"boozing" poems
between the *******
of *******
Marj lie large
men who praise
Marj’s cleancornered strokable
body these men’s
fingers toss trunks
shuffle sacks spin kegs they
curl
loving
around
beers
the world has
these men’s hands but their
bodies big and boozing
belong to
Marj
the greenslim purse of whose
face opens
on a fatgold
grin
hooray
hoorah for the large
men who lie
between the *******
of ******* Marj
for the strong men
who
sleep between the legs of Lil
40.1k
written on his face
the story of adversity
the trials he'd met
through his life's journey
nothing came on a silver salver
he did it tough
all his times were
rougher than rough
his boozing mother
sold her wares on the streets
she liked nothing better
than to be between the sheets
his daddy died in the winter
of nineteen fifty two
he had fallen victim
to an awful dose of flu
that boy had seen
so much sadness in his days
he struggled and battled
through those darkest of days
nothing was easy
it never was meant to be
his journey through life
was one of adversity
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:14 PM UTC
Superman ain't super anymore.
He snorted all the kryptonite
and spilled some on the floor.
His cape is in the lost and found
somewhere on the underground
Superman ain't super anymore.
The Man of Steel's heart, colder now than steel
Lois slapped him on the chops
for trying to cop a feel.
Front page of the Daily Planet
Lois wouldn't let him have it
The Man of Steel's heart colder than before.
The problems of the world knock on the door
Superman has fallen down
he's sleeping in the hall.
Crying between fits of snoozing
wishing he could stop the boozing
The problems of the world knock on the door.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 6:58 PM UTC
I just want to let you know...
I appreciate time we spent together...
Though short as it was, it was worth every second...
If love is a game then I'm loosing it, if love is a drink then I'm boozing it, I have no choice but I'm choosing it, blacked out glass and I still see through it, maybe I still wondering what could've been, what might of been, only it's too late to see I
used to see, can you believe, time shared but you were hardly free, only been 3 months and you had to leave, so far away feels like you're over seas, but you're so close, just out of reach, why can't get you, glued to home and can't move my feet, you make me loose myself so I'll be blowing **** I'm the rapper lost in love with no boundaries, I'm in too deep, I stand alone, close my eyes and I see you here with me...
Yeah...
I ain't got time to hold your hand...
Hold your hand, hold your hand...
I ain't got time to rest my head...
Rest my head, rest my head...
Closed eyes...
Closed mind...
20 years from now we could end up together; who knows, seems like forever but let the impossible grow, you really showed me how to do this, without you I'm hopeless, I sit on the night bus writing this feeling down right broken, the light of life blinding my eyes, how did I let you go, I remember cowering in the corner, police on the road, sirens in my head, letting my tears flow, a kid with no chance, been useless from the get go, so much **** has phased me, but no more you know, the things I've seen I how you've never, I told you my plans and you told me to "hit the road". I lost my head, lost for words, I see it in your eyes, from the my music you've heard, the feeling of desire, in your eyes, I feel you burn, you've scarred me from your fire, ours eyes have locked with my hands on your thighs, your hair let loose, and your lips never slip lies, and I've told you from the start, we can never be together and that it's on my mind, your love I've lost, lost and never found...
Yeah...
I ain't got time to hold your hand...
Hold your hand, hold your hand...
I ain't got time to rest my head...
Rest my head, rest my head...
Closed eyes...
Closed mind...
I like to think I'm a g, good luck with that, I feel like I'm losing it all, would I give up for you in fact, thats a question that passed my mind, and I find life like an exam you have to pass, she knows that, such a shame I failed that class, I know you like you know me, you, only things is our lives contrast, your off to University, I stayed behind, I'll just have to deal with that... I'm sorry...
Yeah...
I ain't got time to hold your hand...
Hold your hand, hold your hand...
I ain't got time to rest my head, rest my head, rest my head...
Closed eyes...
Closed mind...
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 6:06 AM UTC
I was never good at tests
spending hours sitting in a chair
pretending to take notes, doodling and scribbling
daydreaming of places, places just not there
I was never good at tests
dodging bullies in the classroom, and halls
carrying books in a belt, my locker never worked
good at sports, basket and racquetball
I was never good at tests
lettering in architecture, wood and metal shop
not quite a geek, but definitely a nerd
boozing on school trips, and every resting stop
I was never good at tests
in retrospect I realize, the girls used to flirt
those were the days of my introvert
trying to stay unscathed and unhurt
I was never good, at tests
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 3:17 PM UTC
When I was younger:
I shuffled along,
to no urgent song,
didn't march through my day strong. When young and strong are the best time for planned convictions.
There's no acting lazy, or slowing down to the crazy, unless you want to live ungracefully in this hard unforgiving world.
When I was younger:
I lacked logic cause I didn't make clear my premise,
like a man with no plan, a sap with no map. I wandered tither and yonder like a ghoal without a goal, a ghost least of most, no future to ponder.
When I was younger:
I bogged down in metaphorical feces cause I didn't watch where I was wading, forsaking and debating, planning is for suckers, futures are for chuckers.
When I was younger:
I did nil and stood still while the city raced around me, progress to astound thee, forgetting the earth constantly rotates 260 miles an hour- waiting for no one.
When I was younger:
Like the Dodo bird I forgot to grow wings, was eatin by rats and things, became extinct and unlinked to a place run on business, consumerism and cash. On the rocks I was dashed.
When I was younger:
I became he who loses, with a broken compass and excuses, laying laggardly leaderless, with the snoozing and the boozing, and sold my initiative for a bag of grass.
That's when I was younger:
I'm older than that now. But I still remember. It's hard being younger!!
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC
PARTY PARTY PARTY
THE MUSIC IS SWEET, AND VERY VERY COOL
YA SEE IT'S VEG OUT MUSIC TRUE AND TRUE
STARSHIPS ARE MEANT TO FLY
SO HIGH TO TOUCH THE SKY
**** ALL YA WANT **** ALL YA LIKE
AND WE PARTY WITH THIS MUSIC CAUSE IT'S REALLY REALLY COOL
OH YEAH, SHAKE YOUR THANG BUDDY
SHAKE IT ****** RIGHT
SHAKE IT IN THE MORNING, AND INTO THE NIGHT
PARTY, UP AND PARTY DOWN
YEAH SHOW EACH SQUAREHEAD WHO LETS OUT A FROWN
THEN TAKE THIS MUSIC TO THE DANCEFLOOR
AND GET A BOURBON AND COKE, AND ***** AND SCOTCH
YEAH THIS SOUNDS REALLY RAD
PARTY PARTY PARTY
INTO COSMIC DREAMING, YEAH MATE YEAH
COME ON MEN TRY AND STEAL MY BEER
I THINK YOU CAN OPEN THE LID BY USING YA EAR
COME ON PARTY PEOPLE TRY A NICE COLD BEER
THEN HEAD DOWN TO THE FAMOUS NIGHT CLUB
HEAR THE BIG BAND SINGING THE XM,AS CAROL
RUPPA PUM PUM
COME THEY TOLD ME, YOU ARE THE OLD ME, STUPID VOICE OF OLD MATE
THE OLD ME, PLAYING COOL FOR MY FATHER, LIKE A DRINKING BOOZING
YOUNG DUDE DOES
I BIT THE TOP OF THE COKE CAN, MAN
AS I HEARD STARSHIPS FLYING IN THE SKY
I YELLED BRIAN, MAKES STARSHIPS REALLY FLY, OH YEAH
SO MUCH, IN FACT THEY'LL HIT THE SKY
BRIAN HAS THE POWER TO LIFT UP A STARSHIP NOW
THEN I SANG THE WORDS OH YEAH, BOW BOW
PARTY PARTY PARTY
I DRINK A COCA COLA SO STRAIGHT
CAUSE ALCOHOL DIDN'T WORK FOR ME
I KNOW I COULD'VE SAID NO, BUT IF I SAID NO
I WOULDN'T KNOWN IF THEY WERE BAD FOR ME, NOW WOULD I
I PARTY PARTY PARTY THROUGH THE STREETS OF CANBERRA TOWN
OH CANBERRA TOWN IN SUMMER IS VERY HUMID
OH YEAH CANBERRA TOWN, CAN CHANGE THE WEATHER
WHEN ONE MINUTE IT'S HUMID THE NEXT IT'S ICE COLD RAIN
AND THIS RAIN ONLY LASTS 5 MINUTES AND IT'S ****** HUMID AGAIN
OH YEAH CANBERRA TOWN, WILL STAY HOT IN JANUARY AND FEBRUARY
OH YEAH WE ALL FEEL LIKE A COLD DRINK IT'S SO FUN
TO PARTY IN THE HEAT OF CANBERRA TOWN
AND WE'LL PARTY PARTY PARTY ALL YEAR LONG
HAVE A NICE COLD BEER TO MY GREAT MATE BRIAN
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 1:04 AM UTC
"What's wrong with this age?
I'm consuming my last days
Wondering about the yesteryear
That has swiftly passed away.
Now I see that your minds are unclear,
Your faces are emotionless.
You, the young, you've lost your direction
And happiness."
"Yep man, there must be something wrong
If we think we're cool when
We spend our nights boozing with friends,
Getting sloshed and getting smashed,
Taking drugs and getting ******
Man, this is the key to forgetfulness.
What's wrong with this age then?
We do want to bury our sadness."
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:38 AM UTC
Whisking through the whiskey
my senses begin to fail
losing one ability at a time
all I want is to lose them all
but I guess that's the day in age problem
everyone is unwilling to sense
I'm just trying to deal
by tapping into understanding
losing it all, because no one else is willing to try
my friends it's difficult to find the time
boozing and loosing; where can we bond
it's so hard now, when no one else wants to be young
struggling and staggering: I can't join
whisking is not my thing, clear and conscience
enjoy clarity, that's what I bring you.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 1:15 AM UTC
stubborn stoic functionally drunk
my Papa embodied all three
his military hands were
hard & he trapped us
in these vices. “pretty please”
we’d scream, adding sugar on top
was the path to freedom
Beatlebomb
was the horses name, we were jockeys
bouncing up & down on his knee.
Beatlebomb never lost, but Bourbon bread
an early retirement
Once
Jim Beam pushed Papa…plow! Ol’
Beatlebomb brusied and feeble
fell short. Like the liquor, Papa
puddled the floor.
quit boozing!
Pretty please-sugar on top.
his hand harassed the bottle
“maybe later”
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 11:25 AM UTC
On my feet are black moccasins
threaded with runs of bright turquoise
alongside patches of clay orange and dust yellow.
The feet inside grip cool, suede bottoms
to tread on ground still firm,
but pregnant, heavy with rain,
so that the worms lay like fallen soldiers,
victims of a thunderstorm
and scattered on the sidewalk
the way they were that morning
at elementary school
when a boy was squishing them for fun,
and my heart filled with grief for the worms,
whose only crime was trying not to drown.
The rain is a reminder of how poorly
these shoes function when wet,
how they rub my toes
in just the wrong ways,
leaving circular patches of reddened skin
on the outsides of my feet.
The worst blisters I’d ever had,
happened the day my brother and I
were lost in the dense forests of the national park,
and when we finally found the road,
were two miles from home,
and at the very bottom of Everett hill.
Those woods had a cabin by the river,
we only ever found a handful of times.
Our father had warned us
of the homeless drug addicts
who frequented it, which in all reality
were just boozing, pot-smoking teenagers
with an affinity for smashing bottles
and starting fires,
but we were never brave enough
to find out for sure.
And on the banks of that crooked river,
the spring undoes the twisted knots
that winter had created, and washes away
its cold to uncover the relics of autumn’s leaves,
rotting in colors of soupy brown
with tiny pools of grimy rainwater
collected in their palms.
And as I break through the veil of humidity,
to breath air crisp with the scent of fresh, wet earth,
I’m careful to tread lightly,
as to keep clean these moccasins
from their bright turquoises to their dusty yellows.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 9:59 PM UTC
Tonight I am alone
And I feel it in my veins.
I am not needed for your life to continue
And I never will bee.
Tonight, every friend I have encountered
Is with other friends
Laughing, playing,
Boozing, tripping,
And here I sit.
On the outside in the fence of my own self.
Trapped from ever becoming more
From ever having that certain spark
That certain thing
That makes any one person
Like you.
Tonight
I am here and I am staring into my future
Shivering
From how alone I might be.
And I know my heart is tricking me
Because
Losing him just seems like losing everything.
Jan 13, 2010
Jan 13, 2010 at 6:00 PM UTC
YOU MUST ELIMINATE THE FOLLOWING BEHAVIORS:
**cutting,
boozing,
denial,
self-blame,
excessive spending....**
I am taking away all of your maladaptive coping skills...
if you need them, they will be in either my purse or the refrigerator
neither of which you are allowed to prowl without my permission,
which of course you do not have.....
And what will we be replacing them with?
Oh -I'm glad you asked, Crazybrain!
We are replacing them with the following:
*Radical acceptance
Wisemind
Half smile
Oh, you could exercise too,
if you want: ******
Just deal with it!*
I personally think it's stupid to take away a person's crutches in life and expect them to deal effectively for more than a couple of days without a mental meltdown!
Because then you get to live in hell until you can learn to short-circuit the brain's automatic responses that you developed because of a lifetime of f@#kedupness.
DUMB! I'm just sayin' D~U~M~B!
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 4:56 PM UTC
I had a Bukowski in me
but I had to finish mixing my drink
The next best seller
but I had to add the vermouth
It was poetic genius
you cant forget the olive
but i’ll lose it if I dont move
I need a pen, i need to get to my computer, i need to do something fast
but it’s long gone now
sifted through the frontal cortex like so much sand through my fingers
and it was going to be the next big one,
the one that would get me out of here
make me the big shot
published author
but no...
the worst part of it is
I used too much vermouth
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 11:38 PM UTC
One Sunday
in the 1950s
your old man
took you
to London’s West End
it was summer
and the evenings light
and the streets busy
and crowded
and he took you
to amusement arcades
and cafes for refreshments
and ice creams
and you saw the actress
Billie Whitelaw pass
along a street
with two guys in suits
and she gazed at you
and you knew
who she was
and she looked at you
knowing you
had recognised her
you a young kid
in short trousers
and Brylcreemed hair
and she kind of blushed
and looked away
and you followed her
as she went off
behind you
and your old man said
who was that?
you told him
and he gazed back
probably taking in
her ***
her sway
but you thought
of the Monroe lady
in the film you saw
with those lovely eyes
and red lips
and later
next day
at school
when you told Helen
who you’d seen
her eyes lit up
behind her
thick lens spectacles
and she looked
kind of jealous
of some other
female attention
you’d seen
so you said
of course I paid her
no mind I only
thought of you
wishing you
were there
with my old man
and me
licking ice creams
and boozing back
the coke or lemonade
and she smiled
and her eyes
fell on you
with her jealous demon
laid.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
You tasted bitter in my dream
When we kissed
Tongue to lips
You tasted stronger than you seem
Chest to chest
Hips to hips
All my writing recently
Has displayed some form of sexuality
And I think it fits.
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 11:53 AM UTC
My local is not for the faint hearted. Lovers turned~haters brawl. People get poisoned, cops are beaten and a reveller once fell and died after a nonsensical fight with a friend he had been boozing with
It is the sort of place you keep one eye open. Your wallet could be swiped from your hind pocket, carjackers could trail you and work on you right at your gate
Anyway due to all this shenanigans, security is paramount. The first line of defence are watchmen who spend the whole night preventing people who are too drunk to fight, from attempting to make a nuisance of themselves.
Then we have bouncer the clubs elite commandos. When idiots start clobbering each with broken beer bottles, it's their duty to raid that corner of the pub and fling the villains out
But you know what the bouncer does. Every morning, without fail, irrespective of whatever time he eaves the pub tired like a dog, he holds his little girls hand and walks her to the bus stop to catch the school bus
Every morning, without fail.......
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 4:18 PM UTC
It was the summer of love,
at least that's what they said.
There were guys with long
hair and beards and beads,
with wide trousers, and loud
shirts, and girls with long
hair, and dresses like nuns,
or short skirts, showing off
their not so good legs or thighs.
There was Hendricks, Beatles
and Stones and playing, music
loud, live. Julie was out for
the day; the hospital quacks,
giving her a day pass, no
shooting up, no pill popping.
She met Ben in Trafalgar
Square, tight skirt and top,
hair held in a ponytail, bright
eyed, big smile. He was
by the fountains having a
smoke, eyeing the girls,
listening to some long
haired guy strum a guitar,
his skinny girlfriend doing
a dance, her bony legs
looking breakable, ****
non existent. Been here
long? Julie said. No, just
a few moments, he lied,
not wanting to give her
reasons to moan or row.
She wanted to go for a beer.
So he took her to the bar
off Charing Cross Road
and ordered two cold beers
and lit up some smokes.
She spoke of some nurse
who almost lost her her pass,
all about some **** up, over
drugs, she’d forgotten to take.
She said the quacks were ok
with it, the tall one is hot,
she said, shouldn’t mind him
poking around in my parlour.
He told her about the Charles
Lloyd jazz album he'd bought,
how he'd met him outside Dobell's,
got a sign copy of the new L.P.
She drained her drink and he
ordered another two, she took
one of his smokes and lit up
and sat back, crossing her legs,
her black short skirt riding her
thighs, ******* in his eyes.
No place for *** she said,
unless you know of a bed
and room going cheap for
an hour or so? No luck,
he said, wishing he did,
remembering the fast shaft,
the quickie in the hospital
broom room, amidst brooms
and brushes and buckets
or boxes and all. She said
her parents rang, and they
argued, and she slammed
down the phone. They said
it was the summer of love,
but where they sat, boozing
and smoking, it fell pretty flat.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
The kid is a ***
A triple platinum, bona fide loser
Jaded, he hides himself away
From love, from friendship, from family
******* away his talents and his time
Boozing and getting high
What a creep
Sleeping on his uncle’s couch
No job, no future, no friends
Drowning in despair and solitude
Doing nothing, not caring
Writing to keep from going insane
He hates himself
Even more than god does
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 1:51 AM UTC
Miriam
begins her
**********
in a tent
at base camp
in down town
Malaga
2am
party done
boozing done
the music
for dancing
turned off now
and she says
she's not here
the fat dame's
not come back
to the tent
so what now?
Benny asks
shall I stay?
well I can't
have good ***
without you
she replies
are you sure?
Benny asks
sure I'm sure
she replies
enter in
and zip up
the **** tent
so Benny
zips it up
and begins
to unzip
and undress
watching her
shed her clothes
best he could
in half light
from moon's glow
and stars' shine
what if the
dame returns?
Benny asks
she can make
a *********
or **** off
Miriam
says to him
naked now
her soft ****
hanging there
inviting
him to stare
he listens
to the wind
blowing hard
against blue
stretched canvas
come on then
come on in
Miriam
says to him
so he did
his **** ****
rising up
and then down
capturing
the moon's glow
not too fast
she utters
keep a pace
keep it slow.
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 1:47 AM UTC
You draw me in with false promises, and forever let me down
You promise escape & happiness, but it just ends in a frown
Not from me of course, as I’m laid here snoozing
A constant disappointment I feel, so I carry on the boozing.
What am I running from? Anesthetised I lay
And coast through each and every hour, of the following day.
Your everywhere I look! Buses, billboards, even litter
Trying to draw us in with your intoxicating glitter.
Your so ****** acceptable, I’m a FREAK if I abstain
“Oh goo on kid, one waint hurt, stop being a chuffin pain”
BUT what they fail to understand, is at 1 it does not stop!
The moment that sip will pass my lips, I’m craving the next drop.
Or 2 or 3 or **** this **** I’m off to the bottle shop”
In fear my stash will not suffice my seeming desire to flop.
Fast forward half an hour, and here I am again
Snoring like a pig, much to the families disdain
Iphone started, camera rolling, my daughter hits record
She watches Daddy comatosed, her memory stamped APPALLED!
“No goodnight kiss, no cuddles tight, no tickles once again”
Her hero lays before her, vest adorned with red wine stains
“What’s wrong with me?” she wonders “why’s he chose wine over me?
And my sis & mummy too, is he too blind to see?
Your consuming liquid memory thief, don’t forget us dad
Im learning all I know from you, is this how fun is had?
Or adult relaxation? Or when you’re feeling stressed!
Does drinking really do all this? WOW IT SOUNDS THE BEST!
But if it really is this good, then what you fail to see….
Is your family stood before you whilst you pass out on the settee!
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC
I can’t help but envy those
Whose first thought in the morning
Is a person or a place
Or a feeling or a face
Because all I have these days
Are a bottle and a pen
And a lighter and then
I think about how lonely the dark
Must feel to be
When it is only it and me
Because the dark is the only one who sees
What it is truly like to be me
It is the only one who knows
What happens once men walk out my door
When the insides of my thighs are sore
Because my insides tell me
I am nothing but a ***** *****
The dark must have been the one
To predict
That I am only destined
To get more and more sick
And my future is lipstick
And a hotel bar
Only because my present is a used rubber
And a tangerine scar
The dark knows how ****** up it is
To live inside of a head so twisted
The dark is tall and it’s black
And it stands on two feet
It watches me breathe
And it watches me sleep
It drinks all my tears
It knows all my fears and
(What’s worse?)
It is always near
It shouts "Long live the fear!”
Into my ear
And “Long live the boozing
And smoking for the rest of your years
On earth!”
I know it isn’t fair
And, surely, it isn’t right
But it isn’t worth it to try to put up a fight
To a void with no mass;
A storm that cannot be put into a class
The dark wants me beat, and I know it will
The dark wants to eat, and it has me to ****
The darkness is a monster
And the monster is rare
But when it is around
You can taste it in the air
You can hear its hum
And you can feel its glare
So what would you do
If you felt the darkness there?
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 8:46 PM UTC
I want to make you all cry
It's good for people to cry
It's better than sitting round miserably
Pretending to laugh
People don't cry enough!
I want to make you all cry
For yourselves and all people who
Don't have to die
For kids who are hungry and put to hard labour
When they should be greedy and pains in the neck
Who know the world is wrong but won't be heard
Who only hear shouting, destruction
And cries of distress
Only our shared tears can clean up this mess
I want to make you all cry
At the shame of getting by
Unable to cope with life's complexities
Or even ask why
Love is never enough!
I want to make you all cry
For yourselves and all people who
Don't have to lie
But must for the sake of our little luxuries
The only way we spread love and happiness
To spite the orders that come from above
“You work your contract or there's the door!”
That's the reason why
We live on lie after lie after lie.
I want to make you all cry
For people you just let go
To politics and the geography
You know, the money
Forcing us to depart!
I want to make you all cry
For the people you must pass by
In your own home
On the street, in the shop and on the TV news
Feeling sorry but too powerless to help
All the problems you deal with by yourself
With nobody knowing to help you
Just trying to smile
At the cruel way the world became so vile
I want to make you all cry
To salute what you see die
In Syria, here and inside yourself
For what? The money?
Global economy?
I want to make you all cry
It's urgent, we must cry today!
It's not too late
To face up to what we've been trying to deny
What we have suffered and what we are losing
Blanking it out with our kind of boozing
Not letting the merciful tears flow
Time to let them go!
To weep and embrace and do what we know.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 9:06 PM UTC
All or nothing at all
her father had said
and it seemed right
until she met Harpoon
and he seemed her
Mr Right the one she
had been waiting for
the one she’d dreamed
about but then it all
went wrong and he
became Mr Wrong
and oh yes that was
the downfall that was
the way to her deep
depression and that
episode in the bath
when she tried to
drown herself as her
mother had before her
and she discovered her
as a child coming home
from school and the
door was ajar and when
she went in there was
her mother with her
wrists slit and blood
and her mother drowned
and dead and now sitting
there in her mother’s
chair her father some
place her husband poking
some other and all or
nothing at all seemed all
there was left apart from
the few books on the shelf
the Bill Burroughs her mother
had read and left and that
Bukowski book she’d found
in some second shop and the
battered Bible which her
father had beat her about
the head and backside with
as a child when her father
had been boozing or she
had been sinful or wild.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 3:19 AM UTC