mountain kisses, big sky glory
Memory pulls at a few calm whispers but nothing truly there
Just the space between two tangled mouths and thick summer air
Hand to hip you silly sipper
I lick white lightening from the curve of your smile
Change of season saw you slipping
From one gypsy to the next
As roaming hearts are want to do
Maybe that’s why I like it short and sweet
The only way I could get it from you

I am more caterpillar than butterfly
more a muncher than nectar sipper
crawling suits and I don't like flying
and it will take a miracle to change.