"bartenders" poems
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
52k
When I saw her
The first woman with the first wide eyes
Bright and light and dark and deep
With life and mystery
My heart beat like the first hand struck the first drum
And the first song was sung
In dark caves of ten times ten thousand years ago
When I first breathed that first scent
My sight stopped
My mind stopped
My mind was my body and my hands and my gut
And my legs extending to the ground and the earth and time
And it slowed down like an ice age beginning
Then it melted into warm fire
Where it burned
The first touch of the first woman
Was electrical chemical radioactive bliss
Every piece of matter in me wanted to move and dance and shake and fly apart
The spark from the start of her heart beat
Crossed through the fibers and
Traveled down the pathways of her body
Down the chemical electric synapses
Through her arm and jumped across to my hand
And traveled up and started a new beat
It was a faster, and stronger beat
And it beat
And it beat
Like the first dance,
Shook with the slap and smack of ground and hands and feet
Oh the first woman was all women
And then there were other women
And they were people
Flesh and blood
And minds and thoughts
And feelings that I could not feel
Good and bad and indifferent
With hangups and problems
Blemishes and baggage
I met women coming
Women going
Here and there
Now and then
For coffee, for beer,
One evening or ten
I met scientists, nurses
bartenders and baristas.
Living lives I didn't mind
Giving time when it was mine
Asking for things I couldn't find
Then I saw You
All of you
In time and space and speed
I caught the scent of you
Your fragrance and perfume
And the primal musk of you
That fatal lusts allure
I felt you
The gravity of your body from across the room
Your electro-magnetic force pulling
Pressure of the displaced particles pushing
As you walked so slowly towards me
And time stopped
Light and sound and movement were captured
Captive to your hypnotic sway
Prisoner to your power over my perception
You moved through the still air
And it swept aside like a curtain as you passed
The world was quiet
And then it pounded
The pressure of it filled the air and everything around it
As you moved closer,
Like ride of the Valkyries
Rising and crashing in waves
It rose as you moved towards me
You carried it in your wake
And then it was a crescendo
A vast overpowering transcendent orchestral cacophony
Of immense intense sound and light and energy erupting
Cymbals crashed and horns blew and strings snapped under the pressure of the vibrations
Brilliant fireworks exploded in the black sky of your brown eyes
As you stopped a few feet from me
And time was stopped
You were the first woman
You were all women
You are
The only woman
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:03 AM UTC
Take me to a pub
So I can drink and get drunk
Forget all my sorrows for five minutes
And after the five minutes are gone
I shall grab the phone
And shout my anger with similes and curses
And melancholic poetic verses
Take to me to a pub.
Take me to a pub
So I can drink and get drunk
Then drive my tombstone of a car
And empty my rage in shifting gears
Of crashing death
A representation of the life
Of advanced products of simple humans
Dumb enough to die
Take me to a pub
Take me to a pub
So that I can meet some girls
And maybe go back with them home
And smoke some ****
And ashes
Of the dead people of the past
Which has now become a part of my mouth
And in my mouth
Mixed things
With either a sharp taste
Or a sharp color
Or a sharp texture…
Like multicolored knives entering my veins approaching my heart
To rip it apart
Take me to a pub…
Take me to a pub
Where I can die
Under tables and cups
And bartenders
And miserable people trying to laugh
With eyes that are not theirs
And faces that are not faces
Like animals unstrapped for one night
And once they wake up the more impossible are the braces
Shaped into bubbles that are suffocating
With no hope for air
That it becomes unfair
Take me to a pub
And then blame God
For my torment and bad hangovers
Saying why God!? Why did you let me go to a pub…
And after I wake up for reason
And logic, discover my flaws
I go back to my illogical ways
Because you are taking me to a pub
Television takes me to a pub
Politics takes me to a pub
Consumerism takes me to a pub
I feel like I’m the hot girl of the night
Because everyone is taking me to a pub
Grab some beer
Some *****
Mojitos and some Absen
Leave my mind unaware
And my thought absent
Take
Me
To
A pub
Now!
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
It was a Saturday night in the park
his trees were singing
out of tune
his clay pigeons needed to come out
of his closet
for he was parked
on a stool
at his favorite watering hole
amongst a full house
where pairs beat singles
and there he was
shooting blanks
drowning in his sorrows
on his nine lives of lowlife
hoping for a sitting duck in despair
the kind that waddles right up to the Romeo's
with suspense in their hearts
and spontaneity in their wings
a cackle
that he can tackle
to take home
to his garden bed
for him to be fed
but what he got
was for not, naught, knot
wistful thinking
sitting in a bar sinking
for the jukebox played a broken record
finding love in the wrong places
and the joke squarely was on him
for thinking, he could round the bases
looking no further than the escape of his glows
or a crutch of decoys
and sitting ducks
for he was no Romeo
yet
there he was still, like steel,
a stole away in society
forlorn, preserved
like mamas mothballs tucked away
in basement storage
squandering the forage
for there were no triple treats
tonight for him
or forever sounds grim
for his reality check gone dim
or
no eye candy
for his heart beats
no picnic
for his ****
and all the bottled whiskey
could not drown out his pain
as his eyes were slain
as the sitting ducks turned
from his fantasy corner
phantomlike
and though
he's sitting at the bar, a loner
reminded that in cards of life
pairs beat singles
and in his worn hand
familiarly holds a lonely joker
for it's like he tries
and its
like his sitting ducks
are like hoofed deer
and his little sweets,
are spooked
hoofing
away from his
now darken forest
like red ants at his picnic
and the gleam in his eyes turned
to the poorest
its
its
as if his life and watering hole
was condemned
his garden bed cut at the stem
it is as if he has a red vest on
and a rifle don
and all the hoofed deer
panic
looking at him in fear
like he's manic
or maybe it's his eyes
that hold dark skies
he orders another double
trouble
for what else is there to do
on his Saturday night
than to sit in a bubble
forever sounds grim
but sing him a sweet hymn
he says please
to wit as he steals peeks
at the bartenders triple treats
like a bee to a hive
his joker still strikes a beat
if only he can find a bolster
for his gun needs a holster
and a deer in the headlights
would be hard to find
the confession now told, tolled, towed
through tears
the guy in the bar window
is me, sitting
resigned
Logan Robertson
10/18/2018
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
were you a 50's
godchild in the city,
wing-tipped feet
running the streets
all week, ketchin hell...
then you gots that check
come friday
and needed a taste of heaven...
you and the dog pound
swung mid-town
to broadway & 47th
after 9,
and joined the line spilling
from the royal roost round 48th...
by 10, the joint was jammed
with gents well-coifed,
matching honeys, and the sounds
of money being made:
chime of silverware ~ cling,
and the cash register's ~ swish cha-ching,
and the chatter of guests,
servers and bartenders
doing their thing ~ wah da bing
then the lights dimmed
leaving a semi-dark haze
of gray smoke swirling
over the crowd,
and mc symphony sid
grabbed the mike:
*"...welcome to the friday nite jam session
at the metropolitan bopera house
ladies and gentlemen...."*
hysterical hoots and applause
followed
as the circular spotlight paused
center stage,
unveiling:
~ the miles davis nonet ~
featuring,
max on drums,
john on keys,
gerry and lee on sax
and a genius
on trumpet
'twas the birth of cool
and soon the rhapsody
of modern jazz
waxed hypnotic,
casting a spell
over god's children
when budo chased lady bird
down allen's alley,
spittin'...
riffin'....
boppin'...,
poppin'.....
superfluidity
like acid through
varicosed veins
the earth stood still
it seemed
for 4 thrilling hours
as heaven rained a rifftide
onto the lucky crowd...
and dewey's sublime trumpet
exorcised the devil
from the week that was...
~ P (Pablo)
(7/24/2013)
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 5:13 PM UTC
porcupine, devil's receptionist,
your splinters are aching again.
manifested figure, you are alien.
more so are your actions.
I am thoroughly impressed
by the displays of your affections
boldly handing them to me,
so rudely beautiful, and my limbs
are too shocked for movement.
each layer within me shifts,
black goes grey, blue goes green,
brown goes red and gold, weeds
become sunflowers, the ground below
us begins to heave, volcanoes splinter
and split down their middles, ridges
of lava gasping for air, bubbling, black to grey to white
to blue and purple fire. sweat, we sweat but we don't catch flame.
sweat, and I am liquid at last.
sweet,
considering possibilities,
shuffling my vocabulary like cards in a deck,
preparing myself for the most difficult game life could offer,
preparing myself in tender fragments of flaky crystal.
words become thin glass in my mind, and I
begin to feel the cuts in my throat,
climbing up my tongue trying to create some movement,
even if that movement is pain.
movement has suddenly shook my bones out of their choke hold.
I gasp for air, grasp on to what you hold out.
your outline against my insides at last, your third eye cracked open
and I see behind and through the meshing that takes place. I see so
much that I am blind, torn with black and white.
I close my eyes with good intention:
I am black.
more dark than thorn roofed ships,
smashing against waves made of shadow.
I open my eyes with impression and find you white.
more white than the ghosts in my bones,
winter shivers back with thoughts of you.
I close my eyes with good intention.
I tire more and more
my head weighs down
with all the color.
I want no more black or white.
you tire more and more
your head weighed down
by holding your colors in.
we become tectonic
and all goes grey.
ashes of what we felt that day
aches of what we did
morning reaches my empty lids,
you've taken all I could say with
your silence. a plague. a bartenders keep.
I saw you again before the moon,
I even saw you standing beneath it's reflection,
staring.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 10:45 AM UTC
Sunday Morning blues
RIO DE JANEIRO all nights or LAS VEGAS nightlife
After two-three glasses of twisted Ice lemon
Or was it an Alabama Slammer which cut like a knife
My days and nights felt like a freight train ride
And that no lie!
I remember the Cuban Bulldog who bite me
three years ago, in Kissimmee;
which left me more than a little weak
those feisty drinks
Or was it that wicked, wacky Long Island Ice coffee
Which almost has done me in?
After, watching a news clips of Momar Kadafi
or was it an episode of Friends
Luckily, for me I met my sweet Marlin Brando
And it was hallelujah and amen in Key Largo
So many bartenders, so many smokes filled rooms
So, once again here I am nursing
Another Sunday mornings blues.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
get away from me all you fools
store owners
underpaid store clerks
delivery people
disgruntled factory workers
bosses
know it alls
child molesting priests
rabbis
loud mouthed reverends
strippers
track armed hookers
pimps
johns who's wife won't give it up
teachers
shady lawyers
pill poppin' doctors
nurses
kids with colds
old people with dementia
***** dogs
feral cats
evil grandmas
perverted grandpas
street sweepers
***** garbage men
slick bartenders
waitresses
drunk people
people high on life
dope heads
meat heads
sober judges
all of you
go to hell in a handbasket
and let me live my life
in peace.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
We met during a meteor shower
at a party on Cloud Nine
And we were high, high, high
out of our minds
Drinking the Elixir of Life
From Vampire bartenders
The bumble bee of time
whose sting is reality
And idealism is a crime
You were trying to plant trees
with seeds inside rain drops
Like Redwoods and Populus tremuloides
I think your father was a giraffe made out of sticks from the Swahili language
by the carpenter that is your mother
Who you look like
I wonder what you would carve from the
wood of your harvest
A Wife like the Blue Fairy?
But you only saw in colors of green
With absinthe stuck in your teeth
you wear windchimes and windmills like earrings
and hummingbirds nesting in your ears
Your blood is honeysuckle
You caught me a Shooting Star,
Calling me Eyelashes and Pretty dresses
I like it best when the stars fall,
sizzle sizzle pop Like the beginning of time
and water fighting for its Life
I asked you, "Have you ever cut down a tree?"
Pause button lingers on your lips
"What does that feel like?" I ask.
Your reply, "Hot, like the burn on your chest from the sword you made for the King of Aliens."
"He was just an Ex boyfriend" I reply.
You continue your work, eyeing as ghosts
linger like houseguests on my shoulder pads
Pretending to be my consciousness
I put my morals in the recycling bin last week.
And threw my soul into a Wishing Well.
You said you were going deep sea memory diving.
Amnesia a Past time, last time, previous life girlfriend you had
Who cheated on you with Reincarnation
You say that's why the dinosaurs
are extinct
I ask you if you need a ride home in my Time Machine.
It's made out of cardboard and childhood memories.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
Gotchu braces off eh
Gotchu a new nose and now
you're perfect
but hey that's my coat
then goout without me
****
"ooh are you serious"
no i dance to the beat
honey of my own drums
baby i've seen
better days
better noses
fatter wallets
hotter bartenders
and better places to get drunk
then *****
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 9:54 PM UTC
There's a bluebird in my heart
too,
but unlike
yours
I like to let mine out
from time to time,
I let him spread his wings
I let him sing
his songs to me
& to the world,
My bartenders like him,
he's how I've gotten most
of the ****** into my bed
and he doesn't mind the smoke,
everyone needs a drag
from time to time,
He's the one
who prefers Jameson
and told my tongue
to not drink
much else,
I don't hide him,
But I'm not mad
that you hid yours away
I'm glad you did
because as much as you
inspire me and make me
want to share my songs
with the world,
I'm glad I'm not as angry
as you made yourself out
to be,
I get it, the image
is everything about
what seperates the men
from the boys,
and at this point I think
I'm all grown up
and we're stuck together
with the same fate,
So I let my bluebird sing
Bukowski,
because more than anything
your songs taught me
how to ****
what the world thinks.
And thank you for lying
to me
You old, drunk *******
Because you let your bluebird
fly, you know it
and may the gods bless you
for not even trying.
I love you
************
Just one question,
Are you crying now?
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
Jazz women clap in unison, black.
All the boys in the club move
way, way over, for your health,
sister.
Some bartenders smoke ****
while polishing glasses, big or
small.
Cartoons play on box t.v.s
while people look at hubs on
smartphones.
Some gruff guy points at you
-- and, yes, it could have been
me --
we have a phone call, I think.
Who uses a payphone, any-
-damn-more.
Choir children double for choir
mice.
Helicopter parents hover their
hands above their juniper drinks.
Gesturing at poorly dressed kids
has never been this in fashion.
Be perfect for the camera;
this moment will be captured
by synthetic eye.
Moms and Brads turn to
look at us laugh. Which has
always been in poor taste.
They say my poetry is bad
and your music is **** -- but
I guess it's nice that someone
gave us those views.
Columbia and Harvard
seem like distant planets.
But that's where we'll be,
supposedly.
You with your Guinness,
me with my Tito's.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 9:19 PM UTC
Bluebird
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****s and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?
-Charles Bukowski
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 7:10 PM UTC
You're like algebra
Made up of x's and y's
I've always been bad at math
But even a mathematician couldn't define
Mixed signals is your zodiac sign
Every time I talk to you I get some laughs
But I also get an "I'm fine"
I never said you couldn't whine
That's why I'm here, I'm your religion, make me your shrine
I would cast a shadow if I weren't divine
But the bartenders have only got water tonight
And your bed sounds soft, but your heart sounds softer
And your heads a heavy burden to carry on a back full of knives
But I'm willing to do that for you
I will take you home tonight
But only with the hope of widening your sight
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
in the bars
the dark and quiet bars
i can sit there drinking in the soft glow
of sixty watt bulbs
******* into ancient fixtures
and the bartenders will at least
tolerate me
so long as i don't fall
or drift to sleep
or scream
horrors
and such
and the bartenders will at best
be nice to me
and fill my glass
with whiskey
and maybe the ones
who are pretty girls
will smile at me
the smile of pity you would give
to a dog
or to me
or to a person who honestly
needs it
and is so unworthy
of it
in the bars
perched up on my stool
i am elevated
elevated above the horrible dirt
of the earth
the dirt i walk on
sleep on
dream of escaping
the dirt i am a part of
covered in
almost indistinguishable from
in the bars i am the god king
of the world i create
for and from myself
with the two square feet of bar-top
that is mine
and so long as i have money
and don't look too drunk
i can read for hours
in what light i can find
and not have to speak to anyone
or look at anyone
except the bartender
who wishes to trade no more words
with me
than necessary to order a drink
and most times
i wish
the same
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 5:37 PM UTC
I hear you
in the music
I see you
in designs
I smell you
in pints
I taste you
in *******
I feel you
everywhere I go.
I hear you
In all the funky jazz beats
I feel you
In the rhythm
Even when I'm dancing with other men
You never leave my side
Our bodies
Electrified
Our souls
Intertwined.
Got me mesmerized
All wrapped up
In your rap tunes
You know how they make me feel
Like I'm floating
On the *** vibes
Totally lost in our world
You understand
My art
My love
My ***
They're all the same thing, you know.
I see you
In passing
In stores
In movies
In products
In fine dining establishments
This is when I know
I know you
When I can see you in the designs
In clothing
In an artist's painting
In a pair of shoes
The colors and shapes in a tie
All the art I see
I see you.
I smell you
In spliffs
Rolled in the finest tobacco
Packed exquisitely by you
Late nights after ***
You'd roll one up for us
I'd feel like a ******* queen
In your arms
But now
I smell you in the morning
When the coffee's being made
Never have I ever
Woken up by your side
Without the boldness of your coffee
Greeting me
With your love
I taste you
In every whiskey cocktail
In every bartenders ice cubes
In every microbrew
I taste you mostly in the IPA
But some nights I taste you in porters
And chocolate beers
Most of the time
Your flavor shows up
In the finest French restaurants
That we used to adore
I'd always have my red wine
And you the whiskey.
We were in love
With each other's art
And that's when I figured out
That's all life is, is
Sharing each other's love
Through art
***
And mystery
You are my love
My past
My present
And my future
Even when you are not in my present
Or my future
You will always be with me
I will always hear you
In the music
See you
In paintings
Smell you
In spliffs
Taste you
In whiskey
and love you
Like I've never loved before.
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 10:44 PM UTC
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
I count the divider lines as they disappear under the truck.
The hood of our big rig eating them up like some,
insatiable beast.
"You and me" he says, "We're the last real cowboys."
He's right.
We're the last real vestige of the American West.
The thousand dead bugs and cracked windshield tell the stories of
our cannon ball runs.
Littered floors and bloodshot eyes have replaced our calendars.
Local bartenders have replaced our therapists.
And the 8-track gives us hope with a steady beat.
**** John Wayne!" he screams as he snorts a line and blows past the
weigh station.
This has been going on for three hours now, and I'm strangely comfortable.
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
One of my closest friends
Is an alcoholic
He drinks and drinks
Until he passes out
Or until he cannot remember
Anything that had happened
Jack and Coke
Jagerbombs
And bottles of beer
There is an imprint on the couch
Of his big, fat ***
The same couch he sits
Every day and night
Drinking away his life
His friends
His family
Himself
He has his personal bar stool
At all of the bars in town
And the bartenders know his name
And they know his favorite drinks
And his horrible jokes
And he sits there by himself
And drinks himself
Into a coma
Or until he passes out
My closest friend is an alcoholic
But he is also suicidal
Instead of hoping to get killed
He drinks by himself
And get drunk again
Because drinking is better than
Not drinking at all
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 1:57 PM UTC
For now a soul for sale
If I'm lucky, I'll get enough
For something to drink
For now a soul for sale
Or perhaps something to
Get me high
For now a soul for sale
It truly depends on the person
Looking for one
What they would pay
For now a soul for sale
Or do the bartenders,
Pushers,
One night standers,
Hopeless romantic weekend questions unanswered
Own it?
How can I sell something I no longer own?
Wouldnt I remember doing this?
Or did I lose it?
That seems Like something
I would remember doing too,
Like losing your wallet
Or virginity
So that's out of the question
So for now a soul for sale
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 2:04 AM UTC
She's dancing in her skin tight jeans
Little boots with little tassles
When in the bar another comes
And you just know they're gonna wrassle
Hair all up, and dressed the same
I mean, these two could be twins
You know that fur is gonna fly
There'll be someone slappin' skin
There's rules in bars
At times like this
The most important one I'll mention
Is get the bartenders eye just when
You can feel the building tension
The bartender's job is now
Not serving drinks to you
So when you know a fight is on
You'd better order two
That my friend is my advice
I give it to you free
But, when I am out and it is on
I make sure I get three
Bubba's had just one too many
And you know he's gonna blow
It doesn't matter what you say
He's right and you don't know
Just grab a seat and hold on tight
And bud, take my advice
Before the bartender leaves the bar
You'd better order twice
Dancing close is always good
It doesn't do no harm
Except when the one you're dancing with
Came on another's arm
You'd better get your order in
Because, the fists are gonna fly
And you'll be waiting for a while
Before another you can buy
There's rules in bars
At times like this
The most important one I'll mention
Is get the bartenders eye just when
You can feel the building tension
The bartender's job is now
Not serving drinks to you
So when you know a fight is on
You'd better order two
That my friend is my advice
I give it to you free
But, when I am out and it is on
I make sure I get three
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
Bluebird
By
Charles Buckowski
Bluebird
- Poem by
Charles Bukowski
*there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I'm not going
to let anybody see
you.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pour whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the ****** and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he's
in there.
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to ***** up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there's a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I'm too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody's asleep.
I say, I know that you're there,
so don't be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he's singing a little
in there, I haven't quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it's nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don't
weep, do
you?*
Charles Bukowski
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
Where I been is nothing where I could go
The crystal lakes and the humming does
Here and now through the thick tangier fog
Stage is set and the bet is hot and wet
Seeing with my ears as mind is a ringing
Naked and next to a wishing waterfall
Diamond bleeds reflecting where jade is in numbers
And out in the world is where all the love is
Raining on the front steps of a fortune cookie theft
Whistling into infinity for the void is never scared
Inside the roaring thump of a babies new born heart
Heat surrounding you crying for more and more
Lighting your soul up like a christmas tree fire
Nodding off into sleep as the beat is that steep
Crying for forgiveness sighing for deliverance
I am nothing without you and I cannot go on
Listen to the walls the streets the worlds and its treats
Money murdering the dreams of the young people
Soon to be old and buried without ever reaching
For stars all along their beds are engulfed in hatred
Seas churning and burning shooting for the stars
Another rough start to another rough question
Legions are pouring out where will you walk
If you don't even have the nerve
To open up your mouth and talk
Since the moon lit walks are done
And the player is singing our final song
Why not you come over here and make me feel nice?
Im all alone and my house is down the block
Why don't we get outta' her and have us a talk?
Or we can stride in silence with your hair dancing too
My eyes might water and my hands might shake
But come on now baby an' give me a break
I don't mean no harm and I don't smell like a barn
I promise I got the rose even without the thorns
Make me whisper sweet nothings into your ear
Your smile is the only thing I'd walk for miles n' miles
Trees walk with us as we watch the setting sun
Ill be here give it some thought sweet ***
Make sure to keep it quiet the bartenders got a gun
Look with your eyes and not your face for the case
Might get harry if you wake up old Barry
Nov 10, 2011
Nov 10, 2011 at 8:10 AM UTC
shadows dance around my room.
it's a party of darkness through which I must sleep. the noisy fists incessantly pound on fleshy white periosteum- I’m bleeding.
I'm gasping from inebriation and
blurred vision the party induced,
tripped up steps on drowsy meds- my memory, now abaited
replaced by these
dark guests
my chest
lurched, poised and ready to jump over the edge of my rib cage.
and I'd **** for water,
but all the bartenders offer
are straight jackets, quetiapine fumarate and more paranoia.
there's only room for one person in here.
but there are two voices I hear.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC
I tried to drown inside a bottle one time.
I tried to drink myself into oblivion to remove every bit of your love from me.
I tried to drown myself, drown myself deep beneath the ways of fermented corn and wheat.
I tried to drown myself, tried to fill my lungs from bottom to top like the bartenders who would fill my cup.
I needed to drown.
I tried to **** myself with speed that was fueled by all of my anger.
I tried to **** myself with speed by mashing my foot down farther and farther you see.
I tried to **** myself with speed as I raced across the bridge that seemed to float over the sea,full of all that fermented wheat and corn that I through down my esophagus to try and drown away my heart and mind.
I needed to flee behind that wheel you see.
I tried to bury myself alive in what I thought would take my mind away from you.
I tried to bury myself alive in work and school and pointless endeavors.
I tried to bury myself alive so much that I finally almost got what I didn't want, self suffocation to shut my mind off.
I tried to bury myself alive, tried to choke myself off and turn this mind to the opposite of on.
I needed to suffocate.
I tried to burn away your memory with memories of others.
I tried to strike your memory from off my mind with empty relationships and moments of euphoria.
I tried so hard to pull you from my mind and heart, God did I try.
I tried to end my suffering and destroy my internal engine.
I tried to rip my heart out and stomp on it until it stopped pumping and thumping blood through every stricken vein.
I needed to die.
I tried to **** myself you see.
I tried to destroy everything that you made me to be.
I tried to get all of you out in the worst ways possible.
I tried to go down in what only seemed to be today's modern blaze of glory.
I tried to fall through the bottom of the pit that once was my life.
I tried to press fast forward so that I could quickly get to the end and not let time heal me.
I tried to press fast forward and accelerate the fall.
I needed to fall.
What I felt like I needed only turned into moments of life that I look back on and thank god that they didn't work.
What I did not realize in all those dark moments was that I was setting myself up for my next part.
I was beginning a new role, planning my restart.
I tried and tried and tried so hard to wreck who I was and go further to the dark side.
I eventually crawled my way out of that pit.
I climbed so high, fell a few times but found my way out of it.
I needed to fall.
What once was will never be again and if I could go back I wouldn't stop that downward spin.
I wouldn't reach down to grab myself, to give a hand of help that I felt no one was giving me, I was blind to those who tried because all I wanted to feel was the pain.
I wouldn't go back to change how it started, wouldn't try to fight myself, wouldn't try to fan the flame that had departed.
I wouldn't go back to the start you see because if I would've then I wouldn't be me.
I needed to drown.
I needed to flee behind that wheel.
I needed to suffocate.
I needed to die.
I needed to fall.
I needed to find myself through all the thorns and barbed twine.
I needed to fall.
I needed to stop pressing fast forward.
I needed to restart.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC