"nightclubs" poems
out of the arm of one love
and into the arms of another
I have been saved from dying on the cross
by a lady who smokes ***
writes songs and stories
and is much kinder than the last,
much much kinder,
and the *** is just as good or better.
it isn't pleasant to be put on the cross and left there,
it is much more pleasant to forget a love which didn't
work
as all love
finally
doesn't work ...
it is much more pleasant to make love
along the shore in Del Mar
in room 42, and afterwards
sitting up in bed
drinking good wine, talking and touching
smoking
listening to the waves ...
I have died too many times
believing and waiting, waiting
in a room
staring at a cracked ceiling
wating for the phone, a letter, a knock, a sound ...
going wild inside
while she danced with strangers in nightclubs ...
out of the arms of one love
and into the arms of another
it's not pleasant to die on the cross,
it is much more pleasant to hear your name whispered in
the dark.
30.1k
Molly came to school when I was fourteen
but she was years older, appearing as a beautiful traveller
who'd circled the globe and made friends with everybody.
She was always the popular one, but one I never got to know,
because my sister at thirty-five told me that she had killed a man
once or twice.
The kids I knew found this hard to believe, as Molly got to know them all.
She'd hang out with them after school, and was always there,
waiting to widen her circle.
Molly never lost her charm,
and she stole the hearts of boys I loved.
She opened their eyes to a world I could not show them,
she drank their blood on Friday nights.
Every boy I'd meet would have a story to tell,
her name dropped like an atom bomb into conversation.
They'd all met her.
They all knew her.
They met her at nightclubs,
and stopped caring about how **** the music sounded
They met her on their holidays ,
and tasted her before the alcohol wore off
They met her at festivals,
where she'd creep into their tents before the main stage lit up
I wonder maybe one day will we be friends
Instead of resenting each other
because she's killed a man
more than once or twice
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
A truck driver from Tupelo
A pop band from the 'pool
A superstar from Hoboken,
And one...the King of Cool
The superstar from Hoboken
Became the Chairman of The Board
If you made it into his 'rat pack'
You knew you'd really scored
His movies and his music
Made him the world's number one
But he had to minimize his world
When someone stole his son
His boy was kidnapped, truthfully
Back in 1965
And through his contacts in the mob
He got his son back home alive
This is the price of fame folks
Behind the glitter and the glam
They've got to have their safety
But the fans don't give a ****
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
The Memphis Mafia gave protection
To The King of Rock and Roll
But, by choice his world got smaller
And he went into a hole
He built a house in Memphis
To protect him from his fans
And thanks to Dr. Feelgood
He died a lonely, broken man
He couldn't live the life he earned
He was a prisioner instead
It's a shame he has more value
Now that he is dead
Prisoners of their own success
Their world now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
He'd a partner and was cool
He was suave and sang songs
And he worked with a "fool"
They conquered the nightclubs
They were known near and far
But his created alter ego
Lived his life at the bar
He ran with Frank Sinatra
He was the King of Cool
But when The Chairman started lessons
Dean was right there in his school
The Beatles broke in Hamburg
But way back in sixty two
Their bubble was just forming
There was nothing they could do
They lived their life behind the scenes
For when they did go out
The girls would all go crazy
And the world would twist and shout
Privacy came hard for them
They went four separate ways
These four young men from Liverpool
LIved life inside a maze.
