"aboot" poems
The doctrine lines,
The white brick walls,
Coffee creeps,
We still drink,
Our tastes have just changed,
Who took the last of the ******* sugar?
It's been empty for weeks,
But mainstays stay, mainly,
Another 24 hours,
Some look less,
Another victim of violence visitation,
Rattling sign, the wind makes it's appearance,
We made it,
Johnboy the ****** tells aboot,
His momentum,
Taking his mom oot to dinner,
He wore his tattoos on his face,
One cheek said sin, the other, ner,
Shakey Sam comes every meow and then,
Saying nothing has changed again,
Lights are flickering,
While Jesus Jane is on another rant,
You know, aboot Jesus and whatnot,
Atheist Jocoby just groans,
The coffee is a bit burnt,
So is my tongue,
New cats, alley cats,
Dogs and birds,
I couldn't tell you which one I am,
Emergency alarms a buzzing all around,
We just turn down the sound,
As it's another go round,
to speak,
I'm James and I'm an alcoholic,
Hi James,
Turn over turn on,
Hold hands with scumbags turned saints,
All because of the fire we got from a drink,
A smoke,
A burnt down life turned to building,
We hug once again,
And step ootside,
Open door policy,
And fire in the sky is there waiting,
Some run,
Some cry,
Shakey Sam wonders aloud,
Will his dealer deliver,
****** Johnboy calls his mom,
Jesus Jane prays,
And Atheist Jocoby drives away,
I put the sign back on the door,
And make a new ***
I want to hear that story,
Of how that newcomer once got shot,
By a disgruntled **** in San Francisco bay,
At least I don't need a drink today.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC
Cauld-bluided, humphing ower the stark grey hills
Gowd een skinkle to an fro
Split tongue lappin at the wind-blown smells
Bog grass blackens whaur ye go
Smoke split shielings and the clammerin o bairns
Bone cracked mithers in yer wake
Heirt-scaud ruin fae the valleys tae the cairns
Driven by a drouth ye canny slake
Crib tale shapit unner creakin heather thatch
Howf born craitur o the nicht
Auld sangs spake aboot the maidens ye would ******
Fleggit bairns tae keep intil the licht
True? Naw, havers, juist the blaflum o wives
God nivver biggit ocht sae fell
But ae bairn crouchin in the ruins o its life
Can think o naethin else the tale tae tell
Blin, lost, forwandert fae the shattered faimly hame
Warslin wi fear tae unnerstan
White winds whistle as he gies the beast a name
And dragons whiles can take the form o man.
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 2:39 AM UTC
Drunk on nostalgia,
and longing for the past,
looking at who is still my friend,
and the ones gone too fast,
I miss them all,
but I dont want any of them here,
but then again my courage out weighs my fear,
and I see it all so beautifully clear,
what I would do to hear that smile,
or see that laugh,
feel that giggle,
and dance during math,
to have stories of yet to comes,
and what dreams we have with the future suns,
friends of guys and girls,
sending my world into swirls,
and dancing with the flame,
the band maybe different, but the music is still the same,
we all just have a new name,
that is a representation of the yesterdays,
and I miss the the future and past figuring's of today's faze,
nostalgia is weighing the other half of my couch down,
as it is my friend, my smile and my frown,
I'd push them all away,
if I didnt know they were here to stay,
so I might as well enjoy the ride,
because life is just a rock skipping on a pond,
thrown by a bad hand,
I'll keep saying it along with you,
the next skip is new,
but its the skip behind that I'll think aboot in the next few
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
It's a night in paradise,
while I contemplate sleep knowing it would be wise,
but like an alcoholic with nothing else on his mind,
every thought ends up being you I find,
a day would be suffice,
a night would be greater than nice,
I want to tell you I need you in the worst way,
and I do when you wake up everyday,
but the miles seem to get just that much longer with every moment,
and there maybe nothing I can do aboot it,
like the years that separate yet fit,
so I will sit in paradise and think of your little texan town,
and realize with a smile with shades of a frown,
that maybe a couch and a sleepy smile maybe tough,
to make me realize it will always be enough,
so smile.
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 4:34 AM UTC
Hey, I'm not a lumberjack, or a fur trader there's only one pelt I'm interested in....
I don't live in an igloo or eat blubber, or own a dogsled Global warming has taken all the snow away....
and I don't know Jimmy, Sally or Suzy from Canada, i do know Partel, Kareem, Xi Chein and Steve
and they're really really nice.
I have a Prime Minister who is ******** not a president.
I speak English and a little French, not American though we like to mock southern accents...
And I pronounce it 'aboot, not about...
I can proudly sew my country's flag on my backpack along with with motorhead and misfits patches...
I believe in peace keeping, not policing unless you count the G20...
diversity, not assimilation, unless it's the borg...
and that the ****** is a truly proud and noble animal and a bald one is truely a wonder to behold...
A toque is a hat that douchbags wear all year round, a chesterfield is a couch that my dunken friends sleep on,
and it is pronounced 'zed' not 'zee', 'zed' unless its Zebra because Zedbra sounds stupid!!!
Canada is the second largest landmass that can be pilfered by multinational conglomerates!
The first nation of hockey!
and the best part of North America... except vegas!
My name is Josh!!
And I am Canadian!!!
EH?
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 2:18 PM UTC
I waited,
at times I debated,
feeling like a teenager aboot to go on their first date,
I had work the next day but didn't care if I had to stay up late,
it was going to be the first time I saw you,
and nothing was going to stop me,
it was an electricity that I couldn't put down ,
and my breath was gone as if there any need for air,
I saw you
and I couldn't help but stare,
the night was slow but gone to fast,
like trying to remember a face from your past,
I need you is all I could muster to say,
and I won't call tomorrow a day,
how could I when I won't be able to see your smile
brighter than the sun,
so I will keep tonight inside my heart but never oot of sight,
I'll say that I still have walls, but that is a lie,
Like headlines written in the night sky,
of my life,
you have become permanent.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
Ken a' these auld Scots words,
The wans that we've forgot,
Why are we no using them,
It's because we wernae taught,
At hame wi' mither an fathir,
Speaking all and proper,
First day at school,
Speech becomes a cropper,
All yir mates at school,
Coming oot wi' words like bowff,
Saying them in the hoose,
Yir fathir says watch yir mouth,
Rax me oor the poorie,
As ma grama said to me,
Asking her whit she meant,
Gies the milk jug fir ma tea,
Fab technology today,
Smert phones and iPad,
They missed oot wan thing,
The language o' my grandad,
Skype, that's a new word,
Sounds a bit like Scottish,
Was it tae clip you round the ear hole,
That word should be abolished,
If yir no Scottish,
Rabbie's words are a' daft,
All the words that came out o' him,
That was the man's craft,
Whit aboot these well kent lines,
Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,
Sorry aboot that Rabbie,
Stealing that was totally misplaced,
Oot o' bed on wi' ma baffies,
Tae pit them on I need tae sit doon
Sittin' on the chair wi' ma bahookie,
Missed the chair fawing like a loon,
When yir oot daein the gowf,
And yir breeks are a' in a runkle,
Dinnae be a feart tae tac them aff,
If you've got them in a fankle,
Deekin oot the windae,
Stramash on the doon the road,
Some folk getting a doin',
Ithers getting a carry code,
Polis got there quick enough,
Must have a been a hunner,
Saw the big yin there,
He was the heid ******
The rammy wi the radges
Was just oot side the offie,
Jings crivvens help ma boab,
Some went ben the bothy,
We're all **** Tamson's bairns,
We a' just want tae learn,
We can do it wi' the Scots,
It's a language that we yearn.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 3:45 PM UTC
I first met God when from me he bummed a cigarette,
I asked him how I can win this bet,
and to let go of her and be ok,
he asked which girl with a smile in a way,
I said all of them because I just want to hear all of them say,
you were alright,
he took a drag and said we had met before,
when I was again in Florida I was feeling this down and poor,
we had a drink,
you asked what this life was all about,
and with a smile with shades of a pout,
I told you that only you could figure that out,
his cigarette was done and so was mine,
I asked again if this was just a waiting line,
or just a road covered with dust,
he flicked it and said that I always will have my lust,
for the future,
for the present,
for the past,
and I may feel like in the line I am last,
but really there is no line or road,
and this isnt a secret code,
he said I was ok,
then asked for another cigarette.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 9:42 PM UTC
He says good morning and sits alone,
She sits surrounded by people but feels alone,
He checks his phone,
And smiles,
She is thinking aboot the miles,
But they forget,
He has nothing set,
She has everything but still feels upset,
And they havnt even met,
He has regrets he can't forget,
She takes a drag of a cigarette
Another day is passing,
He feels everything massing,
She feels done,
But looks at her kids to feel the sun,
He's going down a dead end street,
She is cleaning to a beat,
And they are both going a hundred miles,
To the end of meanwhiles,
That should be real,
He looks with lonesome eyes at every meal,
She's trying to remember what it means to feel,
They will not meet,
But still they smile all the same,
This show will end lame,
But it started with an alright scene
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
We walked in to darkness,
putting off what we both know what it will bring,
as sadness began to flare, and anxiety started to sing,
we both looked up to stars,
knowing it's one thing that has always healed our scars,
I began to cry a bit,
knowing it was going to be a while till we got to sit,
and talk aboot how many views we got that day,
I said I love where the middle star in Orion sits,
because the darkest spot in the night sky,
is a lie,
its a gateway to every thing that has ever come to pass,
and as our cigarettes came to an, I was praying the final drags would last,
we smiled at each other with a knowing,
that in the morning I would be going,
with a sigh I put the night to and end,
talking aboot the pictures each of us need to send,
we said good night, with a belly full of lead,
the conversation never ends, but the cigarette is dead,
and we say,
sleep well and see you in the morning,
looking at you with eyes full of sad, we say I'll talk to you later,
but in my heart I am saying,
I love you Dad.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
More I write,
aboot her,
it might make her real.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 1:19 AM UTC
I walked into the dark cafe,
or was it bar?
