"chugged" poems
At the corner, a girl child from the UK
another soft drink she chugged
Whilst the girl woman in the Sudan,
the heavy *** on head she lugged
She walked eight miles, braving ****
to fetch unclean water from the well
Whilst in the UK, the girl bought designer clothes
to make her feel just swell
God where are the waters of life?
To end their strife
At the mall, the boy child ate his third Hershey bar
In Malawi the boy man’s
stomach had extended too far
Malnutrition had sealed his fate
God where is the cereal?
To make their lives non-ephemeral
Down under, the son celebrated with family,
presents and cake
his father’s 100th milestone
Whilst in war torn Syria, a son, now orphan
buried his young murdered father,
in ground without a gravestone
God when will the fighting cease?
To give them a chance of peace
Is this God’s confusion?
That though we are all made the same,
some people their innocence shattered
are headed for a terrifying fate
whilst others fully satiated and secure,
sip their drinks, polish off and request another plate
Or does God if he exists
not love the weak and oppressed?
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
Wrenches clanging, knuckles banging
A drop of blood
A new part here, and old part… there
A hotrod had been built!
A patchwork, mechanical, quilt
I drove past the banner that said “Welcome Race Fans”
Took a new route, behind the grandstands
And through my chipped window, I thought I could see
Some of the racers were laughing at me
I guess chalky grey primer is not to their taste
But I put my bucks mister in the right place
I chugged-popped past cars that dealers had sold
Swung into a spot, next to something old
Emerging with interest from under his hood
My neighbor said two words, he said “sounds good”
The voice on the loudspeaker tells us we’re up
Pre-staged, staged, then given the green
The line becomes blurred between man and machine
Bones become linkage
Muscle, spring
Fear, excitement
Time distorts ….
Color disappears …
Vision narrows…
Noise --- becomes music
Speed --- satisfaction
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 11:36 AM UTC
This is me apologizing. This is me finally coming up for air and coughing up apologizes instead of swallowing them down with gulps of water. This is me looking at your face and seeing the bags under your eyes because you stayed up all night trying to call me and apologizing. Looking at your nails and seeing the skin around them ****** and scabbed and the beds unevenly bitten down to nothing and apologizing. Looking at your eyes and seeing the way you bought colored contacts to cover the fact you spent days unmoving from a mirror trying to love yourself and apologizing. This is me seeing the needle points on your lips from where you injected your own blood to attempt to regain that color I claimed to be in love with and apologizing. As I'm looking at your arms and seeing where you scrubbed your skin with chemicals trying to erase the essence of me and when you smile I can see that you chugged a bottle of bleach to try and whiten your teeth bright enough so that you could be accepted by God himself into the pearly gates all I can do is apologize. I'm sorry that you spent hours carving my name into his back with your fingernails and biting your own tongue so hard it bled when he told you he loved you. When his flesh connected with yours causing the world to stop for a second and listen to your shrieking I know it was me you were screaming for and I'm sorry. As I'm standing here staring at you and watching them put brush stroke after brush stroke of blush onto your lovely pale cheeks trying to restore the life you lost so many years ago I'm finally realizing it's too late to apologize yet all I can think about is how this isn't even close to the eulogy you deserved. I should be talking about the way you danced and how your voice made my own falter momentarily and how you were more alive when you were dying than I ever will be when I'm living rather than apologizing but all I can seem to rationalize is how I spent years dry swallowing your love and spitting up knives to use to carve my initials into your thigh so you would always remember me and how I never even had the common decency to count to three before destroying you and I'm sorry. I'm afraid to look up now that I've finished apologizing because I know your empty eyes filled with nothingness will be staring back so horribly confused because I doubt you ever continued listening after I used the world eulogy and I'm sure you're going to wonder why I'm talking as if I'm sitting at your funeral rather than on the end of your bed but I don't know how else to make you grasp the concept of what you're doing to yourself by loving me in a better way than this and I'm sorry. C.a.l
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 7:21 PM UTC
Jeremy the green alien
Wore a bowler hat
His favourite sport was darts
And he had a pint with that
He drove a little mini
Made in 1985
It chugged and spurted down the road
The alien could drive!
He was popular with ladies
He stood out from the crowd
He always had one on his arm
Despite not being loud.
But Jeremy was lonely
And sometimes he felt down
His family from the planet plaxo
Never came to town.
Aliens are clever
And aliens are bright
He tinkered with his mini
So that it could take flight
So if you're sitting in the garden
And a mini flies overhead
Think of little Jeremy
With his bowler hat upon his head!
Jeremy visits Plaxo
And flies to earth for dinner
No more sadness anymore
Jeremy is a winner!
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 4:29 AM UTC
Did you know
that I drink molten lava?
I like the way it burns.
I am not afraid of you.
I've let the Earth's poison
melt and destroy my insides-
re-solidifying around my heart.
You cannot hurt me.
****
My insides are melting again.
And I cannot speak;
I can only observe-
eyes wide with horror.
I chugged you down
because you were the
only glass of water in this desert.
But your water
turned out to be acid.
And I am falling
down
down
down
into abysmal nothingness.
My eyes are wide with horror
because I'm watching my nightmare
take place in broad daylight.
(I'm falling for you.)
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 7:46 PM UTC
In class the big black and white tick-tock pinched
my mid-morning belly. When everyone else
borrowed numbers, my pencil lead and yellow paint
scratched out hunger. Minutes chugged like school
buses. Even columns of three-numeraled numbers
minused the bottom line, scold of lunch.
A borrowed quarter and dime from the office,
meant a secretary’s red-lipsticked mouth, bent
and accusing. Her coiffed curls shook my dreams.
I would starve before sailing into that office
for my little belly, but forever yearned for the secretary
to pet my hair. Say, “There, there,”like to a character
in a book rosy with girls in gingham dresses.
But, for all those lovely boats of hot lunches: meatloaf
with crusts of catsup like a winter cap, buttered beans,
dinner rolls
and cold-cartoned milk, not watered down--
Missing lunch, I'd hide out in the cold storage
room of sack lunches next to the playground.
While the others ate, I'd escape at the right tick
into the recess of blacktop and tetherball.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 2:28 PM UTC
In a forest, where bird songs are silencers to a pistol and their feathers are scattered hopes, like broken dreams are to fantasies, I sit.
I stretch my arms, wide enough to fit grief and happiness in my muddy hands that I use to bury unspoken apologies and eulogies for days I have not yet lived.
I begin to stare aimlessly at the sky trying to spot the night moon. Its silhouette, that I trace with my finger.
I've drawn
And in the folds of the night, I hold you close
like day does dawn.
I let your depression stain my cheeks and see it drip between the gaps in my teeth,
sting my gum,
and so your language interweaves itself upon wounded scars on my tongue, so when i return back home, i return with the same cuts identical to your tongue that you hung
I don't want to sound too much of a stranger to you when I talk thus tonight, I’ll choose to tie happiness to things that have asked for no such burden
and stictch my lips silent to silence our silent violence.
My eyes bounce back at the hazy sky as if it’ll tame your inner broken and mould it into a less wild creature
more civil, more mature
less aggressive, less of a spirit
Your spirit appears in the bezels of my mind
my trachea catches fire burning deep into my whines ,
my breath disappearing into a silent hymn in the dull light
and watch my tongue chameleonize into a trillion hues of white
until my tongue becomes a graveyard for all my white lies
Until pain becomes a part of my diet,
until I'm able to chew the residual images of a broken girl, until her sadness becomes the air I breathe
until her inner warrior becomes the battle field never fought in
until I'm able to swallow sadness when chugged down my throat,
until I'm able to befriend your wild.
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 7:47 AM UTC
One brain, one mouth, one being - nothing more!
I’ve killed my selves so many times
My own womb has suffered crimes,
To be a poet have I tried
But my ink has gotten dry.
Rebirthed myself as man - for the poems, for the words, nothing more
Everything missed Dionysus like never before!
A different life among you have I led!
Deprived myself of all life gives
In dark, alone and cold I wept.
Destitute and desperate now,
My heart freezing on a lonely bough.
The bulb above my brow is hanging by a single thread and when
It falls and breaks to pieces they will know that I am dead.
Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Blind me at least so I can mock the Sun!
With shut eyes they think I am illiterate,
Primordial is the essence and I am her son.
They want me to dance at the feet of chance!
Embrace chaos in my attic,
Die a young and worthy addict.
Forced to live in Hölderlin’s tower
As nothing more than a wilting flower.
My words trembled but were barren, devoid of romance,
So my poetry never made anyone dance.
I clipped my wings so I can drink with sailors,
Walk amongst them on my frail feet,
To be man is all I ever wanted,
Chugged the nectar of life which made me sick.
Oh, men! How fragile you are!
Slowly poisoned by the time you try to escape
‘Meaningless is existence’ you say as you create!
Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Poverty through poetry, the most human way to go,
Come sleep - or come death,
Let me go.
He wanted to be human - the humanest of them all - a poet!
He wanted to put pain on paper - even make it rhyme
He wanted to be the one to hear the screams of time.
And as the light faded and the bulb broke,
Darkness came wearing mistress clothes.
‘Oh, men! How strange you really are!’ - he yelled.
‘Dionysus! What a man you have become!’ - she said.
Then he disappeared swearing to never return,
Thinking that poetry is for those who like to burn.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
She wore a glittering gown
Beneath cold grey sky
He wore a brown rotting raincoat
Under April sunshine
She, smelling of coconut and tulips
Chugged bourbon straight
He smelled like wet cement and smoke
And sipped wine from a juice box
They met on a rust smothered playground
She, for a funeral- he, on holiday
They danced in circles for hours and hours
He hummed Vivaldi
She hummed slayer
Both were of literary greatness
He-Fox in Socks
Her-The Inferno
Neither knew love to be equal parts
Beautiful
And grotesque
Apr 3, 2013
Apr 3, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
The old man sighed and jammed his freshly rolled, freshly lit cigarette into the ash tray.
"Too many cigarettes before bedtime oft' keep an' old man like me up all night."
The young man put out his cigarette as well, gently weeping inside over the wasted tobacco.
"Aye, a youngin' like myself as well."
The conversation had been going slightly south ever since the young man made the mistake of asking about his counterparts first wife. "She died," he had said "One of them December o' 2012 suicides that plagued the big cities such as this."
The young man remembered how he had looked out the window at this point a bit too nostalgically.
"She was crazy," he had added "I knew it the day I slipped the ring on and I know it now."
They dropped the subject and began talking about The War, coincidentally another touchy subject.
"Most of my friends died, and if you've read your history books you know it was not courage or chivalry that killed them but the ignorance and fear that our country breathed when drafting all the young men."
He had escaped with his life, which he believed was garbage. he told of how he had hid in the sewers while the long thought peaceful Canadian's swarmed over the East coast. While his friends died he ate rats. While the war machine chugged he was cowering.
"Aye, I see how you looked at that stoke, though."
"Pardon?" The young man had been deep in thought of the conversation they had been having.
"How old are you anyway?"
"19 on the 9th."
"And still not a whisker on your chin, aye?"
"Aye."
He told of many more battles. Some he fought in, others he cowered under.
"And one, that I cowered over. I passed out in the helicopter, do-it-please-yah."
He told of his second wife, a bit more fondly and romantically than his first wife.
She had passed away not 8 months before the young man visited him for the first time and that was 6 months past.
He showed scars, from the prison camps.
He rolled cigarettes from his poke pouch.
He admitted forgetting the face of his father.
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 7:50 PM UTC
*my 10 year old daughter Chelsea started rapping at me and I was put on the spot, this came off the top my head... I'm not a huge fan of rap! She came back with the second half!
Feel free to add in the comments, she would love it! I'll edit it all together for her :)*
Helen
**Only once I wanted to be a mime
So I stopped talking af_ter a time
In a while I wasn't heard at all
Wonder if its because this stupid wall**
Chelsea
**My name is Nancy
and I'm so fancy
Good and bad don't hafta rhyme
and now it's time to be a Mime
once I saw a pug in a mug
so I just shrugged
and chugged that mug**
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 6:34 AM UTC
I've slept for two days minus some hours I went out to buy cat food
Today I went to the pool in the rain, and chugged along back and forth
out of breath, encased in a partial wetsuit, watching the water steam at
times, and then glitter, with bright designs as the sun came out for a moment
And I return home to a monumental mess.
Somehow it just didn't matter, this mess as I struggled at work, fighting
a lame diagnosis that "you are just too anxious for this job because you get nervous
before evaluations" from a man easily as anxious as I am, but much less aware of it
The work rained down on me like a waterfall, and I couldn't stay dry
Weekends gave way to endless work sessions and some sleep
Suddenly, as if for the first time, I see how much paper is strewn on the floor,
arranged by cats who inhabit this place far more than I do.
The piles of unsorted things I would "get to on vacation" are now
there, waiting to be gotten to.
It's clear I am one who values work above housekeeping and the happiness of the
little creatures who inhabit my world before order.
And that's just fine with me.
Dec 17, 2012
Dec 17, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
sometimes on rainy days we stayed in
chugged cheap red wine out of a bag
that stained our teeth
& i made you listen to
old jazz saxophone records or
you forced me to dance with you
to really awful dubstep tracks
you used to like to poke my skinny ribs
laugh & say i danced like an alien as you
pulled me with your small hands
to read my palm by the window where
the sky water trickled down the glass
spilling over from the gutter
& when it comes to your natural perfume
that damp fragrance of sagebrush cloaked in dew
i'm still a recovering addict
& sometimes i relapse
baby i'm asking to relapse
i haven't seen you since the garden on my 21st
with the thick sound of crickets squealing in the trees
& big dogs barking way off in
someone's backyard across the river
that starry september night you read my cards sitting
on the dusty trunk of my car while your best friend
rolled slick blunts in the backseat but i was drunk
& ***** we got distracted i bent you over
weaponizing the leverage of my body to
put your face near the pretty sunflower bed
with a tall can of bud still in your hand
& the muscles of your thighs glowing by moonlight
outside that almost abandoned house we found
with my birthday party blooming by a bonfire not far away
now i'm wondering
since i've got another birthday coming up
& a little more meat on my bones
if you'd be willing to try it again
because i'm working hard to change my future
by itching at the old scars left on my shoulders
until they open & bleed again
only i won't drink so much this time around
& you can try to not smoke ****
i'll let you steal & wreck my car again &
i'll stop chewing my fingernails or
you can still practice your happy ending massage
techniques on me when i'm stretched out & tired
i'll re-twist your sloppy dreads
with careful fingers
like tiny insects crawling over your scalp
because i never wanted to touch them before
& you can maybe try to not
flip-flop **** my best friend
as much or at all
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
one time, he asked to finger me. and i said no. but it's my fault. it's my fault.
we were at his house. originally, he had asked to just eat me out. he asked me do i remember the time he had wanted to do it before, i said yeah, i remember, but i need to *** i'll **** in your mouth. haha. okay, so can i finger you instead? no, i'd rather you not, but he persisted. come onnnnn!! please?
okay, so yes. i said yes. that is was fine. i told him i was alright with it. he doesn't know what he did. he doesn't know what he did.
did i want it? no! but i did say yes. that means he's innocent. it's my fault.
we were playing minecraft. i asked can i go to the restroom, he said yeah, so i headed upstairs. his parents were home. i could have asked for help.
the deed was done. i had asked him to stop- it hurt- so he eventually did. i was in pain.
we're still friends.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
summer going in to 8th grade. my boyfriend liked to touch me... a lot. he was always really mean to me. i'd beg him to stop, but a nervous laugh always followed. he never took me seriously. the abuse continued until i finally gained the courage to break up with him.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
half the school has seen me naked. i don't know how to say no. my body doesn't feel like mine anymore. all yours, for you to take advantage of.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
i have an eating disorder that tears me apart piece by piece. i just want to be perfect so you will LOVE ME. there's nothing more to me than a disgusting, rotting, body.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
one night, i chugged ***** until i vomited all over the carpet at etc coffee house.
i just wanted to feel okay.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
my sister got ***** in the closet next to my room. i thought she was just having *** i got in the shower so i didn't have to hear the noise.
i could have gone in there and stopped him.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
one time in middle school, i cut myself and someone reported it to the guidance counselor. i begged her not to tell my mom so she never did.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
i told my friend that i got sexually assaulted. he made jokes about it and laughed. i went home and cried.
we're the girls, we're the girls, we're the girls.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 5:14 AM UTC
*In the crowded platform
he sure was the dancing peacock
in his heart was blowing a storm
he feigned though looking at the station clock.*
Not the clock he was eying that one lovely girl
her face storm gatherer like her hair's black curl
he blushed every time she would catch his eyes
stealing her a look in indifference's disguise.
He was within enjoying this farcical foreplay
didn't know her train his was an hour away
imagined she too was singling him out
from the flock of men his contenders no doubt.
Did a wispy smile float on her cherry lip
few moments' encounter could it be that deep
still in his wondrous thought the girl he did own
on that absurd stage for her his love was grown.
One could not tell what was going within her
her eyes were they touched shone there a star
was she too mindful of him held him once in gaze
or her mind was too far away on a different page.
The hour passed quick in the young man's trance
between changing trains with the peacock's dance
when chugged in her train flew away the butterfly
the whistles of his train drowned his rending sigh.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 3:39 AM UTC
January 1st
I woke up in bed next to you.
I had the flu.
January 5th
I wasn't sick anymore but I was so depressed.
January 7th
I called you crying hysterically.
By the end of the call...
You told me that you wanted a break.
January 9th
We decided to wait till I went back to Texas for the break though not speak at all from when I left to when I came back.
January 11th
I realized I was pregnant.
I called my best friend asking for a pregnancy test and a cigeratte.
I had stopped smoking for you when we got together.
January 12th
I boarded a plane.
I was so sick.
January 13th
I couldn't eat without getting sick.
January 14th
I couldn't drink water without throwing up.
My mom told me she was divorcing my dad.
I laid in bed all night in pain mentally screaming/praying for my baby to be okay.
January 15th
I woke up and had miscarried.
I was approximently 3-4wks pregnant.
I almost killed myself that night.
I didn't because I knew it would **** the guy I loved.
I layed in bed for a week. Didn't have the energy to eat let alone speak. I became so frail. So thin.
January 25th
I realized we weren't getting back together.
February 1st
I relapsed on pills.
February 4th
I was back in town.
I stayed the night at your house so my mom could talk to my dad.
We hadn't spoke in weeks.
By the end of the night we were us again.
However, you were so different in general.
February 6th
I overdosed on pills.
You sat there next to me.
Crying your eyes out.
Pleading with me to stop.
You sounded so angry and you were shaking.
I could hear the fear in your voice.
See how much you loved me in your eyes.
I stopped without a thought to it.
I couldn't hurt you.
February 7th
I had to go back to Texas again.
February 14th
You accidentally said you were my Valentine.
February 15th
You asked me about getting back together.
You backed out.
Time passed we were bestfriends yet there was more. I came back to town and you had a distance with me. After spring break I could feel you coming back to me.
April 18th
I was emotionally done.
I allowed myself to get manipulated.
I made the worst mistake.
I lost you.
April 19th
I tried to **** myself.
I chugged whiskey.
Then...
Chugged cleaning fluid.
It didn't work...
This entire year has been hell. All I think about is you and that baby. I still love you. I can't figure out how to get past this. Something in me has died. Died with that child. Died with losing you. Smiles aren't real. Happiness is pretend. It took me months to stop crying everyday. Yet I still find times where the tears won't stop coming. The pain is the only thing real. I just can't wait for this hellish year to be over.
Maybe then I can start new...
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 6:57 AM UTC
My mother told me
Stay away
She'd make sure of it
I had to bootleg you
For my personal alcoholism
I couldn't imagine a life
Without you rushing
Spiking my blood
But you took that bottle
And smashed it on the counter
You didn't have to stick it
Through my lungs
For me to stop breathing
I sweat at night
Screaming your name
My hands shaking
The withdrawals kicking in
I chugged down the
Medication they gave me
To stop it from hurting
But it never did
And it became a cycle
Pill
Whiskey
Pill
Whiskey
Pill
Until the pain was
Gone.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 1:27 AM UTC
I met a girl who walked the street,
I have to say she really looked sweet,
Tight skirt of leather and lace,
Long hair framed a pretty face,
Didn't take much more than a glance,
To realize I wanted to get into her pants,
Next time I saw her walking by,
I chugged my beer and went over to say 'Hi,'
She asked me if I wanted to go out,
What she did for a living, there was no doubt,
Just to make sure there is no misconception,
I normally don't pay, this was an exception,
The girl looked so fine and seemed so nice,
I figured she might be worth the price,
So I headed home in a mad dash,
Reached into a drawer and grabbed some cash,
I went back and grabbed her by the hand,
Fully expecting a one night stand,
The first time we rented a room,
It was quick, just 'bing, bam, boom,'
But we started meeting here and there,
It soon becoming a regular affair,
Got to a point where it was 'What the heck?'
I should just sign and give her my check,
But this girl could really do it all,
And for her I was starting to fall,
Though of her skills I never got bored,
She was a bit more than I could afford,
But, if she really wanted more,
I was prepared to rob a store,
Though she was a really great lay,
I just could no longer afford to pay,
So I figured if I have to pay for every lick,
It might be cheaper to marry the chick,
But when my friends comment 'Your wife's a looker,'
I hate to admit I married a ******
04-13-10.
Nov 28, 2011
Nov 28, 2011 at 7:29 PM UTC
Sat on a stationary train in Doncaster because the guy said my MOT would be done today. He said it would be done today or if he needed a part, he wouldn't start on the car so that I could use it tonight. But it wasn't ready tonight. And he didn't leave it until tomorrow. So tonight I'm on a train. Tomorrow I'll be driving a car. Today however, it's a train.
Just leaving Doncaster.
On a train. Not in a car. The car isn't ready until tomorrow. That's what the guy in the garage said. By noon at the latest. He's trustworthy right? I'm sure it will be ready. Sure. I won't be on a train tomorrow. No siree. I'll be in a car.
The lady just took my ticket.
I won't have to give anyone my ticket tomorrow. I'll be in a car. Not on a train. You don't need tickets in a car. You just drive it. Unless you like tickets. Then you could make tickets for your car and give yourself a ticket when you got in the car.
The trains horn just went off. It made me jump.
That wouldn't happen if I were in a car. I'd be in full control of the horn in a car.
I think I just found out why the horn sounded. A bunch of feathers just flew in through the window. RIP bird.
That might have happened if I were in a car. You can still **** birds in a car. But in a car I would have more of a sense of guilt. Being on a train isn't all bad I guess. Plus, if I were in a car and not, as is clearly the case, on a train, I wouldn't have been able to type out all my interesting anecdotal meandering as I chugged along.
That said, if you aren't enjoying reading all about this, might I suggest that you don't use Crown Motors?
My car is still there.
Not here.
I'm on a train.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 4:56 PM UTC
As the curtain dropped, the thin and tiny dancers spun, leaving shadows dancing on their own. With movement, the orchestra rumbled into existence like an old, but trusted engine, the story, if there was one to tell, came to life and extended to a peak.
Those in attendance, were mostly astonished by the playwrights sardonic ebb and flow. Jaws hung like meat from the ceiling of an old delicatessen as earth tone lights dodged about and around folks ears, gently tilting through a myriad of pleasant poses.
The now heavy and breathy air in the theater coalesced as the heat of the story changed the room. Hands were clenched and teeth were squeezed as purpose slowly but surely found the dimly lit theater, deep in the heart of the old, dark city.
At the top of that coaster that night, the leading gal crooned, wept and danced to the delight of many. Her savior and his foil, battled the war of children, the director beamed a sullen and mysterious glee as his creation came to life.
One gasp followed another that evening as notions simply chugged along like the underground train. All applause for the players in the end was loud, honest and ornery then after the show behind the deep red and dangling curtain laid the pats of many, on the backs of others.
No smile to big and no lid to low as the bubbly and fine foods found the lips of those aboard the dream. Then, at the exact moment the intrigue of the performance trickled into a thousand tomorrows, there was Joy, quite subtle, but existent, quietly dancing the pretty little dance, of the thin and tiny dancers.
Nov 24, 2009
Nov 24, 2009 at 4:59 AM UTC
I'm pretty sure it's safe to say you're not feeling me,
I had a hunch that'd you end up feeling that way.
I was honest and I was going to try my best
But you're an individual that chose to go another road.
You're gone on the highway and I'm walking on a rail road.
I swear my friends keep me holding on
But they don't know that I'm so far gone.
I'd hope you'd give me chance and realize you had me all wrong.
Keep going because you were right all along.
I'm a child that still hasn't hit his growth spurt.
I swear I'm a psychic because I knew I'd be left hurt.
We were going to have a good run but you left me in the dirt.
I'm a train wreck trying to get back on track
And you'd chugged along and showed me your back.
What did I expect because it all ends the same,
And guess what?
Yes, I'm the one to blame.
I was hoping you'd see me out but you were smart enough to see through me.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
She was
unsinkable,
or so they thought.
Woods fired, engines chugged,
they sailed her West in fair majestic pride
unknowing of a tragic ending, a harrowing recollection.
In a blink of an eye, she collided with a tip of the ice, a thousand lives and more swallowed by angry tides,
cries of mercy resonating, woes fading into the familiar shuttered countenance, one by one.
Debris floating back and forth, a horrifying spectacle of bodies buoyant, breathless,
as salty waters sing a lullaby, consoling souls from a sudden departure.
The Ship of Dreams, The Unsinkable, in all her vainglory
a grand exit on her first and final journey, but not
before a farewell kiss pressed on her lips—
She, in a trance, breath withdrawn,
her limbs weak and weary.
Slowly she plunged
but not before
looking back
one last
time.
Feb 3, 2024
Feb 3, 2024 at 1:50 PM UTC
I thought maybe I meant something to you especially in those moments when you'd look at me like I held the sun....
wanting you burns me up from the inside out, one moment I'm okay and whole and smiling in that crowd full of people I don't know
and then I hear your voice....
and everything goes dark, I was supposed to be okay, I was okay
but the room starts spinning and I just want to go home
home is not where the heart is without you
so I lit a smoke and chugged the ***** to burn down my throat
laying on the bathroom floor alone
how come it didn't work?
how come these little memories keep falling down my cheek?
when all I want to do is scream....
I need you to be holding me, it wasn't supposed to be this way
it's awful not to be loved, it's the worst feeling ever it makes you mean and violent and you can never decide if you should just end it.... the liquor stops working and the music is so loud because you just want to stop thinking
and now I know why people throw themselves off bridges.
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 12:00 PM UTC