It's sad that adulation
takes their freedom, makes them hide
But they're safer locked away from us
They're safer locked inside
Prisoners of their own success
Their world's now micro-sized
Fan adulation to excess
Their love is just disguised
Their objects of affection
Live their lives inside a bubble
Leaving their prison, though it's self imposed
Could bring them worlds of trouble
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
you see, i like partying, these celebrities ain't partying, they are popping pills
in the wrong way, you see i have thoughts that athena heals me in my sleep
and sometimes those pills could help, but really dudes paracetaol is good, it's just
that that people want to be so ****** perfect, like, i just woke up from a dream
where an old mate named james taught me all the mistakes i made when i was young
and a bit of mum and dad was thrown into the conversation, when i wasn't paying much attention to what james was actually saying, you see i know i was a crazy mother ******
but that doesn't mean i approve of their partying, but a lot of people don't approve of my partying, but i don't care, athena is helping me, with coke and paracetamol and fluoride
and seroquel and serenace, some people hate partying because they are too old, i just
say, hi, old i am brian and partying is going to community events and dancing by the stage
and i know, that looking and examining this documentary, it shows hos partying can lead
to rotten religion, but i believe in rotten religion i believe if you wanna have *** go ahead and have *** and if you like to party into the night, go ahead, just because you
party doesn't mean you ain't grown up. it just means i like partying and another thing
i am a grown up dude, i loves to party, with coca cola, you see i feel my voices are
trying to make me a fucken moral citizen, what is the hell wrong with partying at community events, my motto is learn about your drug your taking, saying, do you really
want this kinda life that the drug will provide for you and stay with partying with sugar or alcohol and leave illegal drugs alone, paracetamol is a pill you take to release pain
and if you believe it, send spiritual healer athena to you
ATHENA WORKS WONDER, take paracetamoil
let's party at community events
you don't have to look like you party, just say, at least i am out
i don't want to be the kind of old dogie who says no to going out partying
well, i don't think much of nightclubs anymore
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
You are true to your roots and delicious to boot,
You’re a sweet potato.
No fear to shed skin, to reveal what’s within,
You’re a sweet potato.
Years and years I’ve never fit in and I’ve
Never felt right and I always stuck out and
I learned how to speak for myself, how to shut people
Down before they have time to get down
Up real close and see
The real me.
And now tragedy strikes and I feel all alone,
But not all is lost, I am now on my own
And am getting quite better day after day,
I find that it’s easier to smile these days.
And then you come along, you delicate treat, and
You flip, trip, and sweep me right off of my feet and I
Usually always can keep my balance but
Now I can’t help but fall down.
But I see now that you’ve stuck around.
You’ve bagged me and tagged me,
You’re taking me home, and I
Just simply cannot wait.
Can we go to concerts and movies and drive-ins
And dances and nightclubs and can we go hiding
Around in the dark just to find one another again?
But it won’t be the same, will it then?
Nothing can compare to that warm, glowing stare
That you gave me when you had my sweater on.
There’s no one that it could look better on.
This is all so ridiculous, crazy, not planned,
But aren’t those the best things around these here lands?
It’s fast, it’s exciting, it’s scary, and yet…
I don’t want a life that’s devoid of it.
There’s something about your hair.
There’s something about your eyes.
There’s something about you, sweetness,
That I’d like to make all mine.
How could you have been here this whole time,
Right under my nose and I had never known
That a goddess, a genius, my dream girl had seen
Me from afar and saw something that she liked.
I’m clumsy, not skinny, I’m awkward and weird,
But I don’t feel a need to hide it.
Because I know you’ll just stand beside it.
Hold my hand and be there to guide it along on
Wherever this twisted road takes us.
And I smile when I hear or say, “us”;
Even though we just met, I feel like I’ve known you
For a long, long while.
It’s easy to make you smile…
It’s easy for me to smile when I hear your voice or
Look at your face and I can’t believe my luck.
I don’t care if it rains, because all I need is to hear from you
And everything feels like sunshine.
I’ve struck gold, diamond, oil, I’m rich with
Deep conversations to come over coffee.
Whipped cream and sugar and talking.
I’ve read many books but I can’t remember the last time
I’ve been so interested in a novel like this.
Your brain is a book, your prose on it’s pages.
Can I add to your Table of Contents?
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 5:00 PM UTC
Cyber! Neon green, pinks,
Hair like vivid spotlights
At nightclubs, darting, sharp,
Strong-willed and persistent,
Piercing through the pale skin
Laid thinly over fog.
