Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
sofija Sep 11
0 1
numb numb numb
oh dear drug
break up the pulver
line it up with my card
numb numb numb
oh dear drug
make me feel
make me flee
take my pain
bring me feels
line up another one
just to feel numb
you took my pain
you took my love
oh dear drug
anestethize me
tell me how you feel
tell me do you feel
tell me you feel
they still believe i feel
numb numb numb
smoke one more
play me more
take my pride
take my pain
numb numb numb
Pockets Aug 27
It was march
At the farmers market
Still kinda cold outside
There were people selling their odds and ends
And vendors selling fruit inside
At the back of the lot
Set an old taco truck
That sold tacos for a dollar a pop
I had 3 and a glass bottle coke
And wondered if I should buy
strawberries or not
Henry Mar 29
A crisp cold can of coke
I like writing about coca cola
It's my favorite drink to drink
There's something so good about writing it
A crisp cold can of coke
It springs to mind and to tongue like coke from a soda fountain with a simple depression of the little lever
Nothing is more evocative than the crack, snap, or pop of a crisp cold can of coke
It brings forth fond memories
Of childhood and summer and my ex girlfriend and my grandma
And some of my favorite artists too
Andy Warhol and Frank O'Hara for example
I like to think they share my sentiment
That there's almost nothing better than a crisp cold can of coke
It's something so American and something so mine
There's nothing I'd rather have on hot or a cold day
Then a crisp cold can of coke
3/29/20
Henry Mar 29
The crack of a coke can
Takes me back
To summer days
We woke up
You came over
I made some sandwiches
We shared the same plate
3/28/20
Tizzop Nov 2019
*****
****
coke

don't come
home

here ain't ya place
anymore

mommy forgot you
dad burned all
your pictures
dad destroyed your old
room

i hate you

besides:
got some blow?
i be filling gapz  
i been tizzop
Tizzop Nov 2019
take me away from this journey
i am trapped in the land of placelessness

blind / hypnotized
route 36 / bolivia
deaf / treated with ultrasound
simultaneously

scarcely knowing
what all that means

i am feeling the rising of blood
a wave of heat like sandstorms

inevitability: willful / knowing / aware

i am putting myself at risk of dying
long ago i read about the risks and consequences
of my ******* abuse
pervaded them intellectually while

my heart remains deafly because
of *******
bitter
sear
aflutter and in panic

there is just:

one life
one heart
one body one man

man what are you doing?!?!
i am hollering into my inner
embracing the envelope
obsessed over bitterness
numb love
in the dungeon of plotted heavens
lofty as never before
is where i am running away from:
every day

in the 1920s there was a man
who they called "koks-emil"
he sold ******* in the nightstreets of berlin

the national archive has been keeping
a picture of him doing business with
two girls out of gangland we
can't see the face of the one standing left only  
her back

however her companion typifies precisely
what the drug creates in our souls:
a form that can not be imitated
like the effect of the drug

a form of longing and greed in the
girl's face

longing and greed
balancing each other
not one of
these states predominates

while beholding the girl i am becoming
horridly conscious
about myself
horridly about

my relationship with *******
my affair with *******
my love to ******* this
sounds sick?
indeed it is

we call it
suffering from an addiction

we call it
suffering from a dependency

become clean.
i wish you willpower
wish you strong luck
wish you peace at last

the rate of relapsing
******* users is vast
during the night

when the wind is
breezing mildly

when the stones of the cities
are breathing out the heat of the day

while you are
sneaking over the streets

while every street corner resembles
the very one where
koks-emil used to sell his product

while you are sensing the smell
of bitterness

while you are being preoccupied with
her face: her longing her greed

while you are experiencing
yourself:

more deeply
more soberly
and more knowingly
as before

while you
are reaching out your hands searching
with kidfingers for koks-emil

the guy with the warped corner of the mouth
the reliable / greedy one

the one who is always ready

a salesman has to be available for
every second of your longing
every second of your greed

koks-emil: your world is made of black and white
your hat is grey its bonnet is vanishing as your
shivering hands

hands that spread capsules
hands that grap at bills
hands that you use to brush away your sweat

**** between the lipps
shabby coat

koks-emil your spirit
blows through inner cities like gas fumes
a grin on your face coming from
lurid lights

you became immortal
you underwent rapid decades
you were an addict
you created addicts
you served addicts

the ****** expression of the girl
your child-like customer
remains for

all for everybody with a
*******-addiction

for all and for everybody
who depends on *******

for all and everybody
who is clean from *******

for all and everybody:
longing and greed

rest in peace girl
Based on true events.

Today is a good day.
caroline Nov 2019
you’re the mentos to my coke
you make me all bubbly
and open me up
but boy you can make me explode
else Oct 2019
I could still taste the whiskey
In my mouth, ***-rimmed,
The tang of coke, light gin,
Better than mint,
As my eyes turned three,
Balance broke, but
My mind stayed intact,
So I took my calculator,
Solved calculus in front of you,
Pi r square h, volume of the drink--
Look, Chandrasekhar, Volkoff--
My words are slurred yet clearer
Than ***** neat, more fluent
Than *** slipping in like silk
Into my throat, the blooming
Sweet heat lingers, my
Feet numb, as I walked,
Arm slung over your shoulder,
Laughed, fear clear, stir sears,
I'm not sorry, I'm free, in glee
With you, while the mild aftertaste
Remains, dissipates late, my mate,
Our best most happiest date...

Oh boy.
I may just forget much.
But I won't forget
That you still owe me twenty point four seven five dollars.
*** what was I doing last night hahahh
Megan Hammer Aug 2019
He wears his smile like me
Moves in drunken circles
I stumble walking beside him to his car
And sing laughs as he hits the pedal

Another time, red bull and coke
Where the bicycles roll by
But I don’t hear anything besides him as we bicker mouth to ear

I just want to hear his thoughts
But he won’t give them to me
It’s out of his comfort zone to give me that kind of head.

I wonder when you’ll get tired
When you’ll be in that bar again
And someone will be there
And you’ll take her home like you’re used to

And do it all over again.
For he whose thoughts I wanted to hear - thank you for giving them to me.
Megan Hammer Aug 2019
Carefree kids on bikes, zigzagging their way to Gross Burgers
Their mothers are hookers, methheads, and nurses
Their dads are nowhere to be found.

But they still laugh, pass around a Coca-Cola
Turn up the Kanye and anger the neighbors
Who wear beards and drive trucks with one hand on the wheel

Carefree kids on bikes, eating push-up pops from Mike’s liquor store
They all smell like green sour patch kids - sour, sweet - almost gone.
Until they smell her lilacs beckoning them home, singing their names from a purple stem

She’s our lifeline, pumping blood through us and into our hearts
Carefree kids on bikes, we’ve only got that old lady on the porch
Carefree kids on bikes, who all the moms get rid of,
Ride to the lilacs, where she quietly gives up her last Coke for one of them

And loves them all,
Without caring where they come from.
Next page