"headrush" poems
And in the whitest dark I
Ask for only that
To keep
Me there, for just the span of
Your snowglobe smile
That aftershock nightlight in the
Afternoon heat
Wait for me there
With your bayonet heart
Hands
Shoulders
Beneath the powerline
Wire, asleep but for me
Awake but for
The rest
And doze after
Half-light dreams and
Headrush spotlights that
Blur and
Mar my
Little love frame
Bright night air, fill
Every niche
Till whole is all
And all is this
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
she was reading haruki murakami
and licking her lips of muffin crum
bs - - i, placated via cellphone, calle
d to leave a message for a friend ab
out Oscar Wilde's De Profundis a
s i think i forgot it on his couch spea
k-easy speak-fast distract myself wit
h cigarette headrush rants and slow-
mo's she moves close gazing as i c
uriously whisper back with connect
ed pupil and she comes so so close - - g
arbage can next to me close - - she keep
s peeking at me, pulls out norwegian w
ood scans road i awkwardly pull out an
thology of chinese poems from backpa
ck to possibly impress! she keeps peek
ing peeking peeking i almost start conve
rsation but heart-beats race-track grand
prix miss my bus and i know it almost re
trieve cigarette from pocket (ghoulish goo
dy) second-guess she may think it unattra
ctive? no shiney faced race horse (*do u ev
en lift, bro - - no dude i don't, i literally do
n't lift*) cement truck clamours past and i n
ot really paying attention to the ******* c
hinese poems anyway begin to read the way
the sun glances off the spinning barrel like c
hinese poetry - - glancing always to newspea
k my way into awkwardity so ******* he
adrush** she walks away, turns on heel to loo
k me in darting eyeballs (*are u coming? i sup
pose so, jesus*) i clamour onto my feet and foll
ow her pretend to be checking bus-times ya fu
ckin goof 15X arrives and she departs without
a smoke-signal we were close we were close we
were close *and i missed my bus waiting for my
self to brave-and-snake* so i walk away pretend-
careless and finally retrieve cigarette from pocket
read the smoke like chinese poetry (ghoulish goody)
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
I took way too many pills tonight
And I'm driving way too fast
I'm drunk as **** and smoked too much
I'm just trying not to crash
This car is way too full
Of people and contraband
But the road is open and the night is young
So I'm gonna scorch the land
Motor head rush - My engines burning
Motor head rush - Wheels are turning
Motor head rush - Turbo mode engage
Motor head rush - this may be the day
I'm on way too many drugs right now
To be going a hundred miles
I didn't even realize until now
My passenger has me in her mouth
I'm just trying not to die
And take this car out with me
But if tonight should be our night
We go out in a blaze of glory
Motor head rush - My engines burning
Motor head rush - Wheels are turning
Motor head rush - Turbo mode engage
Motor head rush - this may be the day
If tonight should be our last
If this ride ends in disaster
I just want you all to know
How I love you so....
Motor head rush - My engines burning
Motor head rush - Wheels are turning
Motor head rush - Turbo mode engage
Motor head rush - this may be the day
This may be the day
That we die!
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
We've been having such a good time out here lately
chasing chasing chasing this summer to the end
of its life,
and it's about time we took half a handful of
something decent to calm our nerves, breathe slow
in and out just like we practiced when
the stars hid their faces and we decided
the nights were getting short and we'd
better hide ours, too.
and I know our brains will always be
a little bit hardwired for self destruction,
but before you go digging around again
in old scraps searching for new ways to place blame, new ways to fit
our shoulders with damage & **** counts,
take this down off the shelf
take a deep breath and hand
me the blueprints.
Sometimes I trip over my tongue when I speak, sometimes I forget and just
mumble instead,
and sometimes I tear out stiches too early
sometimes I don't get what I want and I blame myself
hate myself for thinking that we all have to come to terms with our own
versions of crash-and-burn fairytales,
but isn't that the truth of it all? If this
brutal reality doesn't shake us and stir
the dust from our bones, nothing will;
no morning or afterlife can save us until
we stop sharpening our teeth and put down our steel blades
nothing is made forever, but forever
is made up of a lot of nothings,
the way we stir the *** on our bad (or good) days is only one of them;
the way we tell ourselves we aren't important is a lie
don't whisper this into my ears at dusk,
scream it into the sky
scream it into the palms of your hands until you can't breathe anymore,
it has never been better, it has never been worse
work your desires into your
DNA coding
detonate what's left in your system
(start over again)
I'm finding new ways to stand still on this high balancing beam
new rituals and new ways to throw my hat off to you,
give credit where credit is due
I only hope that when it's said and done
and I'm on my way out
I'll know half of what I do right now,
feel it surging in my headrush & in the burn
of my fingers
I hope I'll know on my way out the door:
Nothing has ever been better and nothing has ever been worse.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
heavenly
tipsy, drinking in
sights, delights, a few odd sides
im intoxified.
swinging around poles, singing gleefully
because of the tall waters,
divine despair
is it too humid in here?
