"blackouts" poems
Shriveled & shrunken.
Intoxicated & drunken.
Hung over & agitated.
Mild to moderate brain activity.
Common sense & basic reason lacks mental ability.
Bad with money & squanders financial stability.
Passing a psychological mental health evaluation not quite.
Kept in a straight jacket & sedated in isolation they do spit & bite.
They go through everyone's trash day & night.
They panhandle at the street lights.
They have tempers & pick fights.
Nothing they do is legal or right.
Slobs with no jobs.
They lack work ethics.
The sight & stench of them is sick.
They're sad story is lies & tricks.
Not a truth that sticks.
They cuss & their pocked face oozes ****
Their frontal lobe is filled with dust.
About telling your teacher the truth they get homicidal & make a fuss.
They drive a piece of **** car consisting of smog & rust.
Getting arrested for 365 × 3 + 2 counts of child **** is never a bust.
Keep your children away from drunks.
Some drunks get violent, beat you & lock you on a trunk.
Most pedofiles & rapists are drinkers.
Not religious or moral thinkers.
With shingles, hpv virus, ****** & boyles.
Zero morals as hideous as an ugly *** gargoyle.
Enjoy arguing, screams & shouts.
Daily drunk driving & behind the wheel blackouts.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 10:51 PM UTC
What is artistic expression how do put my soul on a page
How do I stroke my aura’s color if I can’t see it
How do paint my humor and intentions
How do I draw my unbalanced chakras back to balanced and write the energies surging through channels
How do I chalk out my thought process when I am reminded of you
Walkie talkies hidden ontop my chalkie chakra blocked like telephone lines hit by drunk drivers or blackouts during storms
Sunshine burning mustard seething weekend breeding burnouts coming out of retirement like
My soul color bleeding rainbows with big blocks of grey in between Needing the contrast Needing the depth and blurred complications the world is not black and white we all bleed the same rainbow sparks into the same riverbeds breathing and exhaling with the time ticks of our existence of light reflected on the glitter trickled surface of the vibrations of our soul speaks ricocheting through galaxies for eternity.
Can’t phrase anything right
In come spiraling thoughts stories of me stories of we can’t help but trip I fall into thee mother Luna romanticizing the waves of the sea you rub my jaw with your hipster b
Crown king we’re being free
We’re trying queen
Forgot the beauty in the cold
Blackened hearts should walk boldly
Frozen on mountaintops trying to keep our souls warm
Broken and torn plastic bag in the wind escaping entities that block their flow
Exhausted on faking
Keep breaking from trying to make it
Ain’t no fun to be around
I keep all my words in my mouth
The devils got my tongue
I’m feeling numb
All my existence is to ***
I can’t get up out of the ******* ground
Years go by
I’m not feeling myself
Tears come out of me like a leaking spout
No drugs can bother me
My head belongs in the clouds
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
mania means blackouts.
the violent situation
mania.
all the symptoms were there.
short fuse.
irritability.
full blown,
mania.
all of the time.
mania.
i couldn't sleep.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
Myths
They were not statues
and now you see what they see
looking back at you
Man
Her tongue, was so sharp
dissevers men from their ******
kisses them goodnight!
Our blind date went well
Next time leave my mask at home,
and her eyes attached.
Scratched, stained, double locked.
Basement corner, light bulb off.
Refrigerator.
Won't let him hurt you.
I promise, now go and hide,
Daddy is coming...
I don't remember,
I keep having these blackouts.
Sorry I hurt you.
Movie
Make-out Point, moonlight...
Turn their car radio on,
leave my hook behind.
50 ft. Woman,
dreams of a fifty foot world.
Curse my two left feet.
Empty, shiny man
His axe hacks you limb from limb
You hear a heartbeat
Wound too tight, tied down
Whisper lies, impale your skull
What is a real boy?
"Last person on earth,
dif'rent faces in mirror."
- Frankenstein's Monster
Miscellaneous
appeared as a zit
it grew, no concern for it
it spoke! holy ****
Lamprey fingertips
Coarse hair on infected tongue
Lotus seed ******
My beast sounds like love,
vanity to a monster,
hero to a ghost.
from Horrors Grotesque,
the existential monster
fears little carpals.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC
I'm a bit like Brett I like my beer, Senator Feinstein,
Ha. Your name has stein in it,
thats like a beer mug, i dont have blackouts from beer drinking.
It's the lack of that makes me forget.
I don't remember much of this morning.
Went to work got some **** done, I
Don't think I molested any women,
But it's all foggy. I remember going into DG after work. They got 15 packs for 6.95.
Cept I vaguely recall creeping out. They were
Out. Until i found three of them white boxes with red and blue lettering an A
With wings insignia I'd tucked in
A corner of the store behind cases of
Heinekens, out of my league drink,
For just this situation.
******* patriotic
Almost. I think it's doing my part to support this free-market capitalistic
Economy. Like paying taxes.
Better than voting.
So you all can impune Kavanaughs
Character all you want.
I like beer so do he. So.
Back to me.
I couldn't wait for one.
I'd put six in the freezer.
And it had been ten minutes.
I drank it lukewarm.
And my memory came back.
The fog cleared. Oh yeah, his problem
Isn't that he loves beer
Like I do, it's that he was a punk upper class white dude who
Pushed around young girls, laughed while he felt them up,
Thought he was entitled to.
That's over the line, even for Republicans.
You are not like my justice.
I am a justice of peace and integrity.
Go drink beer,
BRETT, JUST NOT ON THE SUPREME COURT.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
The door slid silently into position
Utter panic wrote its epitaph before
The air resisted, collapsing your boxed
Voice, hiccupping to a captured halt
Scrawny syllables, whithering
Slogans designed to entangle, split
Personality in tow, pushing sickening
Sentences to the back of your throat
Gagging the saliva of terror burning
Apart effortlessly. Remorse did not attend
Strangulating the heaving mass.........
The handle remained unturned, imagined
Fear felled you, trapped consciousness
Performing blackouts, dragging into a
Well of invisible discipline, conjuring
Paranoid stifling circles to spy with menace
Fading fast, blinking on hold, staring out
Slow motion heart rhythm journeyed
To cold climates leaving warmth unaccounted
For and you left on the cold cold slab
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 11:56 AM UTC
pg. 261
Betrayal
she sat
warm
cold
clear and still
sadness left her
anger overwhelmed
*******
she whispered
“pathetic”
temptation
She enjoyed the small fragments of pain.
pg. 99
Watschen
footprints
the dustiness of the floor
this would all be for nothing
she would never see her again.
The reality
it stung her
The floor was cold
against her cheek
pg. 143
December Night
the shivering snow
the girl wide awake
she watched
as he slept
“Sleep well”
turn off the light.
pg.392
Torrent
his eyes were silver and strained
misery was attached to them
hope
read the depth of sorrow
it was true
pg. 398
Schweigen
Peace.
making his way through the darkness.
Silence
was not peace.
pg. 424
Nachtrauern
, please don’t go.”
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 7:31 AM UTC
Are you relieved to be normal?? It's something only you see.
Wasting away with a false impression we're all as strange as can be
I take some consolation as light reflects differently before passing my eyes and disguising inside mistaken identity
Spooked by our shadows safer with backs against trees
Wandering hopeful in vast space kicking round autumn leaves
Vanish like Houdini chained in a box at the bottom of the sea.
Just like smoke through every vent caught by any breeze
I think a part of everyone resides somewhere else
The 21 grams we lose in death
We've all wondered what it was in the corner of our eye
Maybe you looking back at you now you've died
Say there was no answer just questions?
Would we stop looking for them in the bottom of glasses?
Something seems strange but I'm not sure
It's not a disease there is no cure
It's not a house of cards or castles made of sand
But a poisonous web spun by delinquent human hand
Sunny days and weekend stays in places far from home
Meet the locals to say goodbye before you've even said hello
Leaves in trees so eager for a breeze to fall
This is no life at all.
Its one or two things that remind me it's a game
The tedium like nails at scabs and the blood it'll bring
A slice of lemon is all I need to add a little colour.
Perhaps a banksy on my garden wall.
Having a door held for me.
Strawberries for breakfast.
Punctuality.
Four feet at the foot of my bed.
Not waking contemplating regret.
Sun on my face
Sand in my shoes
A different kind of saltwater kisses.
Grandstand welcomes from close friends.
Tearful goodbyes everytime.
The magic must happen when I blink or during the blackouts when I drink.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
I'm afraid to slow down, as if loss of repetitiveness allows for sediments.
Mind races, paces.
Over works its self in the wake of new faces.
I'm begging for acceptance to follow this direction.
Harvesting all this love, gaining gems of affection
Scarred and torn my flesh is my own,
I'm grown.
Up, I climb further into danger's soothing catacombs.
The shells of un-fulfillment shed with precision.
I'm dreaming of blackouts with a blurred vision.
Steeping tea of poor decisions.
Wasted, wasting, weightless.
Repetitive, sediments, settling into broken dreams.
Filling the corners of my mind, spilling hope,
Tethering seams.
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
Ivan had completely lost it;
Teenage Satan in town
to see his father
for money;
Eli hated this kid;
a minor prophet
in his own scene;
Hel kept a photo
of Satan stuck to
her mirror; mirrors
going out of
style & magic making
a comeback;
drinking [Ivan could've
sworn the kid was dead
it was bad news that he
showed his face at all;
Ivan would've sworn he
was dreaming: pressing
in on the scared kid,
& growling in his face:
"I watched u die in the
gutter, u rotten *******
Ivan had indeed been there
when the satanic | kid got run over
by the yellow cab driving
headlong into hell;
[Ivan's blackouts increased after that]
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 11:24 AM UTC
2AM
I am assaulted with emotion at the notion of closing my eyes
my drunken blackouts are the only peace I seem to find deprived of my liquid therapy I sink into my thoughts
ignoring atrocious reality brings no solace to a villain caught
3AM
paralysed within myself calling out from my empty shell
a stranger inhabits my skeleton but I'm yet to hear alarm bells
my identity's gone missing but all the poles are poster-less
suffocating on small talk I'm lost in exquisite sadness
4AM
do my eyes of infinite tragedy hold the same tone of desperation?
dead detached peepers resemble marbles glossy from sedation
privately frantic for acknowledgment of my internal death
fearful you see my demise but see no value in my breath
5AM
mother dearest placed me on the curb for a foreigners collection unworthy of a garage sale I squat amongst the household rejections
amidst disheveled furniture a crusty mop makes my acquaintance
I suppose the oppression of my despair made it less contagious
6AM
whoever claimed sunrises bring hope never tried stimulants
the ***** smeared sky bears as much nausea as I implement
such is the tacky masochistic cycle of damnation
give me my slice of death and pray I don't awaken
i
grieve
my
whiskey
as
i
grieve
my humanity
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
The madness of money,
exploiting the human mind.
Never enough money,
never enough time.
The disasters of our time,
the result of natures resistance.
Rebelling against mankind,
Mother Nature can be persistent.
And while we watch the tide,
slowly go and rise,
we must remember, it won't be long,
till we are all gone.
Tornados and hurricanes,
wind whipping cyclones.
Heat waves and solar storms,
disrupting cell phones.
Landslides and flooding,
from torrential downpours.
Forrest fires and blackouts,
from ruthless lightening storms.
Some may say the sky is broken,
some may say the sky is crying.
This is natures rebellion,
Mother Nature is dying.
But our motive right now is money,
and nothing will stop our addiction.
We will pollute this world till the skies are black,
and when we do, there's no turning back.
Let the gaping hole in the ozone layer,
grow until it's big enough,
to burn our Earth down to the core,
till we are ashes, nothing more.
Mother Nature has sent her warnings,
Mother Nature, wish us goodbye.
Mother Nature will slowly die,
and nothing she does can change our minds...
We will destroy ourselves for money,
we will commit,
without knowing,
our own suicide.
Dec 1, 2012
Dec 1, 2012 at 11:41 PM UTC
I don't feel the way I had imagined
I would feel by the time I had gotten here
Paper scraps littering a lengthy path
An ivory album half filled to the gills
Most pages just blips and blackouts
A garden of blooming disappointments
I hyped up the experience too much
Everything feels so terribly lack luster
Now I'm almost always half asleep
And the days feel like I pressed repeat
I don't feel the way I had imagined
Though times have been much worse
And I'm alright with seeing the sunrise
The boredom is better than binging
Waking in such a painful panic
But I've kept the promise this time
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 2:05 AM UTC
Behind the mountains the sun hides and is no more. The city glimmers of diamonds lights tonight. You are the city in my heart that shines. Without you it is not alive. Only lonelyness with blackouts in the streets tonight. Glimmering lights and joys no more. I find myself waiting for you by the door. But no one comes here anymore. I know your here somewhere in plain sight. I will not give up for our fate will restore our love again. Bring it back to life as it has before. Im restless without you here. Going to a new home now so far and so near. But not to you! You are my home and thats where i belong. Where are u my love?
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
at curiosity’s urging
he found haven in haiku
a safe place where people listened
without judging
a thread to test truth’s waters
and tell his story
a 5-7-5 sequence as larynx
giving voice to childhood horrors
beaten regularly with a rubber garden hose
that left no outward evidence
bleeding so badly
he lost a kidney
too terrified to tell the doctor
with his father standing right there
it was a secret kept in the family
her verbal belittlement inculcated
“you should have never been born”
“we can’t afford you”
when he brought home all A’s
they said, “your classes were too easy”
his older brother mercilessly joined the chorus
and the torture
with parental approval
still, his eyes saw beauty
they saw river rocks as hippos
submerged in a backyard creek
they watched in awe at the flight of owls and hawks
swooping down on their prey
they described a “sapphire lake”
“so blue it was almost black”
“a jewel in the belly of the Sierras”
they captured trees and blades of grass
and fallen giants in petrified forests
they found a wife who loved him anyway
despite alcoholic binges and blackouts
his poems told of years of loneliness she erased
they spoke of her as sole reason for sobriety
he found peace in poetry
and used the internet to vent his wise *** ways
at times he even spoke of his family
as if they were decent
but every November remembered
his birth month dredging up the past
he wrote of whispering demons haunting his heart
and scars on the soul that never heal
I can’t imagine his pain
or sense of normalcy
they killed this kid when he was little
but it took him four decades to die
last Friday my friend took his own life
he called me a gentleman and a scholar
and formally thanked me
for encouraging his writing
he defended me in the face of trolls
even though we never met in person
I hope he knows how much we all cared
and I hope there’s a heaven
where he can rest in peace
Dec 17, 2011
Dec 17, 2011 at 3:43 PM UTC
He pulls a feather from her bodice
She laughs and turns a coy cheek.
The boa, all but bare, looks ragged.
Like her smile when she's feeling anxious.
She feels the heat of his eyes, feels his intensity.
Her fears belie her desires. She wishes she could see.
See what he sees. See this thing that he calls beautiful.
He seems to look to look right through her skin.
But all she can focus on is the curves and the scars.
The strange shape of her body. The embarrassment.
The awkward turn of her mouth. The knit in her brow.
Her conflicts with pleasure, her repulsion for needing to submit.
The memories that bite at the back of her moans.
The shadows of abuse crawling out of the seams.
Ugly, twisted devils that sought to steal her innocence.
Returning to feed again, to taint the morrows of adulthood.
All of these things color the love she makes.
Tar and feather it. Blacken it with shame.
He senses her discomfort. Internalizes it. Confuses it.
He shrinks back, recoiling from the slap of rejection.
But it isn't him at all. Him, she craves. Salivates for.
But like the ringing of Pavlov's bell, they've built a deeper path.
Men she never knew; Can't even remember. Faces obscured.
Yet she can trace the footprints they've left on her mind.
Tracks set with iron spikes running through the bedrock,
Through the deepest layers of her psyche. Below the surface.
To where thoughts exist without consciousness, without effort.
The symphony of tragedy continues to play on.
She has no words to express this to him.
She can only hope that he senses it.
Senses the murky bubbles of awakening as they arise.
Senses her need for him. Her need for his patience.
Senses her need for silence, for distance and recollection.
Senses her need for his quiet embrace. For understanding
For her troubled state of mind and damaged sense of self.
For a self that she has barely even begun to understand.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Sadness never signalled us a sign from the cosmos,
left us to decipher the bones of history in quest of omens.
Unheeded, despair overflowed us like a desert sand storm,
buried us in credit ennui and economic laissez-faire.
World leaders formed escalating groups, G-5, G-12, G-20,
still the banks camouflaged in oppressor's language,
invented derivatives against all uncertainty, save their own,
till Wall Street acquired the stench of backed up urinals.
Only when the desperate sallied into the world's streets,
emoting songs that gushered from the wells of outrage,
did rolling blackouts of democracy unearth the buried cities,
freeing a wind that whispers ruin in uncompromising sunlight.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 9:42 AM UTC
ted bundy traps the people of hawker, last night by cutting their power in a half hour blackout
and the hawker residents are either walking around with torches or simply struggling, and ted
bundy is enjoying this a lot, you see he really wanted to silence the mood of brian allan’s vivid imagination
but brian believes in the cosmos and he is sending cronus up there to work on returning hawkers power
and silence the cosmic criminal ted bundy forever and ever, but ted bundy wanted to silence brian, as his mind
as his mind is trying to avoid the teasing of the past, like, today, ted bunny was trying to get a kid to smile at brian,
saying, your like us now man, because you have an imagination and brian said, bundy, i want you to free us hawker
residents, by returning their power or i will get a keg of methane and pour it right through your head, and then cronus
said, i have kidnapped cronus away from his boy, ya know, your theory of mens kids watch the sport and youtubes
better than foxtel, ya see you will suffer brian allan and suffer forever and ever and ever with the other hawker residents
and you will miss your precious baseball match on television, and brian forced cronus to please give hawker back their power,
please give back our power, cronus worked harder and harder to get hawkers power back, but ted bunny’s power won’t budge
and ted bundy is laughing from up in mars saying foolish hawker earthlings, i have put a dark side into each one of their houses
they are tripping over each other, cool as, meanwhile cronus is trying and trying to get hawkers power back, saying please come back,
please come back, while ted bundy said, no i don’t want it to come back, hawker will be in the dark forever, the foolish earthlings they are
they are trapped in my wing, then cronus noticed some damp ***** rocks which was from the river and unknown to cronus, ted bundy
set these wild waters free to knock the electricity pole over and cause rain thunder and lightning, and cronus put 2 and 2 together
and cronus has discovered what ted bunny has been doing to cause cyclones and lightning causing blackouts in hawker, and cronus
worked and worked to restore the power back, by putting his foot in the muddy mars hollow and sliding down it, and when he arrived
at the base, cronus put a rock in the thunder break, and ding **** the power is back on, but ted bunny ran away, saying ha ha ha ha
i am causing problems for cronus and earthlings, and this will happen and happen again, so try and listen to climate change and
keep a torch handy, because ted bundy isn’t the only evil we have up here, causing havoc like this
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 7:57 PM UTC
I run
Away from good fortune
and into the fray
Fortuna favet fortibus
Or so someone once said
I run from the city skies poisoned
by the blinding lights of frivolity
Desperate for blackouts
Rolling and unpredictable
I hope they last months
So I can fill a mason jar with fire flys
I run from the pretty faces
Claiming exasperatedly that mine is just
Unconventional
And that pretty faces are often
If not always
Attached to liars
I run from the honesty
The unyielding truth that I
have ceased to be me
And have been replaced
by an imposter
Who laughs when I look in the mirror
I run until my lungs gasp
For the air between two stars
And until the blood flowing
In the sinew of my thigh
Begins to burn and clot
I run
Until my legs fall off
Just to crawl across the finish
And pretend that I
am a martyr
For a purpose that kept me running
And I forget now
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
writing in fugue states
distress, take me
and give me dizziness
only to see black
what mistake
made me so
today, was too late
that i should have noticed before
the body falters
Mar 1, 2021
Mar 1, 2021 at 1:51 AM UTC
It was a startling spectacle,
sad, sweet, saccharine,
a violin’s slow swell.
our mouths had clipped shut with words unsaid,
—breathless, stunned, aching,
a casual wave, followed by nights of bitter regret.
If I had asked you to, again,
in the right time, in the right place,
would you have run away with me?
For we had lied in desert waters,
and dreamt of cinematic dreams.
Drowned in our notorious luxuries,
of vending machines and stolen things.
And we had smoked cigarettes
and spent nights lying beside one another,
—blackouts, confusion mixed with longing,
and the unshakable feeling
that our lives may be a mess,
but all had been right in the world.
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
Should you follow footsteps
walked in blackouts?
Age bring wisdom
to some.
To some it brings concrete
to set them in their ways
and it weighs them down to younger days.
Rage forms little more than a fist,
a tight grip that holds. It unfolds
under the eyelids; that's where he hides it.
In control of a beast
that should've been tamed or destroyed.
I saw prints in the debris of adolescence
and followed in an immature suit.
Eventually this led me into the night
docile, hostile and not always an honest smile.
An enemy that's almost like a brother to me
preys on my frailties, daily. But
if words form *****
then I am the four walls.
Why does it sometimes feel
like I'm the role model?
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 3:42 PM UTC
we are not human
we are beyond
all that fits into strands of dna
we are a phone call away and just at the beginning
writhing with excitement that plays like anxiety. we are the nervousness
that turns the body right left and left right left before introducing us to becoming asleep. we are the narrative to the lives of others. our passwords don't match but I refuse to let popular radio dictate our lives. we've ****** ourselves red and sweet, cauterizing our moral wounds with *** and sensuality. we scuba dove in the bedlam of ***** intrigue where I drank the pulse of your fingertips into mid-morning blackouts.
I don't know what you do, but I bleed foreign tongues. I mince words and reconnect them, the Swedes would be proud. Inside the ribs, beyond our teenage skin, between us we are always something better going unchecked but never unnoticed. we have been enlightened, summoned, and have three unchecked voicemails that we will lie about listening to should we ever be confronted about it. I don't ever want to be readdressed by consciousness, I am unhappy there and here
the Power lines
Under
unto us both
we may never meet those quondam girl and boy bent by prurient looks
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 5:46 AM UTC
Winter introduced itself like a
Sudden death in the family.
A -28 degrees celsius day has fingers
Thin enough to reach through glass,
Leaving its ice on the inside of
Windows.
I find candles and carry firewood,
Preparing for a cold one.
Out here, blackouts can last for a day.
My iPad and portable modem have
Battery enough for one
Poem.
Such are my priorities.
I empty my fridge into the snow,
Thanking the gods
For my beer.
Don't try to reach me. I'm remembering
Life from centuries ago.
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 7:20 AM UTC