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Ackerrman Aug 2023
I am never enough
In your scowling eyes,
Your voice is coarse and rough,
No care for how the blood dries.

No care for my welfare,
Just how it affects you.
Remember when you said 'she left you because of the drugs'?
Well ******* too.

And **** when you told me
'I never said that'
Where is your sympathy
You gas lighting rat.

Go ahead and press my buttons
To see me light up,
And when I do,
You play victim.

The meds I take
Are to deal with you.
Your care is fake,
You pretend you don't have a clue.

When I try and tell you
How I feel,
The words don't get through,
Responsibility not so quick on your heel.

You make dinner
For everyone but me,
My patience is growing thinner,
Your hate is like a tree

Taking root under my family,
And now I am the wretch,
The cans in my room, so pretty,
You self absorbed *****.

Not big on self regulation,
Or object permanence,
Day on day commotion
Starts again, what a performance.

The rage I have for you,
You taught me well,
I am black all the way through,
And water does not quell.

Alcoholic,
Just like you taught,
This life is chaotic
K cider 7.5% store bought.

Why does Dad have to die of cancer
And you continue to breath?
You death dodging dancer,
Every sip is a seethe.

You shouldn't be allowed around children,
You dangerous psychopath,
A hateful haven,
Blood soaked epitaph.

So here is wishing
You a swift death,
Or maybe go missing,
I don't want to hear another breath.

You won't get a funeral.
You are being cremated.
And I won't be there
To bring you back from the crematorium.
Amanda Hoy May 2023
crack a can to celebrate,
throw one back to mourn.

silence these voices in your head,
we've traveled this road before.

the bliss is brief and wavering,
you lose with every pour.

we're finally alone together,
crack a can, be born.
Thomas W Case Mar 2023
Just like Orpheus,
I descended.
Though,
my digression was
for different
reasons.
Yeah, I tried to
rescue you from
your hell.
Bring you out of
the degradation,
the debauchery.

It smelled like
***** and ****.
The swine squealed.
The harpies shrieked.
And,
I looked
too long.
I became you.

Thank God I escaped.
Fate dragged me
out by the scruff
of my neck.
I will never
visit your
underworld
again.
You've made it
your home.
Thomas W Case Mar 2023
It was a
****** mary morning,
with a Van Gogh sky.
I woke up early, and
found a bar that did the  
same.
My kind of place
dark
and empty.
I began ordering ****** marys,
one after another.

At noon I paid
my bill and
caught the bus downtown.
I had to be at the  
courthouse at one for a
probation violation hearing.
I met my lawyer in the  
hall.
He said,
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“You’re drunk,” he shouted.
“I’m fine,”  I said.
I followed him into the
courtroom.
We sat down across the
table from the
prosecutor.
As soon as we sat
down,
he said,
“Come with me.”
I got up and followed
him into the
judges chambers.
He handed me a small
machine with a
tube attached,
and said,
“Blow in this.”
I did.

He said, "This must be your  
lucky day.
It’s broken.
Do you want a
week in jail or
a month more
probation?”

I’ll take the longer
probation, I said
I had nothing but
time, and a small
amount of cash.
I walked out of
the court house.
Everything
looked ******.
Thomas W Case Mar 2023
I woke up too early.
It was still dark out.
I tried to read some
Hunter S. Thompson, but
it made me thirsty,
not a drop in the  
place.
I wish I were in
Puerto Rico.

A few nights ago my
girlfriend and
I got into it.
She bit me and
scratched my face.
We were drunk on  
wine from Argentina.
The coffee I’m  
drinking doesn’t taste
right.
I wish I were in
Puerto Rico.

In the wee hours of
the morning
I decided
to shave my head.
It took four razors, but
I finally got the
job done.
I looked in the
mirror,
and a stranger peered
back at me;
a head like Gandhi
and a face like Marciano.
I wish I were in
Puerto Rico.

Yesterday
my girlfriend and I went  
on a shoplifting spree.
I stole coffee,
a couple of books,
a hat, denture glue, and
a **** ring.
She’s a much better thief than
me.
She took
razors, two tapestries, laundry soap and  
trash bags, makeup, shampoo
and coffee that doesn’t taste funny.
As the sun gently
kisses the horizon
and begins to bathe
Iowa City in golden light,
I wish I were in
Puerto Rico.

Tomorrow morning
I have to be in
court.
A month ago I stole
some wine and got caught.
My day of reckoning has
almost arrived.
I should just get a
fine that I will
never pay, but
with these things,
one never knows.
The judge could be  
hung over or constipated
or worse yet, he could have
read my poetry.
I really wish I were in  
Puerto Rico.
Thomas W Case Feb 2023
There is a road to
sorrow.
The pain is palpable;
it involves
drugs, *****, and
bad women.
It ends with
life under a bridge.
There are lots of
hospitalizations.
It's hell on earth.
Seizures and sickness.
Love was my
haven, but I lost it.
I left ME behind.
Check out my you tube channel where I read poetry from my recent book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HOkjvj7dhyk
Thomas W Case Feb 2023
There is a gravity to
sadness; it pulls me
downward into a
deep dark well.
I can't climb out.
It's my own private hell.
I pray for levitation.
I jump, only to fall.
I feel forgotten.

I put one foot in
front of the other,
and I will rise.
I move on.
Hope returns like
a long lost friend,
and I find my sanctuary.
I have 2 and a half weeks sober  I went to the hospital and had 2 withdraw seizures.  I fell and hit my head, I got a concussion and a small brain bleed, I am hopeful.
Andrew Dec 2022
You took my problems away
And made me feel complete
Thomas W Case Oct 2022
I am declaring my
independence from the
tyranny of ***** induced
debauchery.
I no longer need listen
to my addictive voice.
It only seeks my destruction.
No more am I in *******;
The chains lay at my feet
Scene one, Childhood

I never really learned to emotionally regulate,
Taking clues from Nickelodeon more than parents who set good examples,
Screaming fights and bruises and broken glass
Too much drinking, the smell of cigarettes
Moms broken bones
Make yourself small, make yourself gone
They may not notice you.

We played family a lot, curtaining blankets over a bunk bed to block the outside, and in family, I always took care of my babies.

Scene two, 18

I never really learned to emotionally regulate, taking clues from the friends around me more than parents who set any example.
A false father leaving, a mom losing her cash cow
The smell of Arbor Mist and ***** still makes me sick, mom’s incoherent fists still make contact in my sleep, I still wouldn’t have given her the keys.

We don’t play anymore. We’re mostly estranged. But we work. And in family, I always took care of my babies.

Scene three, 28

I’m trying to learn to emotionally regulate, the slideshow of couches and faces of therapists trying to set an example.
A son born to trauma, a marriage of consequence, I’m still learning to love myself, please, the sound of yelling still makes me sick,
I don’t know how to do this.

We are grown now, we are mostly put together. And now we live. But this is my family, and I will always take care of my babies
This is meant to be a spoken word poem, it’s a little messy. It’s been a while
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