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TheBlackBird Jul 2021
You were all honeysuckle kisses
That led to bee sting lips

The one last glass of wine
that I knew was a mistake

But I drank you anyway
Erica Sep 2018
you know i still love you
but i will always hate you too
for so many reasons
leaving me alone at 6 on friday nights till 10am the next day
i never ate enough
you never noticed
i never did my homework and lied saying i did
you hardly checked
i hurt myself
you never noticed
but you're my dad, i can't just only hate you
but i feel the need to
cause the pain you put me in
i will never forget
the phone calls that i have to initiate with a text
i'm sorry i'm a bad child
i'm so sorry i'm ****** up
and i'm sorry you don't know how to parent
i'm sorry i love my mom more than i'll ever love you
but i love you dad
you know i do
you just don't know how much i hate you
thanks for kinda raising me
you yelled
i cried
you drank
i cut
you smoked
i smoked
you slept
i drank
you went out
i stayed up till you got home
i'm sorry but i feel the need to say goodbye
to the father i wished you were
so i fan finally accept the real father you are
Badshah Khan Feb 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 40

BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem

I am willingly the faqeer. (devout wanderer)

Who eagerly drank the Eternal Drink’

Through your noble hand, Oh my beloved!

Nor, there are any shelter, nor there is bond.

In Your Eternal Love, I wander wherever I naturally want,

And gently set my poised head upon the sacred earth,

And at ease myself, under the opened vast sky!

Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem

Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust)
Maxim Keyfman Sep 2018
little fear
I drank it
I drank it
and did not notice

I did not stumble
did not notice
how is the darkness around
became one and one

little fear
I drank it
I drank it
and everything went well

so unexpectedly
and so quickly I
I'm fast
this pipe was swallowed

maybe I’ve changed
maybe the world changed
maybe both
maybe it’s sufficiently for the better
maybe it’s superlative for the worst

who knows?

I don’t

but those days spent
in dilapidated rooms
were ****** in the
otherworldly beauty of music,
that made us feel invisible
in our own little mystical
world of phlegmatic compositions
and we outlawed the vexation
of petty differences and tribulations

under the same pale moonlight,
our hearts were accompanied by
borrowing time from the
misery of tomorrow,
being chased by elephants,
and exhausted in pleasure
until we lost control of ourselves
in the beer bottles of perplexity
we talked a lot,
we drank a lot,
we smoked a lot,
Iggy Pop and Tom Waits,
moonshine and tweeka,
tranced in Susanna Hoffs eyes,
you truly were the
dancer in the dark
and sincerely,
those days
can not be beaten,
or relived

my best friend
is beyond the sky
by now
the remembrance of
memories and the
feelings of presence
makes me tremble

you were priceless and irreplaceable
but even diamonds turn to dust,
even diamonds turn to dust

and this is the end
of all dreams
the end
of all
To my closest and best friend who passed away 3 years ago.
Poetic T Feb 2018
Though the sentence may end,
                       the ink carries on.
The cartridge seems vacant of
                                    wanton metaphors.

Exhibiting reflections on  soiled paper cups,
                wanting to be filled
with drinkable dictations of
                              what is spelt out in stains.

But I spilt that void long ago,
                          blemishing my shirt
with what meant to be drank upon.
        A decolouration of meaning read differently.
Miss Clofullia May 2017
you drank it all.

even though there's nothing left
in the bottle,
it is you that feels empty,
like an eggshell that your mother found
in the chicken that your father killed,
that didn't have the chance of the frying pan at least.

you drank it all.
no Juliet around,
no Shakespeare
no talent,
no tale.

you drank it all.
no strippers,
no angels,
no thieves!

you drank it all.

some may call it
messianic delusion syndrome,
but I call it..
cheap Chardonnay.
Storm Raven Jul 2015
Give me…
Give me…
I need…
I need to get my mind of…
Give me…
Give me…
I need….
Make me feel better.
Help me get rid of my thoughts.
The demons in my head.
My wish to die.
Give me…
Give me…
Give me…
Give me…
Something to get my mind of…
I need…
Help me!
Before I die!
Drown myself in the drank.
**** myself with the drugs.
A fight in vain.
Drugs, drank, *** against the pain.
Give me…
Give me…
Anything to put the demons to silence.
To give my mind some rest.
What can help me?
*** without love.
Drugs slowly killing me.
Cigarettes burning my longs.
Drank wasting my mind.
When none of above works where do I go?
I grave more.
Give me…
Give me…
I need…
I try to feel the emptiness in my heart so hard.
But every time I fail.
Every day again.
So I try everything but nothing works.
The things I try make death only come sooner.
And you know what, I am not even sure I care.
Not anymore.
I’ve been dead on the inside for way too long.
You can’t save me.
So why do I bother to ask for help.
I am already too far gone.
Too lost.
I am already dead.
But why than do I silently cry for help?
I want to…
I don’t want to die!
Help me…
I want to…
I don’t want to live!
Just help me!
Or am I already beyond saving?
Storm Raven Jul 2015
empty bottles,
shattered glass,
blood lying on the floor,
What have we done?

slowely I open my eyes again,
The light is to bright,
What have we done?
I feel so sick.

There is old blood sticking on my bare skin
What have we done?
I can't remember,
My mind doesn't seem to work.

What have we done?
I grave for more,
I want to fill the emptiness in my heart,
Want once again feel your touch.

my mind is corrupted,
My heart is empty,
I tried to fill it with drugs and pain,
What have we done?

The floor need to be cleaned,
I need to get clean,
What have we done?
We were so despaired.

Our hearts were so empty,
What have we done?
we didn't see.
we didn't care.

What have we done?
filling our empty hearts with liquor and xtc,
like that could take away the loneliness,
we had in our broken hearts.

what have we done?
I ask myself as I see the bottles and the blood,
And your slowly cooling body lying next to me,
What have we done?
Tim Eichhorn Apr 2015
Red – the colors match underneath
the mashing of trashed feet. A bittersweet
scent swishes around our soft palates
until intoxication renders us useless.

The artificial artisan could’ve gone lighter,
but she knew it wouldn’t have been as
beautiful. I gasp and gaze, looking for the
fake signs that she had felt the same.
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