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Anais Vionet Aug 2022
We were on a 2nd floor garden terrace. The three-quarter moon was doing its best to set a romantic, gin-mood, pouring a soft pastel-blue on the world, that softened hard edges.

A cool breeze wafted jasmine scents from a nearby tea-olive tree. We were alone, the only sounds were far off footsteps and my pounding heart. Wasn’t this romantic?  

Fueled twice by desire I had dressed carefully and modestly, with just a subtle, but fancy, hint of sluttiness. My costume, carefully vetted by a company of five, calculating, non-virgins, was designed to be both alluring and as abstruse as Kleenex. I was a doll dressed, painted and scented to ******. Wasn’t I romantic?

We’d never kissed before, and I wanted him to kiss me with an almost moaning force of will. I brushed my skirt down and checked that my hair was in place with quick, fleeting hand motions that could have been butterflies in the reflected light.

We were sitting close together, I could feel his warmth, but nothing was happening and then, as nothing continued to happen, I began to fret, to sag, what was the glitch? Maybe..

I felt a warmth, his breath, I looked up and he kissed me, gently, then moved back a little. I smiled. I wanted to laugh, to shout, to jump around like my team had won the Superbowl, but I was very still, lest I scare him off. Oh, there were butterflies somewhere.

He’s smart. His mind probes the infinite but sometimes neglects the immediate. I wasn’t expecting a smooth move from someone who’s all knees, thumbs and elbows but, hey, I’m capable, and willing, to learn.
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Glitch: a minor setback or malfunction.
betterdays Apr 2015
oh woe is me!!!
have pity, cruel and
heartless world.
the sky now fallen.
my sadness,
unfurled.
i sail, upon a ship
of abject misery.
i sit at the helm
and weep and cry 
and moan and mewl
til, my eyes have
run out of 
wet, n' salted fuel.

now, those who know me,
are wondering why,
me, who writes happiness.
is having a hysterical cry.
if i can but,
bring myself,
to tell you why, 
you must be generous,
of heart, and not say fie.
my big, catastrophe,
bigger than you know.
is a death, in the family...

they have lingered long
and been, a dear friend.
but this morning i went to see them and they were gone!!
and oh dear me!
what an embarassing end...
it is,sad,
beyond,sad.
i cannot tell a lie.

here its is....  in all it's badness:
MY JEANS DONE DIED
(pause now for a sobbing, dramatic.....sigh!!!)
now you have finished laughing
at me i will explain why,
this is, not a matter for disdain.....
i have/had this pair, of favourite, faded, blue,white jeans.
had them long enough,
that they had done,
the complete circle
and come back into fashion....
had them longer than,
my child, my husband, my car,
my present job. 

they knew me, so well and
so comfortable too.
i went to wear them,
this morning,
as a pick me up treat....
(cause to be honest,
been feelin kinda beat)
and lo and behold,
they fell apart, at my feet

the crotch, had frayed away
and if i had worn them,
my smalls and privates,
would be saying a cheeky, g'day....
so i am sad 
and an old friend has departed. 
but at least it happened in private  and not at work, when i farted....

i tonight, will give them, a burial, tried and true in the duster bin... and then drink to them,
with tonic and gin.
fare thee well,
my faithful, denim friend.
and consider this to be...
your heartfelt eulogy
kneedleknees Sep 2015
what we need is more banjo,
more djembe, more thunder finger
bass guitar --
what we need is less boredom --
less fear of failure,
less fear of *******,
less Jane Austen.
what we need is the electric charge
of neurons fire dancing like
the night sky of the fourth of
july,
what we need is to learn the lesson
of rivers and runners -- keep up
the momentum
what we need is more honey,
watermelon,
sweet potatoes,
peanut butter,
and coconut oil.
more weirdos, more hippies,
more punks, more rappers,
more poets, if you have something
to say we pretty much need you.
we need more gin and less gender roles
more sin and less slapstick
more trees and trampolines and ties
between you and I.
we don't even need to be human
we just need to be sustainable.
Brandon Aug 2013
Our nights end the same

My dog and I

I stretch out on the couch and read a few chapters in whatever book I'm reading
Probably something by Hemingway or Paulsen

She's laying on the floor grinding down the knuckle on a bone that she picked clean days ago

There's a cold bottle of beer or a gin drink or a glass of ice and water sitting next to me on the table and they never seem to last long enough
So I always put my book down and grab another, make another, drink another

I look away from my book and watch her chew the bone and she looks at me and I see the corners of her mouth  curl up into a smile and she slowly stands up and does the stretching thing that she does and wanders to the back door
Moves the curtains aside and lays down by the glass and looks out into the darkness

I finish the chapter and stand up, walk to the back door and open it, letting her run out wild in the yard

I smile as she leaps like a horse over her small swimming pool and bounces like a rabbit thru the yard

I close the door and go back to the couch and drink my drink and continue reading
Or maybe I watch a little tv
Even tho I'm not paying much attention and there is seldom anything on
Maybe I stand up to adjust the antennae to get the channel in
But maybe I just shut the tv back off and read instead

My dog scratches at the door and I know she wants to come back in and it is near time to go to bed anyway so I let her in and say let's go to sleep
She grabs her bone and runs upstairs, lays the bone down at the top of the steps, and lays in front of the door to the master bedroom, never entering without me beside her

I brush my teeth and grab my work clothes and go upstairs where she is still at the door waiting

I walk into the bedroom and she follows

I shut off the lights and climb into bed in the dark and she jumps up on the bed and lays down beside me

Waiting for me to pet her head or rub her belly before she gets back up and moves down towards the bottom of the bed and curls up at my feet

We fall asleep until the alarm goes off and it's time to get back up for another day.
Ray Sep 2014
Eleven AM
Rub back groggy eyes and stretch out cramped toes
get dressed if the fam is home
stay **** if it seems quiet
run back if you made the wrong assumption and try again
check your face, anything new?
Say hi to way-to-young-to-have-you wrinkles cross your forehead
say goodbye to bulbous pimples that arrived overnight
take a ****, check the news,
head downstairs and wait till noon.

Twelve PM, or sometime around then
you've said your hello's to your fam
if they're in,
and if not you say hi to comedy central and your bestie Gin
quarter past means its reasonable enough to climb back to bed
here's a hint:
to convince yourself you're busy,
keep your phone, laptop and tv all on or within arms reach.
That gets me through the day,
minus the occasional *** and drink break
or random banter between family
( only if cross paths accidentally)

Six PM
Time to give in and drink the rest of whatever's left from last night
*****, Wine, *** and Gin
Mix, grab my pack and head out back
chain-smoke until I gag and hack
sway and sing about those
doses and mimosas, that champagne and *******
but did it get me through?
or just mask the truth

1AM in bed still, or again
this is usually when my life comes crumbling in
either I'm destroying what I love or they're destroying myself
or maybe the ***** just makes it all seem like too much.
I'll say "Baby, I'm giving it up its too much,
I've had so many revelations, seen the light and been touched
**** tomorrow I'll be good, tomorrow I'll expand
I'll get my fat *** out of bed, I'll ******* shake a strangers hand
Tomorrow's the start baby, you'll see
Tomorrow I'll finally get back to being me"

Eleven AM
Rub back groggy eyes and stretch out cramped toes
get dressed if the fam is home
stay **** if it seems quiet
run back if you made the wrong assumption and try again
check your face, anything new?
Say hi to way-to-young-to-have-you wrinkles cross your forehead
say goodbye to bulbous pimples that arrived overnight
take a ****, check the news,
head downstairs and wait till noon.
Somehow I'm gonna turn this into a silent monologue for class but, here we go. Taken from my experience over this past year; not being in school, bouncing from job to job and completely given up on myself and the chance of a social life.
Emily Miller Mar 2018
The smell of salt water invokes the image of the sea shore.
The flush of red in lips makes one feel lustful.
A rocking sensation reminds one of the comfort of the womb.
But here in this bar, the sight of that Jameson bottle on the wall makes me think of nothing
But you.
You.
Unholy you,
With one hand brushing back unruly locks,
The other fiddling with a half-empty glass,
And that look on your face
Because you know exactly what’s going through my mind,
You.
And that green bottle perched on a shelf.
The bartender tries to hand me my gin and tonic,
But my eyes hover above her hair,
On the dim haze of a gleam on the dusty glass,
And suddenly the haze becomes hazier,
Blurry with the unexpected moisture pooling in my eyes.
Because it’s not just from you anymore,
The **** thing is a part of me,
Because I’ll never forget when you said my eyes are the color of the glass,
Your favorite bottle,
With your famous mischievous grin,
But a softer look in your eye,
So that I know what you really mean.
It’s not just that subtle bottle green color,
It’s the fact that you can’t get enough.
Drink after drink thrown back,
And just like your glass,
You throw me down,
And you say
“I’m thirsty.”
You consume me as easily as you consume whiskey,
And I’m an essence in a bottle to you.
Bought and sold,
A commodity to be replaced,
Because you’re insatiable...
But as I stand here with my eyes on that bottle,
I realize…
I don’t want to be your addiction anymore.
Waverly Feb 2012
In the middle of weekends
of drunkenness
I cry
over what I see.

I cry
over the man
I gave a marlboro
too,
as he bumbled
and shook
to get it too his mouth,
I leaned in
and gave him a cover
for his light.

I cry
over the deaths
and vigils
in the projects,
cry
over the fact
that there are men
who have been
killed
over menial ****.

I cry
over my mother
and grandmother,
because my love
tools away
in the darkness
of my soul
and I am not useful.

I cry
because I have not
seen my best friend
in years,
and I will perhaps
never see him again,
even when
we kept neighborhood ******
away,
back to back
swinging at the world
just to keep our
heads clean.

I cry
over love.

I cry
because there
is something warm
inside me,
as warm
as this gin.

So keep me in your prayers
I am a man crying,
because it roils
inside of me,
because I can't keep my emotions
in check, and don't want to.

I was raised around
a strong woman
with even
stronger emotions
that could be felt like
velvet
and pebbles,
and she taught me
how to be a man
and not lose my heart.
Tien - Tim Dec 2014
Trying to listen to my sober thoughts,
But my drunk ambition is a chaser.

Shot after shot,
I can't seem to stop.

So my mind's spinning,
as the world stand still.

I'm trying to get rid of this fear,
So I ask the bartender for another drink.

Fill me with courage as I confess my sins,
No need to preach, just baptize me in gin.

Just for tonight,
I'll erase ya.

Never been smart enough,
To listen to my mind.

Even when it's right,
My heart gets me Every time.

Will chasing dreams mean less regrets?
You regret you don't know them answers yet.

I regret that I even asked that ****..
But if life alone could mean anything..
Being right or wrong would you still dream?

They say in life only time will tell...
That's like hearing GOD whisper while the devil yell.

Being left only with my consciousness all alone with it just staring me in the face....
Bartender I think I need a refill..........
By KJ Pope and Myself,
kelia Aug 2015
you smell nice in the shape of a question mark
and your kisses ask me "will you stay"
usually blue, your eyes are dark

glass room
a pharohs tomb, so
everyone on the outside can see

these hearts too restless to ever ignite
say yes when he asks to stay the night

taking you home after a gin and tonic
a flash every few
not from cameras, but from zeus

we sleep parallel
and fit so well
you snore and cough and i don't mind
my hand reaches over and finds your broken spine

the stars sing their only lullaby
he doesn't love you, won't say goodbye

a question mark
a spark

a friends couch, faux fur was your gauze
as you clench your mouth

you're the best, you're the best ever
wipes a bead of sweat, you're my temporary lover
sleep until it is time for brunch
alarm clock is a phone call from your mother

i'm sorry i even tried
i thought i was different, that our spark hadn't died
i'll see you next time
in the shape of a heart

but next time, i won't let you sleep
i'll tear you apart
leave you, grab my things
"until next time,"
in the shape of a scar
Hannah Christina May 2018
be gin and it seems there is so much time left / pro ceed ing and speed ing much fast er a gain / craw ling and march ing the mo ments count down / the tick ing grows loud er the se cond hand 's shou ting and fas ter yet slo wly i'm fro zen a sleep / i'm thin king in slo mo time's spee ding and surg ing a round de com pos ing and what do i mean  ? what can i show for the min utes i'm was ting ? i need to be mov ing like there 's no time left / can i get some where make some thing be fore the end ? move me to trust you build some thing be cause I can 't / ev er y se cond i'm dying i need your breath /
Trying something a bit different than my usual form.
Edits made 5/27/18
Karen Nicole Oct 2016
gusto kong lumapit sayo
ngunit, sa tuwing gagawin
ramdam ko ang 'yong paglayo
pagmamaka-awa'y dinggin

gusto kong hagkan ka muli
alam 'to ng mga bituin
bukambibig 'to sa gabi
binubulungan ang hangin

ngunit anong magagawa?
kung ayaw mo na saakin
isa lang akong mahina
gin'wa para 'kay mahalin
unang tagalog na tula tungkol sa pag-ibig.
cel May 2013
Looking out
Around
There is a generation
Not the one with angelheaded hipsters
That were laid infamously famous
But truly a generation that is its own

