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Joe Baldwin Apr 2018
“Just relax”

She says, as I picture her kissing the
Neck of a female coworker
With whom she had recently started
A flirtatious friendship

“We’ll play it by ear”

Scratches on the cluttered chalkboard
That is my anxious mind
Riddled with equations of what ifs
And ramblings of aftermaths

“It’ll work out”

Isn’t as reassuring as it might seem
When I want nothing more than to witness a fantasy
That is scribbled in a weekly calendar
And only committed to by word of mouth

“what else could I say”

Is a fair point,
but one that falls silent on my lust
which seems to be manifesting as a smoky devil
with obsessive compulsive disorder

“And if it doesn’t happen, oh well”

Are easy words for her to say
Considering the amount of fantasies she has fulfilled
Since we have started this journey
Of debauchery, and self-esteem adjustments

“At least we have each other”

The most comforting thing she has said on the topic,
Yet I wonder
Am I enough for you…

And you for me?
Cana Feb 2018
Its Friday night in the ramshackle city
The sweaty bodies writhing to to soco beat
Drugs, Drink and Debauchery and Cigarettes
Let go.
Saturday/Sunday morning.
Sun rose up from
behind the trees.
Over did it last night.
Door bell rings and the sound
you hear is so razor sharp
that it guts and mutilates
your dreams and suddenly,
you're rudely awakened.
Muster yourself out of bed.
Open the door in your underwear.
Sunlight blasts your dilated eyes.
Two well dressed alter boys
are at your front steps.
The local place of worship
sent for recruiters
to fill up their pockets
with non exempt tax dollars.
They've got "The Book" in one hand.
Pamphlets in another.
Well prepared.
Here with only one purpose.
One goal in mind.
The morning vampires.
Just like you were the night
before when engaging in
such debauchery.
Bothersome irritants
of the weekend daybreak.
They've already judged you
up and down before
they say their first word.
Feasting eyes see a blood
doughnut to sink their teeth in
and inject "the word" into your veins
so fast it'll make you nauseous.
Well worded tongues.
20 year old virgins,
who want to talk to you about life.
Something they know nothing about
or have ever experienced.
Only what they've been told.
At this point,
in your irascible state of mind
and hungover conditions.
Natural reaction is like a hornets nest.
Scream obscenities, shoe them off
and slam the door in their faces.
They're numb to this rejection.
They'll just move on to the next house.
But what if you caught them by surprise?
You said, "yes" and invited them inside
your home.
Now you've caught them
with their pants down.
They're not use to this
kind of hospitality from outsiders.
Be cordial.
Coffee or tea?
One lump or two?
Have a seat on the couch.
Make yourself comfortable.
**** them with kindness.
Let them talk but
don't let them overtake.
They're in your house.
Full of sins and vices.
An honest man is always in trouble.
You begin the debate.
You believe in one thing,
they believe in another.
Disagree with everything they say.
If they tell you hell
is all fire and brimstone.
You tell them
it's a frozen wasteland.
Peddlers of the higher power
are like painters,
putting on the first coat of Bible verses,
in hopes that they'll stick
to the walls of your ear canals.
You listen but you don't feed upon.
Careful onslaught responses.
Turn everything they're saying around.
Send them spiraling
into a vortex of absurdity.
You've debunked what they
believe to be is true.
Fairytales are fairytales.
Women being subsidiary
to a man is obsolete.
They preach about an ancient book
that is no longer relevant
to the modern world.
Go against the grain.
They may not know it.
You may not know it.
But you're doing them a service.
Getting them to think outside the box.
Open their mind from their sheltered upbringing.
Free thinkers.
Believe what they want to believe.
Not the spoon fed lectures
and implausible sermons
that have been handed down.
They listen but not going to let
a little thing like "sense"
get in the way of what's been
ingrained inside their thick skulls.
Thank you for your time.
Come over next week
and we'll talk again.
They move over to the next house.
In one ear, out the other.
Preaching the same word.
Wasted time.
Story of my life.
Back to bed.
Brent Kincaid Dec 2016
It’s Saturday night at the neighborhood bar
And I know that’s where my good friends are
So I plan to be there to party all night.
I hope we have fun and there are no fights.
But somebody’s bound to shoot of their mouth
So my mellow party plans might just go south.
That’s often how it goes with drunk boys and girls,
But I wouldn’t miss a minute for all the world.

Knee-walking ****-faced. That’s what I’ll be.
That’s how we do weekends in our society.
We’ll play chugalug games and drain our cup
And by the end of the evening throw it all up.
Knee-walking ****-faced, slapping some backs
Probably end up in some total stranger’s sack!
Of the Hammered Hell Club, I’m a member.
The meetings run from December to December.

I like this place where everyone knows my name.
Where everyone has their own self to blame.
We’re all full grown, and nobody here’s a kid.
We each take responsibility for whatever we did.
We’re true believers in a bit of cutting loose.
So what if it means we end up puking in our shoes?

Knee-walking ****-faced. That’s what I’ll be.
That’s how we do weekends in our society.
We’ll play chugalug games and drain our cup
And by the end of the evening throw it all up.
Knee-walking ****-faced, slapping some backs
Probably end up in some total stranger’s sack!
Of the Hammered Hell Club, I’m a member.
The meetings run from December to December.

Some friends I know say I’m not too bright
To go out, and stay out drinking at night
But they don’t have the problems like me.
But it contributes to my state of sanity
To get a little crazy, and **** a few brain cells
And hang out with my peers I know **** well!
Right now I have no time for any deep sorrow.
Party tonight, leave the worry ’til tomorrow.
Twenty-nine years ago, this could have been the lyrics to my theme song; background music to my life.
Hannah A Sep 2016
In the face of infinity, I stumbled to an instigator.
I must have known how furtive the ****** dotard was.
An epidemic stereotype would barely drawl an insurgent.
The tremendous vilification acurred.
Here comes the futile virtuoso with his interminable intransigence.
The vivacity dynamic banality of an unconscious programmed robot.
LJ Chaplin Nov 2015
Black and blue eyes
From rolling with the punches,
Another lonely night
From relying on the hunches,
Flicking through the channels
And hoping for a sign
That tonight will the night
He won't walk another line,
Shielding his face from the red and blue,
Slurring his words
Because he hasn't got a clue,
Where he is
Or why he's behind bars,
A night in a cell
Because he's written off his car.
He wonders why women walk away,
Why they give him the finger
Or why he never gets their name,
But then again he enjoys the rush,
Of taking them to bed
With another heart to crush,
Of sleeping in sheets
That still smell of Chanel,
From the woman before
Who said "go to hell".
He puts on his shoes
And walks through the door,
Hoping tonight
He'll once again score.
© L.J. Chaplin
Raphael Cheong Aug 2015

in my lungs you breed a pale disease
you are even in the air I breathe


heart in half chasing electronic dreams in technicolour screams
your claws in my teeth as I drown out my whims


and all the nights I spent lying in the freezer
and all the little lies we wasted telling each other
and even as you left I had not come around
I was the reckless wrecking havoc on wicked ground


last night I was flying around
dazed and dazed and dazed all over
awaiting my jewelled crown
adorned with the prestige of an empire

even in a new cage I could not throw you out


even as the sun rises surely troubles stay the same
even if you came back now I would gladly play your games
even after all this while all the daze you left me in

still you are imperial and my grailed heart it shakes like porcelain

Left *nameless

Shame on all of you..
Against*  my *wishes
Leal Knowone Feb 2015
I guess something is better than nothing, maybe we will wait and see
He said I'm the one they call price, I can set you free
the one they go to for advice, on their debauchery
He said nothing is really ever free, free yourself from reality
inside her head a porcelain doll smash up, and torn to shreds
see the broken bones of lovers strewn across her bed
the ****** ***** of the Antichrist, things that don't make any sense
walk with me into the after life, in life and in death

She did something you thought she would never do surprise you
the magic that she spins,trapped me in that web with you
******* on me now and then, but there is no way to win
I'm the one that they come to with the wagges of their sin
knocking at your door soaked in blood wondering if shell let me in
but she knows I can protect her from the demons and darkness within
The parasites and they monsters that crawl under the skin
remember nothing is for free baby, paying waiting to begin
Johhny & the Rooks
Castle Of Sin
Leal Knowone Feb 2015
black cats under calico sky's
in catacombs.white out mask mirrored eyes
white owl massacre  night, leaving the bones
take off mask you are home
you live in your cave
escaping hoards of insane
is this all a dream
this cant be reality
its obscene,its us
its everything, passing fling
refrain from truly connecting
parting your society
collapsing into the sea
****** debauchery hearing screams
in the a trophy of atrophy
this is everything I am wanting, and yet nothing at all
its a quick trip to the bottom, but this time your on top again
ride the horses the moist rainy night
show me I am wrong
and prove your are right
so I may worship at your feet
and steal away the night
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