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Jen Dec 2017
I have half assed memories
of mostly slurred words,
tempting me
with the curious thought:
how strange is it that our biggest fears
are centered largely
around others.
How ironic.
The sober neglect this,
But
In whisky kissed souls
these truths
cling deep.
zoie marie lynn Feb 2018
“‘i really can’t explain water,’”
she told me gently,
“‘i can only say it’s hard to breathe,
but god is it worth the smell.’”
by the time her drunken voice went out,
i realized we weren’t talking about the rain anymore,
she once fell for me
and i once fell for her.
never again,
i vowed,
the day she made these godawful tears pour,
but here she is,
and i’m hoping i won’t want more.
we were a match made in the middle of a school,
i never thought i’d be thinking how could she be this cruel...
things change and feelings do too,
“but baby one more thing,”
she said half asleep,
“never forget that i love you.”
maybe that's it. we eventually go numb; because you can't break a heart that's already broken
Katy Miles Jun 2018
i love you for all that you’ve done and will do
and i pray one day you’ll shine as you want to
sweetheart, i beg you not to go dim
take off the mask and worry not for them
for if they don’t love you, they surely don’t love Him
in my eyes you are brighter than any star
and i bask in your radiance from afar
thinking, i love you, i love you, just as you are
Rose Jan 2
The feeling of your lips on mine
moving in synch to the music
slurred words
I cannot remember
laughter and tears
caused by forgotten actions
waking up
the next morning
feeling like
it wasn't me.
BJ Donovan Mar 2018
Jack Daniel's

We bought a broken dog
and took him to our broken home
to live with this broken family.
We tried to fix him with broken
training. I was too broken to get
it right. The more I yelled the more
broke he got. I had a drunken insight
one evening walking him in a full moon.
He reminded me of me in my childhood.
I saw things through his broken eyes
and held him close. I promised I'd fix us.
I adopted myself from a dog shelter.
Kara Jean Apr 2016
The long hours of the night highlight our inner insecurities
Relating to the change slowly disappearing in a clanking machine
My stomache burns
I didn't suggest to pay this, indebted to the alcohol
No filter to the lewd humorous words we speak
As we cruise away from the wild eyed life, bits of lint collect on the drivers glass
The mistakes and embarrassment blinds our minds
A push of a button, watching the grey fluff slide down the wind shield
Turning into a tumble ****, rolling down the loneliest highway
No commitment to the grief
The clouds smother the brown smudged mountains
A white submissive canvas, I see
My metaphoric future becomes one with the peeks
My heart weeps as they come back into view
The world once teaching me, is now background beauty
Where shall this car take me
chlorine Aug 2018
You are hell-bent,
nostalgic of the stitch in my stomach
and the simple repetition of my words.
A different season,
the same fears,
unknown intentions.
A lovers kiss feels like your drunken mistakes.
Fight-or-flight
perfectly masked underneath sarcasm and closed eyes.
CK Baker May 2017
like that pill bitter Sunday morning (after)
with a nauseating hack
the previously uneventful Tuesday
derailed
in surrealistic tale
with Auntie and Jack (and a quarter of fate)
in the 748
on a night flight
from Sherwood to Lore

reverberating waves
of imminent summer haze
river flats
and flower fields
fly weights
and silver bait
shredders and shysters
and open gates
(into those everlasting
and sweated journeys of hope)

bloods and strays
and florentine grays
(reminiscent of Rockwell fame)
running horses
and overgrown country lanes
morning grace
and gentle cheer
eyes clear
on the river pass
blunted paddles for those ancient
and not so willing suckers!


duke making his own way
(to the corner club)
Parsons and Poe
stream from the torn screen door
cricket cadence
and symphony of the Deere
calm and deliberate
in the soft
and silent fields

meadows open for grazing
(guineas scamper across the till)
pocket apples fill
the country ripe air
drunken bees
and chestnuts
and electric fingers
strike the surface pool
(a cedar strip wedged on the white wash dock)

baited bull heads set to cast
evenings with hearts
and Nolten Nash
may flowers bloom
across the grass
~ time unmatched ~
with blue jays
and river bends
and channel cats
...and that warm
and recurring
Coleman drift
Paul Hansford May 2016
... and this one isn't.


They were going to start a new life,
childhood sweethearts become man and wife.
But a drunken stag-night
ended up in a fight,
and someone had taken a knife.
Natalie Mar 2018
give me a kiss
like it could be your
last one.
“hold on”
you say,
as you quickly down your
cold one.
make love to me
under the light
of the stars,
not
under the light
of the bars.
look in your eyes
with a caring gaze,
all i get back
is a drunken haze.
Sean Hunt Apr 4
We are all surfing 
under the surface of the sea
running into sunken wrecks
from ancient histories

Though the currents are strong
and the darkness cold
with courage we carry 
their baggage of old

Drunken sailors and their wives 
made a mess of our lives
but we seem to have survived
their promises and lies
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2018
In the yellow,
cold light
of the wine-dark
night,
'tween the brand-new mall
and the Roman Site,
he staggered
alone,
drunken
with "Magon"*
and memories.

Vast,
so vast is the night -
vast
as the memory
of an English
prairie,
and an emmer-haired
maiden
he'd walked
to the ferry
on a summery day.

Vast,
so vast
is a night
masquerading
as a want of sight.


© LazharBouazzi
"Magon" is a popular Tunisian wine named after the famous Tunisian (Carthaginian) author of the "Treatises on Agronomy, Winegrowing and Winemaking (eighth century BC. ) " when Tunisia was Europe's wine cellar.
Poppy Fields Apr 2017
**** them, they don’t
have to pay for parking.

My feet have tread there
a thousand times,
but only now do I see
the weight of
my million pictures.

I borrowed your eyes
for a moment,
to think through you
in a drunken view.
chichee Nov 2018
Baby let's go
                           tipsy-toed
               Skinny dipping in
         disco lights.
    Drunken mouth in
                              worship,
            you call my body             Jerusalem
till I'm        
spluttering up
                             pool water.


    The ceiling spins
                                 a salsa,
the fridge exhales something
                               obscene when it opens
and the furniture
                         blushes
          I'm jealous of the
                                   love story
                    in my home.


We roll around in
                       bolognese
     I slurp the      happy
            out of
                     your mouth.
                                     Saucy smirks.
Oh keeper of my heart,
                             I chain myself to
your smile and
                              swallow the
                                                 key.
Something whimsical to pass the time
Ray Dunn Mar 31
God I wish your drunken stupor
led you to me,
but I guess your liquor shows us
how it’s supposed to be.
Haha I’m sad! Not to flex on y’all
Dusting off the rabbity
that squirrely tempo anxiety,
closing in with night.

The irresistible pattern
the irrational illogical fight
a battle with one’s discipline,
mirroring our might.

I make it home a fluttering
belly twirled and muttering,
I tell myself tis alright!

The damage done, and everyone,
I’m just like them and millions more
succumbing at the Devil’s door.

And the taste, the burn,
the healing calm,
the shaking and the thinking gone.

Knock one back, slam out another
night is early, rock it brother,
Tying on a swilly swirling
buzzed-out brain and mind a twirling. . .

“Ahhhh…”

I feel better now, exhilarated,
exasperation falls to stout resound;
I pour again and knock it down!

“Ahhhh…”

Spinning now, not to say I’m spun
but choosey choosing several a pun
I see myself an accomplished one!
Yes, that’s it, that is me,
look upon with thoughts of glory
yank open the freezer for glass that’s hoary. . .

How cool am I? certainly not boring
all night I’m here, pouring, pouring. . .

Buzz subsides, thoughts slow too,
lurid leering, slobbering swearing,
stupid actions and nothing new?

I lose the bottle,
I lose my shirt,
***** on myself,
pass out in dirt.

Another night of drunken hero,
time that’s wasted for kingly Nero.
But who am I to judge myself?

I’m hardly worse than anyone else?
Evan Stephens May 27
Drunk in the Hirschhorn garden,
it seems  the sculptures rise
and take to air, bronze on bronze.
Swear as sweat drops in the corner
of the eye, squint against mounting glint
of the polished windows that gaze
so blankly over the glossy green estate.
Drunk again at noon, and hardened
by hurt against the friend who surprises
with criticism: she must realize it spawns
first inside the soul? First mourner
at my living funeral. O Jennie, swimming
through the garden with your cotton grace,
tolerate my dazed smile, amid the statuary.
Written in 2003
ryn Feb 2015
Blue clouds gaze the wrapped sun
frozen kisses in my blood
travelling a thousand miles
to meet up with you.

There is none else walking
down this path where memories
wake up and dance
inside my armored heart.

I peeled off each kisses embrace
out of my parched lips.
I shook off the tree,
where your scent had blossomed.

Every step down this scarcely trodden path saw...
Each peel fall with helpless, damsel-like grace.
Brown leaves shone amber touched by fingers of the sun
Invasion of warmth through my greyed bony carapace.

Gentle tremors reverberate within with subtle anguish.
Sweet scented portal that took me back,
To the illusion of time where we once were...
In drunken stupor...laying under a star strewn canvas of black.

Senses that spoke of a great fantastical tale.
You are still here... In this cloying void with no one around...
Only that scent...your scent tugging on my core
Invisible tendrils berthing my feet back on ground.


Alone and wanting don't want to be anymore.
I want to feast my lungs on your skin once more.
I want to vibrate under your touch again,
In anguished anticipation and sweet pain.

I hurl your name to the echoing wind,
Blowing ferociously over the closed passage.
Only to find that I'm but elongating
the distance between our fading wishful stars.

Fading far only to find that I'm lost yet again,
Still harvesting a basket full of ripened hope.
Traversing planes with warped, slanted doorways,
Frantically seeking purchase on knobs with fevered gropes.

Heavy layered breaths inhaled too shallow...
Tracing missteps to decipher what it all meant.
When all is moot...weary, weathered and futile,
Forever I'll be bathing in the familiarity of your soothing, nectarous scent...



Dajena M
**ryn
My first collab with the incredible Dajena M. She had deleted her account and the collaborative pieces she had posted went away as well. But... I found them!!! Yay!

I'm so glad we had the chance to collaborate on such an amazing piece together.
Azurel Oct 2018
Soft melodies of the deep sea echo
Moonlight dances on my pretty scales
And icy bubbles whirl under my vest
Through my slippery hair
And down into my lungs to clear the way for overflowing foam
Laughter splashes behind my lips as my anticipation rises
Waiting for a night of twisted fairy-tales and uncalled for surprises.

Shimmering bodies swarm in spirals
Grinding in unison with the waves crashing at the surface
We're anxious for overflowing foam and hidden treasures
Purple light pierces the dark like shards of crystals
Casting a ghostly shade on bulbous faces
Pressure rises as each wave surges
Whirlpools of hot breath suffocate our gills
But the sidelines are shallow
And stragglers float motionless

Hair like seaweed at the nape of his neck
Unbuttoned linen soaked and dripping
Her hollow eyes glow green
Like the jelly orbs of a fish under florescent lights
She’s pressed against a boy who has hooks for fins
Searching for the parts that are edible
Tender, Scale-less, Slippery
Nothing wrong with being the catch of the day
Right?

Bubbles rise and pop as the last melodies drown
Schools of us are begging for shiny hooks and bad decisions
A handsome boy has been smiling all the while
He’s caught in a fisherman’s net
Craving salty lips and the spell to make him a man
But fisherman don't care for little mermaids
With hearts like sea glass and no hidden treasures to steal

Sweaty fins splash and cheer
The fishbowl shatters
Sea glass spills out onto sand
We squirm and flop onto land
Gasping without air to breathe
As our mouths and ***** thoughts dry in the sun
Leaving behind fresh meat without mouths to feed.

Rainbow confetti was stuck in the grooves of my scales
Wet clothes left on the floor of a steamy bathroom
Gasping and moaning into tile
With the face of a handsome stranger
Because this meat shouldn't go to waste
And I'm drunken with desperation
For overflowing foam, jewels, and shiny hooks
But I'm just another fish in the sea
Tumbling in the waves with my rainbow confetti scales.
A school dance
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