"drunkin" poems
Better to be a live dog
than a dead lion.
Better to be a rollin' log
than a lumberjack cryin'.
Better to be a drunkin' fool
than a junkie's spoon.
Better to be a happy camper
than a hurtin' unit.
Better to be a fresh pamper
than full of ****
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 9:09 AM UTC
I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate, before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.
But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for
There might be more to a coin flip than explored.
Intent and decent Vs stoical form
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
I am young but old
Not chasing the singing dragon out into the night
Dumping the dragging lull of liquor into my being
Like it will fill the cracks in my psyche
Thwart the emerging of my being like some slick spector in the recess of my mind
Gobbling up my intellect one atom at a time
Relevant only to the tantilzing beat of the bass
The ghetto melody making me elated to the fact that
A white hick hippy want-to-be can never be a ****
I am young
With the knowledge that time is in my favor
Wild wanton ways of youth touch my limbs with excitement
Too much drugs and drunkin dancing in the streets of small time city lights
Where I float on the blissful bubbling blunders of slurred words
And harmless touching that we all know means more than the numbing
Fuzzy fingers of inhibitors want us to believe
I am young
But I grow old
With the acheing feel of gritty mornings
Class time drool-drolling onward towards the final accumulation
Of my efforts
How the liberation of my mind feels fresh and shiney
But at once I feel a regress into old thoughts old beliefs and the worn out mentality of those older
I am old
In that my soul longs for the love that it is denied
Beaten down by the distance that holds it hostage
My tendancy to find rust and petinal signs of age beautiful
Long talks with my mother give me joy
I am old
In that I taste the test of time and see wonder in the generations past
Hoping for the sweet lull of a good nights sleep
Feeling and emoting a progressive approach to a dieing dicotomy
Loving
Hating
Saddended by things that will never change
I am growing receeding and more importantly changing
Looking to renew the implications of the word normal
But above all the old
The young, fresh and vibrant
I will forever more be
And always be me.
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 2:45 PM UTC
When there in a drunkin fit
she waits for them to hit
as they storm down the hall
she hides with her dolls
she closes her eyes
as she hear lies lies lies
she feel her heart beat
as she hears the stompping feet
as the floors start to quake
she feels her arms shake
when tomorrow wakes
it will be to late
May 9, 2010
May 9, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
Do you remember when you were a go-go dancer and I a dom;
That was a long time ago; ages really.
Or the time we were tossed out of the family home on a drunkin whim?
Jealous matriarchs angered by youthful hope;
She’d long ago lost.
But we came a long way.
Career chicks;
With eyes for a better life
We carried our families with a clean hustle,
With sweat,
Eating tears,
Shared with each other
Eating it.. for the kids.
I’m speechless without you
My fire
My confidant
My sister
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 7:53 PM UTC
I swallow it whole, with a swig of whisky down it goes. Maybe i wont put on a show this time. Maybe I'll pass out before the alcohol gets a hold of me and i take off my clothes. Maybe i should take a few more pills, Another fist full of pills with a little help from my friend jack down they go. My vision gets blurry and i feel like everything is rushing around me in a hurry. So in a scurry i run to my bed hopefully i didnt take to much and i pass out dead i stop before i get there and i grab my head in hopes for the spinning to stop but it doesnt everything just keeps twirling like a top i reach to unlock my door but i fall to the floor in a drunkin fury i barge in my room ****** at everything i lay in bed with the hopes of sobering up soon I shut my eyes as time passes i feel like i begin to die the pills take ahold and i feel like a comet zooming threw space seeing all the stars and looking at all my scars, scars you've caused even though you use to be my number one star, My sun my universe, my everything but now your my nothing and it makes me sick, sick enough to ***** and stop this suicidal craze and began my journey back home through this universal maze
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 11:50 PM UTC
Cornwallis Inn,
Gothic Stone With
Marble Floor Ways,
A Small Lounge Area
And A Bar Alongside.
Road Weary
And Thirsty
We Belly
Up To The Trough.
A Drunkin' Patron
Pulls Up A Stool,
Too Drunk To Even
Pay Attention To The ****** Gestures
Or Our Body Language.
He Overstays
Any Sort Of Welcome
That I Would Have Given Him.
I Told
The Barkeep
I Was From Town
But Haven't Been Here
For Decades,
That When I Had Left,
The Town Wasn't More
Than A Ghost Town
In The Making.
That The Land
Of ***** And Orchards
Would Dwarf The Town,
Making It Only
A Spot On The Map,
Like The Stain
Left By A Barfly
On A Hot, Hot Day.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
My arteries tangle
Bestowed with anxieties
I know what awaits me
celebrating a fantasy
Of drunkin junkies in disarray
Allow me to adjust my mask for this masquerade
Ive reached judgement day
Of shared blood I haven't seen in a half a decade
Forced smiles to distant cameras
Cover up track marks
Oh god, none has yet changed
Let me sit back and disengage
Refining my predetermined misanthrope ways.
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
You felt good
You went down smooth
I was a bit drunk on you
Elevated for a short time
You started making me sick.
I knew you were bad for my organs
But who cares about the inside anyways.
I vomited all I had of you
Hoping it'd make me feel better.
It was messy but honest.
All that went in was exposed.
So I slept on it.
I slept for a while.
I woke up expecting another day.
But I wasn't drunk anymore.
My organs weren't diluted with your toxins anymore.
I was just dry. Dehydrated. You took all my replenishments away.
I didn't get over it when you were gone though.
I was hung over.
Sick.
Never wanted to see you again.
At the same time you were still there banging my head.
With time I'll feel better.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
Im a stupid ******* drunkin mess.
A ******* whom can barly get dressed.
Illusions of love break my soul,
Nothing is left but a lump of coal.
I drink, drank, drunk stumbling around,
These days Im done being a ******* clown.
Humiliation my poetry brings,
She laughs in my face, **** all these random flings.
God shes a stupid ******* marry popins *** dumpster, im done rhyming...
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
In a drunkin state,
one will make mistakes.....
In a delema state,
one could possible break.....
In a frenzy state,
one could never cooperate....
In a lucrative state,
things could be great....
In a state of mind,
one could be kind....
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
She is the weather.
Ever changing my mood
Happy as a sunny day
To a vicious cycle of rain
I'm clueless what to expect
She is fun when we play
other days
she rips through carelessly.
I steer clear and watch her destroy.
She is the weather.
You can always count on the weather to be..
Weather.
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
My song!
Grab my hand.
oops
excuse me
sorry
behind you
ouch ouch
sorry
Just on the way to the dancefloor, stranger
Get out of my path if you don't want to play
My glitter is your favorite color?
Thats a great line
Points for your poetry
And smiling at me with those eyes
Come, join me for drunkin twirls
No worries about your balance
No one is looking but me
oops
excuse me
I'm sorry
sorry
ouch ouch
Its fine, I'm fine
Sometimes you just step so sloppily
Green tumbler balancing on stilts
Distracted by your own wavy sparkle
Or is it our toxic delights
Blackouts and babysitting its fine but sobering
Just be mindful of my toes when you jump for joy
Already sore
Still bruised
What?
No!
Nothing, its silly
Nevermind, it's way too loud for you to hear me!
Just close your eyes and dance with me
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 3:06 PM UTC