Cold, calculating, as they, we, must
Be now that there is everything
There is everything here but right now
As we are surrounded by the everything that
Makes up our filled lives, we concentrate on
The nothing.
So we, they, them, I all must be cold, calculating
Networking, meeting, greeting, cheering,
Pleading for work in the everything that is
Nothing.

And as I look out, through the window
Into our generation, my generation
There is a warmness
A kindness once
unfamiliar to coldness and calculating
Where despite distance, time, values, reasons
Nothing
everything
Bonds are made

Is it this cold networking, greeting, meeting that
Allows for the kindness that kindles the fire
That keeps our cheeks warm and glowing
A soft pink in the dead of night
As we stand by kegs, cups, tables, cops, cars, bars,
By girls vomiting on their own volition or not
By boys raising hell as their families admonish but
Their cultures praise

We, Them, I, They, Us, can not know
What we, them, I, They Us are doing
Just as others didn’t know what they
Were doing, and meaning and becoming maryters for
On a clear fall day, when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky
Yet turbulence filled the air, the nation and the world.

They, We, I, Us, Them, do not even
Consider their meaning as they ponder
Fake lives on interposed mediums
Or if they are Jackies,
Or Marilyns or
Audreys

Or if laying down somewhere
just as warm as it is cold
As they touch souls with others
Means anything more than nothing
If they can hold on as they try to let go
When an entire world begs them not to

But the teenage desire to rebel is strong
And the pull of the vast of emotions is stronger
And as we seem to be losing
In clusters
The We.
I.
Us.
They. Them
The fire never dims, and the warm pink glow never flickers
Off our cheeks
And the mix of cold calculations and
Pleasant beatitudes
Combine, like a nights plans
In a gin bucket

And the thought of importance, rarely is thought
Of aside from the few
The brave
Maybe a Marine, but mostly
Those who wish to cure things, change other things
Create things, build things, code things
Things Things Things Things.
T-H-I-N-G-S
For a future of nothing and everything
Everything and nothing
Ashlyn Kriegel May 2014
I didn´t intend to forget.
I didn´t intend to kiss you and bite your lip that hard.
I didn´t intend to smile so much.
I didn´t intend to be found on top of some stranger.
When I woke up, it was all a dream,
My memory wiped clean everything I would have wanted to forget.
But when I want to remember,
It isn´t there.
I didn´t mean to drink so much
Except have you ever felt so free?
I was free and unafraid.
That guy thinks I´m cute? Good thing I have no problem talking to him.
I want another drink? Good thing I can charm myself into another free gin and tonic.
Free drinks. Free me.
I remember that it all tasted like water:
My body needed it and I was constantly thirsty for more.
I remember at first there was a burning sensation in my throat,
But eventually all the ***** slid into my stomach with ease
Like I had been doing this for years.
Getting drunk seemed like fun.
The music was loud, the room was dark enough,
Who would know?
Except everyone knew.
Everyone knows.
They know I can´t remember,
Or maybe they can´t remember if I remember.
I didn´t intend to kiss you
Or even meet you in the first place.
I should have just gone home,
But I wanted my new discovered water so bad
And I was dying of thirst.
I didn´t intend to have no control over my actions
My words
My memory.
I didn´t intend to be found on top of some stranger
With sores covering his face and hated by the town.
I didn´t intend to be found on top of the local drug addict.
I didn´t intend to be an addict,
But my body needed water.
I didn´t intend to find scrates all over my body.
Were they from his nails?
Or did I fall over on the pavement that many times?
I didn´t intend to be sick or create a mess,
Except how do I apologize for something I don´t remember?
How can I hold myself with dignity anymore?
How can I confidently say that he didn´t take advantage of me
When I don´t remember?
Maybe if I drink water again,
I will forget that I ever forgot.
Jett Bleue Mar 2013
I watch you as you contemplate how you’ll ask this ******* a date.
You stir and go pale with the increase of your heart-rate, fuelled by five ale.
Your pupils begin to dilate from the spinning of your mind, which has induced a headache.

You twitch and you itch the same spot on your head until the skin turns red.
Gagging on your gin as it spills down your chin in a quick blast of Dutch courage.
The burden and dread weighs you down like a ton of lead.
All these symptoms seem so hard to shake.

Your tongue bleeds with how hard you’re biting it.
Trying to find the determination, but your fear keeps fighting it.
The pours of your forehead seep out the perspiration.
The desperation in your veins taps your foot in impatience, waiting on some moment of inspiration;
All this for a risk you’ll never take.
Shashank Virkud Aug 2010
Flying in a florid fit,
I'm cutting close to the cosmos.
Off the top of my head
I get dizzy, sixty green gleam stars
half a yard away from my pink threads.

Let me think of a time I wasn't with you,
it's so hard to choose, confused
by my ruse you follow all the clues
to my blue room.
This night is ******* up.

I should be in the garden
with all my friends,
laughing at all the trends,
singing for hours inside my head.
Instead I tread on a few fibers of
brilliant blue and pink threads.

Stay awake, take it slow while I kindle and glow.
The effect will never dwindle or go away.

Sixty green gleam stars
that lit up my blue room.
Like I've never felt before,
these mushrooms.
Fumes from hash, I kindle, I glow.
My blue room has one window.
Nothing like a ******* drug on cue
to take me to the blue room.

Look below,
as the distance grows
with quiet gin, two violins and a piano
pick the perfect piece to paint the scenario.

When I miss you
I write some ****,
but this isn't it.
There's a trail you take
to the room the moon
turns a pale hue of blue.

Stay awake, take it slow while I kindle and glow.
The effect will never dwindle or go away.

My pink threads aren't very far
from sixty green gleam stars
I put to paper with lead.
This view from my blue
room will keep you awake,
with a feeling to fake for it.
Shashank Virkud- From As the Distance Grows
estelle deamor Mar 2015
So, how are you?
Hopefully, you don’t have that cough anymore,
Because that would be tough for me for sure.

So, how was your day?
You might be up again till the morning,
Because you have been thinking, writing.

So, how is your heart?
If it is hurting,
Don’t worry, I’m here to listen.

So, will you not ask how I am?
For you, that might not be a big issue,
While I’m here, so much missing you.

--Originally written in Winaray--

Ginmimingaw Ako Ha Imo

*Ano kumusta ka na?
Kunta diri ka na gin-iinubo,
Kun diri, masusubo gud ako.

Ano kumusta an imo adlaw?
Bangin nagpiniraw ka na liwat,
Pagpinanhuna-huna, pagsinurat.

Ano kumusta an imo kasing-kasing?
Kin malain it imo ginbabati,
Ayaw kabaraka, pwede man ako mamati.

Ano diri ka mangungumusta ha akon?
Para ha imo, waray la siguro,
Samtang ako adi, ginmimingaw ha imo hin duro.
Abeille Oct 2013
I woke in a haze
I noticed how strange you were
No more gin for me

That evening I tried
To act like I didn't mind
We watched a movie

BUT

I hardly know you
I can't be your ******* friend
I hate what happened

You surely recall,
Better than I, what we did
And that’s just not fair

Just leave me alone
Danny O'Sullivan Jul 2013
not so glamorous that i'm crying
diamonds into martini glasses.
'what's your poison' ?
scowling into dry gin mirrors
'anything.' cuz the fountain of youth
doesn't exist
Aaron LaLux Mar 2020
Where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins,

and I don’t drink but pour me some gin,
I’m way down going rounds all in,
want to help the planet don’t know how to save it,
praying for redemption,

black white old young,
discrimination is an illusion woman or man,
truth so bright it hurts the eyes,
in the sun soul got a tan,

where are you at,
before we check out let’s check in,
suicide not an option so what’s the plan b,
pen in my hand is a lethal weapon,

no Danny Glover or Mel Gibson,
just a car with no roof firing pistons,
and if Death was at my door last night,
I didn’t notice and missed Him,

feels like it’s all about to end,
forget a lover I just need a friend,
because I’m not feeling ****** these days,
heck I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,

this is an Ode To Those That Know,
or at least to those that still show,
some sort of emotional intelligence,
anyways whatever hello from the other side it’s time to go,

but to where is the question,
as you sit there staring at this screen,
self isolation world in tribulation,
please let me know if you know what I mean,

where to start,
don’t know where to begin,
coronavirus has the whole globe scared,
trying to stay balanced as the world spins…

∆ LaLux ∆

3/20
In the market place they are selling, pipes to smoke your dreams upon
and the coffee trader shuts up shop and yet decides to linger on,
the pots and pan man is making eyes at
the widow woman, who tells him,
go away and free your sorrows
when you come back bring the gin
and
the rain comes down in tinsel town
and
the streets all disappear,
it could have happened only yesterday but you
know it was last year.
FINFIN THE DOLPHIN

Poor Fin Fin, once was Fred's  favourite  toy dolphin;

But was now sadly rejected; and lying in a dustbin.

Thrown out it was because a drunk servant fed it a little gin.

A small rag-picker boy,  picked it up; from the dustbin.

washing it, wiping it;  now made it look new and clean.

As he was walking past a river, in it fell poor FinFin.

Sad was the lad, this was really bad; for now drowned FinFin.

A man, consoling him said, "grow n come up one day will, this dolphin".

Come Danny, would daily, our lil boy, to look for his FinFin.

To his astonishment great, one day he saw a big dolphin.

With glee he cried, as he saw it,  " look, here's my dear FinFin".

Days went by, with some food, he would daily feed FinFin;

Throw a ball at it, he would n return it back, would the dolphin.

Gathered people now to see this play; giving him money, in a bin.

Happily jump,  dance and spin around would,  FinFin .

During one such act, along with the ball, fell the lad as he did over-lean.

Promptly picked him up and brought him safely back, our cute FinFin.

Friends for ever they became; lil Danny and our cute FinFin, the dolphin.

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Luna Casablanca Feb 2016
He was one of a kind better than
I dreamed
I told him a secret then was
nothing of what I
seemed.
To him I was beautiful
then too much was exposed.
Still I wait till I take off his mind
all that I disclosed.
The chills he gave me
my heart would pound.
I followed him everywhere
till he was nowhere to be
found.
I pushed, I made,
I thought this was lemons into
lemonade.
Looks like it’s a mixed drink.
I miss him so much but he
is not worth a mintue’s think.
Laying on the ground after
whiskey and gin.
Putting in too much like
the information I
gave him.
Afraid of what he would think,
I became a mixed drink.
He couldn’t wait till I arrived
later I was the reason he
was too emotional
to drive.
I’m just glad
he’s
alive.
Never feel the need to explain yourself to somebody who
wants you.
Peach Feb 2014
I want silence
7 minutes
Without you in my head
5 minutes
Where the bustle of this so called life is muted
And the next 23 seconds
To just breathe without feeling so much shame

I spend an ungodly amount of time
Washing away your memory
My last shower lasted
49 minutes, 37 seconds
I can still smell gin and your musky cologne
Sometimes I feel clean...almost whole
Today I feel filthy, stained with past violence

Someone said that memories eventually fade
Slowing bleeding away into nothing

They lied

© 2013- 2014 Peach
Sommer Wickham Apr 2015
I hear your heavy footsteps stumbling across the floor again
You've got a can in one hand and a bottle of gin
Your clothes are wrinkled and your hair is a mess
Your eyes are bright red and so ******* lifeless
I would try to help you along
But I've learn from the past that it would be terribly wrong
You'd just push me away and say you're okay
And that I need to worry about how my life is today

Father father for I have sinned- I am not enough for you
Not worthy of your love, or to be anywhere close or near you
I've try to be a doll of a daughter, I've try to sew my lips
I've tried to be the child you want and read from all the scrips
But father father can't you see? The only one you have is me.

When you're mad I can feel the heat
You cuss as storm that can't be beat
Your words are knives and I'm your board
You cut so deep like it's a reward
Because of you my mind is hell
Because of you my confidence fell
One day you'll get what you deserve

Father father for I have sinned- I am not enough for you
Not worthy of your love, or to be anywhere close or near you
I've try to be a doll of a daughter, I've try to sew my lips
I've tried to be the child you want and read from all the scrips
But father father can't you see? The only one you have is me.

This is it, I've come to an ending
I'm sick of your voice and I am done pretending
You ungrateful soul I hope you crash
Maybe then you'll realize my wish at last
How hard is it to do your job
Without drinking and promise breaking?
You've broken my trust by the choices you're making.

Father father for I have sinned- is that what you want me to say?
Your screams make me apologize when things don't go your way.
Im so very sorry when I disappoint you
But father father you're the only one to look up to.
this poem is about my friends father.
zak Aug 2015
In a sea of gin you sailed,
To conquer a future you dreamt of
In a hallucinogen induced haze
You exhaled smoke with every breath,
Fogging the world over with your intoxicated ideas
Sentencing rebel thoughts to death
You figured you were in an epic,
The ones where the hero stood against the world alone
But only you were against you and it was tragic
That battle was lost when you sold your heart for a bottle of poison disguised as magic
You were a beat
Pumping rythym always
put you on your feet

You were the big Dean
A man of virtuous sin
and grandfather's raspberry gin

Now you're too tired
to even see the end
kirk May 2016
He's Lying in a fruit box in a grocers car
Swinging with Granny Smith, stuffed his own Grandma
Rolled up at the Angry Veg, went in for a jar
After crumbling granny, a lovely pair behind the bar
A randy sort of fellow, he wants to go quite far
Things where looking up, a nice pair without a Bra

Ready to get his leaves off, his pips he wants to sew
A randy kind of apple, knowing how far he wants to go
Hoping that the nice pair is a ***** kind of ***
After he is turned on, his juice will surely flow

He is such a ***** **** the fruits he liked to blow
If he's making it with Gin, he'll **** them really sloe
Peeling back his outer skin, his nakedness will show
Once her juice is flowing, that pair will start to glow
Seeing everything he's got, but no one needs to know
She'll be pulling more than pints, his *** will slowly grow

******* on a nice pair for him it is nutritious
She has her reservations because he's too ambitious
And as he gets her peel off she becomes suspicious
That he's had a *******, with ripe golden delicious

But by now it is to late for that **** pair
He has her in his power pined her to the chair
Such a ***** ******* but he has that certain flair
For getting fruity with the fruits, especially when their bare

What a swanky fellow he always plays the field
Once he gets his wicked way, nothing is concealed
He loves fruity juiciness, their succulence is revealed
Only when their both undressed and their skins are peeled
For that pair he's got her, so she has will have to yield
Once he gets inside her then she knows her fate is sealed

His hands are all over her just like a hairy spider
As his *** gets bigger spreading her legs wider
She's under his control, so he will be her rider
Ramming his *** between her leafs a juicy slippy slider
Making all their juices flow to make barrels of sweet cider
He will have to squeeze her first when he begins to ride her

After he has finished and now that she is spent
Juices have been squeezed out, leaves are torn and bent
He's had his ******* pleasure his *** that he has lent
All he wanted was a good ****, nothing was really meant
Now that he has had her, he hasn't made a dent
On many different types of fruit, he has that fruity scent
All he ever wants to do, is have them in a box or tent
**** them fast and **** them slow, until they all ferment

So that's the story of Big Apple *** who is fine and dandy
He is such a ***** fellow it's no wonder he's called Randy
**** fruit he fancies, he wants all different types of candy
He likes the young and succulent type but their not always handy
So he'll settle for old Granny smith or if not a hand shandy
And if he cannot get a ****, he'll drink a glass of brandy
Bobby Golden Nov 2015
Whass hannin unc ?

How you doin' unc?
You doin' alright unc ?
that's good unc
I'm glad you good unc
What's that unc?
What you say unc ?
You need money .. ?
Na unc I can't help ya
I see you everyday on this block
Beggin for help
Not once have u ask me if I need anything
I can't give you money unc
I'd rather date a Waffle House waitress
211 Steal reserve breath or gin
On a good day
The bottle controls you unc
I've watch you deteriorate
Year after year on this block
You know the dope boys at dollar general don't **** with you
They tease and throw lil dollas at you man
And I don't like you hanging with Marty unc
You know he's off the "hair-ron"
That's not a good look
And I gave you a purple sweater
Last week unc
Do you still have it ?
Don't tell me you traded it ...
See unc
This is why you here
I hope you alright
This time next year
No this isn't my real uncle
Liv Jun 2013
Diamond beads roll off my skin
Sweaty hands and age old gin
Sunshine pupils in candy eyes,
Crying gumdrops and sugarcoated lies.
Raindrops on my fingertips
Poison blood on broken lips
Black and blue painted thick
Cheeks flushed red; a simple trick
**** yourself but stay alive
On your rotting soul they'll thrive.
The shadows of forgotten thoughts,
Who rap themselves around your heart
And suffocate the breath you wished was gone
Turned my sunshine into war

I don't feel better anymore.
Thomas Crone Dec 2012
Ye who rigid up your brow
The time hath come
The time is now.
Sailing head into the fire
Ye think your strong?
You're up for hire.

First
Hurrah! We sail!
Across the sea,
Our faces pale
And drinking mead.
Us crew prepare
For what's to be;
Her vicious trials
She throws to thee.
The winds are strong,
Our journey long.
We ready up
For stars to lead.

Second
Hurrah! We sail!
Our will is strong
We'll never fail!
We chant our song:
For ye who wish
For dreams
Come true:
Ye must fight for,
Through and through.
The think'n thin,
Ye down your gin
For fight is all to do.

Third
Hurrah! We sail!
We feast tonight
With bread and mead,
We celebrate.  
Our time of need
For land for *****
Hath soon to be.
That blessid lady,
Blessid be,
Her briefs so tight
Oh, blessid me!
She waits ashore
Across this sea.
She wants some more
Ye brethren and me!

Fourth
Hurrah! We sail!
The shore awaits!
To send ye mail,
To tell thy fate
Morale was high
Our time was nigh!
We fought for life
And none hath died!
So riddle this ye swabbie;
To be a man my friend,
For home we sail at dawn,
Hurrah! We sail again!
Wednesday Nov 2015
He said:
"let's pretend you don't come in waves of blue hair and mystery."  

Lets take these shots so you can be a bad girl for me.
And I stood there toeing a half empty beer can
with my beat up boots thinking
"what the **** dude?"

He said I want to get to know you,
I want to see if what they say is true.
I look up through the smoke and the lights and the crowd
and tell you "It is".

And this excites him. "Oh yeah baby I know what you are".

"What am I? I thought was nothing but a blue haired mystery, an enigma, a presence to be desired...",
and he leans in to me, his gin soaked breath in my ear:

"You love, are a ******* temptress."

So now I have been reduced to all damsel all lust all distress.
Those stupid princes never stop to wonder
if the pretty face in the tower even wants to be rescued.

Cause babe, I never asked to be saved.

Cause maybe I have built these walls to keep men like you out.
Or maybe I just wanted to have the chance to
invite you in on my own terms.

Maybe I just wanted to be able to escort you out.
This has never been my prison, this is my tower.
My legacy.
Devon Lane Nov 2018
XYZ
We move to the rhythm of the city
Beating to the waves of adrenaline, never pity.

I need to hold you close, this affliction is impossible to diagnose.

Trying to comprehend and begging Gods and Monsters that tonight will never end.

Our Sonic Youth cannot be contained,
Electronic and unashamed.

With brains that bleed idiosyncratically and make magic with words or a pen,

Hands that turn a gin and tonic into something drastically more chronic.

The solution to the problem is that the cause is quite solemn.

Leave everything behind for a new place;  taste your favorite stranger's face.

Let them know that their perfume can light up a whole room.

We're searching for the people we've been our whole lives, in structures we do not recognize.

Know that most women that dream only survive on nicotine,

Slow Dancing in the Dark just to feel Nevermore than a spark.

This is how it feels to be unreal, when your entire body becomes brittle steel.

Don't let the season tantalize your demons.

If you can feel your own unapologetic heart, realize that this is just the start.

And when you're tired of leaving, run.
Alexis Martin Jul 2012
she's the kind of girl
who wears rain boots in summer
in hopes of catching the eye
of anything or anyone

he's the kind of boy
who sews patches on his denim
in attempts to impress
the punkrock cardboard cutouts

they're the kind of kids
whose parents keep a watchful fist
on nothing but the bottles of gin
hidden in the top drawer

— The End —