"liquored" poems
You made your choice, our song is sung -
I wont speak of your sins -
or the pull of your riptide tongue -
not of losses and wins -
I found religion in your eyes -
Prayed silently for love -
Drank eagerly your liquored guise -
been drunk for long enough.
Mar 21, 2014
Mar 21, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
Mixing your whisky breath,
your unshaven cheeks,
your liquored-down smile
in an orange bottle labeled B.
WITHDRAWAL withdrawal withdrawal
Advice from a man with unshaven cheeks, a ring around his eye, and a cross near his breast.
*Withdrawal from him, be careful, withdrawal from him you’ll see.*
Clenched fists and a bouncing ball of hair, tied, atop my head
Sundays are slow, a holy ****** awaits.
They teach we aren’t supposed to be here.
They teach this is not home.
Everyone is temporary, and
the concept of forever: my methadone.
But he’s only a pain reliever, you see.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
See that carbon footprint
the one stomped on the earth
the one that you've been treading in
since the moment of your birth
it's the dog **** on the muddy boot
that stinks of gasoline
it's the plastic bag and broken glass
it's the poison nicotine
it's the mattress in the hedgerow
it's the paint can in the lake
It's the acid in the raindrop
and each promise that we break
see that carbon footprint
the one stamped on liquored breath
that's the one you never noticed
until too late the earth faced death
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 9:10 AM UTC
River bamboo arrayed in lace tiers
consoles the birdbath on its loss of robins
Intemperate August staggers in liquored air
of wavery heat and layered sighs
Leaves relinquish their rush
toward this “ripe on time”
Blackberry brambles have ceased to reach
now bow to ponder their plunder
while petunias, those bold delinquents!
bloom as if the frost’s lethal cling
were some myth
the antique roses had made up
Bud, bloom, revive!
See the generation of the bee!
Bud, bloom, survive—
to do it all again
for the single sake...
of treasuring beginning in the end...
Her bicycle, my geranium
have found eternity together
on the sun spattered patio
She—
opens the screen door
as I—
climb the morning stairs
She—
squints smiles amongst sleepy freckles
who has not brushed her hair
in a late August moment of not caring
And I know it will all happen anyway
no matter what I do....
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 12:43 PM UTC
I envy the light that lays upon your skin
And illuminates the love that you veil deep within.
An intoxicating laugh carried through the breeze
From the liquored lips I so thirst to seize.
Such enchantment brings me to my knees
My heart at your whim, my soul at ease.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 1:36 AM UTC
At the going down of the sun
will the world be less complete,
the cinched robe of night less intolerable,
as she ebbs away on cosmic string,
emulating a massless, dazed neutrino
blinking in and out of existence,
unobserved and uneffected,
liquored and unloved?
In the wake of a June flowering,
when foxglove lures the honeybee
in six day flash, bud to corolla,
blossom to blossom, parade of stigmas,
digitalis stamen braved, anther at his back,
the bee comes gathering where none else dare.
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 2:08 AM UTC
and so my life rushes by.
no more razor scooter afternoons,
Barbie jeep and a kickball marathon,
walking home from school in spring, swinging a Powerpuff Girls backpack.
jumping on hot black trampolines, burning our small feet,
running to the park to see if we were able to hold on to monkey bars.
no more alligator tag evenings, falling down in wood chips but brushing it off-
I have always been a tough cookie.
and I become an adult soon enough, a victim of my own past and a
culprit of my future, but nothing in between.
Honda Civic and a movie marathon,
liquored-up nights,
high as the midnight sky, staring up at stars as far as the atlantic.
Jul 17, 2011
Jul 17, 2011 at 4:40 PM UTC
We are born not of flesh
carved from the visage of mother and father,
We are born of nebulae,
of a symphony in the snow and
the seeking of knowledge we never acquire.
We are birthed for
good.
We are grown in
evil.
Our lives nothing more
than the squealing of wheels
as they spin in our
sempiternal filth,
a footprint in the dust since God said
"Let there be fear and malice".
Faces of dead, liquored men,
shovels in our piracy
digging for hidden treasure in the graveyard.
So we crawl in the holes and
cover each other up.
Insulting the demons who pull us through,
blessing them
with good tidings.
We go at our passing, to face the Devil.
God as our jury,
your hamartia plays witness.
I am driven only by my fantasy of tomorrow.
What a way to live.
What a way to die.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
I have a squid in my belly
and she likes to be fed
filtered cigarettes
and whatever vodka's on sale.
When she's good
I'll treat her with
a couple lines off the table,
but I never use mirrors
because she's never good
until two in the morning
when she's all liquored up
and I'm not looking my best.
These days I'm pretty fed up
with her ******** because
sometimes she'll stretch a tentacle
through my esophagus
and pry open my painted lips
and reach out to whoever's closest
and go for their neck.
I try to swallow her back down
to protect everyone
but she's a tough broad
and it's hard to tame a creature
when you're not sure
where she ends
and you begin.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
Mars, they say, is God of War
Venus Love...
But not no more.
Mars is red, an angry shade
With knuckles like
A sickle's blade
His right hook
has some might in store
He lays her on
The threshing floor
There he whacks
The chaff from wheat
She's just a dog
For him to beat...
Mars is red
Venus is blue
Black as well
A nasty hue
Her friends tell her
To up & leave
For all the beatings
She's recieved
But she knows
That if she leaves
He'd find... and ****
With none to grieve.
So she stays down
On knees to pray
That Mars would simply
Go away...
He will not
She's bound to lose
Red & blue...
A purple bruise.
Finally she'd had enough
Packed some food
And all her stuff
Before he could
Wake up to belt her
She went into a caring shelter
He searched and searched
But never found
His goddess was
Nowhere around
He drank and drank
His days away
Finally t'was
As she had prayed
Mars hit bars
With liquored breath
He finally drank
Himself to death.
Mars was red
And Venus blue
But now she's FREE
She could be YOU.
.
SøułSurvivør
4/20/2018
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 4:41 AM UTC
O' Liquored Escutcheon!
Please aid me in my plight!
I came for a beer,
and now I fear
I'm here for another night.
While the jukebox is puking
the disease-riddled bodies are movin'
I take a bow,
and I fall down
Someone, somewhere was right.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 1:25 PM UTC
His name lingers on my tongue's tip.....
Striking passion like flint, tossing sparks like fireworks
Into the ink black sky;
Stirring emotions like the leaves
That scuttle around my feet;
Autumn walks, stealing light from the moon,
Her tendrils spiral, lingering..and the colours fall
In words that flutter from my tongue...
My eyes whisper, ache,
A timeless want, feeding in the hunger of his tender wrap..
And
Morning undresses inhibitions in anticipation
Of having him see me naked and unashamed..
My deepest secrets shared,
With the slivers and shards of what once resembled
A heart falling like rain about my feet..
The curve of his back trails toward a path
Unknown, shadowed within my stare;
Finding solace in the rising storm,
As it lays sheeted beneath satin layers of gentle;
A hush of soft, stirs,
Caressing the edge of sapphire whispers;
The sweet of first blush, laces fever in the swallow of rushing rivers
Liquored with moonshine sprinkles, and
Swooning as Autumn winds
Surge... and dance, syllables that speak for our tongues
Holding on tight, limb to limb
Not afraid to let go
Just not ever wanting to........
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 4:14 PM UTC
The faintly reminder
I spew in disgust, that we
All humans, do smell, have non-
Descriptive individual
Odors, shapes and sizes.
The repetition on formless copies
Upsets me, songs in pop verse
Sing about the neighborhood's
Children, and their inability to out run
A gun.
Smells of my own liquored breath
Remind me still how un-wanting
*** can be.
In the sour drips of yellow
And daffodils,
Not unlike a lemon,
Tart-ish in texture,
The people only
Say hello, out of disarming
Fear.
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
What if she was caught drinking and then the nosey nellies would be thinking again
of just how ****** up She could be and how they have something fun to spin
the Doctors of Spin
the Ladies of Sin they call us when we get all liquored up and forget about our children in the pickup truck
the cursed reality of boredom and monotony
the drowning days of diapers rotting in the corner of the bedroom...while She visits with "friends" in the hall
Take a drag
Turn into a hag
Get so mad cause the nosey nellies just don't understand how messed up your "life" is
and how much you hate
yours,
your friends
and
your family's
Cause none of them really care...they just love to stare and spin there tales of woe
Pointless woe
Turn into a ***
and next year it will be more of the same to start at the beginning again.
She won't remember what she promised or what she lied about
She might remember what you cried about
It will be ok though cause in 10 years, that kid will be out the door
Peddling the hash
Stealing people's stash
and one day it may come....he turns into a man
while his momma is just too numb.
Apr 16, 2012
Apr 16, 2012 at 8:34 PM UTC
its healthy to remember
how well these fires
burn
to get right underneath
your clever skin
will take more determination
than anyone could ever
create
on trembling nerves
& a lack of hope
for your confusing seduction
its time for another party
as well as a change of
scenery
& scent
drive me to the
darkest desert
& I'll drink to our
getaway
with the top down
& my feet
as naked as your
neck against my
liquored lips
I can't afford
fear
all I have left are
pennies
salvaged only for your
thoughts
& the sweet, sweet
laughter
dancing like a broken
record
that I cannot find the
energy to turn off
I see you in my
sleep
& the mornings after
are so unbearable
I'm terrified you
might
feel the same
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 11:30 PM UTC
It’s out of my reach
There are always vultures hovering pensively above for any remains
And your sad blue eyes have seen a million disappointments
From
Sea
To
Sea
And I don’t think an
“It’ll be okay”
Will stop them from sinking
And the ****** addicts, and the prostitutes, and all those corporate men
Will live on blithely
While you slowly wither
Whatever they say
Love is never enough
It is a merely a puppet show
Colorful and loud
With a Shakespearean script
During its duration
It’s master drinks a fifth
Until his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are bullets
Until he stumbles onto the stage he built piece by piece
Filled with liquored-up animosity
He’ll rip his wooden companions apart
Wood rigid like claws
Protruding with unabashed vehemence
Paint seeping like a thousand comets gone awry
The audience erupts with laughter
Destruction being
The only logical way
Hearts are suppose to end up
I’ll pull you in until my veins scream with purple agony
But you’ll simply unhook my line and smile
Your face will dismiss me with false reassurance
You just crack open a beer
And the storm continues it’s unwavering journey
You look down at your bottle and your blue eyes fall into it
You’ll take a sip and glance up
And the sky is nothing but pestilence
Face solemn and unmoved
Eyes filled with white
You crack open another
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 11:06 AM UTC
White hot homeless men
with crossed fingers in the lost
barrios of Barcelona
make chills in the shadows
and
In the red air
with the salty blows
of sea chant
I kiss your wet forehead
Well-liquored in broken languages
Giants all of us
Dancing in the wasted ashes
of whatever rosy bars
This must be where the homesick find
warm corners
and
Sleep.
This must be where sad lovers
touch hands and sing
each others names
inside
the skylines of stone angels
This is where your
vanishing heart fell on the floor
and you blushing
had to watch me hold it
This must be where I die in the slowly somedays
Something will change
or I’ll sell my blue veins
and last teeth
for a castle carved in
the hills
and let your cool snake tongue
slip in my American ****** mouth
Then
All the slow tortured deaths
in the world
will seem like tickle fights
between dumb children
Take me through the streets
poor streets
Spanish angel
I taste history in your
wine breath
I promise in blood never
to promise again
if we bury each other
in the used sand
and never set foot in the
cities
again
This will be where I die
feeling the
heavy of your
eyes
burning my chest
the same someday
slowly.
Then all the slow
tortured deaths
of the world will
seem like a lost lustful trick
played on strange strangers.
Fill me up with hot air
and hope for
Fill me up with hot air
and hope to
god
I don't fall
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 11:14 PM UTC
We have spectacular moments.
We have deep conversations.
I call her many names:
Smoking buddy.
Liquored up.
My sense of humor.
Opened up to.
Shared experience.
Peer pressure.
Free of judgement.
Acceptance and giggles.
Sobriety is not our Forte.
Challenge accepted.
I beat you.
Pass the jungle juice.
Spike the coffee.
Smoke a square.
Spark up that bowl.
We aren’t dull.
We aren’t complete.
We are dumb.
We are lost.
A version of myself.
A version of her.
She doesn’t always say ‘yes’.
But ‘no’ can be quite rare.
She knows some secrets.
She’s seen some scars.
Boundaries broken.
Nights of puking.
Open opinions.
Desired suggestions.
This is only the beginning.
of a co-dependent friendship.
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
your call was to
an deaf
your
un
sober
thoughts
have drown
your liquored
tip
lead
me here
through
your hollows
nighttime that swallows
your minds flesh
take off
your
****** forehead
my last love
sessions
over
?
...
..
.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 10:58 AM UTC
Out on the town
Looking real snazzy.
Hearing the music,
Sounds quite jazzy.
Look over there,
They aren't so choosy.
Bet they buy a drink,
For this old floozie.
Getting all loopy,
Beginning to schmoozie,
Liquored up,
And feeling quite oozie.
Swaying to the music,
Holding on tight,
Hope to stay standing,
But losing the fight.
Jan 28, 2011
Jan 28, 2011 at 5:36 PM UTC
my lips are chapped from kissing you,
i'll blame it on the winter blue,
an unseen taint upon my skin,
licked bruises bloom from deep within.
i should have known loose liquored lips,
would lead handprints upon my hips.
do you love the way i smile?
stay and laugh with me awhile?
i know you love to trace my mouth
i watch your gaze it travels south
remember when you called me pretty,
here inside this broken city.
now we're back where we began
on trembling legs i stumble, ran
you are silent, say goodnight
i don't reply I'm not polite.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 8:07 AM UTC
Liquored fingers entwined in hers
The nectar on her palms
Dripped to her wrists
Before, she did not know the scent of sunshine
But in the glint of copper and gold on their wrists
She could see forever
And beauty
and youth
Then the night came in a blaze of colors
Sinking into her skin and drying the sweetness on her hands so that it cracked in a glaze
She was afraid and alone
Cloaked in darkness blind
Nothing could save her it seemed
So she looked for shelter inside herself
Hunched her shoulders into her hurt
Waited for the sun to rise
And then the light came
Not in the form of peaches and summer
But in unadulterated silver
Clean and cut out of shadows
Illuminating her eyes in a thin layer of moon and breath
And the stars spread before her
Plated crumbs around a celestial plate
She found sustenance in it, spread her arms out so that she could catch
every bit of the light
and the glaze on her wrists peeled and fell off,
and she stayed that way
with her eyes wide open
until the sun came to claim her once again
in a cherry red glimmer at the edge of the earth.
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
We used to spend this time together,
but recently I just ponder alone,
gazing at a dusty photo reel
ten years in the making.
A flood of scenes uncovered
from young swing set drama
to liquored up laughter,
silly whispers in confidence
to creating stories we'd never tell our kids.
I've been staring for hours;
I wish I knew why,
and I wish I knew how,
but the film has timed out
and you're no where to be found.
A solo swing creaking, you're drinking alone,
with no one to tell your secrets to,
you'll make stories with no audience.
You just want to remember it as yours.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
Not reality
A passing thought
Fancied notion
Me,
Melancholy muse
I'll sing for you
Dance for you
Play my strings for you
But you can never know me,
I am courtesan of the night
Lady of secrets
My soul is but a piece less than yours
Unwhole,
Ebony,
With scarlet bleeding through its cracks
You may touch my skin
Kiss my liquored lips
Unbind my hair,
But you will Never KNOW me
I exist only in the reflection of a tear drop
Soon to evaporate
Mar 10, 2017
Mar 10, 2017 at 8:06 PM UTC
amidst the loud noise
& the sweat that drips from heated foreheads
your hands slip from a new friend to a red cup
& for the rest of the night you’ll idly stand
maybe concerned with tomorrows homework
trying to catch a feeling
of the way peoples arms look without weight
you weren’t going to even go out tonight
but your friends said you’d regret it
even though you knew you wouldn’t if you did go
you went anyways, worried this time was different
but now that your here
and they’re playing fetty wap for the second time
this time isn’t different
what is different is the artwork
someones failed attempt at collaging girls *****
tasteful side **** to full exposed kardashian
the only thing unexposed is the exposed brick they covered
ironically and sadistically
you remember frat boys don’t do metaphores
you manage to get your hands on some chips
as your eyes meet some guys across the room
awkwardly and unobviously locking in place
you step away from his line of vision
moving backwards towards kate
who can’t remember your name from film class
so you have to hint at chanelle for input
stumbling to call your name through liquored breathe
lost in thought, but somehow forming sentences to kate
someone nudges your side
Alex
He was the guy across the room
the lighting must have been weird or something
you talk for a bit about middle school
he hugs you uncomfortably
wondering if there was some broken rule
about accepting hugs from people that aren’t your boyfriend
He tells you about his skate board
attempting sarcasm at every turn
his voice burning into the air
soon the conversation swoops to music
he asks about your taste
you say you don’t have any
and you’re arms start to feel weightless too
You say bye to Alex (and to Kate)
Chanelle mouths “where the hell are you going”
before you know it your on line 2
drifting to bloor and younge
writing about a party
that you weren’t even suppose to be at
you're writing about a party that never really happened
but somehow that night still really ****** you off
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC