"drunkness" poems
she gave me her cell #,
in a crowded bar
inked upon my forearm,
"in case in my drunkness, I dare forget,"
a common come-on technique,
that reeks of all good things to come
but I failed to see,
in the little letters,
"@ your own peril"
a warning, poorly heeded,
inflaming my now unimaginable
needy neededs,
just a **** come on,
or a warring warning of tumult,
vampirish blood *******
with cautious haste,
her number I did paste
into my contact list,
'in case of loss, call,'
when sudden notifications galore,
came unbidden from everywhere:
Are you really sure?
these digits seems were posted on a
Do Not Call list,
maintained by monks and bro's,
no, no, not a list of
what-rhymes-with-bro's,
but of fallen angels,
who knew the secrets of heaven
the price extracted for their revealing,
could cause you life long
arthritis of the heart,
per the Surgeon General,
for which the only cure,
endure, endure, endure...
the prize?
endless wonderful new poems, freely given,
but with one strictest of restrictions,
if published,
it meant your slow extinction!
*that is why the world calls me
Poet of the Way,
forever trying to find a way,
to away these treasured glories*
then one day,
he laughed and laughed,
when he first he read the magic key,
your poem, successfully saved *on
Hello Poetry!*
and now the poet endures,
even possibly, self-saved,
quite happily
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
Bella,
My sweet bella
The one who makes me feel like my whole body hurts because I miss her
It's too much
I miss those nights, the ones with the moon by our side
How our drunkness made us close
I never thought someone I've seen six times would mean so much to me
I need your presence, I'm broken
I need someone
I need someone with whom to share my ***** in a bottle mixes with gatorade
I need that sausage smell
I'm writing this while being ******
But my dear Bella, you mean the world to me and I never thought someone would become as important as you have
It's like you put the stars in the skies
I need you to have someone to drown my sorrows in a bottle with. I miss you
But I know sometime, soon
I'll get drunk and do fun stuff with you
Nothing seems fun without you, you might be the missing piece
but Dear Bella, wait for me, as the sun waits to rest when sunset comes. I love you as much as a cherry blossom tree loves it's beautiful flowers that just bloomed
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
It was magical. The starry night, under the trees.
The romance, completely willing.
Each person covering in the I love you's of tomorrow and for the rest of eternity
Or at least thats how it was perceived by their story
Everyone knew what they didn't want them to...they're romantic night was a joke.
Stumbled drunkness, followed by lustful "I love you's" and bad decision making
It was all an accident and it was the beginning of me.
Panicked months followed. Fake happiness. Attempts to destroy and forget the mistake.
New years. They made a vow...a resolution to finally be okay.
And for a while, they even tricked themselves to think that.
It was great...for about a year
then he left
she left a few years later.
World War 3 was at a stand still...but only for a while.
It didn't take much to rekindle the fire.
As they say...you always remember your first drunken love. To love forever with them until the day the universe forces you two to part.
(PSH! Yeah...thats not what they say)
There was crossfire immediately
Flames thrown further than light can travel and the only person being burned...was me.
I wasn't raised by them. I couldn't ever possibly be that angry.
I have loving grandparents that show nothing but affection and support.
BUT GENETICALLY...I was *******
My outside environment only frustrated my inside environment.
It was like the Wiggles vs. Hannibal Lector.
Surprisingly the end didn't turn out as violently as many imagined.
I was always trying to be "saved" but I never understood what from?
The worse that had come out of the entire situation was me...as I am now.
Granted...I have communication issues I'm a bit too sarcastic and the only was I can say what I really feel is through pen and paper. Sticky notes cover every corner of my room, screaming every obscenity that has ever crossed my mind
AND YET....
I think I'm okay.
I'm successful in most aspects of my life. And it had everything to do with my beginning.
I've heard "I'm sorry" ever since my grandparents came to back to school night in kindergarten.
What for?! How many people do you know that can walk through a valley of fire unscathed?
Honestly, don't be sorry...because after what I've accomplished
the lustful drunken night vs. the romance means nothing.
And who knows...it could have been under a tree on a starry night.
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 12:24 PM UTC
To the all the guys I have kissed:
My first,
I thought you were sweet
too bad it didn't last
My drunkness,
I don't know who initiated it
perhaps it is better that way
My first boyfriend,
I thought you meant it
but I was the one who felt it.
My mistake,
You were a rebound.
I was payback.
My foolishness,
You leaned in and I felt bad.
Guess guilt is a nasty emotion.
My first love,
You wrote a song I loved to sing,
I wish you never forgot the words.
My payback,
I am sorry I used you,
I cried when I got home.
My sorrow,
I wish you told me you had a girl friend,
so I can break your neck, they way you'd break her heart.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
Night #1
Around the dinner table crickets directed a noiseless choir
It's all full of emotion
But I don't know how to
Define a face full of
earthquake expressions
When the stars play guitar
with three broken strings
it sounds like musical genius,
and the grass is waving to it.
"Dude, the moon's coming out now,"
I hear from the crowd.
The autumn brown leaf outside the window
turns green in amazement
And then it swallows the sky whole.
Night #2
I don't even feel my drunkness, I just feel the
highness and euphoria.
I wonder who sees Orion with me tonight.
The triple XXXs behind the drummer and
ringing tambourines scream with
guitar picks and microphones
and I think I know this euphoria is more
powerful than the whisky in my right hand.
I'm the king of upside down guitars that read
"DEATHBOT," and the "B" is backwards
and I don't give a ****
Night #3
Arnold Palmer and coconut juice
A pair of glasses and a sight that's obtuse
I don't need to see straight
like a wave in the ocean that capsizes at night
And I roll up a joint that is beyond precise.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
I never knew I was lost without you till l read your letter
an found out I was never really
living life
till I made Jesus The Lord of my life
this new life is in Jesus Christ only.
I was deceive by this dying world,
lost world full of Seximmorality,
Impurity,Lustful Pleasures,Idolatry, Jealousy, Envy,Drunkness,Greed.
Now I see how everybody is lost
without your son
Jesus Christ
who holds the truth life
Love, Joy,Peace,Patience,
Kindness,goodness,
Faithfulness,
Gentleness,self-control
I never knew, I was lost without you
till I read your letter.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 2:59 PM UTC
We sat across from each other
Both knowing what we wanted
You drinking champagne
And I drinking whiskey,
Burning like fire traveling down my throat
Drunkness overtook us
And you knew how badly I wanted you
Just like you wanted me
You whispered in my ear and kissed my neck
I turned to you and kissed your soft lips
The taste of champagne on my whiskey lips tasted so sweet
Every night I relive it in my dreams
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Well, I finally stated the truth. "idk I'm just tired of it, this drunkness is false happiness." glares up at me as I look about my room. Broke my painting, my sunglasses, wrecked my arm, my liver. Shaking and quivering from too much to drink to the kitchen sink. I think it's time to stop.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
Answer my tenderness
With love, not hate.
And my drunkness,
It is getting too late.
The drugs you gave
I am getting addicted.
I became your slave
This is what I predicted.
Feb 15, 2017
Feb 15, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
About Costumes and Customs
Wear, wear whatever you dare,
Tho, the global locality has no morality...
Animals with human customs,
Humans with animal costumes
Form the world into a modest mode-
In which the smartest ones are silent
While the mass dress in rumbling drunkness,
In happy hues of the humbling violent,
Of the primitive homo-geniuses.
Does ****** equal with the human nature?
Which? Human as savage or creature?
Born or grown?
While sensations design human customs,
Is predestination more than a fake costume?
Does the world hold anything divine?
While we follow an immoral aurora-
Its warming colours in a frozen desert,
That implies no divine unseen scenes?
Questions are colorless, unseen but existing,
Alike to God's infinite fineness-
Probing our customs if they are probed.
Methink costumes as a colorful ocean,
Mesee customs as the change of the world.
We sink in the dying world's dying ocean.
Oct 5, 2019
Oct 5, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
I forfeit for this;
mobility
my mind
served up to
its drunkness off you
bodies full on my lack of finding
sound your disregard &
relieve your knife of
what it had done to me as
I gaze at your sleep in the direction of mine & drowned in fog until I lose
until I turn blue with love
it is there I see her heart
I want to swallow your key
I
blame the weight of the hand
& I frame the finger
I blame the math and pattern
under your mattress I left my gist
thumbs and throat
you just keep switching the sheets
I bring the ocean to hold my thighs down
for every time
that every time
I say it
it is me speaking and not the situation
I forfeit for weather reports and hurt feelings
resuscitate by mouthing off
to suffocate this feeling
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC
Today I shed some tired eyes
Under leaves, leaves with corners
and sharp edges
Today I shed some weary legs
Upward over the mountain
down into the streams
The fragrant and decaying
The cloying and the stagnant
Odd how a man can look over miles of open country
& see nothing but subdivisions
Odd how a man can look at another
& **** for a belief
Odd how a man can smile into the empty bottle
& see no light through the glass
Bones buried under sand a time, bulldozed another foot deeper
Someones kid hidden behind a picture in a wallet
We hid somewhere, in those bushes in the field
Hid from ourselves
Listened to the creek and tried to decipher language
The tea your brewed sits cold in my hands
And the smiles you shared sit cold in my lips
We drank together on the beach, me and these guys
Selling cigarettes to put food on the table
While their sisters sold themselves
And all I could decipher through my drunkness
Was that I wasn't supposed to be there
Never was, never was
I sit with these ugly ballpoint words and think of you
I sit with these grasshopper thoughts and think of nothing
I sit with my feet in still water, my eyes on dead clouds
I think of the broken days
Blackout wine bottle days
Writing on the wall on where to ride trains to
Through New Mexico, to drift
Fall off the face of it for a while
Bootknife nights
We spoke through the cigarette smoke
How we didn't choke I'm not sure
Made me put them down
For good
It was odd, watching those dogs eat those camels
In the sand dunes
The bodies of a car accident lopsided and covered in someones
sheets
Drove for days, small cities, large refineries
An empty ocean that seemed to carry its sand into the horizon
Dune after dune
Somehow we bargained a pack of smokes for two
Saudi riyal
I drank to much and said to little, she always said
Over and gone, pictures on the fridge
Sleeping at 2, waking at 5
Eyes heavy and the first cigarette
A cup of coffee and the slow realization
That the sun remains to rise
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
Yes my teeth on top
That was after i saw her
I felt itchings from every beat of time
I imagined i would take her number but rather borrowed her pen
I forget to smile when we met
When i turned my face to she was gone
She moved with a beam of eyes following her
Its like she hired all men to eye her front back and side
All men were covered in drunkness of her perfume like a smoking room
Her legs were fit too high higher than my approach
i would make a point through so i went again
Closed my eyes and touched her
**** i touched a wrong woman
In her toughes almost kicked with words
I walked away naked in shame
I was angry what i eyed wasnt the best
I moved and landed into a wall
For i had lost the way
My skin went dry when a lady held me by the shoulder
Her hands too soft that she fronze my blood
The other moments i left un said for my ****** had come
She has eaten my far self in kindness
Am now lost yet seen within my eyes
Her subsequent gestures cleansed my nerves off breathe
Didnt die for i kept magnifying through her presence
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC
Maybe it's the residual hangover
From a two day binge talking
But I see your presence a lot
It's hard not to in today's world
And sitting here writing this I am swaying
And every part of me wants to drink tonight
The last three times I have I have ended up sobbing in a corner
With people saying
I'm sorry, I'm so sorry
Where was I going with this?
Right, right
The residual drunkness brought on by a hangover
And the little hints you leave
I'm not sure if they are for me to find
Or maybe you are doing what I do
Or more than likely
You aren't doing any of those things
And I'm so desperate for something
Anything
From you
I'll turn the most menial of things into a mental scavenger hunt
Because it is noon on a Saturday
I have just woken up
I have a hangover
And I have lost all control of my life
Without you
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
time's imperative need
to always perform
and be in conscious
of all the things that matters--is that nothing matters
Why do we even care?
i witness these movements, in and out,
here and there
As if, at some times, it will make sense
and for what?
with solitude, and with darkness in our minds
we move around--ask these wind,
the waves, and lyrics that you listen to 24/7
trying to relate to what we feel
night and day
in bleak of solitude, dwelling in profound drunkness
ask that who cry with their wide smiles
ask that which whines with their perfections
ask that who are restless in between sleep and awake
for life's eternal burden--that breaks and pierces within
and you must stop worrying
for words can't tell
what we go through
it's a forever going circus.
let's fill ourselves with wine,
poetry, our floating existences..
and these careless words, sometimes deep
sometimes shallow
and must stop worrying.
for each other, and for one another
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 2:52 PM UTC
I'm really sick of law
of telling me what to do
of telling me where to go;
Sick of time, of counting time
Sick of all the adventures I could have
but stay home take care
Same little same bed
It isn't big enough;
A large boulder would suffice better as a bed
In a desert or a plain I don't care.
I want get new fluids up and down my body law doesn't cope
I want excessive alcohol, excessive hugs, excessive moolight
I want it so excessively I want to ***** it
Spread it
Swallow it
And **** it all again
At once!
All at the same time!
I want starvation drunkness under the moon
I want sweating under the sun on the desert plains
I want not bathing and howling on the dirt
Animals would be ashamed
And so be it
I want beat this world and the other and be beaten by it.
Send me some motherfuckin' postcards of your places
I wanna visit them all!
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 4:07 PM UTC
how of,
U wen
've been
wine amongst such dower trees as Spring:
a perched upon
a string of suddenly
cool night has
alighted
with weft of surging flower
a stumbling drunkness of **** infinite self
(a parting of easy fragrance ) soft
at the hinges
and wet between
the peels of rough human knees:
(some hand; some soft
At play
at hurtfully
entering eager pain .)
t
h
e
sound
o
f
fingers;
the sound of love.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 1:21 AM UTC
I couldn't create anything but my drunkness,
Why do we need to go away from this madness?
I need to improve it,
I need to challenge it,
But instead, I choose to cry,
Cry as if anyone can hear me,
In this melodramatic kind of me.
I felt as no-one can help me,
Which I was right.
No-one could help me but the red-wine,
Instead of the corrupted earth, we have done.
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 7:45 AM UTC