"kombucha" poems
This **** could be a lot easier
if I wasn't so dusty
or if my aspiration hasn't been disposed
or exposed. 'Thought you'd like to know.
I'm failing math again."
And my game is still obviously whack,
Anyway I got you to come over.
So, with a pretty girl now and drinking kombucha,
all these Facebook friends
I didn't think I'd have to see again.
Beckon me with a tight fist.
Refresh the laptop and let the afterglow echo
back and drift,
over a nose and fascinating lips.
"You know the bars here don't close till very late."
Everything I love will probably crumble
into a glass of soju. Vices
and the soul undressed
and the fish market's funk clings and holds tightly
onto another's thin grey hoodie.
"What do you do?"
Hobbies among other things include googling
or maybe just oogling at an Incheon passerby.
"Seoul tonight is almost as bright as you."
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
I live in the East
You live in the West
I roll to the right
You lean to the left
You watch the game,
I text my friends for fun.
You write every day,
What awaits me is always unsung.
I'm one that loves vanilla
While you prefer your chocolate
You live life in the open
I tend to close and lock it
I like the night,
You await the morning.
My sunsets, purple and pink,
Your sunrise has orange hues adorning.
I'm early to bed early to rise
You never seem to close your eyes
These days I'm moving rather slow
As you're always on the go
You have your coffee with cream,
I have my Kombucha tea.
You grill up some steaks to eat,
I say pass the salad to me.
Though we're miles apart
In differences between
Commonality we definitely
Have in our love of poetry
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 10:34 PM UTC
f this.
and that.
f the soul-sucking siphons.
f the **** ******** on all the things.
f the wretched that ravages souls.
f plundering the vast unknown. f the broken that breaks us apart. f the pain that can’t find the exit door. f the non sequiturs that never stop. f all the thinks I'll never get to know. f the desert that evaporates technicolor dreams. f the reams of unsung ink.
f getting up too early. f never enough sleep.
f having no focus because mind is always trying to escape.
f the architects of this unending industrialized violent puppet reality TV.
f not having patience for utmost important because basic survival in this free range slave menagerie is just too overwhelming and chips away daily at already threadbare sanity.
f the aches under these ribs always begging for more.
f the abyss that eats cravings caved in for breakfast.
f the knowing that knows how awesomely amazingly brilliant loving flipping mind-glowingly ecstatic and jovial like a MF this existence could be.
it haunts me:
iridescent reflective ascendant peacocked wings
fluttering phoenixflies burst from ill-fit cocoons
surfing air so ******* fresh
even the Lorax ain’t got **** to say - he’s dancing
with kombucha in one hand and a DMT pipe in the other
at the festival called, I dunno, Just Because it’s ******* Monday
and we could
love and make and dream and play
all day every day every year every life...
and I look over
at this giddy ******
epic little boy version of me
and I think:
****
I have to keep trying
keep believing in the things
because the thought of leaving him
in this world, as-is
without me
is the hardest thing
I’ve ever had to think
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 11:44 AM UTC
The broncos won and I'm still at a dead end job
Didn't even watch the game, I was washing trash cans.
Heard about it through social media
About all the different things lady gaga looked like when she sang the national anthem.
Heatmiser, pizza rolls, dolly parton
Because one time dolly parton wore a red suit.
Which i thought was kind of a stretch
But i've read stupider things on the internet so i let it slide
I saw a commercial saying that tons of babies are born 9 months after the super bowl.
You know what else is right around that time in February?
Valentine's day
I don't think i've ever been less **** than during the super bowl.
Nobody looks at their man covered in nacho grease and beer stains and goes
"Oh yeah!" Its baby making time!
My girlfriend is in Florida working for Disney right now.
Thy have her doing laundry in a musty basement with middle aged Mexican woman.
It's apparently awful.
Ruins the magic she says.
Seeing cinderella scurrying around half naked doing her make up.
Wig cap and undergarments
Snow white with her nose up asking for kombucha.
Won't even make eye contact with the laundry vets.
Let alone my intern girlfriend.
I asked how the magic wasn't ruined before that.
After watching the play hairspray when they yell cut and
All the actors go back to their miserable lives, i figured it out pretty young.
This middle class manifesto
Where making 15 dollars an hour is a goal.
But she is the faithful type.
Loves her a good hoping.
That's why she hasn't cut me loose anyway.
She says she needs me around because i'm a taurus.
I have no idea what she means by that.
But i love hearing stories about mexican woman yelling in spanish at their iphone screens. And half naked princesses doing their makeup in hair nets. And her still believing in magic. I think it says a lot about her.
She gives me something to dream about while I wash these trash cans.
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 3:43 PM UTC
I want lithium that tastes like
hair intertwined in chain link
on pedestrian bridges.
It'd be spit.
Your spit I swallowed
eyeing the eye of the storm
barefoot on Kombucha glass,
we both felt safe.
The bridge'd be destroyed eventually
but love's a greater monument
than cathedrals built with
taxpayer money and with
lips locked I'd have no
reason to scream
when winds break the trees
or the wind breaks me.
I'd stand my ground
magnetic banded
to the metal behind
what's in front of me
and I'll have the taste
of lavender and humidity
in my mouth instead
of my own blood.
Feb 6, 2019
Feb 6, 2019 at 4:07 PM UTC
Submissions to the Annual Musical Torture Experiment for 2017 are officially open!
Submit your five songs by emailing them to
[email protected]
"BUT WHAT IS THE MUSICAL TORTURE EXPERIMENT NICK?"
Well me, I'm glad you asked.
The Musical Torture Experiment was started in 2013 by yours truely, Nicholas R Coulombe.
Where I asked everyone I knew, met, or saw on the street, to hand me 5 songs that I would add to one playlist,
listen to that playlist on a loop
AND NO OTHER MUSIC
for an entire month.
I have continued this tradition each year
recruiting Willing victims & voulenteers
to listen along with me.
These victims have many different lives, interests, and genre preferences,
but there is one thing they all have in common.
The blissfull escapism of living in their headphones.
This gaggle of Tune-heads who use their music as a fundamental life resource, a coping mechanism, an escapist fantasy or meditation.
These people offer their body and spirit to music.
Now, for a whole month, they are relinquishing control of their music.
Shotgun no longer shuts their piehole.
For an entire month.
Listeners will not be able to skip or select any music other than
YOUR SUBMISSIONS!
This is the perfect opportunity to force someone to really find whats so amazing about those artists we culturally hate.
Or maybe theirs an oldy that your grandkids Refuse to consider music because there is static or twangy voices instead of bass drops.
Maybe you talk about your love of skrillex and a hipster spits their kombucha in your face.
If you have songs that DESERVE the light of day.
This is your chance to indulge in their exhibition.
want to voulenteer yourself as tribute to listen along with these crazy ********
keep tabs on what is being added cause you think its kinda interesting?
Or contribute YOUR five songs?
Just
Send an email to [email protected]
by the end of August to participate!
Go check out the playlist itself here:
https://open.spotify.com/user/124409443/playlist/2TAdzDUKx7sfW1uJrqMS7K
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 10:41 PM UTC
i know why the caged bird sings
black elk speaks
god is red
ages in chaos
the Mayan code
not for innocent ears
one flew over the cuckoo’s nest
Ishmael
Harlem gallery
mother earth spirituality
unfinished tales
midnight song
I heard the owl call my name
alkalize or die
mushrooms
kombucha
leaves of grass
turn
deadspeak
conversations with god
dancing the dream
1984
crystal bible
the foxfire book
reflexology
ceremonies of the living spirit
the source
365 days of the red road
daybreak
Earthwise
It’s a meaningful life
the writer’s handbook
2015 poet’s market
on the road
fear and loathing in Los Vegas
Indian spirit
the eagle and the rose
behind bars
zoo story
the shadow that scares me
in red man’s land
rainbow tribe
man and superman
atlas shrugged
The Celestine Prophecy
Lame Deer, seeker of visions –
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
I knew a glassy eyed doll
a classy glass idol
red to excess; red lipstick
and red back-less dresses for the spine-less chick
well re(a)d in chiq cosmo - check
but purple(xed) by the cosmos
rotting, like her kombucha and compost
Jun 22, 2018
Jun 22, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
A blanket for you, please cover yourself.
It took so many knots to bring it together.
Now I'm stuck sleeping underneath it, feeling like I cant remember anything but dreams.
It's been in my closet anyways, next to my dying kombucha mother.
They're out of sight, so they are out of mind.
Thank you, I love you but that's only because I know half of you.
I feel better at your house because I have no attachments to your person.
I had one but he has fled now.
Thank you for the blanket Becky, maybe I forgot to tell you.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
1+1=2
we are taught as kids this is right and this is wrong
don't hangout with the weirdos
they eat green fish and drink kombucha
don't hangout with them they sit in circles
they wear every color of the rainbow (even brown)
they don't raise their hands
they always seem like they are talking to spirits
But they
they are happy
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 8:39 PM UTC
Every day brings a new adventure!
or so the sign had told me
hanging so delicately
on some sort of kombucha based
drink
as though I could augment my life
and invite adventure in just by
drinking a drink
but that's how advertising works
I suppose
and we must be above the ads
because we are all independent and
free
unless...
that too is an ad
and the revolution has been bought and sold
and we are all just loosely strung along
quirks
that are indicative of our specific
ideals of humanity
here's looking at you
white dude with flannel and dreadlocks
and Rastafarian colored shoes
here's looking at you kid with pompadour
haircut, pastel shorts, and a MAGA hat hanging
off his backpack
are we all truly going our own ways
or are we just advertisements for
something better than
being unknown
and undefined?
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC