"absinth" poems
Hippie song circles,
Twist and turn your fate
Show me what's beyond the eye
Taste the absinth and watch the illusions.
Mold me to this earth
And soak me in,
I want to be whole,
I want to be whole again.
Close your eyes and we'll place daisies
In your unbrushed, long blonde hair
LSD, LSD, oh, sweet drugs
Drink my soul and breathe me out as smoke
Dellusions, illusions
Take me back in time
I don't feel right.
Keep me in these guitar kissed
Hippie song circles forever.
May 29, 2012
May 29, 2012 at 5:47 AM UTC
Some chemical influences are necessary.
Experimentation is mandatory.
Skim the syllabus and you will see,
MDMA is chapter three.
Hemp is the strongest ****
At least that's what I learned in Botany.
Biology came as quite a shock,
When the plants pulled out their *****
English came as such a breeze,
The Diazepam brought poetry bees.
They pollinated the dopamine receptor,
Which greatly impressed my psychology professor.
When the zombies rose for dead weeks droll,
Adderall and Vyvanse kept us cool.
There's always a place in the Union Bathroom stall
To do a dome some Coke before study hall.
Of all the girls in my dorm floor
Roxy and Molly were just next door.
Art history wasn't the most entertaining,
Until Absinth was my painting water.
Finals were such a stress, so I'll admit
We laced our gin shots with Xanex.
College was an experience, I'll admit,
But Chemistry got me on the DEAn'S list.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:20 AM UTC
I waited 8 periods, 7 hours, in between searching for you, running around the corridors,
Like a psychosis affected patient running trying to find reality through delusions,
But "planet", ironically you are my delusion, miles away from the brutal reality.
My excuses to see you were drying up; sprinting to the top floor that maybe you‘ll come across,
Ecstatic like a 5 year old kid, when his rents buy him a toy helicopter,
Disappointed like the poor kid as his helicopter crashed on the first day itself.
You’re nerdy, the only guy studying java and oracle with interest, enticing me with your mint and cedar scent,
This infatuation is eating my heart up, slowly and slowly, like cancer
I came today only to see you, desperately clinging to the belief that maybe you’ll come to see me too.
But I was left alone, with the burning sun as my only companion.
I woke up hours early, straightening my hair till my hair were singed, applying mascara till my eyes burned.
I fancied, that possibly you might think of me too, day dream of me too,
but darling curse me for being a hopeless teen, as its getting me nowhere.
Everyone keeps telling me its never going to happen, I’m a junior and you a sophomore
& when your azure lids never glance my way, my face turns ashen, even during the Indian summer.
And who am I to even try to fight with the bitter truth,
for it’s always destroying our little fragile hearts and drowning them in acid and absinth
It was so silly of me to even give into these treacherous day dreams, to even let my pride escape.
I was absurd enough to even like you, knowing even then, that I will never be able to solve this Rubik cube.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 6:37 AM UTC
Strøg ned ad strøget forleden nat.
En fredag aften fyldt med fordrukne gamle som unge tumlende rundt på brostenene.
Engang var de blanke, nu ikke så meget, men jeg nyder lyden af mine træsåler mod de sorte sten.
Alt idyl og selv stjernerne kan man se .
En mand med en sjov hat spiller en sang, han giver et smil som jeg går forbi.
Jeg synes jeg har hørt den før men ved ikke hvor.
Kigger til højre, hvad fanden sker der??
En måned til jul med hvad ser jeg?
Overflod af vulgært julepynt i vinduet.
Vinduet bliver smadret i skærmen for alt er dækket af røde og gyldne kugler, julekugler!
Med glimmer og balloner og en nisse til 495,-
Jeg strøg ned ad strøget.
Gamle fordrukne mennesker som tror de stadig er 20.
Den ene øl efter den anden og så en flaske af det røde.
Unge fordrukne BØRN som ikke har lært en skid.
Stramme hvide bukser og en breezer i hver hånd.
"Undskyld men hvor gammel er du, din refleks er ved at falde af".
Men selvom brostenene protestere i foragt, mens de drukner i absinth og bliver kvælt i bræk, vil de smuldre af overlast og stadig lade som om de er nylagt.
Jeg strøg ned ad strøget og vidste ikke hvor jeg skulle hen.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
She could have been a Mediterannean goddess;
An enamoured artist’s ethereal muse.
Golden tendrils meandeared across her visage ;
Her eyes greener than absinth , darker than the Black sea.
She was a daughter of the Tigris.
That burning serpent,
churning the blood of her brothers.
Infidel! devil-worshipper! they called her,
As they, burnt and ravaged all that she lived for.
The moon turned a shade of ochre, like it was made out of dust.
Of the brown ashes of Sinjar . Her vanquished motherland, that fallen paradise.
She prayed and prayed, to the Peacock angel;
with eyes closed, and a heart clutched in terror.
So he would spread his wings and save her.
But when she opened her eyes, the Da’esh loomed like death,
All around her, like vultures;
who wouldn’t spare the last shred of flesh on her bones.
They had scavenged her like a piece of trinket,
From the great pile of rubble, her land was reduced to.
She was their spoils from the war,
Her golden hair, her green eyes ; all theirs.
Their ravenous eyes like augers; spewing venom,
They were traffickers of the soul, to the most unholy depths of the inferno.
She was meant to be a goddess;
To rise to the realm of the Peacock angel.
If he did’nt release her soul, her spirit would rise to meet him .
She only smiled, when she took her life.
She smiled, till her last breath seeped out of her,
Death was ever so merciful, tenderly lulling her to sleep.
The Da’esh could plunder to all their dark glory.
But they could’nt fetter her soul.
Jilan, she was the fallen angel.
29/12/2014
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
How harmonious the amber creeks,
Rocking smoothly from mine chair,
Sipping wormwood, mercury and jupiter tea,
Ambrosial be the air watched from west the shores
Found I, him when my years be only few,
Brooding, betwixt toil and melancholy curses,
One whispers, the other answers,
But, knowing not the suffering be here
‘And, I struck deep his heart fitting proper a jester,
Secrets mine loyal is laughter,
O’ how sweet the mind on Elysian Fields,
Yet divine his despair, so sad, so fresh
O love, I die in your star filled skies,
A sun jewel sinking on velvet drapes,
Dulcet my lonely vapoured song,
Dying, dying, dying
A kiss after death, rotting upward from the netherworld,
O Death, O sweet, wilt thous know immortal passion,
Before pocket and pride?
Drunk of absinth, through hazed did ye love thee?
Mercury sparkles in pools below the chair,
And mine fancies be sky glow worms pulsing near,
Cave hulled labyrinths of memories time passed,
His soul rose into mine blood
I loved thee weaving golden in rocking chair,
Dancing with warm Nile winds,
Flanking sky dragons after sun sparkles,
O he thought heart diseased of loves adoration
Improper the vex was touted, time precious before thee
Of fifty I must be, with magick death and lust I shall be,
And thine so effect lives on in me, a mere trifle ye,
His pastime, dreaming of the skies to be
And still a secret dreaming sweetness in the sea,
He looked upon mine crown of Tao and gold in glee,
Mystics glory in a bed of moonlight death,
Found I, an angel mused he, to call thee fooled
Dreamed I, none be spring, and summer neither more,
And thorned a new crown, the fool his winter dawn,
His claw deep a finger bled, his glory shadowy form,
So, dearest, thou art thy likeness wise dead cold
His darkness uttering shadows, beautiful with thee,
My darkened ways, take Ravens wings ascend yee who read,
Love be, no single tear, yet binds mercuries silver rivers near,
The old amber chair rocked to and fro, grey her hair,
Mortal hands weaved, love runs silver
── whence ever death be near
© Arnay Rumens 2015
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 7:27 AM UTC
Is this an outer-body experience
Or a pretentious subsistence
There’s a dog barking at my built-up wall
Forming a pattern of careful consistence
I’ve never broken a heart but
I’ve broken every plan I’ve chosen to mess with
I’m slowly downing this regret and distrust like it’s freshly poured absinth
The sickness comes right away, which I oddly knew to begin with
I say that I’ll change someday, but I think I’ll probably stay this way
After all, I’m happy
When the salt isn’t in my wounds
After I’ll, I’m happy
When I’m sitting here with you
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
I need to **** myself inside.
Just drinking this bottle to be sterilized.
Feels great not to feel.
To be completely numb.
I am all ****** up inside.
God, I need someone to ****
Just a complete stranger.
No strings attached.
Am I drunk enough?
Good, lets get this started right now!
Don't really care if blonde or brown.
I think I see her smoking at the bar.
"Hello, princess!
What a pretty dress!"
(and awesome *******
8 out of 10, I guess)
"Did someone ever told you
how beautiful your eyes are?
Bright and yet so dark,
like streetlights at night."
Her tongue touched her lips,
another shot of absinth,
lets get some ***** mixed in,
wrecked, like I've never been.
"Boy, you know how to play the game,
lets have a smoke outside" and we went,
half insane with lust, bit afraid.
Drowning in stupidity of youth.
We smoked *** cigars,
talked about gods, religion,
wars, crimes, lies,
electric chair, death...
Trials, nights, dreams,
our bodies touched,
nightmares, blues, insanity,
we ******
Right there,
behind someone's car,
under the stars,
screaming in ecstasy.
Like in some surrealistic film,
went into a public toilet,
the smell of **** and ****
the smell of her filterless cigarettes...
We went to my place,
wanting to **** again,
and again, and again,
endlessly, until we die or faint.
Her naked, trembling, sweating body,
graced by night, graced by all saints.
I scratched her back, bite her neck,
inside, she's all wet.
We danced like mad,
hearts beating fast,
dissolving into each other,
taking the final breath.
The last hug of love,
that never existed,
last kiss in the dark,
and I will leave you there.
I woke up, vomiting.
Feeling so cold, dead.
Took a shower to wash it all away.
All, the memories, kisses and sins.
Counting the scratches,
remembering wild flashes
of yesterday's coma,
tears, tearing heart.
Last night,
fire was burning bright,
but like the cigarette's ash
we fall apart.
There will be no calls,
no pretentious drama of love,
no fading away back into the night,
No nothing, get lost!
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 4:19 PM UTC
Is this an outer-body experience
Or a pretentious subsistence
Like a dog barking at my built up wall
Forming a pattern of cautious consistence
I've never broken a heart but
I've broken every plan I've chosen to mess with
I'm slowly downing this regret and distrust
Like it's freshly poured absinth
The sickness comes right away,
Which I oddly knew to begin with
I say that I'll change someday,
But I think I'll probably stay this way
After all, I'm happy
When the salt isn't in my wounds
After all, I'm happy
When I'm sitting here with you
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 10:53 PM UTC
Who will the river babble to
When she has run so far away
Off into the mists emanating from the bridge
Pulsating, a nucleus inside of the cell
For when I came up to meet her
The look in her eyes was pained
The words on her lips were sorry
The beats of this story too familiar to these eyes and ears
Accept the horror and hope for a reprieve
Down some absinth and dream a little dream
Pray time speeds up, that you may mend
Or that a familiar and loving face awaits at the next bend
Rolling with all these blows, who the **** knows
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
I tried to find peace
I tried to find sobriety in your absence
But I drank nectar from your garden
Gorged myself in your absinth
Now my body aches, head swells
Tongue bitter, dripping ammonia
Withdrawals I'm too familiar with
Caused by a golden gods ambrosia
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
Apocalyptic opportunity operating on obversely open,
oblong abortion-addiction, analogous of an upturned
episodic aporia apprehensive about obtuseness-
an opportunity inimitable in essence,
its assiduous attribution apparently evident
as economic edifices advertised as assistance-appeals.
Obviously, opportunities as enriching are essential
on account of existential affirmation,
otherwise all's apoplexy, ethanol ornament,
an altered evocation understated and escalated
obliviously; absent absinth; am armor arrayed
especially as assured; aerial oogenesis;
asymptomatic aphasia; acts of elegant appetizing.
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 10:24 AM UTC
Cold night spread it's wings
I walk alone in a luminous mist
November's breath caresses empty streets
This is where I found you
And signed my death list
I kiss a vision of an absinth dream
With the eyes of embers fire
Now I count my seconds to the witching hour
When the dark is torn by the funeral pyre
Tonight all my wishes will come true
My death has never been so pure
I send you valentines
In the death of night
And spill my blood on a dotted line
I found my drug of choice
Body is a flame with the devil's voice
Decadent beauty in a false light
When I am right beside you
All the wrong feels right
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 12:25 PM UTC