"deadbeats" poems
We shift
Shuffling deadbeats
Wind south
Wind north
Biting to be
Filter the lungs
Breathe in the smoke
Fill in the guts
Consume me, consume me
Gnaw, gnaw, gnaw
Salivate static
Want, want, want
It’s no wonder we’ve grown endless teeth
Beneath our loveless grins
Can we even
Part the crowd
Anymore?
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC
Day One:
A voice speaks to me.
When you realize that being lost is so close to being found, you see a sea of family members plagued within the lineage of licentious newborns and hospital beds. You become yourself, a lisp.
Day Two:
Long ago in a city left unscorned he was torn, from the cokeheads and colorful regimes, angels sing long songs of separation anxiety and **** withdrawal. I was torn from the deadbeats of supposed society and three day vicodin trips into my mind. So can you let me know when I get there? ‘Cause I left there running…I wonder, did someone ever tell you that two strangers could twist around your neck at beck and that three parked cars and seventeen lonely nights could haunt you for the rest of your faces.
Day Three:
Tell me of your drug induced hallucinations.
Day Four:
Wait. Hear. Can’t you listen to the relapse? Stop, think. No. gone. Left. Love. Return. My curious addiction. Go back into yourself and listen. Can’t you hear your soul call to me? It’s loud.
Day Five:
I remember prizes at the bottoms of cereal boxes, right before the net broke. Will you be first? Snap back to reality.
It’s dark in here. Wretch from me… I am crying, screaming,
haha! I’m melting inside!
Day Six:
By plucking her petals you do not gather the beauty of the flower, but the seed inside
Caked over in grief, we are not plates that match. But fools of folly caught in a sea of coke and disillusioned discord. Speed stands between directing and orders to death’s soldiers.
Day Seven:
The difference between God and his counterpart is that he makes exceptions!
Except me.
Day Eight:
Accept me!
Please.
Wait.
No.
don’t slow,
speed.
I can only take so much forgiveness,
is a decision, and I cannot make it.
I am without it, leave me breathless.
Day Nine:
The angel of death waits
He comes for me, but I am running, finding, hiding my inner Nemo in the hands of oxycodon, privileged in the amenities of amphetamines.
I am tired of running!
Haggard.
Take away my hands, my restraints.
Let me feel
again.
Please.
Day Ten:
I am awake.
There is an apple in my field of vision.
Kiss it. Love it.
Take it to hedonism and back again.
But it knows too much.
So tell it everything will be ok.
It lives in epilepsy.
So placate it.
Resurrect my apocalypse.
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
Let me tell you something
About life as seen on TV
It may appear ideal
But that ain’t the way it should be
The goodie has no end of ammo
The baddie is never in with a shout
But in our world today
It’s always the good guy who loses out
He loses out to the ********
The puff with the SUV.
The girls drop a nice one instantly
For a flutter of profanity.
The ***** always get laid
While the dude’s left out to dry
And for all that goodness he’s got
He’s alone a lot and why?
It’s a question I asked myself
For years and years to come
To the conclusion that all winners
Are deadbeats, jerks and ****
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 11:20 AM UTC
liturgies of lethargy
lull their sleepy tongues,
and run among my stumbling dreams
towards the visceral setting sun
keep the soldiers’ safeties off and order no retreat
you can’t afford to chip your teeth for the price of being numb
stay glassy eyed and leave your pride
behind the backs of bus seats
with notes, sharpie, and lies
these men are not what they seem
this world is a messed up dream
while the elite claim to delete the supposed deadbeats
as if they deplete the city’s concrete streets
i want to scream
they’re really the secret
to keeping the working class alive in the heat
to keep the coffee shops open on every street
to keeping the cheap soda purchased
at the indiscreetly laundering cover up convenience stores
you would only see when you’re walking pavement
breathing in the scent of cigarettes and pollen spores
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 5:50 AM UTC
Distinguished disguised dancers
masquerading man-made makeshift moral-plays
complete compelling communicated classical conversations
penetrating pontificated, pompous perceived perceptions
incisive impregnating indecisive ideologies.
nomads, no longer nomads
humanity, hardly humanity
children, no longer children
innocence, hardly innocence
agitated ardent adversaries arguing
open-ended opposing opinions overtly
disregarding discussed details on.. display
meager moronic monologues misused mindlessly
as..
politically-powered perverse points of 'principle'
vigorously virtual virtues vehemently vested in
stolen sordid 'salient' solutions set to 'save'
To save what?
A system born to fail?
A culture devoid of culture?
A materialistic, sophomoric generation of deadbeats and mindless sheep?
A corporate ********** of sound bites and advertisements?
A persistently forced state of wage slavery?
A game of he said, she said, I'm right and you're wrong?
A seemingly endless spiral of despair and dissatisfaction?
A time and place living in fear of the next epidemic or incoming atomic bomb?
Where's the sense in that? I mean seriously. Why can't we all just get along?
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 11:51 AM UTC
Broken hearts can't mend amends;
so forget what you've seen,
Forget what's been said.
Without each other, we are one short of
alone; Two deadbeats, one heart beat,
short of being dead.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
Droves of the dead,
drive through.
Women and men,
dogs doing tricks.
Shiny cars,
and slum deadbeats.
They are like rats,
finding the cheese.
Or maybe god?
Rich women,
poor men.
A nice guy,
in a car soulless.
Screens of pixels,
a father yells.
A mother cries,
her daughter falls in love.
Sunrises,
and then falls.
The dead rise,
soulless and unforgiven.
Trying to find their way.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
You're long overdue,
as if you ever knew the time,
time for you meant something to do,
somewhere to go,
but not something to be.
Is it goodness and mercy?
oh mercy it's not,
the bubble you sit in
is the one that will pop, but
it bothers me that what I see are
the rip-off merchants
collecting kudos for even bigger
flim-flam, ten cent men,
for the
cheats
and the deadbeats,
the tax dodgers,
those who make and won't pay, those
who make and just take it away,
the fraudsters
who love to lord it and
I'm really getting bored with it.
For you there's a reckoning due
and not before time.
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 3:13 AM UTC
there's disgust in my eyes
and i can't breathe
his mom comes in
and sees
the bongs and the cigs
and fourteen year old girls
and a fourteen year old boy
and a twenty year old man
and me
she smiles and closes the door
and i can't breathe
because this is normal here
and she got high with them last night
and she probably will again
when i'm long gone
and i can't believe this is your life
and i feel sick to my stomach
and it has nothing to do
with the skunk in the air
but with the "mother" downstairs
and the deadbeats,
the broken,
and the painfully innocent
up here
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 9:37 AM UTC
This place is for deadbeats and misanthrobes, I am neither.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 10:47 PM UTC
Babbling Cup Of Tea
offers a leisure vacation
way it was intended. Whether
you're looking for oasis,
romantic retreat,
or even a border war, these
settlements are perfect. Just
eight miles north of you, you
can enjoy the void,
a beautiful nostalgic
with wide array of deadbeats,
scroungers, many unique tramps
and Holocaust museums. Advanced
reservations are preferred,
so please call for rate information.
We hope to see you soon at
Babbling Cup Of Tea.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 7:35 AM UTC
i identify as the blood stains on your sheets
the holes we ripped in the edge of your bed
i identify with the deadbeats in the streets
and the clouds of smoking dancing over your head.
i fell in the forest with no one around to hear me
so the question begs, did i really fall?
i'm stuck between a rock and a hard place,
i've been everywhere but i'm going nowhere at all.
you reeled me in with your thin feelings and
your brown eyes and your white lies.
you wore against my bones when all along i've known,
you bore your plan inside me this whole time.
you've wasted plenty of mine,
and you made your scars plenty deep,
but have the nerve to ask me why i'm not fine,
you haunt me in my sleep.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
There are castles, three,
each a home to me
harsh winds blow on
whichever one i go
on
to
and i becomes I only when I question
the why of it
you may wander the streets with a million deadbeats
but your home wherever your heart lies
is the silver mine you carry
with you.
I stifle my cries and blot out the pain
the castles, three,
are always to blame.
Once when it was Wednesday or some day
I enjoyed
magic or necromancy was employed
to slowly destroy me
hence
the castles, three.
Nothing spoils the taste
like
the taste of utter waste
I tasted it
in the waste of it
now in place of it and
in spite of it
I hit
the jackpot.
Castles are gone now
how I love
writing that
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 2:37 PM UTC
I scream in the night, my breath getting caught in my throat.
All these kids are damaged, and so am I.
Don't we all just want love?
But we're all deadbeats, you got to admit.
Our mistakes multiply, I feel them crushing my soul.
However you're different, aren't you?
I can see that special something in you, glowing behind your freckled eyes.
Hold me and never give up.
I'll protect you, we're not like the rest.
We can be better, lets just run away.
I know our hate for the world burns deep.
I don't even know if you like me but, we're friends for now.
That's all I'll ever need.
You being beside me, the moon shining bright.
We'll bury your brother, he deserves a resting place.
All the things he has done, that's not you baby.
Escape into my arms, I know it's not much.
Too young to be this numb but, I'll keep you safe.
I don't want your flame to die out.
I scream in the night, my breath getting caught in my throat.
All these kids are damaged, and so am I.
Don't we all just want love?
We're all deadbeats but, you'll never be alone.
Mar 8, 2018
Mar 8, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
I want to go to the "Land of All"
But oceans keep us apart
On a Petrol-stained sailboat
I'll make my journey to reach you
"Believe in Flashing Stars;
A new horizon in the limelight"
Makes me want to go explore!
Trapped: I can't go home.
Rivers: overflowing dreams.
Cast my line to catch my fame
Hook, Line, Sinker
I became the bait.
If I am going to drown
Might as well go up in flames.
Rivers cast me off,
Now I am a cast-away.
Close my eyes tight
Hide from flickering lights.
The tide recedes
No longer blind.
Stuck on my wooden shore,
Arms outstretched, grasping dreams
Ocean rise, lights floating.
Deadbeats slowly sinking.
Bubbles floating to the top
Before freedom, they pop.
Tried to find the "Land of All".
But they denied me entry.
© Sofia Villagrana 2018
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
Im in love with the thought of being in love with love, but holding me back, is the one that I love, cause she don't know love so she isn't loving me back, I'm up with the sun writing these personal letters to her with my heart, I'd give her the world, cause she is the world but the world is falling apart, the last man she loved was her dad but he abused mama and liquor, got drunk as a skunk and came to her room to touch on her and sister, I know that she steal, I know that she lost, I know that she lie, all to survive but I'm still by her side because I know why, she ain't scarred for no reason, men say they love her don't ever mean it, people promise her but don't ever keep it, act like her friend and tell all her secrets, I know that she bad but I also know that inside she wanna be good, she's an angels disguise, she's dying inside she gotta get out of this hood, these streets taking our babies, making prostitutes out our ladies, deadbeats out our brothers, why are we killing each other, because that's love right? and now she puts my heart thru ache cause she wudnt loved right, she think that love is gettin ****** right, it's sad.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 3:34 AM UTC