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roumen Jun 26
One day you Will walk away...
I don't want to let you ..
One day my
Heart will be broken
Onto thousand
shiny pieces..
The punch ..
Was sharp and heavy..
I can collect this pieces..
Next day.
It will not be easy..
But Jack will help...

Next morning.
Will be better..
You think..
But ..NO..
It isn't..
Even it is darker..
Raining..
Depressing
Gray..
But Jack can help..

I know that ,
If i hold you tight
I can harm you...
If not ,
You will be free
And not with me..
There Is no escape ..
From that ..
But Jack Will help..

I know...
You are so fragile ..
I am ..that Beast
Who love you..
I know ..i know
my face is **** ...
My slappy hands..
My heart ..
But Jack can help..

The moral of
That story
Is very simple..
Beauty and
the Beast..
Can't live together ..
Never ..Ever..

...But Jack will help. ..

Who's Jack ?
roumen Jun 26
Tonight i am here .
Drink.
No ice..
Just Jack...
Cigar..
Light..
Life..
Love..
Road..
Tonight no girl is coming ..
Memory ..
Only pain..
Dark..
No tears ..
No moon..
And Jack...
No ice..
Tonight pain is coming back..
Insensibility..
No mother .
Grave..
No love..
Death..
Cold ..
No flowers..
And Jack..
No ice..
End ..
No ice..
Skylar Turner Jun 26
what was it like when you left me behind?
with a bottle of jack clasped in your greedy palm,
did you ever look over your shoulder?
did you ever turn back?

independency never looked more like a cage
when you realize it came with
losing a childhood to a parent
dependent on *****
and lost in her liquor.

maturity is a sculpture that people
chip and mold to fit their own reality
when they forget that the
broken pieces surrounding the perfect sculpture
are really what maturity is made of.

when you left me behind
i reveled in my independency
and clutched my broken pieces in my hands,
glued them back together
and called it armor.

but i still wonder from time to time,
if you ever looked down to see your own
broken jack bottle
glass pieces by your feet,
because you finally remembered

that you left your daughter behind.
roumen Jun 25
Second glass..
First it was not enough..
You need more..
You have to forget..
You don't need to regret..
Second glass.
First is never enough..
You desire next .
You need to forget..
You have to escape.
You don't have to accept..
Second glass..
You deserve to escape..
You need to forgive..
You have to unlove.
You don't need to correct.
Second glass..
No ice.
Not today.
Not with Jack.
Not for us..
Second glass.
Is never enough..
For me .
From you..
No ice..
For love..
No kiss..
No next glass..
Just ..
Love..
trf Mar 2018
Teeth chatter and butts raise above seats,
Riding pickups atop the corduroy road,
Thunder claps of rubber bass beats,
Slapping the undercarriage's rusty odes.

The tires rhythmic riffs are risky,
Clavinet keys echo wood beams over muddy water,
Walter Murphy drinks a Fifth of Beethoven's whiskey,
Leaving superstitions for Stevie to Wander.
It's fun to pick random things and find similarities between them and then humbly trying to tie it all together. This most likely will never make sense to anyone but myself, but to quote the great David Byrne, "Stop Making Sense".
Scarlet McCall Jul 2017
The work day’s done,
no one to answer to--
no responsibility, no deadline,
no assignment due.
Now I’ve got a date, a rendezvous,
with my best friend Jack,  he’s always true.

Sipping slowly; it’s meant to savor.
Fiery liquid with smoky flavor.
Tip the bottle; now, don’t waver.

Take me away, from  insipid task,
annoying colleagues, boss always with an ask.
When I pour the faithful bottle
I go elsewhere; it pulls the throttle.
Slip away into dreamland;
just me and jack; he’s got no demands.

Drink the potion, enter trance.
Jack and I,  in tandem dance.
A slow waltz seen in double vision;
altered consciousness,
free from decision.
I'm not really a lush.
Melissa Sep 2015
mr. daniels
please hold me tight
I need a little comfort
on this lonely night

dear mr. daniels
please be my friend
and I'll be yours
until the very end

hey mr daniels
can I call you jack?
take away my memory
I don't want it back

okay jack
treat me well
I hope you know
what I had to sell

come on jack
I need a release
we can go all night
until they call the police

please jack
lets get in a fight
don't you dare go easy
I want to lose tonight
Lynn Al-Abiad Nov 2014
And there I go again
As a whole
Shattered
And wrecked
Because this time
The little island
That I call heart
Isn't the sole erroneous fiend in me
This time I
As a whole
Was a behemoth

Your favorite Daniel's
Sobered love
And dizzied lust
In me
Set forth the sacrifice
And took no heed of the body
It benighted the wit
And enlightened the blind persuasion

Deceiver of hearts
Don't knock on my gullible door
If you don't intend to enter
I might meddle in you
While you make love to
Every Jack
That paces your way.




-LynnAA
Big words, bigger feelings.
12/11/2014
Frank Ruland Jul 2014
I bleed, just a little
whilst you
prattle on with riddles.
Clutching my head
everytime you try to
act so sincere.
You're not sure what you want,
and I'm not sure what I need.

I try, with all my might
not to give up,
but you've syphoned off my will.
The thought of your scent
makes me so **** ill.
This struggle, endeavored;
no reprieve whatsoever.

And I wonder, some days
how to make it end.
At night, I writhe with thoughts
frenzied in my head.
My friend, Jack
kills the nervousness,
but in the morning the
angst is reborn and
the ******* cycle begins again.
Frank Ruland May 2014
Can anyone tell me what this astounding fascination with marijuana is? Do we really have nothing better to do than sit on a couch, light one up and watch replays of a yellow sponge living in a pineapple? I feel sorry for those of you laughing-- that wasn't a joke. But what I do find funny is how you ***** about nothing in society is getting done, when you smoke yourself into a distant state of apathy whenever you have the cash to burn. Speaking of burning-- how many bowls have you gone through today? How many times have you consulted your towering tube of glass in regards to finding a temporary high you become fixated with chasing? Tell me that's not an addiction. I don't know how you could be addicted to that ****--that pungent, lingering scent which invades the eyes, nose and throat. Yeah, cigarettes give you cancer, but that would be a welcomed reprieve from slowly burning through my IQ. I'd take being terminally ill over being a lazy, unmotivated, uninspired sack-of-**** any day. At least I'd still have my dignity intact. Say what you will, but I will take solace in my freedom from enslavement from that *****, Mary Jane. While you're complaining that the government's iron grip on your ****** is too tight, I'll be laughing at how your obsession has more control over you than anything else. And just from me to you--if you're going to develop an addiction, try being a ******* red blooded American, pick up a bottle of Jack, and drink yourself numb like the rest of us.

— The End —