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Cné  Feb 2018
Cné Feb 2018
I just had a shot
Of Pappy Van Winkle neat
Smooth with a good burn
chichee Jan 13
Every morning I die
a little death.
Bourbon-shot skies and
whiskey lies,
better stop making those
bedroom eyes,
'cause I might just take you
up on it darlin'.
I'm a little bit of pretty nonsense.
Rhyme and dine,
turn down the lights,
break our bodies into bread
and say our daily prayer
and ****** hope there's a god
for sinners.
Fire brings out the worst of us
and we're fucken gasoline.
You keep spittin' out that
serious talk saying
Everything has a price,
Well then kiss me
and let's bleed for it later,
the whole world's only
a cocktail darling.
Watched the sunrise today and thought of this- something impulsive.
trf  Jan 9
Nonesuch Mercy
trf Jan 9
the darkest nights blame the sun kissed moon,
and we're paralyzed by the weather.

above stormy skies we lie fragile and wait,
as the time flies by like our pleasure.

blankets of bourbon, wine & cheese plates,
shooting stars wish us to forget them.

my thigh rubs gently along your soft suede,
answers beg question's forgiveness.
Jordan Rowan  Dec 2015
In My Mind
Jordan Rowan Dec 2015
In my mind, we stand on the balcony
Drinking whiskey bourbon talking 'bout you and me
In my mind, we move down to a city in Mexico
Get away from the winter because we both can't stand the cold

In my mind, we follow our dreams to Rome
Live like pharaohs and worship each other's bones
In my mind, we make love like lovers do
Becoming each other, there is no me and you

In my mind, the tidal waves start to fall
Breaking down the canyon, breaking down the valley walls
In my mind, the sky begins to break
Every little crack is another small mistake

In my mind, you're lying here in my arms
Falling asleep to your breath and no alarm
In my mind, your secrets are safe with me
Like a little piece of you that I get to keep

In my mind, we meet on the edge of town
You look at me for protection as we drive around
But my mind isn't what the world wants to be
I guess, today, I'll start moving on down the street
Jordan Rowan Aug 2015
Softer in the morning like the light of the sun
Don't worry about today until tomorrow's done
Light up your eyes and sleep on the run
Where we will be isn't for anyone,
but Us

Climb into my mind and make yourself at home
I'm not strong enough to ever be alone
Sing me that song so long ago I wrote
Poison me to sleep and swirl me like smoke,
and don't rush

I've got a bourbon headache in my weary eyes
Let's go to the city and dance across the sky
Drop another line with acid in our smiles
In dreams and in life, let's die awhile,
before we live

Tomorrow isn't here until I come alive
Send me the curses from yesterday's drive
Memories from a ***** whiskey dive
Is that my face in someone else's eyes?
Or is it his?
guy scutellaro Feb 2018
when I walk towards the dog his eyes follow my every step.
eyes  blue like hard candy. lips curled above white fangs
smile at me with a smirk of someone who has awakened
from a bad dream.

I think I hear him sigh and as I kneel beside him. His cold eyes catch some light from the pulsateing drum bar sign.
"what do you see?" I ask. "what can you feel?"

Inside the bar I order a shot of bourbon and as I put the bourbon to my lips I see the dog standing on a barstool next to the fireplace. His lips are contorted tightly above its teeth and his eyes pulsate red light. After staring in disbelief the impossibility of situation dies. His eyes flash quickly several times. He knows me .

I order 2 shots of bourbon and walk over to were the mutt was sitting. He is not there and I'm beginning to wonder if I have imagined the dog when I feel something ice cold rubbing against my leg,  I look down. The mutt winks at me. I crouch down to put the glass of whiskey in front of him. Then I touch my glass to his.
"I've learned to moan without making a sound. " I tell my friend as his stiff tongue stubbornly licks up the bourbon.

He slowly turns his big ****** head towards me. "Out of the lowest the highest reaches his peak,"  his hoarse voice whispers. Causiously I stroke his head. He growls but it is not too menacing. it becomes more like a contented humming. The faster I caress the louder the droning becomes. His eyes dilate and I become mesmerized watching them grow from a warm yellow radiance to a terrifying hot white.

And with a vicious snap the dog sinks his teeth into my hand.

I **** my hand loose. Quickly I stand up and punt kick the little ******* into the fireplace. My wounds are deep but bloodless. A cold numbness  travels up my arm, into my chest, and down to my toes.

And just when I 've lost all feeling. I begin to burn. The fire is burning me from the inside out so no one knows how I feel.
Instead I stare at the dog in the fire place as steam rises from his head. His eyes flash at me three or four times.

I give him the finger.

When I walk into the poolroom, I put quarter on the table. It is a crowded room of tired faces unable to radiate any light of their own.

"The fire has consumed me. The true believer of snow and sad faces, I am a shell."

I am confused, frightened. I hear the words as if they are my thoughts. But then across the room hidden in a dark corner I discern the silhouette of the mutt. His eyes are shut but I can faintly see his subtle smile.

It's my game so pretending as if nothing has happened I select a pool stick. A tall man in a leather jacket comes over and tells me it is his game.

we argue.

And the dog's voice groans, "No matter what you dream it'll end in ashes or ice. Hit him with the pool cue." The next thing I know I'm slamming the pool stick into the man's face. Blood rushes from his wound. People rush from the shadows. hands grab me. Punch and kick me. I'm dragged to the door and tossed into the gutter.

Semiconscious, sometimes dreaming, I roll over and face the dog.
From the shadows someone comes behind me I try to roll over to see the voice but cannot.

"What does this world consist of?" The voice whispers into my ear. "Empty lots, a dead dog, and visions of the night."
Waldo  Mar 2016
Waldo Mar 2016
Hadn't seen my brother in awhile, I wondered if he’d something risky.
Instead I found him at home sitting alone drowning in swigs of whiskey.
The dark living room became his cave.
The couch acted as his grave.
How strange it is to see a man become a bottles slave.
Has Bourbon withered him away until there's nothing  left to save?

Much time has passed since we roamed the woods and strolled along the creek.
Now it seems the creek has dried, the trees have died, and the forest looks bleak.
But somewhere out in the cornfield I can still here him speak.
Corn, the original form of the poison that makes him weak.
Mary Gay Kearns Aug 2018
The broken biscuits lay in a tin
An ordinary oblong tin
With turquoise pattern
And pink embossed flowers
Gold edged to finish the job.

How many times I visited
That tin on the middle shelf
In the top half of a cupboard,
Sawn door, to allow for fridge,
And quietly took out the tin.

Broken biscuits were my delight
All shapes and sizes tasty bites
Wafers,  bourbon, custard creams
Rich tea, digestive all suited me
Sometimes fig sandwich, pleased.

Love Mary
Thank you Mum and dad .Love your daughter .
...What does love look like today?

Love today looks like brown butter bourbon ice cream and sunlight
Like body oil on soft legs
And smoothie cream in even softer hair
Like breathing and disappearing in sheets
Like breast free of cups that don't hold me like the universe does
Like lips that taste of caramel
And a bedroom that heals in lavender
Like woman done waiting
Like woman simply being
Like body untouched, un-tethered.
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