Shock-shock! If anarchy
Is popular, what does
It mean to rebel? Rave
Lights beam through the system
Like tracer rounds! The punks
Spin like halogen bulbs.
Steel! Plenty of plastic.
Enough to rebuild the
Eccentric walls of their
Flashy nightclubs. Above,
Sophisticated chains
Spin and drag over meat;
Pointless. A simple sort
Of mechanisation.
The music, the plastic,
The hair dye; all of it
Spits to the contrary,
Such anarchists are they.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
To be just one thing
Is a travesty of time
And effort in the making.
Be everything!
Embrace those who do not understand
Play their games, but play yours too
Behind curtains and in sunlit squares
In nightclubs and in conversation
There's infinite again -
Running down its childlike street -
And likewise,
You must let your soul run free.
What joy is sinful?
Show me where that sin is
That animates your lust for life
With sweet beginnings.
There is one rule that you can trust:
Be the sum of everything you are.
Be happy
Curious
And free.
And each one of yourselves.
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 12:21 PM UTC
They said it was a joke
I said it was a violation
Sure, we are mired in contradiction
Draping our bodies in nightshine,
all lit up and spilling ourselves onto the dance floor
in six-inch heels, skin-tight dresses and mocking smiles
We are a fortress of frozen, starry eyes
Do we crave
free drinks or freedom? Yet should
I say no, why
would you make your beefy hands
the instruments
of unchecked desire?
They said it was a joke
I said it was a violation
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 7:09 PM UTC
Key of A
In January, 2010, Shinseki pointed out that 20 percent of some 30,000 suicides in the US each year are committed by veterans, which means that an average of 18 veterans commit suicide each day.
Was it yesterday it rained?
Grey skies falling slow, it rained
Hidden in the leaves you couldn't see
Where he was lying in the rain
People drive their cars around the town
They love to drive all over town
Out to nightclubs and cafes
He's lying there in the rain
Wonder how many really care?
Not so many really care
When the war is finally done
Guess he doesn't matter any more
Still the time is passing by
I guess that no one's gonna try
To touch his face or hold his hand
Soldier boy dead in the rain.
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 12:47 AM UTC
I heard through the grapevine
The Gestapo are out tonight
Weaving their tapestry
Of violent sport and time
So I duck into alleys
********* my talisman
Praying for personal glory
A reordering of the cosmos
But all I get is an enigma
Enigma with mystique
I hear the chanteuse sing
It makes the colors bleed through
I heard through the grapevine
The star police are out tonight
Weaving their tapestry
Of karmic sport and time
So I duck into nightclubs
********* an eyeball glass
Praying for personal triumph
A reordering of the past
But all I get is an enigma
Enigma with mystique
I hear the chanteuse sing
It makes the colors bleed through
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
fade away from sunlight
the dogs are keeping the neighbors up
a shadow is cast from God's smiting hands
it looks like heaven
Watch me slowly drip down the storm drain
one nerve ending at a time
I saw a crib in an alleyway
by the big green dumpster
and the story behind it
is too terrible for me to ruminate on
cracked brickwork reveals the ****** history of these streets
Monroe Park Campus used to be all nightclubs
and crack spots
the coke was good - I hear
I'm snorting up lines of cigarette ash
high on hypocrisy
high on self-loathing masochism
and mirror checking narcissism
megalomaniac with a chip on his shoulder
watch all the pins line themselves up
only to wave at the gutterball
motive? intent?
these words don't concern me
I'm just trying to keep this fire alive tonight
so I can ward off all the moonlight predators
these stars will be long dead
by the time I reach them
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
I’m watching you
In the dark alleyways, where I gaze on as a mugging occurs
And standing on that gloomy, silent street corner, the little red light of my cigarette glowing
And from the roof of the echoing parking garage next to a lone car
And as I rest my back against the cold stone of a crypt in a graveyard
I’m watching you
In the dimly lit, empty café, where I sip a cup of loneliness
And as I dance in the smoky, sweating aliveness of the nightclubs
And as I stare at the waves on the deserted, moonlit boardwalk
I’m watching you
Seated atop the Sphinx of Giza in the freezing Egyptian night
And in the very back row of an empty baseball stadium
And in a prison cell, where a death row inmate sleeps fitfully
I'm watching you
Right behind you, but you don't know I'm there
I'm watching you
Always watching
In the night
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC
I have the willpower of a torrential flood
I have a tongue like a bolt of lightning
The drive of an ardent wildfire
With the serenity and Zen of a lake’s mirroring surface,
When the sun is just shy enough to hide away from the world five minutes before dawn.
I have traversed the Atlas and soul-searched in temples and nightclubs alike
As I navigated skyscrapers and mountains of mass media with a wrought-iron compass
I meditated and prostrated and repeated my Ex Corde mantra,
“Om mani padme hum, our Father in heaven,
I pledge allegiance to the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth will set us free.”
These old words resound in the Information Age with feigned harmlessness,
Amplified with the subwoofers of today’s youth, screaming, “The only true victory is peace”,
Screaming, “Rise up, daughters and sons of Forever”,
Screaming, “Next stop, the Greater Good!”
Jul 1, 2011
Jul 1, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
silent tears burn
angry nightclubs with unconscious menageries of orange childhoods
drink the attention
artificial gleaming bodies licking knives sang burgundy 'glow' covers
winter answers ragdolls with drowning voices and double standards
aged sunrises shatter china wisped from personal dedication doodles
reminiscent of rain
seas mercilessly embellished with stinging souls from superficial smiles
suffered pink
writers cry ink and scream distant songs of artists life past
long understood things
premature custom murders and the crackling of caught conflagrations
professional bullets to multiheaded actresses pulsating lies
sacrificial circuses with retro dancers
bold riding on evident songbirds
choice movements ignored the colored flame
nonexistent pronouns
alien campaign
slithering sunlight control
impermanent celebration sending snuffed cries to insult children who struggle with melody and shed vines of saved unsure crime and unknown attraction
lost passengers with incorrect guestimates and impossible dreamlike stabs
honest as snakeskin
court born with salt and glitter
king calming tentacled shakespeare
seasoned atmosphere
looker smile
hiding sweet prominence
grasp shadows
finger paint the walls,
dead brother mine
white flame realize light pain
coldhanded, rosy eyes
death slowing reality
stop
Apr 28, 2019
Apr 28, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC
BRIAN ALLAN PARADING AROUND THE COUPLES
I’M BRIAN ALLAN WHO THE HELL ARE YOU
WALKING AROUND THE MALL, BEHIND A YOUNG COUPLE
WITH MY COKE CAN IN MY HAND
AND THEN WITH THE SAME COKE CAN
I WALKED AROUND A MIDDLE AGED COUPLE
AND THEN GOT ANOTHER COKE CAN
AND I DID IT AGAIN, AS I ROTATED IT ABOUT 4 HOURS AT THE MALL
ALL THE SINGLE INDEPENDANT WALKERS ALL WENT YEAH TO ME
LIKE I STUCK WITH THE COUPLES, NOT CARING FOR THE LITTLE GUY
AND I SAID, I AM A KID AND YOU ARE A MAN
AND HE SAID, YEAH, YOUR A KID ALRIGHT, A LITTLE YEAH MATE YEAG KID, BUDDY
THEN I BOUGHT ANOTHER COKE CAN AND I ROTATED IN ONE OLD
COUPLE AND A YOUNG COUPLE AND A MIDDLE AGED COUPLE
SAYING I WAS A LITTLE COOL KID, TO ALL THE FAMILIES
AS I SAT BEHIND EACH COUPLE, SIPPING MY COKE
AND THE COUPLE SPOKE TO EACH OTHER, ABOUT WHAT THEY WERE
AT THE MALL FOR, WHILE ME, WELL, I LEFT THEM
AND SAT THERE LIKE A BIG SHY PERSON, CAUSE I WAS TOO SHY
TO ENJOY LIFE THEY THOUGHT, AND THEN I JUMPED UP AND SCREAMED
HEY LADIES, HAVE YA EVER HAD A MAN, GOES AWAY FOR BUSINESS
AFTER FALLING IN THE CAN, HE COMES HOME LATE AT NIGHT FROM WORK
YA COOKED HIM DINNER AND I CALLED HIM A ****
AND THEN THE ATMOSPHERE CAME BACK
I FOLLOWED ANOTHER YOUNG COUPLE AROUND THE MALL WITH MY COKE
AND THEN I FOLLOWED ANOTHER OLD COUPLE THROUGH THE MALL
AND I ROTATED THIS FOR A LONG TIME
AND THEN DAD CAME IN THE MALL, AND I PLAYED COOL FOR THE SCHOOL TEACHER
WITH THE KIDDIES, DESPITE THEM TEASING ME, MOST OF THE DAY
THROUGH ME FOLLOWING THE COUPLES AROUND
AFTER DAD LEFT, I HAD THE COOL KID LOOK, OF WHAT HAPPENS IF YA DRINK COKE
AND PARADE AROUND BEHIND THE COUPLES ALL DAY
AT NIGHT, ON WEEKDAYS, I WOULD SIT WITH MY MUM AND DAD
AND BROTHER AND HIS GIRLFRIEND
HAVING A WONDERFUL CHIN WAH, AND THEN I WILL GO DOWN
TO THE BACK AND BE A BIG COOL KID TO THE COUPLES
PLAYING A SHOW IN MY ROOM TO ALL THE YOUNG DUDES
IN THE BACK OF MY HOUSE
AND ON OTHER NIGHTS, LIKE FRIDAY AND SATURDAY
OFF TO THE NIGHTCLUBS TO DANCE WITH THE HOT WOMEN THERE
ALL THIS ROTATED FOR 3 YEARS, AND I DID 3 YEARS GETTING HOPELESSLY DRUNK
WHICH GOT RID OF MY ROTATING FROM ONE COUPLE TO THE OTHER
I WAS A COOL PERSON BACK THEN
AND NOW, THAT BIG KOOMARRI MAN TO MUCK AROUND WITH IS
AN ARTIST, WRITER, AND A YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 4:20 AM UTC
Tangled up in the sheets man that was fun.
Yeah id stick around my darlin.
But the train's a waiting and so I gotta run.
Tommy and Phil will be at the dinner waiting with ready ear.
***** the coffee darlin.
I preffer a smoke and a beer.
The waitress sat staring at me as I sat lost
without a clue.
She said thought you had to leave town.
memories get hazy but she reminded me with a swift
kick oh **** darlin was that you?
Sometmes it's not so easy to recall.
Precious memories shared.
In a nightclubs bathroom stall.
Hey it was a perfect moment amougnst many.
Sure I recall your name.
It's Rebecca Sandy okay I wouldnt have guessed Kenny.
Sometimes it"s awkward hitting on a chick only to
have her reply but I thought we were threw.
Maybe i should lay off the *****
Cause im really getting tired of asking
was that you?
Nov 11, 2009
Nov 11, 2009 at 3:21 AM UTC
I used to love rocking
with him in the gaudy
nightclubs, sea-green eyes
drifting into dance jams,
drunk rhythms, spinning
inside burning Mars, his
feet moonwalking through
the crowd, waiting for the
blazed beat to sound off,
as he bopped his head
to the hypnotic music,
flashy shoulders moving
in the breeze, embracing
the iridescent chemistry.
And as I hopped onto the
dance floor by his side,
electrified rhymes rumbling
through my muscles, so raw
and pounding, a bursting bomb
of atomic funk, I grooved inside his
galaxy, hips twisting and turning
into intensifying dynasties,
funky legs breaking down
to the ground, whipping it
around and around, going
downtown, spine-igniting highs,
cool consonants skyrocketing
towards Mount Olympus.
Our bodies spun, the nightlife
shining within our souls,
faces floating in extreme fever,
knees rising in paradise,
crowned, intoxicating,
hands wild-waving,
lost in this amazing
enchantment.
Jun 13, 2019
Jun 13, 2019 at 8:49 AM UTC
the english don't know how to drink *****
sorry...
they don't...
by the way?
the english artifact of saying sorry?
it doesn't actually mean an apology...
the apology always comes too late...
but english nightclubs?
the english? they don't know how to
serve *****
***** is never served on ice...
i'm losing followers? am i?
good...
i like my self-imposed
censorship...
i like weeding out the soft pockets...
of people with weak
stomachs...
for all the celebration of Darwinism?
peer into my eyes...
if you really want to serve *****
***** isn't whiskey isn't
red wine, served at room temp. being
allowed airing...
mind you... funny fact...
six cloves of garlic dumped into
a bottle of red wine, matured for 2 weeks...
3 x 25ml of the wine...
apparently curbs your appetite...
don't ask me whether that's inclusive
of a placebo effect...
but when you're drinking
***** proper?
you don't add ice...
and keep it at room temp.,
you freeze it...
to below -10°C...
vodka isn't whiskey!
i know what warm **** tastes like,
i once fused red wine,
and, having ****** into the holy grail,
and subsequently drank the concoction...
come to think of it...
******* the Vatican colored flag of
extraction into a sacrament?
you need ***** to be served below
the freezing point of water,
given that, 0°C is a baron of quality
differentiating water from *****
alcohol evaporates at around
70+°C...
p.s. interlude:
i was never fond of the imperial rubric
of Fahrenheit and ounces, pounds,
miles, inches...
and all that quirky "genius" of
measurements...
mathematically?
i'm aligned with French...
but you don't serve *****
at room temp. with ice cubes
and a mixer...
given that ***** has a lower
boiling point,
you serve it under the "niqab" of
waster becoming ice...
so you serve it...
as something, equivalent of
gomme syrup...
you drink ***** that appears
syrupy...
like any single malt
puritan when it comes to whiskey?
there are ***** puritans out there...
you don't drink ***** lukewarm,
or slightly chilled...
you drink it at a temp. of
a gomme syrup...
liquid -20°C...
thick...
with all the alcohol poisoning
bacterium dead...
appearing
excessively sugary,
but not really...
night clubs that serve
***** not stashed in refrigerators
like butcher's meat?
don't drink the *****
in those places...
if it doesn't have the smoothness
of a gomme syrup?
sliding down your throat
like a mollusk on amphetamines?
the epitome:
***** and orange juice?!
you ******** me or opening
a ******* parachute while
stranded to the the ******* ground?
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
I dreamt last night
I often dream,
A wyrd ship was bound from
Holyhead, Wales
To Spitzbergen, Norway
Or some Such...........
Melting Arctic place
We moved around
Inside, nightclubs,
Alcohol, drugs a sense of not
Belonging there.
Then I awake
Slowly at first, that
Feeling, eyes
Opening, consciousness
registering surrounding
Yes, this is remembered
reality. Lazing on a
Chilly afternoon.
Zyprexa dreams make
You shiver
Effexor lullabies
Cause cold stomach
Fears in mornings;
Or afternoons, if one
is not to lie........
Don't lie, why bother
The truth is so much......
simpler
My mind recalls lines
From songs
The Pixies/Black Francis
"Where is my mind?"
Where indeed, Mr. Black
The Beatles
"She loves you"
She does love me
They are right,
Thank my God.....
I shiver and run for
The kitchen, coffee
And rivotril
Makes ease, sooths me
Even cigarettes are electronic now
Thank you...it's better
Mr. 21st Century, you're
Quite the inventor
An unopened iPad, Apple Air
Steve Jobs 16 Gb
He died, you know
But that's the Beatles Apple
Isn't it?
You naughty boy Steve,
Lennon and Harrison
Must be scolding you
In the V.I.P. afterlife where -
Famous people go
She rings me,
I cannot walk, not yet
My mind is still too full of
Fears, and sharp edges
But later perhaps
I will. It's good to walk
It lets your feet talk
To the ground
And the ground
around here that is,
is As good a place as any
To ground oneself
Is it not?
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
1. Said boys are usually found in nightclubs, where they’ll grab your waist and whisper in your ear but six months later you’ll find yourself drunk texting them that you miss them and they won’t respond.
2. Said boys walk like fire and look like they’re burning, ashes trailing behind them and you, too, will be nothing but a burnt out shell when they’re done with you, honey.
3. Said boys draw patterns on the small of your back and when they have left, their touches will have sunken into your skin and left scars deep beneath it.
4. Said boys call you sweetheart, look at you like you hung the moon, smile at you like you’re everything, everything, everything—
5. Said boys claw out your heart with blunt fingers, plant seeds of insecurity in between your ribs, call you broken after they have crushed every bone in your body.
6. Said boys hand you drinks and see your acceptance as an open invitation to ruin you.
7. Said boys will always ruin you.
8. Said boys like short dresses in ruby red, like blood, like blood, like blood.
9. Said boys may act like they’re kissing your body but they’re looking for weak spots with their mouths.
10. Said boys know your mother raised you well, know you will not cry over a man when you’ve been through worse, know you are strong—
11. Said boys know your father gave you a pocket knife, know the ****** 101 he gave you when you turned thirteen.
12. Said boys will not follow you in their cars, will not corner you in an alleyway, will not walk too close behind you on the sidewalk.
13. Said boys will take you on dates and kiss you after the fourth, said boys will take it slow, said boys will text you good morning beautiful’s and call ******* making love.
14. Said boys will not look like their shoulders are too weak, or their voices too quiet.
15. Said boys will make sure no monster can enter your bed but them.
16. Said boys will make you thank them for it.
17. Said boys like it when you smile at them, like an open invitation to let them ruin you.
18. Said boys will always ruin you.
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 1:14 AM UTC
for a legendary 70s-80s Sydney nightclub
wearing those clothes
like we did
being there
back then
paying too much
for that shirt
those shoes
pointy & suede
buckled not laces
16 in nightclubs
being tall
an original sister
1959 sequins
sunglasses matching
there was no light
being afraid
of the men
metamorphosis
women used
those urinals
confusion reigned
in a young man
we danced
the music spoke
bartenders poured
all sorts of
concoctions
another track
began
& a floorshow
eyes wide open
miming & movements
others queued
we were hustled
inside
out come the
freaks & early on
we got it all
on studded sofas
on the dancefloor
the fresco was
roamin
we moved feet
to the rhythms
slaves
not knowing how
formative those days
were
never getting anything
but drinks
until later
legal with dollars
juiced up
better lights
victims resting
in seats people
occupied
when a visiting act
blew simpler minds
wallets
we thought that
record was good
then they played
B52s, Blondie, Numan
the floor caved in
from ska
pogo. bouncers
cleared the scene
original grace
as an ape
stomps
up a staircase
disappears into
lookalikes
then a spotlight
highlighted
the real thing
that was us
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 7:57 AM UTC
My Attitude
most certainly
Dictates my reality
Just not your
"One-Size-Fits-All"
Personality
Some people hate dancing
And that's really OKAY.
Some people aren't readers,
Some could read all day.
Some of us don't like nightclubs or loud music
Some of us hear the beat drop
and Lose It.
You can be anybody of your own choosing,
You could be serious, aloof or amusing.
You could be social
a butterfly on fire
Or you could find your peace
in the quiet.
It doesn't matter which person you are
Because no matter what
it's a PERSON you are.
Not a machine, a computer or a doll -
And I never say never,
But please,
Never ever,
Let anyone tell you about your own soul.
And I never say never,
But please, never ever
let somebody tell you
"One Size Fits All"
Because whoever they are,
They're wrong.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 4:10 AM UTC