or can i not breathe in this murky air?
headrush,
spinning, sirens whirl above me...
at thirty five thousand feet
to ascend, devour
the happiness, anxiety for a few short--
hours?
click, flash,
paparazzi, lights--
"welcome to miami"
art deco, delight...
on the beaches, slightly still
drunk in nightlife.
laughter, singing
whats the language?
what the hell are they saying?
i hear hapiness, sanity...
at feet, equal to the sea[s]
so watch me,
im merely ********
in english, please... tell me
what is spanish for
"What the ****
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 3:28 AM UTC
Falling for toxic boys
when will we realise
Mr. Wrong wreaks havoc
whereever he goes
leaving behind a litany of woes
What’s the attraction of the bad lad?
known universally as a cad
pure catnip for some women
in their pool I won’t be swimming
Maybe their addicted to drama
flying in the face of karma
is ungentlemanly behaviour mistaken for passion
or wearing a lothario the new fashion
Their well versed in the art of seduction
continuously rehearsing their next production
maybe romance with a ladies man is a headrush
back in the day I had many a bad lad crush
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 10:28 AM UTC
Thunder, and Lightning decided to open up their relationship.
Invited me to join them in a Triad.
Thunder and lighting have this eternal connection,
Belong together
I love watching them dance
Perform for me impulsive without leashes
I worship the trust that requires
The loyalty, faith in each other
Flying wherever they want,
Loving loud and without boundary
Knowing this storm belongs to them.
Safety, Definition: that moment after every passionate lovers kiss.
We are worshiped as the same storm.
Now I have the oppurtunity to build intimate connections with thunder.
With lightning.
Thunder has this base drop palpitation
Our hearts twitch in time just to align
The feeling of her crushing my butterflies
With firm hands, a passionate kiss that lasts only seconds.
Lighting comes in these quick bursts
I never feel like I can look at him long enough
Bright, dangerous
Knows he could **** me in a second
If he only touched me
He will never touch me
Only dance
Never long enough
Keeps me craving more
Likes to give me that headrush
When he returns.
As for me,
I was content just worshiping them
Every second they weren't worshiped,
Wasted chances, lost time, missing puzzle peices.
I didn't expect an invitation
This chance to see them honestly
Two seperate beautiful creatures to worship
Instead of one savory storm to feel pulse through me as one dancer.
I'm just an awestruck boy staring at the sky
Lost in endless baby blue, warm off sunrays, or choosing my favorite freckles in the stars
More lovers to distract me when they are gone.
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
So then the Gnostic heresies issued in one of two beliefs. They believed either that Jesus was not really divine but simply one of a series of emanations from God, or that he was not in any sense human but a kind of phantom in the shape of a man. The Gnostic beliefs at one and the same time destroyed the real godhead and the real manhood of Jesus.
from: The Gospel of John by William Barclay (1955)
Gnosis reveals in reverberation:
you’ve done too many **** hits.
You sprawl at the threshold of psychosis
until the shape of the song fits.
Your cannabis-flavored thoughts implode—
you glimpse the Divine Emanation
as the lesser vibrations diminish and die
now you enter the shrine of elation.
This rare revelation—imparted to you
(the neurotransmitters surge)
seems to show that you know, that you know, that you know
the deceptions of Demiurge . . .
Oct 6, 2017
Oct 6, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
you don't notice the pitying looks until it's 9 in the morning and you're halfway done with your third cup of gas station coffee
you barely even notice it then
so you're dragging your feet across the pavement, eyes mostly shut, carrying a briefcase in your left hand and a scalding cup of caffeine powder + water in your right
it's not that you're tired
you manage to get a good four hours most nights
it's that you cannot focus
everything around you is more than a little blurry
red edges on your vision and shadows somehow pixelated
you're stumbling across the street when you realize that somewhere along the way
you managed to finish that third cup
and your hand is uselessly gripping empty air
it falls to your side
and it takes a few steadying breaths to deal with the headrush that always accompanies such a revelation
you have an agreement
but you don't know who with
it's someone you met years ago
in a hospital
eyes bright and idealistic
you don't remember the agreement either
but it was something important
and you remember that
that's what matters, isn't it?
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
Walking, talking, eating,
One lover only baking,
hum waking- up
Is anyone good
at loving?
Always
giving
metals
The modern
love robot
((ATM))
machine
There is
no
place
Oh! Yes
Lend me all
lovers
at my home
The ((OZ)) fame
Artsy Auntie
(EM) so lame
Listening to
(REM)
Headrush
Makeup
blush also
*** in-between
My break up___
My lunch hour
All over again
throwing
cash
way off the street
look out I almost
crashed____
That Casanova
racer
slim
reducer
My
((ATM))
Sexter machine
Pixstar diet
Laughing to
the bank
You are
better
But in the
least seeing
Her for what
she is
The beauty
she is making
up the beast
He is the
Eight personalities
Burnt money
Miss French fries
Baby blue eyes cry
My cash went dry
Henry the eighth
The love affair in
September Goth
Just recently shot
Lord of the rings
Be sure you don't get
the blues
She-devil jeweler
Saphire I
got rushed
She fires out!!
She Forgets **
The finest
champagne
candles
On the tenth
Cash reminder rush
I cannot recall
how I
got here?
I will be back
for the cash!!
That gave her
Total recall
Over there
someone
left more
cash
Someone
overloaded trash
What cash potential
her best clothes
He looked like
moon dancer
Jacksons five
black glove
Casanova the
best climate
For Cash
Australian mate
Jumping
Jack Flash
You cant always
get what
you want
But if you try
sometimes
You might get
what you need
Don't rush
your life away
With that
Casanova
Don't rush your
stars of
the Nova Scotia
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 2:30 PM UTC
You give me such a head rush,
The kind where you lose your breath
Face flushed
Where I'm stuttering on every word
Filled with electricity,
Power surge
You want me?
Well come on and ******* find me
I'll be waiting
Resisting the urge to
Even think about what you do to me
Patiently
I don't know how long
I can hold it in- until you see me?
Maybe
But can I resist the urge to burst
When you're underneath & inside of me
We'll see
I love you sir
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:06 PM UTC
she opens her eyes
to the frightening sight
it is nothing overly obscure;
just his face over hers
what are you doing here?
whispers
*(it's been a long time since i've seen you;
i thought we would keep it that way.)*
a fire exit by the window
headrush of memories
she never reached out for help
she knew it would be worse that way
whiskey on his breath
screams
silence
darkness
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:06 PM UTC
She slides it out
The sound of paper gently scraping cardboard
And it embraces her lips
A click and a glow
And all he can see
Is the ruddy orange light
And all he can hear
Is the sibilant intake of breath
As she draws her thoughts in
Warm and acrid
Through pursed lips she exhales languidly
And the breeze takes away her worries
And she gets a headrush
And takes in another mouthful of smoke
Scenting the air
She watches the white expand
Flowing like liquid through the air
She smiles to herself
As she takes her last drag
And a light in the dirt
Fades out into the night
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 4:32 PM UTC
A smoker quits for 2 and a half months
After the months away
She doesnt crave for a smoke
Often she thinks
If someone were to offer her one she wouldnt say no
The offer arrives
Just a puff
A taste
Its not enough
She begs for the full cigarette
After finishing it off
The headrush comes
The feeling of fullness
Tic toc tic toc
The high is gone
The addiction sets in
Its only been a moment
But she wants another
She wants to feel again
She knows she has spent two months without
But with only that one little touch
That minute of bliss
The hook is back
All she can think about
Is this feeling she is missing
"Drop the addiction
Be free"
Her mind begs
later she caves and asks
"Can i just have one more"
A cigarette is not nearly as addictive as you
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 4:48 PM UTC
If I write your name on a cigarette and smoke it
am I blowing you away
and into the air
or am I breathing you in
even closer than before
you’re under my skin
and that’s the thing
with you and cigarettes
I can still smell it
when it’s over
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
I have never met a more complacent lot,
Than those of my compatriots;
Never have citizens been more obedient,
Than those of my immediates.
Forget spilled tea, today it's
Watered down coffee.
Biscuits cut with sawdust
Out from smaller & smaller molds,
Eating whatever fed us.
Cause we all know hunger
Believing any narrative pushed so long as it's prevailing;
The populace obsessed with popularity.
It's a headache & a headrush in the states,
Cool if you make the breaks
But that's like hitting the ******* lottery.
You gotta ask, what gives?
What does it take
To get a fair chance to stake a claim
In a country full of people who don't give a ****
What sense does it even make
To try,
When no one in charge does?
For my own lot, & life -
Whether tis here or afar
May 13, 2024
May 13, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC
Oh the times we're living in
I can't feel my body
but for the burning in my throat
Bathed in talent
and guiding experience
fighting a cold numbness
lifting headrush
I lose the meaning
I lose the direction
But not the heart
so tell me
aren't these the times we're living in?
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Pushing the ground away - with iron cutoff
The sough interlight of toller - outgoes
From islands - floating - in the choir
Collisions - of world state waves
Counteract - of contradictions
Forgot to remember - throughout from the depths
Eroded - fractures - cuirass of theirs - is moss
And shrouded - with sprouting - cold wrists
Dew trails - hands flooded -
To wash the soot of the blood from one's face -
Up to phalangeals - lacerated - spring of pyrexia
Mindbreak - helplessly curdled
Seeing - far-heading stabs to inhale
Trouncing to raise - the head up -
In the fratricide craving
Hum - and of body parts - ocean
Blind sea-gulls - skrike - and anthracites'
****** - is in embrace interlocked
Drogues - are not eaten to bone - and no brink-
Of - he-li-o-cen-tri-cly driven -
Mound - and weak swellings -
Nauseating headrush
Endowing to - entrails - of cascade
Dissonance - limbs - apart
Feb 21, 2025
Feb 21, 2025 at 6:36 AM UTC