thick with smoke, blood and confidence,
you could only see so far,
but I could see angst looking at their glass,
and nostalgia was dazed,
stuck thinking aboot yesterdays,
forever searching through a maze,
with no exit,
sadness is sitting with anxiety,
in between silences they talk aboot society,
while happiness tells me to smile,
with a certain style,
I tell them I need a beer,
or was it a coffee?
I do smile.
Anger comes up and tries to start a fight,
but redemption feeling the need to do right,
breaks it up,
To much noise and a black eye,
I say with a smiling sigh,
Time to write.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Staring at empty screens and pages,
I must have read this ******* sentence through multiple ages,
but my mind drifts away,
they used to call me Holden,
I dont have half a head of grey hair I would say,
jumbled in my jaw,
and feeling bare and raw,
I need to do something aboot this,
but why cant I just attain a certain degree of bliss?
Is it because I want my life to be a sad poem,
at least that's what she said on the phone,
maybe she was right?
I'm in love with being a tragedy at the end of the night,
need a reason to be in my room,
to shake this feeling I might have till I am dead,
then I noticed,
I forgot to make my bed.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 2:15 PM UTC
Completely wrapped in the beauty of it all,
Felt the ugliness grow from my chest,
Somehow there was a throbbing burst,
Started in the feet and sank up,
Ended in the throat and the heart,
It was like a shiver,
Mind freezes,
It whirls and burns,
Fingers searching and filled with ants,
Everytime that I hear them,
I can feel a aboot sitting on my grave,
Though I am alive,
Happy and Carefree,
Down in out into those shaken moments,
Just once in a while,
But enough to mention,
Maybe there’s a shockwave from these moments,
A wing flap and right next to me someone feels it,
They don’t know what to make of it,
But maybe they’d stop and stare off for the first time,
Expanded and folded outwards,
Seeing and feeling what was once a personal quake,
Jostled from the run of the mill,
Totally mindless walking the earth,
By chance O if only,
Grateful to feel O so fearful,
O how wonderful it was.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:36 PM UTC
Dear the girl over there,
I dont mean to stare,
its hard not to,
I know I really dont know you,
and you havnt made the move,
but you havnt stopped smiling either,
maybe together we can make new believers,
to love in a place that seems to being loosing a lot,
So lets grab hands and go to a spot,
where we can sing loudly and whisper things no one cares aboot,
I'll get my suit,
you get your dress,
and we will destroy the all you can eat buffet and laugh at our mess,
So take my hand and we will go to the moon,
and make the lovers that swoon,
all jealous that we dont try so hard,
so consider me a tuneless bard,
with bad rhymes,
and fly by the seat of your pants
and take a chance,
it will be fun,
I promise.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 8:11 AM UTC
far *** ye ben,
ma closest freen.
ah did nae see ye.
files ah forget fit ah maun act aroon ye.
ye aye despised meh ben fran.
an fit cwid ah iver blame ye.
affen ah feel the same aboot ma ain decrepit hert.
ah miss ye like the bairns in the bothy miss the affa fantoosh summer sunshine.
slowly ye gie me back ma smile,
ah anely wish tae thank ye,
sae meet me aat the loch's lowse an lets hum the tunes we danced tae,
as geets wi nae convictions.
Where have you been,
my closest friend.
I did not see you.
Sometimes i forget how i must act around you.
You always despised my stubbornness,
And how could i ever blame you.
I often feel the same about my own decrepit heart.
I miss you like the children in the bothy miss the great summer sunshine.
slowly you give me back my smile,
i only wish to thank you,
so meet me where the loch's work ends and lets hum the tunes we danced to.
as children with no convictions.
.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:20 PM UTC
It was aboot ten miles away from your fate,
when Taco bell and pigs decided to gang up,
and you didnt realize it till it was too late,
Oh, you knew what you had did,
trying to pour back what is already drank,
like winning the lottery, only to realize there is no money in the bank,
The Mormon Virginia City had struck again,
and took me down to a feeling of a non-man,
where the screaming, the anxiety and the screaming anxiety all met,
the moment you realized you lost the bet,
between you, the devil, the universe, that one friend, the boogy man, God, and the lady down at the farmers market,
you are an easy target,
with a tough bullseye,
and a sly,
liar's smiling lips,
it wasnt till that cold floor touched you,
and your mind's lack of institutional control,
had been realized,
life had surmised,
that the chances you had were faulty tests.
Big John had taken your car with vanity plates,
a joke you want to tell your mates,
but realize the build up is all wrong,
he was the picture of a folk song,
but withoot the music and any good lyrics,
a tow truck mentioned in poems you have never heard,
telling him to hold onto that paper you signatured,
"You're going to famous like everyone else when they go?"
"I wont, but I'll be nice in the poem everyone will know"
He laughed and kicked you out.
A new song that has a ****** tune,
starts to sound nice soon,
and you will appreciate it by your life's noon,
rough memories turn into life lessons, that turn into rough memories,
but you dont know you are in an ocean till you passed some seas,
so you drive away from the town that built the great ****
with a face of weather, guilt, and an unknown nostalgia for the future.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
There is nothing cleaner
than a freckled spotted hyena
drinking warm retsina
outside a Catholic church
There's nothing more obtuse
than an educated moose
running aboot the hoose
looking for a shoe
There is nothing more verbose
than a really exceptionally long line of prose that didn't quite rhyme at the end
Oct 3, 2014
Oct 3, 2014 at 5:32 AM UTC
Dear my small world,
It's early and teenagers are walking to school,
the sun is warm and cool,
my eyes are closing as I pass them by going the other way,
my old friend creeps on me and reminds me of a spring mountain day,
being those kids walking slow,
not knowing the episode,
but enjoying the show,
their mountains are just a brighter green,
my old friend gets in my stomach and the top he tends to lean,
the smells of anxiety and the fear of uncompleted homework,
make me smile,
I pass by swings and see my world become night,
and two kids in Florida are in my sight,
talking aboot nonsense but still returning to smile and laugh,
it becomes funny and two drunk kids in Reno take their place,
I can tell who they were but I couldn't see a face,
my old friend creeps to my mouth and my past I can taste,
I suddenly am on the swings holding my hand in front,
staring at a star,
reaching out with one eye closed I feel like I can grab it,
my eyes open and I almost take oot some teenager,
something's die hard I say,
and they look the other way,
and say, "ok crazy",
the past maybe getting hazy,
but the feelings never die.
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC
Woke up early,
Put on the work outfit
brushed my whites pearly,
Left my backpack at the stop,
Booked it back,
Found my pack,
Reached in my pocket to grab my pen,
Found it had exploded,
What then!?
Boss doesn't respond,
And I just need to be at a pond,
Not thinking about where I am going,
Not thinking about what I will sow,
A easy day would be nice,
To much to think, but does entice,
Just need to be at that lake,
Need to be at that parking garage,
But I am in traffic watching the clock,
What else can this day bring?
A ring on my phone and I'm not answerin,
Boss leaves a voicemail blarin,
Ignored it till I got there,
Walked in with a blank stare,
Wonderin' when life will be fair,
Changin' somethin,
Thinking aboot nothin',
Getting that carpal tunnel,
Then go to sleep,
Trying to shut my mind off to answers I know I can't seek,
Guess it's just another day in the week,
So I try to focus on the music and the beat,
****
I don't know what else to say,
Cept that it's only ******* Monday.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:17 PM UTC
I told her,
He'd,
Regret it,
That she holds the stars,
And he was too busy asking,
Why she held them,
So tightly,
Words come under
Snapshots of looks that
Have effects,
So long,
So deep,
It's a memory on our make-up,
I want to put a fist through his face and heal him
Back up,
Just to break it
Again,
I want to make poems
That make her famous,
So that people look to
Loved ones
And smile knowing
That they exist,
I want to remind her
How the ocean air feels
And tastes
When she feels at home,
I want to remind her,
That she makes me feel at
Home,
So that for one minute,
She would feel the
Freedom
She gives me freely,
But,
Realizing you are human
And
Knowing,
That on the other end of the silicon and circuits,
Lies a greater distance,
Than just the thousands
Of miles that make it up,
So,
I speak,
In shakey syllables,
Aboot distorted dreams
That come out as
"I'm sorry's" and
Weird eye twitches
In front of showers
Because I want to drown in
Thoughts and forgotten conversations
I should have held tighter,
I spoke with uneasy words,
Telling,
You,
That he'll regret it,
You spoke with broken typed words,
"I dont think
Think so."
We always do.
Because you hold the stars,
And I,
Kept asking,
Why you held them,
So tightly.
Jan 28, 2018
Jan 28, 2018 at 6:45 PM UTC
I've said this before,
too much last time,
or maybe this one too much more,
replayed tapes,
with self-aware fates,
left with nothing to say,
words with meaning all switched,
can't tell if it's self pity,
or that I just *******
start,
stop,
go aboot your time,
concentrate on words and hours,
like nickels thrown at a blind mime,
Realizations of a comparison,
wondering if under a different light,
I look like a better son,
the shape of oblivion,
is phrases written in deja vu ink,
on strands of fate,
pop the tape,
back in,
here we go again.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 6:57 PM UTC
This'll be the last one I write you,
As twilight turns blue,
And black again,
The sun rises eventually,
And the sunset was too beautiful
To miss,
A song on repeat,
That sounds like me,
And feels like you.
I smile at what we had,
You smile at what we became,
Regardless, at least we are smiling.
Deserved love, but undeserved lovers,
But a love nonetheless.
We doubled booked venues,
There isn't a show to steal anymore,
But you're solo act will knock them dead.
I'm proud of what you are,
I'm disappointed that I don't get to act out,
The rest of the scene,
At least it was beautiful while we were on stage.
So, put down the lines,
And turn the page,
This will be the last one that I write for you,
But I look forward to the one,
You write, for you.
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
Hey kid,
I remember you from a year ago, Not knowing where you're going to go, Watching the snow, Drift down from the loading docks, And staring counting down time on clocks, Im telling you to not rush, but that's all you want to do, And its not till you are on the edge staring at the blue, Drinking way more than one or two, You almost will die more times than you'd like, And you have dreams every night aboot you're faceless wife. Don't worry kid, its the worst year of you life, But you make it through, Like a champion, you stand gallantly with armor made of everything that tried to **** you, You'll realize you're parents deserve better, Even though they will still say, "you're the best thing that has happened to me son." in their letters. You're friends are the strongest crop you know, And all you'll want to do is show, Everything that they did was not all for nigh, So hold your head up high, Hey kid, I remember you from a year ago, And I want you to know, Everything will be fine.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 3:17 PM UTC
At ringend on june sixteenth nineteen hundred and four
Molly opens her door
and Literate Leopold plonks his kosher black pudding into her hand
Isn't it grand
to be remembered this way?
Walking the streets and ******* the teats of the sow that eats its children
Searching for meat on O'Connel streeet that has the tang of scented *****
The well known literate degenerates
long to have their hot-dogs stroked by baaaaaaaaaarnacles
whilst sellin' knick-nack Paddywackery of dear old ***** dumpling
How do they walk with her sausages
and inner organs of beasts and fowls?
their shanks ****** dry of whuskey on Denny's big breakfast show
Well **** your **** With a flame-grilled
samuel
becket burger
and a side order
of oscar wilde fries
"warmth showered gently over him, cowing his flesh. Flesh yeilded amid rumpled clothes.
Whites of eyes swooning up. His nostrils arched themselves for prey. Melting breast ointments.
Armpits oniony sweat .
Fishgluey slime.
Feel!
Press!
Crushed!
Sulphur dung of lions
Young! Young!
In the petri-
Pish
Pish
Pish
Dish
spitoon culture
the illiteraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaati
hold a party
"I'm a tiny tiny thing
Ever flying in the spring
Round and round a ringaring
Long ago I was king
Now I do this kind of thing
On the wing, onnnnnnnn the wing!"
Bing!
Professor Latelate Lateshow Late review
Was talking to ME…….. about yew
What do yew think of that aesthetic crew?
The opal hush poets?
The master mystiks?
The wanz thit
*** to me
in the sma' oors
o the mournin'
tae ask aboot
plains o consciousness?
They're all Barbers, says he, from the Black Country that would hang their own fathers for five quid down and travelling expenses!
In Dublin's fine city
Where the wine bars are pretty
You can't find an ashtray
You must smoke alone.
Isn't it grand
To be remembered this way
Walking the streets and ******* the teats of the sow that eats its children?
Jun 15, 2019
Jun 15, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC