"humbles" poems
*Lord, let them see me as a fool
If only You’ll undo me
Take pride and self and rights away
But beckon me come to Thee
If failing is what humbles me
If falling is what breaks me
Then let me fall and fail and faint
Just come, possess and take me
You are the One my soul desires
There is none other for me
So bring the storms, the trials, the woes
For in those best I know Thee
You see the pain my heart requires
To mold and make me like Thee
So send the fires which please You most
I will not fear what strikes me
I trust Your goodness and Your grace
They shall not ever fail me
You hide my life safe in Your grasp
Though hell’s worst fiends assail me
You’ve chosen me as Your own child
A treasure ‘cause You found me
You’ve named me Your beloved bride
With glory You’ll soon crown me!*
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:39 PM UTC
We need negativity
It's the only thing more potent than the potion of positivity
While we concern ourselves with the priority of support that positivity brings
Negativity is what makes up move
It's the faults we strive to perfect
In the aspect of perfect
Perfect itself is seen as positive to the point of negative outcomes
To pick on looks or physical attributes
To be stepped on
These are the negative effects of favoritism
That let humans know they are humans to other humans in the best of ways
It's the negative the humbles
And the positive that opens possibilities
Only to fall on the cushion
It's the negative that wraps the fear into a burrito and the positivity that plates it on hope
It fills us while the other gives flavor
And while you might disagree
I just talking about human equality
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
#*Your hair stills heart's rhythmic meter
For this I wish forever
Strands spun with goddess gossamer;
softer than touch of mother
Your eyes dazzle with no glitter
For this I stare o're yonder
Locking jewels with coins of others;
Leaves throbbing chests emptier
Your form flows as gentle rivers
For this I grudge past swimmers
Glory bequeathed to the winner;
drown will the losing suitors
Your voice humbles angel choirs
For this I listen eager
Songs molding seraphs from satyrs;
in harmony with nature
Your being stirs wildfire
For this I bear the pleasure
Ethereal flames dance together;
fueled by spiritual tethers
You are my love light of summer
For this I waded winter
Glowing 'bove, spring was made greener;
blooming nascent desire*#
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
A haunting stare with a serious note
Originates in a lad just thirteen
Ready to command or to set to task
Obedient, mature, and quick to rule
More comfortable with adults than peers
An old soul has he, loves cars from the past
Collects Civil War relics and antiques
Spends most his time reading and researching
Reads historical fiction, lost in time
Analyzes plants, insects, and ol' coins
He could be described like Chaucer's Cleric
"And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach."
He desires, especially, silver
Yet, gold and ex-presidents faces too
Protects younger members of his small clan
Only his hand will be attacking foe
It might be his fine grades, his quirk or two
That humbles his parents. Proudly they stand
And admire their first born miracle
A babe no more, his age will meet his soul.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 7:11 PM UTC
#*You are my love light of summer.
For this I wade through winter.
Glowing 'bove, the trees are greener;
blooming nascent desire*
of which I never knew I'd need
let alone make a heart bleed
girl, you got me on both my knees
praying you'll also need me,
too, to finally be complete
or otherwise reach life's peak.
*Your hair stills heart's rhythmic meter.
For this I wish forever.
Strands spun with goddess gossamer;
softer than touch of mother*
of which I never knew I'd need
let alone cause ex's envy
girl, you got her so **** ******
she blames you as much as me,
too, as love for you made her weep
and revealed her love is cheap
*Your voice humbles angel choirs.
For this I listen eager.
Songs that shift the course of rivers;
in harmony with nature*
of which I never knew I'd need
let alone so romantically
girl, you got me frantically
writing you some poetry,
too, and I hope you now can see
that maybe I'm also sweet
*Your soul ignites wildfire.
For this I bear the pleasure.
Ethereal flames dance together;
fueled by spiritual tethers*
of which I never knew I'd need
let alone spark fantasies
girl, you got me crying, "please, please!"
that you never take the lead,
too, cause this would be a done deed
if you wanted it to be.#
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 2:19 PM UTC
Hushed, like a morning before sunrise,
grace floods in without threat.
A sudden flutter of piano keys cues
a story to unravel onto something
so much more interesting
than pages of paper.
To eerie tunes and haunting hums,
she brushes, feather-like, across my eyes—
a pinnacle of innocence
that humbles me to the warmest tears.
She does not speak but tells me everything.
So beautifully, with pointed toes
and arms as weightless as summer clouds,
my imagination falls to her tiny mercy.
The little girl in the light blue dress,
who became
my favorite storyteller.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 12:56 PM UTC
How can I say "We're just friends"
When I taste you in my dreams
Your honeyed savoriness on my tongue
Formed itself
Useful
You dance like an angel
In the center of my pupils
Your song is exceptionally sweet
It humbles my spirit
Divulges me
That we are all just hummingbirds
Vigorously, hunting for a melody
Auctioning off welfares
For pleasures swimming in vain
Selfishly
We've never enjoyed the necter without the pain of
Piercing thorns
With handicapped feet,
We dream to fly
60 miles a beat
How I wish the breeze
Would carry me
Straight to your home of
Butterfly Weeds
Longing for the eightenth year, to sore away
Just as a sweet bundle in Mama's womb
In the nest we mature and anxiously wait
Extremities
Planted firmly on the dirt
His amour
Gives me wings
And, I flutter
His humming is a pleasing sound
Searching for a fullfillment
Two times our body weight
In the ebony of my skin
I inertly wait
Wishing for reincarnation
A
New
Life
Of a harmless, beautiful
hummingbird
Harmonizing its way
Across God's blue sky.
Copy Right 2013
©Patty Ann
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
i wander around your territory,
keeping my imprints on your skin.
a sigh of relief and a moan of satisfaction
take you where nowhere you've been.
flicker of my tongue,
the tremble in your voice
move closer,
closer as skin.
the smell of your innocence lingers
in my senses,
the taste of your fear excites me.
the look in your eyes
turmoil in your stare,
the awe in your face humbles my existence.
i a mere mortal in your sight,
a sight of the past.
the past is just a few seconds away.
an eternity will unfold,
walk my path,
uncloak my victim
stand in all your glory.
your presence hungers my foul
reason for living.
my tongue on your skin,
i taste you
you feed me.
your eyes provokes my inner peace.
what do you see?
is it life?
or is it death?
a swift movement,
a tragic death awaits.
my doppelganger sees how you live your life,
while i cant wait how to end it.
the beauty in my voice captivates you.
leading you towards your befall.
you yourself prepared my feast with
your false judgment.
i was never your reason to live
but you were mine.
you cling to my robe the way
you cling to your life.
too late mademoiselle i had your
tombstone made an hour ago.
i undress you,
and taste your love juice one more time.
ecstasy flows down your veins,
you moan in gratitude
i brought you wrath in return.
you cried in a bite-forced.
i smelled life,
i tasted life
but not yours alone.
intriguing i say,
so i sink both fangs deeper.
another blood of total innocence indeed
and it tasted just like mine.
you saw the horror on my face.
you smiled.
you *****
you let out a soft dying laugh.
delirium hits like a speeding car crashing.
i have killed my own
you deceived me.
you knew my planned deception all along
and countered on your own.
you ***** old hag!
you let yourself get killed
so i could **** him.
a creature of my own,
floating inside your womb.
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 6:17 AM UTC
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
2.4k
If someone says, “And time stood still,”
Consider him an imbecile.
Time creeps, it flies, it disappears,
It changes seconds into years,
Consumes our life,
Each passing day,
And woe the soul
That’s in its way.
Time marches on, as if to war
Countless battles fought before
Why do we refuse to yield?
Lay down our helmet, sword, and shield
Is it so hard
For us to see
That time will claim
The victory?
Time overpowers the strongest men,
And laughs at those who try in vain,
To conquer time, for they will die
Not knowing when, or how, or why
Yes, we will die
While time endures
Time mourns no life
Not mine, not yours.
Time humbles strong, and kills the weak,
It laughs at those who dare to speak,
As if they understand its goal,
Time will extract its rightful toll.
No money spent
Can slow time down.
Time will have
The rich King’s crown.
Phil Lindsey 4/23/15
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 12:19 AM UTC
Oh love! that stronger art than Wine,
Pleasing Delusion, Witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all Wealth,
Disease that has more Joys than Health;
Though we blaspheme thee in our Pain,
And of Tyranny complain,
We are all better'd by thy Reign.
What Reason never can bestow,
We to this useful Passion owe:
Love wakes the dull from sluggish ease,
And learns a Clown the Art to please:
Humbles the Vain, kindles the Cold,
Makes Misers free, and Cowards bold;
And teaches airy Fops to think.
When full brute Appetite is fed,
And choakd the Glutton lies and dead;
Thou new Spirits dost dispense,
And fine'st the gross Delights of Sense.
Virtue's unconquerable Aid
That against Nature can persuade;
And makes a roving Mind retire
Within the Bounds of just Desire.
Chearer of Age, Youth's kind Unrest,
And half the Heaven of the blest!
2.1k
On rare occasions, I still pray
When it’s dark, I slip in one more prayer or two
I stand facing the qibla, saying God is great
I bow before the one and only, glory be to God, the Most Great
I stand back up, to God belongs all praise
The ablution cleanses me, the prostration humbles me
Glory be to God, the Most High
I wish for peace and mercy upon the angels on my shoulders
When I am done, I understand why people are believers
Because there are no angels on our shoulders in real life
The rest of the world is there in their stead, weighing us down
As if we are Atlas, cursed to carry for eternity
But the Lord is our shining beacon of hope who can absolve us
Of course people are believers, why wouldn’t they be?
Are faith and devotion not a small price to pay for reassurance?
For peace of mind?
On rare occasions, I still try to convince myself
When it’s dark, I slip away to find that light again
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 4:43 AM UTC
He is a man in fact , a factual man in fact
But in fact more than man, and more natural
He is a predator, sometimes ****** endeavourer
Jumping as a feather stead upon my weathered bed
Lead at the head but it's heavier
A best of a beast, in his chest at least
A lion's heart beats, and with mine at his feet
He is deadlier
Mane across his back, mainly manly, manly knack
And a pride to admire any crazy track
Mired by those paws or clawed back
Lion's share of the hair and a siren's glare
Its enough to ensnare any to come back
To lie in the den and unpack
A purr that can stir dwelling spell in gazelles
A roar that could ensure his reign is obtained on every plain
If called for
His face is made heeding, and bleeding the sun
His legs win a race never needed to be run
Already won
Prowl and it's done
If he who rides the tiger finds it difficult to dismount
Than he who rides the lion will feel him sure surmount
No doubt, for nobility is paramount
Alpha is better beyond count, couched in whim
And he reigns as King of the jungle I grew for him
King of all that's funnelled through to him
King of all that humbles me and truly sings
And so
Clearly success best rests in
Being a lioness, not left guessing lionless
A carnivorous, blitherous, tyrant's guest
In fact I am a woman, a natural woman in fact
And factually I am a woman intact
Yet in fact a woman distracted on a lion obsessed tract
Where a leonine mess is lacked
And a lion-like chests interact
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
Chained in the market-place he stood,
A man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude
That shrunk to hear his name--
All stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground:--
And silently they gazed on him,
As on a lion bound.
Vainly, but well, that chief had fought,
He was a captive now,
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
Was written on his brow.
The scars his dark broad ***** wore,
Showed warrior true and brave;
A prince among his tribe before,
He could not be a slave.
Then to his conqueror he spake--
"My brother is a king;
Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring,
And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands."
"Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
Will I unbind thy chain;
That ****** hand shall never hold
The battle-spear again.
A price thy nation never gave
Shall yet be paid for thee;
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
In lands beyond the sea."
Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away;
And one by one, each heavy braid
Before the victor lay.
Thick were the platted locks, and long,
And closely hidden there
Shone many a wedge of gold among
The dark and crisped hair.
"Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold
Long kept for sorest need:
Take it--thou askest sums untold,
And say that I am freed.
Take it--my wife, the long, long day,
Weeps by the cocoa-tree,
And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me."
"I take thy gold--but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa shade
Thy wife will wait thee long."
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.
His heart was broken--crazed his brain:
At once his eye grew wild;
He struggled fiercely with his chain,
Whispered, and wept, and smiled;
Yet wore not long those fatal bands,
And once, at shut of day,
They drew him forth upon the sands,
The foul hyena's prey.
1.7k
I find innocuous corners in the unfathomable depths of humanity.
Then I weave a silken web of lies against the tapestries of fate.
The longer the web takes, the more fabulous its construction, peppered both with illusions and realities.
For the greatest illusion is the one most rooted in truth.
I have no need to chase; my patience is as consummate a force as any;
I wait for my prey to come to me on their own,
And then I ensnare them, injecting them with venom,
Rendering them unable to escape.
The web is an extension to my soul. To my spirit.
It is me, and my weapon.
Its substance is known to me.
My webs are lies mixed with truths, despair colored with hope.
They are a crawling infinity of colors,
An eternal tribute to orderly and savage chaos.
Each strand, which links me to my prey and my predators,
Each one resonates under the steps of the dancing mad god,
Vibrating and sending little echoes of bravery or cowardice,
Satiation or hunger,
Destruction or architecture,
Blabber or argument,
Each strand carries my reaction to everyone who is connected to me.
Every intention, interaction, motivation that I have been plagued with,
Every color, everybody, every action and reaction that I have endured,
Every piece of physical reality and the thoughts that it engendered,
Every connection made, every nuanced moment of history and potentiality,
Every possible thing that ever was, ever is and ever will be with regard to me,
Woven into that limitless, sprawling web.
It is without beginning or end.
It is complex to a degree that humbles the mind.
It is not a weapon.
It is a trap.
A trap, one to which I fall every single time.
Infinitely bitten, never shy.
I can renounce the world again.
I can turn away once more.
But it never lasts.
The web is too spread out.
There are other spiders on it,
Spiders, which have tethered me to this plane of reality,
With their own silken threads.
It is too late.
Too late to draw the strings close.
It is too late.
Too late to destroy my prison, too late to destroy my weapon.
Too late for everything.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:55 AM UTC
A rider's quest, ****** reverie
The colour of your soul invites me
The essence of you humbles me
The smoothness of your skin makes me melt
Your eyes glow and kindle my darkness
We sparkle, we shine as we undress
Dripping oils, Burning incense; ****** chemistry
Your body succumbs as I stroke your waist with my keen thumb
I wrestle you and you take whiffs at my neck
I collect your scent and
pinch on your ****** biting on your ilium sect
There are colourful and organic effects
This passion inspiring unprotected ***
STDs, *** a child to pure serendipity
Raw and coarse, hissing and grunting
Panting and rhythmic crying
Warmth all around
Bone to bone, close and bound
Music playing in the background
The day is bright and shining
The ocean of love deep and wide, let us dive in.
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
Intentional directional frequency,
dancing in multidimensional secrecy.
I follow this ancient Red Road
because it calls to me ceaselessly.
It humbles me,
more than can conceivably be.
It empowers me,
primitively and peacefully.
Graciously, like the moon pulls the sea
Interconnected irrevocably
in this spiral galaxy of spirituality.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 10:42 PM UTC
Thing is. I wouldn’t usually even try to figure this one out.
She’s so different.
So special.
And I get nervous.
The butterflies take away my eloquence.
They make me stumble.
And with her I would stumble anyway
Because she comes from a different mind
I want to understand
I want to understand
I want to understand
She humbles me.
I’ve hardly ever felt so humbled
It’s like she knows.
Her perspective
- I wish to taste it
But the butterflies
- And there’s this wall there
I’m learning
Please be patient
I stumble
- We all stumble
And you humble me and I stumble again
Your achievements fill me with pride.
And they’re not even mine.
Pride and happiness for you.
Because you deserve it.
You deserve greatness.
I want to understand
I want to understand
I want to understand.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
Mounting her white steed,
sword held aloft
donning the
dazzled armor
she rides
to the labyrinth
of ****** destruction
leaving a
wounded trail behind
deflecting
poisoned arrows
... brandishing
her blazing sword
she humbles
all her foes...
...but one...
...the single drop...
in her eye...
..before whom she...
...bows in defeat.
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 5:54 AM UTC
Hes Not even in love with you
That's why your so uncomfortable
You can't shake the feeling of what he has done to you.
So instead finding someone good for you
You say things and do things that you shouldn't do.
You mad at me.
But you should be mad at him
God don't like ugly
So baby you'll never win.
So hurt so deep down
Your stalking and haking
"the next ******* account.
I may or may not be a lot of things
& Even without my teeth I will still eat .
But you got eyes
That will never see
The problem is you
It was never Tee.
I just came threw and fell in line..
Passed go and collected mine
I went to jail
Then got out free.
But we won't be able to say the same for you
If you keep harassing me..
Since your so down
That's where you will sit...
If you really think I am a weak *****
I don't even think or worry about you
But I'm always on your mind
Go find something to do.
Maybe if you worried about "your man"
The way you do me,
He wouldnt be pullin the TLC
n creep.
I don't even want dude..
Your so sadly mistaken
I don't want him like a Muslim
Don't want bacon
But yet
You wanna get all "physco pathetic" with me..
&STILL!
Ain't a drop of fear pumped in me.
I know your miserable
And you need some company
But I decline your inventation
Gracefuly and humbly.
I'm not worried about you,
Your man or your life,
So "GETCHA OL"
And stay out of mine.
In the end
I'm happy I inspired you to write
This message is for you..
No need to reply
You are the devil
And
we all know the devil is a lie
I only stooped to your level
Cause you'll never reach mine.
I hope you can find happiness
Instead of the pain you find in
YOUR "mans" phone.
I hope you can find a hobby
And leave me the **** alone.
Even though your the craziest *****
On planet earth
-I hope you find healing
In the places it hurts
-I hope you find happiness
Where misery lurks
-I hope you find accountability and stop blaming everyone else.
For the holes you dug up yourself.
-I hope you find a strength you never felt that humbles you to the fact
That no matter what you say, do, what you have or where you go.
Don't make you better than anyone else.
I hope you can find the ability to change your nasty behavior
Here's a tip;
Start by taking
Jesus Christ
as your
Savior.
-Tee is Triumphant!!
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
Why, Pigot, complain
Of this damsel’s disdain,
Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try,
Yet, believe me, a sigh
Will never obtain a coquette.
Would you teach her to love?
For a time seem to rove;
At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile,
She shortly will smile,
And then you may kiss your coquette.
For such are the airs
Of these fanciful fairs,
They think all our homage a debt:
Yet a partial neglect
Soon takes an effect,
And humbles the proudest coquette.
Dissemble your pain,
And lengthen your chain,
And seem her hauteur to regret;
If again you shall sigh,
She no more will deny,
That yours is the rosy coquette.
If still, from false pride,
Your pangs she deride,
This whimsical ****** forget;
Some other admire,
Who will melt with your fire,
And laugh at the little coquette.
For me, I adore
Some twenty or more,
And love them most dearly; but yet,
Though my heart they enthral,
I’d abandon them all,
Did they act like your blooming coquette.
No longer repine,
Adopt this design,
And break through her slight-woven net!
Away with despair,
No longer forbear
To fly from the captious coquette.
Then quit her, my friend!
Your ***** defend,
Ere quite with her snares you’re beset:
Lest your deep-wounded heart,
When incens’d by the smart,
Should lead you to curse the coquette.
1.4k
Its mystical fog rolls in and out like the tide;
calm and restful or merciless and destructive,
this sea can be a blessing to man,
but it has also hardened many hearts.
In this serene state I can comprehend how long the universe is,
the time involved in eternity,
and the grains of sand in a googolplex,
serenity unmatched.
The windswept countenance is breath taking,
a stepping stone to the heavens,
the exhilarating panorama exalts me,
then humbles me because of its magnificent beauty.
It demands reverence for it is glorious.
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
my name
is case sensitive
adriana tamara
is how it’s spelled
sometimes as one word
and sometimes as two
but always as only lowercases
my name
is humbling
as it reminds me
that i am merely
one girl
against the elements
i am merely
one voice
muted by wind
my name
is empowering
she shows me
that my mouth
can never run dry
that my thoughts
can never go dormant
my name
looks small
compared to all of the rest
because i
am small
compared to the world
even in my own perception
i am too little
to know everything
to understand everything
my name
is my teacher
is my guardian
is my keepsake
& when i think i know everything
about poetry, about loving, about people
she humbles me
and i continue to learn
case sensitive
(12.24.2020)
—adrianatamara
Dec 26, 2020
Dec 26, 2020 at 4:52 PM UTC
Sometimes, but moreso often then not,
I may lay and gaze listlessly at the river.
I can decide to even ask it a question or two.
It has a metamorphosis into a loving companion,
Which has grown upon and is only within my mind,
But then it whispers back to me, whispering secrets it only knows,
This voice, murmuring it speaks lustfully of its' known truth,
T'is the sound of rain, it humbles the wind, and fire's tongue it stays,
But henceforth from here and out, t'is the bringer of pain.
It bends and contorts, riding the rocks, like painted ponies wild,
Blending colors and creating it binds the flora, in a mindless dance,
It storms over many a lands, not unlike the humans craving advances.
Although I may gaze often, silently and curious into the river,
Fleeting in the wind, holding in the breath, to turn naught a single tide.
Shall I dare take a breath, and let blood always turn through these sunken veins?
Am I absolute, and real? Perhaps I am still within my flesh, perhaps still made of bone?
Or has this body decomposed, turning into water and turning into stone?
But after a time, pondering and searching within these calmly churning waters,
I began once, wondering of who I am, and what I was supposed to be.
But what many may perhaps never ever realised, or even begun to know,
Is that the river has begun, it's own turn with the tables, turning its gaze,
And begins to watch me in return.
Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 9:59 AM UTC
it's no good,
no good,
no good.
No good for tomorrows,
where coffee's been cold,
tastes like battery acid,
kicks nervous systems up into highest gear--range = infinite.
then kills.
It's no good.
No good for saturday afternoons,
lonely as clear blue sky
on open highway
hurtling through ferocious air.
No good.
Definitely not a monday morning thought:
A day for hangovers,
tightly-capped lips,
shit-smelling ****
and linoleum stained as an old man's scalp.
It's no good for that time.
It's good for moments:
the window open, the tune of hurled air humbling your eardrums. Music loud, but not unbearable.
someone laughing in the back, kicking up their feet on the headrest
and taking the last sip of Wild Turkey.
Asleep in a securely blue bar;
laying your head on the wood paneling;
feeling the hum-drum earthworm of puke
on your tongue: Tasting guacamole and seared steak.
When the cop hurls around, cuts the lights, and hops out the squad
like a monster with a conscience.
You know you're drunk,
but fear doesn't hit you
until everyone involved
has peeled off.
Fear lingers, like shaking a dead man's hand,
but there are other things that wash well.
you and her.
It's good for moments perplexing,
it calms.
It's good for moments of fear,
it throttles you into sanity.
It's good for moments of confidence,
it humbles.
It's good for clarity,
it maintains.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC