"coffees" poems
And now my coffees cold
Your backhanded compliments are getting old
We got in a fight tonight
you stormed out
you kicked over my bike
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
8 fifteen in the morning,
huddled around a wooden framed door,
awaiting today’s moderator,
another professional development,
Restorative Practices,
the art of inclusion,
the art of accountability;
Skill building,
Cooperation,
The mutual hate among us as we stare into a dark room,
windowless,
Awaiting another 7 hour day of ice breakers,
We clutch our coffees and populate the lone corner —
— 12 capacity room in the basement,
All 15 of us,
Good morning: let’s begin
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
*coffees are my one-way ticket to contemplation–
to realizations and dramas
it shapes my eyes
to view life like a panorama
coffee makes me think
about the world,
the people
and both combined
coffee connects me to the crowd
to their lives,
mishaps
sometimes shared with mine
coffee gates to different events and realities
it awakens wishful thinking
and kicks curiosities
coffee, summed up
is a friend
of all those who've got their heads in their *****
it is a guru of life
love,
and other life experiences
a.t.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
~a question of a thousand dreams~^
“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness? Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”
this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes
but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen
these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white
elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red
but
certainly unmine,
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers
heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,
but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted
she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated
and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
“perchance to dream”
3:49 pm
see the notes!!
someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago
so here is my response to
“just saying”
congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules
“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“
http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
*you got a fast car
i want a ticket to anywhere
maybe we can make a deal
maybe together
we can get somewhere
anyplace is better
starting from zero
got nothing to lose
maybe we'll make somethin
me myself i got nothin to prove*
i've been wondering
when it stops
people say it stops
when you want it to
but how do i tell that
to my dreams
when all i can think about
is running up to kiss you
in the parking lot of anywhere
it makes me wanna drink
and say everything
like sometimes i think about
what it would've been like
if i had let you go
when i
was still strong enough to do it
like i never knew hell
had such a pretty voice
like i tried to make it all day
without saying
"wish you were here"
like lately i've been going back
to all the places we've been
to see what it's like without you
it is the worst game
of hide & seek
every time i close my eyes
to count
you just go home
i seem to only wear my seat belt
on days you call
on days you're all never been better
and i just wanna tell you
how much I hate window shopping
and daylight goodbyes
you just sit there
when you could say anything
you could tell me
you noticed i started drinking again
you could even make it up
you could say you miss me, too
you could say
you missed me so much
that the other day
you accidentally bought
two coffees instead of one
you could tell me
how you've been
without me
that you sleep so much better
these days
without having to worry
you can say what you have
to just don't say leaving
was like shooting fish in a barrel
cause i swear i'm nostalgic
for things i pretended were real
and i swear
i don't want a seance
until there's something
worth bringing back
take me back
to all the places i tried to love you
back to a time
where i knew my name
without you having to say it
*you got a fast car
is it fast enough
so we can fly away
you gotta make a decision
leave tonight
or live & this way*
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 11:15 AM UTC
late nights and homesick hearts never make for a quiet soul
excessive coffees and quilted secrets make the heart beat fast,
palpitating, jumping, murmuring hyperbolic hopes
late nights and homesick hearts can only be softened
when one's soul is at peace,
hopeful,
restful,
joyful.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 7:09 AM UTC
Stories and poems
Love and shared coffees
Bus rides and jokes
I saw the sun glimmering
The corners crept in
The room became smaller
Breathing got harder and voices became more
My body became a canvas of my own doing
The blood became more and the smile slipped away in the dark
I became lost in a world of Bipolar Depression
With a new mixture of pills of various variety of color
The line between reality and fantasy became blury
Until a line was no more
I found comfort in creating art over my arms hidden by clothes
My days became a mixture of pills and emotional outbursts
It was like falling asleep, slowly at first and then all together
I was destroyed
I was distorted
I was redefined by darkness of late night cries
I was no more
I became a silent void
I became nothing
I became defined by my illness
I became my worst fear
I am a beautiful void
I am
I am
I am lost and captured in a glass jar labeled December Bipolar
I am no more
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
The platforms are full of passengers
The fruits, coffees and tea stalls
The train runs on the track with heels
Like the whops of horses
Passengers enter the train in a hurry
And leave without any worry
Someone sleeps in the berth and snores
Some other sits and reads the news
The gluttonous eater eats the eats
The vendor sells nuts and peas
and cries like the buzzing bees
the T.C comes, wakes up and asks
for the ticket and bribes for berths
the beggar begs for alms singing hymns
some play cards making unbearable noises
the child weeps ,cries and moans
the thief enters the coaches
and tries to steal the bags
the passengers make friends with ease
but it will very soon cease
life like railway travel is a passing shower
it doesn’t last forever
It lasts only till the destination comes
The passenger takes the bag and leaves
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 6:16 AM UTC
Lately I’m obsessed with the black and white photos of the world. The way they bring out the details you didn’t think you’d see in your life.
Lately I’m obsessed with the hidden greyscale of my life. The little spots or blemishes I didn’t know I had in between the cracks of my mind.
Lately I’m obsessed with knowing all I can know about how to forget my past. How to find those ancient remedies or dark coffees and fruity teas that will stop the pain in my heart for a little while.
Even though these obsessions seem so tiny compared to my big thoughts and wild dreams.. I can’t stop thinking of what’s next. Mystery lies on the horizon of my new obsession & how I will handle it.
Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 7:23 PM UTC
Do you see her?
There with the hair with side parting.
Do you know how much she have been hurting?
I've been watching her,
Everyday she puts on her makeup and smile,
She's been doing that for a while.
There's something she's hiding,
Those eyes tell something else,
Especially when there's no one else.
I've heard she said sorry once,
Sorry if she's boring them,
She was talking anxiously but stop in middle.
Like somewhere in her mind that being her is just too much.
At the end of each day,
There's something different than when she came,
It's like the whole day she's just struggling to survive.
Being overworked trying to show how she's alive.
Outside the public world,
Her life is not quite alright,
Those circles under her eyes were not overnight,
And those coffees were always the lightest roast ; Burnt not even a slight.
-HIY
Aug 27, 2016
Aug 27, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Who knew that getting a Starbucks gift card would turn out so harmful and mean.
When pleasant, harmless, innocent me fell for the spell of treacherous caffeine.
Like a hype with a spike
doing harm to his arm
I was hooked.
Leaped before I looked,
goose was cooked.
Now I'm here to play the blame game.
Innocent me, walking in free, joyfully,
just getting a coffee.
Then wham!
or should I say bam!
It hit me.
I walked out a quivering, craving, slobbering creature...
maybe not literally but like I said it was done treacherously, maliciously, instantaneously, I was a caffeine *****
So here are some of the reasons why I'm unhappy with Starbucks:
--- Starbucks caffeine influenced my body by elevating my heart rate (I'm not sure why I expected anything different).
--- Starbucks crafty, subtley and slyly habitualized me ( Oh god, I'm a creature of habit!)
--- Starbucks (If possible) is too friendly
--- Starbucks manipulated my accommodating nature (I just wanted to be friends, but now they feel more like, dare I say it... family).
--- Starbucks slandered me ( by assuming I'm lazy. "Sit, relax, make yourself at home, stay as long as you like").
--- Starbucks exposed my weaknesses ( l feel naked to coffees influence).
--- Starbucks made coffee hip and cool (I'm going to go ahead and count that as a bad thing).
--- Starbucks crippled my will power (my will power walks with a limp now).
--- Starbucks blew up the sun!
--- And the final reason I'm unhappy with Starbucks...because they're probably going to sue my *** for writing this!
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
It was a chance meeting, I knew not what was ahead,
random walks, conversations, coffees and smokes,
days into nights and then early mornings...
chances random and make believe,
hints, assumptions, misconceptions and conditions.
I wanted to but couldn't see behind the blur.
It was too eerie when i came out all alone,
but I could see you across the road.
You held my hand till I was safe.
You let go when I wanted to not...
Days diluting into painful night times,
actions tormenting, waves of coldness.
Through months, often shivering,
crying, running back to you.
Dejected, lonely, you'd hold me,
take away all my pain.
Sometimes, you would cause it,
the rain would howl and cry...
There was a sudden change of heart,
you wanted more sunshine than rain,
no tears, coming close again,
tongue-tied, lip-locked joys...
In a blink of an eye, you vanished.
Punishing me for sins undone.
Thorned and unloved i hold on...
the void takes up all the space...
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
GUNS
Tanning
Karate
Outrunning storms on 40
Outlasting my compatriots full of toxins
Yawning after afternoon
Delight and coffees.
I'm going to miss her like hell
When I expatriate,
Her and these simple road signs.
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 2:40 AM UTC
You wore a Rolex watch
which was fake
and didn't even tell the time.
I know that isn't a crime.
Nor is buying complex coffees
but it did perplex me.
I ignore this, naturally.
But before the finale,
before you forsaked me
into the Vally of the Dead
where few did tread.
I saw the cracks.
I saw you slack and caught a glimpse
behind that facade, behind the blinks
to see that you were flawed, just like me
Still, I ignored this.
I didn't take you serious,
blind to your spurious nature.
Nothing more than specious appearance.
It wasns't till the Persecco
that I felt your echo.
And it all came pouring out,
All the more doubt than before.
Adore turns to abhor too soon for my liking.
I can't stop you if you're a quitter.
Just like I can't stop the bitter memories,
flitter by my mind.
Dec 10, 2014
Dec 10, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
the demands of lilred's friends are too high
they are too expensive to keep.
she was too tired today
didn't sleep
drank a large coffee in the morning
a rockstar in the afternoon
three more coffees in the evening
all because these friends required her presence
to keep their social activities alive
lilred is in trouble now
too much caffeine and anxiety problems don't mix
they want her when she is awake
but when she is scared and alone
they don't bother
stomach hurting
head aching
back prickly
red is in trouble...
why don't they care
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
It’s 6:47am on a Monday morning on I-71 south towards Cincinnati and I’m driving in the middle lane entirely surrounded by semis and service trucks and out of nowhere, like it was some miracle act of God, it starts pouring down rain so hard that all of the traffic stops in the height of morning rush hour, everyone’s radios playing morning talk shows so loud it vibrates the ground our tires are on and everyone’s coffees move back into their hands from their cup holders, I guess we’re all just trying to wait it out right now
I guess I have no choice but to wait it out right now, he says, hoodie wrinkled, two all nighter’s deep and still no passing grade, standing outside of the campus Starbucks, as it’s pouring down rain
I guess we’ll have to wait it out, says my sister to an 8 year old me, as I wait on the curb of our neighborhood for the ice cream truck, no matter how disfigured the spongebob popsicle’s face looks by the time I get it in my hands, and no matter the fact that I never understood that his eyes were bubblegum
I guess I have to wait it out, my father says, watching my grandmother lying in her hospital bed, getting tests taken for her potentially and what would be proven deadly, lung cancer,
Her eyes glossed over and her lips still yearning for the pull of her usual afternoon pack of cigarettes
You just have to wait it out, says my grandpa, standing next to me in his garden, after having helped me plant my first tomato seeds,
The summer has felt like forever at 10 years old, I wish it stayed that way, and I wish I liked tomatoes
I guess we just have to wait it out now, the head of police says to his crew of swat members, after having everything fail towards coaxing a young high school boy out of his boarded up bedroom, the shotgun he killed his ex girlfriend with, still in his arms
Well, we’re just going to have to wait it out,
I think to myself as I sit in this traffic at what is now exactly 7am on a rainy Monday morning in the middle lane of I-71 south towards Cincinnati, entirely surrounded by semis and service trucks
The rain will stop eventually
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
His fingers wrap tightly around his cup,
shaking, tingling, raising it to his lips often,
the white frothy coffee drink steaming
while his tongue ignores the intense heat.
She plays with straw and the cardboard cup,
letting the heat of the black coffee
ease the tension between her fingertips
and seep down to each of her toes.
She smiled at him, observing each detail
that she loved about his appearance.
He sincerely laughed at every word she said,
looking deeply into her ocean eyes at every chance.
His white drink remained in his cup
as he carefully took sips to relax his nervouseness,
but she slopped her dark grinds, spilling them
over the edge and permanently staining the white.
The cups, at first sight, seemed to describe their personalities.
And yet, at a deeper second look, described their demeanor.
On the outer appearance, he was put together and cautious,
with a plan for his entire future,
while she was messy and without a care for what's next,
oblivious to her own wreckage.
But on the insides, both were bitter-sweet coffees,
happy to finally see eachother after so long,
but nervous because of their unresolved last encounter.
He was pure, curious white. She was dark, mysterious black.
Totally opposite and yet perfectly compatible.
Neither admitted one missed the other,
yet they promised to meet every summer and winter forever.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
The world’s on a street,
on a string, running
at incomprehensible speeds-
well it’s a 30 zone
but it might as well be
a highway for the kids-
those who pray on their knees on Sundays to please their mothers.
*Mouthing lyrics against the pillow
your lips skimming the linen,
the blinds are half cut
letting light in, highlighting your out-of-the-bed foot.
Alarm clock call was late as we relied on the front desk,
the telephone wire twisted behind cavity wall green,
so we wake together to inner city rooster roar
with the traffic tearing past and the cafes opening up to more coffee drinkers and business smokers.
We’ll get our to-go coffees
in a spree of NFC later,
watch sons saying to dads that they need to go wee
and start our day again with a hotel cup of tea.*
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 3:25 PM UTC
"No service here my dear friend"
Looks upon and shook his head
"Hello and welcome"
I'll greet your presence
Stupid whining little peasants
"This coffees too hot, it's too cold"
**** my life you **** *******
Just deep breaths don't let it sink
I'll pour my love into your drink
Customers aren't always right
The anger stirs throughout my night
Hospitality has driven me mad
I'm a slave to this sick dark land
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 3:55 AM UTC
Crowds of weary people
shuffle from life to life
in the bellies of subways
claws of escalators
past booths of seven-dollar coffees
taking off shoes and jackets
as a voice in the roof says that
the flight to Mumbai,
or wherever, is now boarding.
All of it disappears
because--after these many years--
your face
(I shrug off
my backpack)
your voice
in my ears
Feb 14, 2013
Feb 14, 2013 at 2:39 PM UTC
the big easy
is hard lives,
what gives
this rainy city
so sublime,
it's almost a pity
that streets are lined with ****
pests and rats in the alleyways
how did things get so ******
or have they always been?
overpasses with people
lying underneath
so many homeless
it staggers the mind to think
bread bags and coffees
floating in the wake of the ferries
outnumbering 10 to 1
the loads that they carry
all the old growth
coming down
all the gold of their headpieces
tinfoil hats fashioned from crowns
no jazz or blues can save them
from the fate that waits
an engraving reading,
here lies what once was a haven
May 18, 2021
May 18, 2021 at 10:07 AM UTC
“lets split this diner and have a beer”
four coffees in an hour made the world
too awake for him
we walked to the Pink Mule,
the first bar we saw
he knew all of the bars--all bars knew him
the bartender was Abraham
but looked like a Bob
he had a bourbon poured before
Charles made it to the stool
and looked at me like I was a fool
“a light beer”
Bukowski didn’t bother to laugh
though I am sure the word ***
was rolling around in his head
looking for a place to get out
he kept on about Selma,
sweet succulent Selma
how anybody that hot
could rule the world
dragging men around by their dongs
without lifting a finger
that is why the gods made wine, he said
not for some sacrament for the holy humbled
but for men hunched over like balless beggars,
he said, when Abraham Bob
filled his jigger a second, or fourth time
men made that way by all the Selmas
whose middle name had to be vexation
a whiff of her could get you to take
a **** job, where you spent the day
hunched over, hoping, she would be there
when you got home
even if she was, you wouldn’t remember
in the morning, when you would go back
to the grinless grind, hunched over, hoping
Selma would be your wine
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 1:42 PM UTC
The forest green of the trees
contrasts so greatly
against the soft pastels in the sky;
Did someone paint this neighborhood?
The odors of garlic & parsley
wafting from across the
charcoal street.
Hums of today's news,
all the latest gossip,
ooh'ing and ah'ing;
endless snippets of candlelight chatter.
Occasional dollops of light
peering up from sedans passing by.
Sounds of zooms
blocked out by the steady pulsating
of white earbuds.
Dogs yipping, sometimes a real bark.
Neighbors come and go,
reciprocating cordial hello's.
Street lights slowly coming alive,
for at 8:37, the sun has begun
its transition to slumber.
They always say,
TGIF, thank god it's Friday.
As day slips to nigh',
the crackles and pops of vinyl come alive
behind a slightly rusted window pane.
Tonight's secrets not yet revealed,
a couple strolls by
holding hands,
sipping coffees, decaffeinated.
A man drunk with regret
and a 40 in his belly,
he breathes a clumsy, "Hey."
Malted liquor questions,
their smell & sound, unmistakable gurgling.
Street lights now fully illuminated,
glances exchanged from
passer-byers.
He opens the car door for her,
and into the dusk they drive.
Vehicles come by in even
greater numbers,
and still searches the young man
for $9, a toothbrush, and a shower,
even cold.
Just another night of
just another day,
in just another city,
in just another neighborhood
on just another street.
Silence, loud, ominous silence,
filtering the senses,
the stories,
the magic;
Isn't ordinary extraordinary?
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
rising from the gritty earth
to a chilly day in October
love blooms with the pump-
kins
in warm coffees, hay rides,
turning leaves, and harvest
moons you can see love do
her best work
a young couple holds hands
for the first time, smiling as
if they’d never smiled before,
and all across the country
the green turns to orange and
the orange turns to brown
but before the last life seeps
from the last leaf, love will
creep into the hearts of just
enough souls
and even as the land freezes,
and the smiling couple turns
cold and stiff and brittle, love
will still survive, in memories
of Halloween night and that
kiss shared beneath a clear
evening
soon, spring will come, and
love will run free once again
and teach a new generation
how to plant and harvest her
crop
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 11:22 PM UTC
Those times I've spent
Ends up being wasted
Those promises that were bent
11:11 wishes to be trusted
11:11 him
Where's the 11:11 her?
I'm an idiot. Fine.
I know I'm not that girl
Coffees to avoid sleep
Alarms not to miss
Words that were said today
"Thanks for the effort" you say
Maybe it's time to move on
It maybe out of blue
But all I can say to you
I'm done wasting my 11:11 wishes on you
~a.v.
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC