#drunkard
it drips from the bottle
and into your
mouth
which spouts words
with no regard for my
feelings
that you don't know how to address
without alcohol kissing your
lips
that form sentences
with a mind of their own
uninhibited by their flattery of me when they were
sober.
it agitates your face
as it rests in your
hands
that used to hold mine and it
glazes over your
eyes
that used to light up when they saw me
or when they heard my
name
that you can hardly stand to speak
without alcohol
dancing on your
breath
that doesn't render sounds
without cheap courage summoned
up.
it depresses your
mind
that I used to find intriguing
as it was paradoxically
kind with a quick
wit
that no longer aims
to make me laugh
but is now restrained by the liquor
label
that you plastered to yourself
without concern -
would you even stop
if your own bottle said
please?
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
Rubayiat Al Thurab (Verses of the Dust) – 49
BismillahIr RahmanIr Raheem
I ain’t an adept drinker,
When I see deep in your gleaming eyes.
I instantly become an adept drinker,
Oh My Dear Love!
I don’t gulp or pile the unique wine,
When I glimpse your moisty lips,
I miraculously found a vine cellar;
All by myself’ in your lips,
Oh My Dear Love!
Generously allow Me’
To unanimously ratify,
As an adept drinker,
Oh My Dear Love!
Therefore willingly I can soak.
In your eyes myself, As;
A confirmed drunkard,
Oh My Dear Love!
Allah Khair….. Khairul Rabul Alameen Yah Arrahmanur Yah Raheem
Ummah Thurab – Badshah Khan.
©UT-BK 2019
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 5:17 AM UTC
when a bunch of old Senate men
and some intimidated women
voted to heave
an accused ******
and proven liar with an alcohol problem
given to irascible outbursts, fits of self-pity
and insulting comments on women
into a lifelong seat on the highest court in the nation
against voluminous evidence of his lacking qualifications
the statue of the Goddess of Justice
whom a former attorney general
had all covered up in blue cloth
dropped her sword and scales
tore off her blindfold
and covered her naked ******* in shame
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:07 PM UTC
The road was windy and the path ain’t straight
In my drunken fantasy where my satisfaction did sate
Fireflies lingering all around, and my vision almost drowned
Heard imps laughing and bees buzzing, that annoying sound
A whimsical laughter filled the atmosphere
To a memory, that for now, I’ll not remember
I only have a single regret in this moment
That this happiness is just transient
The moon was black and the sky was white
As I wake up from my drunken stupor
Mind beating like the heart and eyes filled with blinding light
Slammed hard to the ground from the heavens where I soar
Remember once again what I want to be forgotten
The disappointments and regrets that was once hidden
But I must endure for now and live this ****** life of pain
For when night comes and the bottle is uncorked, it’ll be bliss once again
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 12:32 AM UTC
When I stepped into my room
My wife greeted me with a broom
I Said, Good Evening
My Lovely Sweet Wife
She Replied, Bad Evening
Don’t you remember my warning?
Again you came totally drunk
Your nose always looks like a trunk.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 5:45 AM UTC
Mother, a specialist has called us,
he believes something is wrong, astray, askew,
but you tell me it's all no reason to fuss.
Mother, your words have caught onto me like the flu.
Mother, you're infecting me to become you.
Father, mother says we cannot go,
to neither the recommended counseling nor therapy,
and for some reason you agree,
but just yesterday you told me,
you resent what she has done to your children.
Mother, I am sorry you have overheard what I've told my dad.
I promise, I never meant to make you sad,
but now you're screaming that I'm glad.
Mother, I do not rejoice!
Please, stop putting these words in my mouth! It is your choice!
Mother, this ordeal can end.
Remember, you were once my friend?
Mother, I know I have grown to fourteen and now I should be more kind and more mature.
Still, you say, I am just mean and for my cold eyes and empty heart, there is no cure.
Mother, your words shape my world, despite my hesitance to believe them.
Mother, I am sorry that I sobbed three years ago because of your screams.
Mother, I am sorry that I turned my back on you while we both fell through countless seams.
Mother, forgive me, please, for I try my best and I am your daughter.
Mother, forgive me, please, for I try my best and I am not my father.
Father, I miss your defense.
But to expect your words in my good chance again is dense.
Father, I have made every excuse I can to make you the favorite parent.
But, father, my lies to myself are apparent.
Father, what happened to the days when your guarded this wretched child of myself from mother's verbal onslaught?
Forever I would have you for forever, I thought.
Father, you will die soon, because you do not care for your body.
Father, I cannot live without you beside me and my family.
Father, protect my brothers and my sisters just a few more years.
Father, don't leave me again yet. You are not him, do not run for a few more beers.
Mother, you brought to me an alcoholic.
Mother, you brought to me his precious child.
Mother, with this baby, now nearly four years old, I still frolic.
My beloved little sister.
But mother, the drunkard threatens to come to us again.
If he tries in court to steal my cherished sister, can we win?
Rapacious alcoholic, with each and every bone in my body, for you, I feel such loathing.
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC
I want to drink
Until the end
Of forgotten time
Let there be
A funeral fire
Withhold the time capsule
Rustic sounds
Should accompany
Alternating live music
Wood is warping
Bathroom darkening
It all stinks
Reeking of vanilla musk
Some savage old lady
Must have been here
I continue to drink
Without expiration
Giving into temptation
Wine contains a nutty
Whimsical flavor
Reminiscent of cashews
Salted just right
Stored on time
Purity in taste
Test has been passed
No more whims
Just explanations
For why I drink
Trying to write
Avoiding sobriety
Wanting ***
Confusion of the soul
Fusion for sanity
Sunday spreads
Wicked wings
Evil erosions
Condemning my being
Into ice
Deafening to my eyes
Plastering the pole
But in suspense
Avoiding the crowd
Can I possibly contend,
with a biscuit?
Perhaps not
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:26 AM UTC
* *Once in thoughting so profound,
exhilarated with a bottle found. . .
. . .slake'd it up yet still I got it,
passed-out drunk, woke up, forgot it?* *
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC
drunkard
to blinding
streetlight:
"YOU
BLINK
FIRST!"
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
I'm drunk
I'm very drunk
Not on beer or *****
Or wine or margaritas
But I'm drunk
But on what Nero?
What'd you get sloshed on?
I'll tell you
I'm drunk of a mixture of bitterness and lost hope
2/5ths of romanticism and no one to share that with
A shot of insecurity, and a tall glass of stress
I need to get sober
I'm tired of living through a constant hangover
So tomorrow I stop drinking my emotions
I'm throwing that bottle into the ocean
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 1:25 AM UTC
*
It was a complete mess.
Loads and loads of things,
From soiled hosiery to paper cups
From books to each piece of clothing I ever had
Were thrown everywhere around in the room.
The whole place looked robbed.
Cleaning the room and keeping things in order
Was never my responsibility.
It was hers.
She would nag about it all the time.
She would ask
What I’d do without her.
This was the one question I never wanted to know the answer.
May be that was why,
I was reluctant to clean the place.
Deep down, I believed,
If I waited long enough,
She would figure I could not manage without her
And she would come back
And clean up the mess.
But weeks had gone,
I still had no clue about her whereabouts.
Why would she do that to me?
I was the love of her life.
“Enough is enough.
I am going to clean this mess.
I don’t need her.”
Enraged, I decided to start with books.
Books were the second best thing in my life.
They’d keep my company always.
Then I saw the book, which she bought me
When we moved to the countryside.
As I picked that book,
A small turquoise-y peacock feather fell.
The falling feather brought to me
A series of memories-
A mix of sad and happy moments with her.
After we moved here, we went to a park
In hope, it would cheer me up.
And it did cheer me up.
We played, we laughed.
At a distance, there was a peacock,
Boasting its colourful feathers.
I’d never seen a peacock before.
Amazed, I found a feather it had left behind.
Which I insisted to keep.
She placed it in the book
We just bought.
I still tremble sometimes,
When sights of my drunkard father beating her cross my mind.
He would abuse her and do sick things to her,
Still she would say he was my father
And I ought to respect him.
How could I?
And one time, he beat me.
He beat me with a belt
Because she bought a ‘stupid’ book for me
Instead of a bottle of bear.
That was the last time
I’d seen him.
She decided we would move away
Without any second thoughts.
“You’re meant for great things.”
She would always say.
She did odd jobs,
Tailoring, waitressing, private tutoring,
So that we could manage my school bills, rent
And square meals a day,
Probably ignoring health and physical wellness.
She sacrificed everything for me.
When she’d me, she left her job to look after me.
After we moved here,
Things were supposedly normal.
But she was going great troubles
To make ends meet,
With a smile on her face, she kept going.
At that instant, I knew she would never leave me.
She was still watching me,
Probably telling the stars
About her 'childish' son.
“I will make you proud.”
I promised to my Mom, my hero.
… And I am still trying.
*
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
angry men who do not know I do not have a dollar or a cig to spare. Ugly irrefutable contagion-handed howlers. Angry mischievous heathens that pantomime on 6:00a.m. sidewalk, Wicker Park gallow stop-sign, choreographed gutter-punk drunk walk. And of all he wants and could ever want splits down his gooey membrane brain in the outline of a noun shaped fragment of a clause, "Couldja spare 80¢ for the train," but of course I don't spare on the ellipsis or the period. Semi-colons I won't! My rubber-bottomed leather boots lash out, heavy scraping sounds trail this mirrored shadow half an angle behind me.
***** Blonde framed sunglasses from American Apparel, a gift from my sister in a folded Ray-Ban case is scattered on last nights bedroom floor, my girlfriend has certainly not noticed, the gloom-coated morning sun spray has not noticed; but I have unzipped a fissure in the ocular lens. My heart skips a beat. Her bedroom might as well have swallowed them whole. Now the house can halt and have the shade, swaying in Spring air in 10:22a.m. shadows. The aviator himself Howard Hughes would strike me with his 488 aircraft. Edwin Starr in his invincible sinister calypso of War would turn me round. I was sturdy as a rock until I began to forget my forgottens. These unknown unknowns I knew I needed. I'm over a quarter-century on to noon going nowhere- and quite blindly.
But then, still she could stand upright and find me. Her neck crooked, looking onward through the East, the gristly roots of rhubarb buried in her searching fingernails. She's threaded worse, and of course if I could just tell her- this is the kind of nursing which requires acute temperament and flexibility. I am thus on a journey to strike nonsense and fear from the idiotic vocabulary that put this nonsense in my head. Split through me like a butter knife into my apotropaic. Perhaps tar water could cure my ails. If not, certainly a sliver of vanilla would set me straight. Or if could just rain rain rain all day, then I'd make do without, but she is at school. My pistons are racked and nervous, and I'm not going anywhere but my rucksack stoop. I am camped in midwestern Spring soup. Fog, rain, and shade. The nightmare of day.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC