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Ara Jun 2021
the tug is light,
like string caught on a bracelet.
but this is his home
and these are his scissors,
and he cuts you off.
your plea is but a mild annoyance
and these four walls seem smaller alone.
they ***** you out
and that tug..
that tug is a knot caught in your throat
being washed down with liquour.

he doesn't tell you this
-not in words his lover can hear-
but he hates you.
you are small
and he hates you,
and that lover is a friend
who doesn't know to save you.

you are small and alone
and he hates you.
you'll remember to believe him
when he jokingly says so.
Copyright © 2021 Aranza V. Soto Torres. All rights reserved.
Aisha Zakhael Aug 2019
Who are you?

I am not a vessel;
woman, poet, coloured,
they are only covers.

Who are you?

I am not any of those titles.
You force me to knit a name
from parts of worn clothes
to avoid your own face
in the mirror.

Who are you?

The love in your veins.
The liquour of life -
like water I mold
into shapes, but
I am without form.

Who are you?

You.
A soul.
See it's a strange thing,
"self made men"
It's the rage thing,
"forbes front page t'ing"
A majority that's pacing,
voting for a one percent
that in return enslaves them
My girl used to laugh at my jokes
now I'm broke and she ******* hates 'em

I look for aspects of success and then I stage them  
be sure to colour background facebook page 'em
My rent doesn't reflect my wages that's inflation;
that's what I get for living so close to the station

In this pompous student city covered in glitter
and these ditsy Corpus Christi *******
be getting quicker and quicker and quicker
Don't know how they can afford the liquour
pre-drinks before Ballare movin' on to something bigger

If I see another site with student accommodation
on the hoarding, I might as well go sell my ****;
Start ******* because I'll never make it in this town
I'm one quarter brown and I don't speak Spanish
born in Cranebridge, forced to watch others live lavish
The tourist loves it but a local feels damaged
..
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2017
sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't,
but when it does, well,
             all the more joy for the spoils
of the day.

i don't mind having "alcoholic" thoughts -
i usually couple them with
something else, something "mystical" -
if you ever read milton's paradise lost,
you'd know that, once satan descends
back to hell with the fruit of "knowledge"
(or should i say: confusion)
                       the fruit turns to ash,
**** me, i can't remember if that's how
it happens exactly...
     i read it such a long time ago:
dante's divine comedy? aged 16 on
the 86 bus: 45 minutes in the morning,
45 minutes in the afternoon,
all the way from romford to seven kings...
ask me about that, and i won't be able
to remember all the details...
    you'd need to show me dürer's etchings:
come on! it's been almost 16 years,
   i wasn't exactly going to get a tattoo on
my *** of a memorable quote, was i?
the alcoholic "thought" - it's rather silly...
i spent about fives minutes doing
the math before the liquour shelves...
so about 15cl of *** in the afternoon,
then four beers mid-afternoon... and now this...
wild turkey: a kentucky bourbon...
that's lawrenceburg, KY...
    great story behind this liquor too:
aged between 5 to 8 years, master brewer:
eddie russell...
      aged in number 4 "alligator char"
(verbatim, the inverted comma bit,
  and the words invited) - american oak,
alligator char american oak...
     ah... the best bit:
             with notes of sweet vanilla,
    pear, and hints of spice...
   and hey! they're not puritans like
the scots are with their whiskey, i.e.:
   no ice, no mixer - great for a stomach ache
as the old highland saying goes...
these bourbon meisters actually consider
it not so much a profanity to mix their
liquor, as an additional option...
   could have said what's the better mixer:
                               pepsi? or ginger ale?
ah right, the "alcoholic" in me -
well, my usual *** 1litre costs 15 quid a pop...
but this wild turkey bourbon was on offer...
down 5 quid...
           will a 30cl really make all that difference
as the night progresses?
        but that's bourbon 70cl at 40.5%
and the *** at 100cl at 37.5%...
will it?
            can it for once not cross your mind
"i" thought, that you can treat yourself?
just once?!
            what eventually happened is that
took the wild, and brought back a domesticated
turkey...
        then? i wanted an optical compensation...
took 6 shots of water 5cl... which made
up the otherwise missing 30cl...
         and then i stood there "thinking" for
a while...
             only the turkey will tell!
   the wild turkey... the wild kentucky turkey...
the wild turkey from kentucky,
but more exactly from lawrenceburg, KY.
(half an hour later) -
i can't remember the last time i drank a liquor
without adding a mixer...
    i'll admit though... you need ice...
oh ****! right right...
       what did the god *shiva
(hindu myth)
bring to the disciples of kali -
as myths go, the disciples being demons,
ya-dad ya-dah and a few aeons later...
    fire! water! aqua-ignis!     ignisaqua!
this ****... boooooze-boooooze-oooooh-e!
make that e mousy.
Aditya Roy May 2020
In a stretch of cement highway
It is too ruinous and marked by yellow
I do hate the truth

So they tell me change the world
Let that be said by young fellows
I cannot bring happiness
To myself
Let alone a sea change

I may be walking
But my mind is on the lies
That I shall tell to myself
All love's a stage
In the sunset of blue liquour

Where a perfect circle table lamp
Celebrates my fiery pork *****
Lying on the hot deserted bed overlooking me
Tells me move over in the bright morning

You are taking up light and space
Sometimes blocking the way in the diner
Getting in trouble with another waitress
Then, I sit in my chair

My girl tells me write
I delve in my delinquent mind
It begins a soliloquy
On the road, on the road far away
Taken from a title of a book. Or is it a figure of speech.

— The End —