"alcohols" poems
If we are in a masquerade party
with no faces,
names,
nor identity
Just words,
and alcohols,
for both of us
to see.
Just soul,
and coffee,
making our spirits
flee.
Would you look at me
without a mask,
with a cover,
inside a flask?
Would you touch me
and dare to drown
inside my smirks,
smile, and ignited frown.
Would you run away from me
to set yourself free?
Or would you let yourself fall,
for a masqueraded soul?
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
4 am,drunk
thinking about you
feeling these feelings for you
crying, wiping the tears off
don't know if you should know,
the love i have for you
dazed & confused
what should i do?
do i have to do this?
what will i do without you?
lying down & almost sober
called you, the love i have
gave'em to you
but i wasn't enough
drunk in the morning
nothing on my mind
but your body,
you being with somebody
but not with me
out of all the girls,
they were my "more alcohols to come"
but you, you, you're different
you're my "more poems to come"
and that's me being drunk in the morning.
Jul 22, 2018
Jul 22, 2018 at 12:30 AM UTC
Sorry sweetheart
mommy was drunk last night
Had too many alcohols
and she couldn't fit all
of the fruit snacks into
her mouth before
she passed out
that's why
the bed is covered in them
yes you can have some
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
When your ex,
Texts you on some..
"Babyyyy where you been?
I miss you and i need you, always feel you like the wind"....
**** you left me though?..
Why'd you even save my phone?..
I thought we went our separate ways i thought that we were grown?..
That's when she calls me up, && i smell it in her tone..
If only she knew, Alcohols a quick escape and not a home..
Shes like..
"Naaaa nah bruh,
ive only dranken just a lil.....
But in honesty,
like really we should go on dr.phil.."
Proceeds, on some..
"i need a ride, whats for dinner, why dont we go visit moms"
playing the Weeknd, on a weekend, its The Same Old Song.
i always pick her up, and drop her off at Katie's..
****** like **** you know **** well she can get this crazy!
Now Katie's mad like, **** you be her roommate then!"
I'm like, that was the plan but that **** caved in..
Well, this will probably happen again next week, & the week after.
what a long, sad and repetitive chapter..
i mean to most drunk texting is a matter of laughter,
but it leads me to drunk text her back & attack her...
On some,
"Babeeee where you been...
I miss you and a need you, & i feel you like the wind.."
Shes like..we talked about this before..you never hit me up when your sober.
I'm like,
"nor do you, so so so when you coming over?"
She hangs up. .
Happens twice a month.
im sober when shes drunk..
& when shes sober im a chump.
relationship? Or relation-shit?
Either way,
Far from a REALationship.
But i guess you can say, at least we speak it could be worse...
by the way, later today its my turn to text her first..
-afj
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
dangerous pitfalls
I call it pitfalls
Because in,people fall
Engineers, doctors and lawyers
Have fallen and covered by the layers
The poor and the rich alike
Fallen and choked by spikes
We call it recreation
Which has caused fallen creation .
***** mark to leave
In how precious we live
Pitfall of drugs
In pleasure we get in a drag
Alcohols and bhang
****** and madrax
Cigarette and ****
All were traps
My worry is how they strap
And make people their prey
I fear going astray
And make a choice to pray
Calling ***** a *****
Thus pithfalls I evade.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
A four year old child
And growing so fast
Conceived from a wild
Relationship past
His mother a girl
Of only sixteen
Placed into this world
By alcohols dream
A man is his father
Of around thirty three
The girl? The mans daughter
They share the same genes
Conception absurd
Illegally bound
A four letter word
A bitter sound
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 7:57 AM UTC
Daddy, please don't be a drunker anymore
Give us joy and happiness like before again
Show us that your love is still in your heart
Just after you made friendship with alcohols
Haughtiness afraid of passing our house by
Loneliness gets in our house like you gave it
Please look at our tears and make us smile
Take away our pains and make it a home
Where we can find our family's love again
Please change to before you were alcoholic
I beg you with the tear and pain from inside
Daddy, please stop drinking what made you bad
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 4:23 PM UTC
My eyes have never had the opportunity to even glare at diamonds.
I’ve never had the experience of tasting water from the cup of life.
The shame of my current status, in a suburban purgatory; where all the houses look the same.
And the town is slowly decaying.
The radio, television and computer spew promises of golden treasures
Dionysian parties.
Lavish, mischievous endeavors.
And never even taking a moment to mull over the choices.
Bentleys soaring through the city nights.
But it’s just in our prayers.
A watch covered in rubies that won’t tell time,
Because it doesn’t matter,
Pricey top shelf alcohols,
Exotic purebred animals,
Paying no mind to the expense.
I have no time to listen to your lustful desires.
We may never be these magnificent stars above…
For our blood isn’t lucky or holy.
Yet we don’t crave extravagance.
But desire that eluding excitement.
Name me king!
And kiss the ring!
I’m just a fool.
It’s all but a dream.
We have unraveled the clandestine riddles.
Rolling pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters,
On our way to the wishing well.
And it’s effortless to distinguish between barren pockets and bursting pouches of dabloons and denarius’.
No nuisance to us we’ve worked for what we have.
The curse of greed, self-indulgence,
Splurging on foolish fixations.
Impaired, decked out
Obliterating the palace.
While keeping their noses in the airs they put on.
Pumpkin carriages at midnight,
Platinum plates for a marvelous feast.
Airplanes, cruise ships.
All we need are the keys.
Ride on the horizon.
We maybe become millionaires, take the money and run
But we don’t need the luxury;
We only yearn for the golden sun.
I’m not an emperor,
Nor a leader.
Just a player in this life,
They call a game.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 5:38 PM UTC
to completely say that,
i am strong,
would be a lie.
I bask in darkness,
hoping my demons would calm,
and that i wouldn't think of death.
darkness, fear and loneliness,
engulf me wholefully,
and i to submit in ordeal.
must i be like this?
to always seek comfort of blood and pain,
and to make me forget just a bit.
downing pills and alcohols,
taking a long drag of smokey puffs.
what more would pleasure me the thought of being free?
to seek myself in the dumps,
the bathtub that sees me more often than the garden,
to feel completely in a state of trance.
am i to still feel what my demons want?
am i still finding solace in the dark?
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 3:38 AM UTC
intoxicated
by your lips or is it just
the alcohols lust?
Jun 15, 2012
Jun 15, 2012 at 12:44 AM UTC
I remember the first time you tried to love me;
You, in your Audrey Hepburn dress,
Who I told you I found quite attractive.
We ate Italian, because, like me, you like Italian.
You fed me an analysis of symbolism of Murakami
That I thought I read off of Google.
And you wore red lipstick because that’s
What classy women who fall in love wear.
Your eyes were a clouded amber,
And your hair dyed jet black, like my ex.
You want to travel to Barcelona, Spain,
Where my public Facebook pictures show I was.
And this planet’s too big, and this town too small
Not to have wanderlust, you say.
Your favorite season’s winter.
Because you love winter landscapes,
Like the snowflake wallpaper on my phone.
I call you everyday.
I remember the second time you tried to love me;
You, in your blue dress,
Which I told you was my favorite color.
(It’s yours too.)
You talked about the latest in deep space explorations
A week after I shared my moon photographs.
And isn’t NASA fascinating?
You told me about a movie you saw,
By my favorite director.
You dreamed of traveling the Nile and seeing Egyptian pyramids.
And you loved the smell of coffee,
Which I smelled like on our first date.
Your blonde roots are showing.
I didn’t call you back.
I remember the first time you loved me;
You wore purple because that’s your favorite color.
And we got breakfast because you love breakfast foods,
Not Italian.
You drank water; coffee makes you sick.
You pointed to some lilies because you love that flower.
And you told me you didn’t think Gatsby really loved Daisy
Because she was a reflection of all the things he wanted;
He was just pretending to be something
To impress her, you say.
And this wasn’t something I found off of Google.
And you mentioned how you never wanted to travel,
Except by boat,
Because airplanes are terrifying.
You hated dresses and how thick makeup feels on your face.
And NASA is interesting, but you’d rather explore the earth.
You were living with me then.
I remember the last time I loved you;
I tried finding cruise ships so we could travel
To Germany because you don’t really care for Spain or Egypt.
And I researched German alcohols because that’s what you liked.
And I wore red because you liked how it brought my eyes to life.
I talked about how fascinating ocean life is
Because you majored in Marine Biology, not Film,
Like you told me on our first date.
Murakami has dust; I read Thoreau.
Your eyes are cerulean,
Completely unlike the dark amber of the coffee I don’t drink.
And you’re gone.
Just like the man who liked Murakami and Italian food.
But I’d sell moonshine for you, sure.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 1:18 PM UTC
it’s lips poured spirits and wine
- fresh squeezed-
into my hands, into my system.
And it walks behind me sober. Watching my slurring stumbles
whilst an old sense of strength from inside me
poured from my mouth, spilling on concrete.
my legs fail me and I fall a trance. Into it’s arms.
But only for a sweet second -
and now I’m smothered lying in stone cold slate, it’s so nippy, the cold.
and it’s shadow blocks the streetlight floating above me.
Wait; streetlight is glaring dim orange again
now that it has dispersed away, down the pathway.
With open arms, it’s searching for a sober.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC
**They're blinding us...
Indeed, all throughtout our lives we've been fooled
We didn't know who they really are,
and we didn't know what they can really do,
They made us believed that they care,
but for all we know it's all for their own benefits,
for their own good,
and for their ownselves.
We are under controlled by the people
we thought giving us what we need
But when you see them?
they are laughing at us,smiling widly showing all their teeth
while thinking we are all stupids and fools believing to their f*cking lies.
They do promises,
they out stretch their hand to us,
they're offering help for us
But behind those promises there's gonna be a broken hope
behind their hands out stretching to us they're gonna use alcohols
behind that help offers there's gonna be just waiting for nothing
They don't really rule,
they are controlling..
They don't really care,
they are really fooling.**
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC
The liquid
the suffering
the deep red so deep and red
that only the sea could be more blue
The glass, the green
The intoxicating colors
of a lonely evening
or a dinner date
The stains of anger or
happiness or
fear
Wine, wine
the liquid,
the joy.
The slowed reflexes and
the numbed pain and
the misfiring nerve endings -
the cerebral palsy of alcohol.
The divorced mother of alcohols,
the best friends reuniting,
the new house celebrating,
the variety of steak cutlery,
the funeral of alcohols.
Wine, wine,
the deepest end of a sea
everyone dares to drown in,
and words that can’t be taken back
and deeds that cannot be undone
and promises that are foolishly made,
and birthdays to be celebrated,
and weddings to be held,
and dances to be danced,
all under the soft, dark cloak of
wine, wine.
Jul 3, 2020
Jul 3, 2020 at 5:23 PM UTC
tea drunk in rivers
at the deeper level
where someone knows the reason
maybe your life depends on it
- dehydration from alcohols bite
red wine and lager
sweet n sour chicken
with noodles. Strange dreams follow.
A night on the tiles
where a madman was planting a tree in the garden which had no roots
and in the dream you knew you were dreaming the whole thing.
Aug 10, 2016
Aug 10, 2016 at 2:07 PM UTC
Pretentious eyes
never thought twice
before we cut ties
raised by alcohols entice
as droplets of water flies
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC