"nitrous" poems
This salt
in the saltcellar
I once saw in the salt mines.
I know
you won't
believe me,
but
it sings,
salt sings, the skin
of the salt mines
sings
with a mouth smothered
by the earth.
I shivered in those solitudes
when I heard
the voice of
the salt
in the desert.
Near Antofagasta
the nitrous
pampa
resounds:
a broken
voice,
a mournful
song.
In its caves
the salt moans, mountain
of buried light,
translucent cathedral,
crystal of the sea, oblivion
of the waves.
And then on every table
in the world,
salt,
we see your piquant
powder
sprinkling
vital light
upon
our food. Preserver
of the ancient
holds of ships,
discoverer
on
the high seas,
earliest
sailor
of the unknown, shifting
byways of the foam.
Dust of the sea, in you
the tongue receives a kiss
from ocean night:
taste imparts to every seasoned
dish your ocean essence;
the smallest,
miniature
wave from the saltcellar
reveals to us
more than domestic whiteness;
in it, we taste infinitude.
12.3k
In between nitrous gas
And passive aggressive small talk,
"Its too bad about your teeth"
He said.
"You got a good face, bad mouth"
And I'm really laughing now.
Daddy's been screamin that my whole life.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 3:28 PM UTC
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain.
Pain,
Pain
Pain
(Pain)
Pain--
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain
Pain pain painpainpain
Pain pain pain
Pain pain
Pain.
Pain with pain
Pine and pain
And sick
Pain-Ill death-clock
Tick tick ticks
Nothing to say
Anymore
Pain pain. Pain
Pain with feathers
How pain and why pain
And will be and never was pain
Pain in your shoes,
In a shower
On a floor
Pain
In a garden
Pain
With your tea
Pain in your eye
As you drive
Along
We must be terrible
We must be heinous
Viscous, meticulous,
We are not.
But pain pain pain
I. Can not sleep
As they sanction drone
Strikes on children
I. can not sleep
As a
Ghostly ether summons
Across lakes in dream
I. Can't think
I. can feel like a Cyprus
Upon a grave
Love love love
Love love love love
Love love love love
Death exists
Life is in brief moments
Where the dead
Drag in front of you
Bleeding, broken
Forever lost in this abyss
Grafted from a tree
In another world
Oh, my love.
Oh my love,
As I know it true
In bent knees at dawn
Whispers evermore in my ear
Beyond graves and atom bombs
Test pilots
Test tubes
Test
Pain in your chest
In your mouth
Rotted flesh
Rotted fits of aging
Agony which
Is pain, exquisite
Like a needle
Precise like
A
Nuclear accident
I. Can't sleep
As things fly above my head
My eye
Leaving me in the dark
Leaving me in a tub
Leaving me in a gas task
Mustard gas and Venus
Drowned in calm water
Out, out, out,
Number 1.
Nitrous oxide
Psalms, palms,
Save little girls
In dresses know
As I walk by a snowglobe
Oh, my love
How
I am sick of questions with an
Answer I know
But not quite
Not, quite
And death will solve
All power
Like forks
In an outlet
u r a beautiful dawn
At sunset
My eyes are tired
It needs to heal
It needs to heal
D. E. A. (D)
In a straw or dollar
O.K.
oh, Kay
Oh, Natalie
I dot the "I" in your
Name in my brain
In my bones leaving me
Aloft in dream,
I dream and weep
I dream and weep
Pain
Pain
Pai. N.
Kiev
Leaving
Pain
Pain. Pain. no. 1
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
P-Popper
O-Outstanding
P-Panda likes It
C-Crunchy
O-Out Of This World
R-Ridiculous
N-Nitrous
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 4:52 PM UTC
each bird has its own branch and i am alone now
in mid-february midnight desolation
under a web of stars white as salt and just as plentiful
waiting on the celestial cyclist to bring the dawn across
my face and scorch the cool wet grass
tonight the clouds are arranged like a chessboard
a cosmic design in darkness and light
and i am a crippled pawn meditating with
with my pants off and my naked feet
in the sand of a north florida crossroads
trying to lose my own gravity and merge
with the stars cloaked in maniac faith
and american sweat
i'm waiting to be found by a bush doctor
with my head filled and floating like a nitrous balloon
under a canopy of hi-frequency bats
and the infinite disco ball hoping
this mighty poem might expand
time and fill space
i am no longer a jail cell poet starving
and pacing like a goldfish in an orange jumpsuit
the miraculous sunbreak has touched my deepest cells
hypnotized my life and caught
the tears on the right side of my face
i am a bee trembling in sunlight
salute me
i hope there is a mild breeze today
to dance sensually with my drifter's spirit
and swirl blond hair and pure cotton against
the sky at the top of this abandoned railroad bridge
covered in rust
all the sudden i am singing radically
about overcoming cosmic humiliation
bruise-purple tongue unhitched and lilting
long throat curled up toward the sun
as the birds and deer stand dumbfounded in the clearing
the sound resonates in my gut as my big white
teeth slam together
in this devout moment among
my share of god's abundance
i am only approximately human
one with the smell of living trees
dancing on the salad hillside
big eyes birthed inside sunset colors
soaked in warm honey with toes
twitching above the imagined
fire at my feet
when the singing stops and
the sun goes down i melt
back into my own temporal lobe
caressed by a butterfly finally
able to sleep
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 11:08 AM UTC
where did you go
what did you do
where did you wake up
I went everywhere I could
I am trying to escape
can I escape
been looking for my mind since the pixies asked me to
I did everything I could
to escape myself
over oceans to London
over arctic to Beijing
over prairie and rocks to Durango
traveling looking for myself in everything else
instead of letting go
can't I escape?
I go to work here there and everywhere
What can I get for you guys today
What kind of massage would you like today
Where do you want me to bring this artwork today
Where is my guard post today
can I never get away?
All these thoughts and all these thots
I woke up and ran out of the filthy philly basement on acid molly and nitrous running from bats flying from the speakers
out the house
I crash then stand and smile at police lights and friends drive home from the party
I stand smiling holding her and pray they make it home with all these
bats
I woke up here there and everywhere
Ice bag on my testicles
I awake from my morning bag
to a scared smiling face
I awake with black vision
heart nigh exploding
to crying terrified girlfriends
I awake on my steering wheel
from my weekly drive and cop
to nobody but myself
In bae's comforting arms
In the everlasting eternity my father still believes in
I awaken
I found myself
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 12:45 PM UTC
Your love is not a hurricane
It is not an earthquake
It is a sweet, sweet salve
to an old heartbreak
Your love is not lightning
It is not a tidal wave
It is a deep, deep breath
at the end of a long, hard day
Your love is not a fever
It's not an addiction
It is not my nicotine
nitrous
Novocaine or
nitroglycerin
Your love is not suspenseful
seismic
shellshocking
stomach-churning
sugar cane saccharine or
surprising
Every love before you has been
a frantic, careful dance of
close
but not too close
honest
but not too honest
Yet you
strange you
can look at me from across a room or
across a tabletop and
there is wonderment,
but no wondering
passion,
but no pondering
Defined by choice
not whim
We always crave the love
that is our
hurricane
Novocaine
sugar cane
to sap away
our pain
But what about the love
that simply is?
Is that what makes it real?
Is that what makes love
Love?
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 8:22 PM UTC
Racing time
Everyone starting their engines
Cars of every street color
Lights under their car
Nitrous under their engines
A **** girl stepping out with her hand
High in the air
Down it goes as she steps out of the way
Cars racing away
Straight roads turning left and right
Winding roads coming up at the last minute
Women and men trying to not crash into each other
Ignoring the red lights
Picking up speed at the green lights
The red lights
The party as started
The green light
The music pumping
The yellow lights
Telling everyone throw caution out your window
Moonlight
Sunlight
Racing the time away
Losers
Winners
Everyone having fun
It’s racing time
Every road a track
Pavement
Dirt
It don’t matter
If you’re in Tokyo
We drift race
If you’re in new Miami
We race period
**** girls
Hot boys
Every color car
Every style and shape
Music and lights
Pumping through the streets
From sun set to sunrise
It’s racing time
Ready set goooo!
By black rose
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC
~
I.
*Killing Mary Poppins
with a spoonful of sugar,
the sugar from the medicine
on the other side of town,
the town called Silent Hedges
And A Bit Of Fluff.*
II.
*Only a display model,
her name is Marmalade;
skin white like the moon,
she wears her ****** stranger dress;
one of her sisters is dying,
the other never lived;
God is a far off concept,
the fuchsia colored ball on
an overhead power grid
points her way to salvation.*
III.
*Morning became something else:
bright decline,
cold things start to burn,
tragic saxophone
among the beckoning,
everything's a symptom:
tax exiles, imperialists,
girls talking nitrous
--mouths full of soil,
Virginia Reel around the fountain
(do-si-do),
ready to buy up impossibles
as the dominoes fall.*
IV.
*Memory is a chemical
to the girl who cried champagne,
like ceiling stars
during the prodigal summer,
she played the game
on all fours,
and found a drawer
full of quarantine polaroids,
some with blood in her mouth,
others, of rain on her birthday.*
~
Mar 4, 2024
Mar 4, 2024 at 4:13 PM UTC
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKPEOfybQak&feature;=related
*Remember his name when you look at the night sky.
- the Toe-cutter*
You are the Night Rider,
a fuel-injected suicide machine,
a rocker, a roller,
a no-controller,
yer a cop killer,
the mighty weird hand of vengeance
come to smite the un-roadworthy.
You, Night Rider,
clearly unaffected
by the state’s urgings
to “yield” and, perhaps,
“soft shoulder”.
You are the Night Rider,
sleeping in on a Tuesday,
performing your masculinity
in unshowered, unshaved machissmo.
Night Rider,
won’t you come to your senses?
Nobody enjoys maniacal laughter
anymore.
It makes us think of ****
covered in fleas, bedbugs,
whiskey ****
or Janis,
and the last moments of an American Saigon.
Ahh… Night Rider,
we share your machine lust,
your fetish,
your hard-on for the muscle-bitch,
the suped-up hot rod,
the last of the V-8 Interceptors
(1973 Australian Ford XB Falcon GT).
We, too, like a nitrous kit,
a roof and tail spoiler,
we likes our flat black:
………....................our murderous speed
………..........................has driven daddy to drinkin’.
We ride!
Night Rider, we understand.
We get the lurid infatuation,
but, **** yer a hick-weed,
all these roads lead to jail
–how have you not grasped this simple truth?
The highway is not freedom,
but a circular slave song.
Oh, rider of the night,
why all the re-runs of Seinfeld?
And cheese bread?
You’ve grown a belly, N.R.,
and while it might be glam
to be young, dumb
and full of ***
or all muscle
in butt-less chaps at 21,
you’re 45, Night Rider,
and no-one cares anymore
about your straight-line revolution,
about your road to freedom,
about it,
about what kind of future
you and Floosie would’a made.
The kids are alright
but
they ain’t never heard
of you
nor your last,
wild-eyed flight.
As the Lord Humungous has indicated,
no one
gets out
alive.
Jun 22, 2012
Jun 22, 2012 at 3:09 PM UTC
Waking up one morning
It's a normal kind of day
Only there are bulldozers
on their way
It goes this way:
At the end of your driveway
down to the right
in front of the picket fence
The land is graded
a horizontal drill brought in
made to feel at home
You see,
We you me may own the land
But the mineral rights are theirs
A concrete utility structure goes up,
in what do you think?
About three weeks?
Chemicals are shot
horizontally under the land
under the house
to release the gas from the sand
While the ground water
is fearfully shivering
it knows
its days are numbered.
The concrete utility chimney
pouring out chemical smoke
24 hours a day.
The County says,
"What do you expect us to do?"
The State says
***** You "
Cancer clusters
Sick kids
Chemical water tasting very weird
Guess what?
Whether it be our 89,000
189,000 or 889,000 dollar
American dream home
The dog is going to be
taking a **** in the backyard
claiming ownership.
Welcome to LA too
No matter where you are
Every other day
the earth is shaking
buildings tumbling
Dance Dance Dance
Dots on a map
thousands of them
all around us
coming our way.
Better take a drive
next time on talk radio
"Drill baby Drill"
All hail Exxon
Cars love Shell Gasoline
The old USA
******* gas
And it sure ain't nitrous
cars idoling on a stop and go freeway
finding our true purpose
a grounded oil derreck
for the Koch Brothers
He who pays the piper calls the tune
Oh yeah
Drill baby Drill
I'm heading up Highway 101
The Earth hot and *****
for a new life form
Welcome to the new world order
Welcome to the new USA
Purloined, poisoned, polluted
The United Petro States of America.
Hey Hey Hey
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
Users and abusers
come one and all
there is a freak show
down in the glass house
winos and crack heads
coke freaks and nitrous suckers
acupuncture skin punctures
and candy land pill poppers
*** heads and shroom munchers
users and abusers
one and all
come on down to church
in the basement of the glass house
wet your tongue in holy water
and revel the gospel of our lord and savior
(Insert dead pop culture icon here)
and don't forget to pay the tithe
to mother superior
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
Tonight the stars are strobe lights in the black light sky
Suspended by spider webs of ***** smoke, weaving themselves through the nitrous air
The music never fades…
Pulsating chords and tambourine clashes
A glittering ground of glow sticks and jewels and glow-in-the-dark eyeball paints defying our invisibility
We pretend our life is not this
All the world is a rave
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
*around here, you get to spot nitrous oxide ****** rifle bullet"
capsules on the pavement everywhere you go.*
during the day i get to turn alcohol
into nitrous oxide (laughing gas),
and to be frank, that's better than
that jesus trick of turning water into
wine... plus it's so rare seeing
a fox (if you ever heard a fox's
call in the night) during the day,
so close you can only see it cross-eyed.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 8:21 AM UTC
My minds lost
I move to the bass
I fall against the empty bodies
They touch my skin
I smile
Laughter fills the cracks
These magic balloons
They have the power
They set me free
I hit whatever that is that they hand me
I feel these chemicals soak into my toungue
Everyone looks soo unreal
I wont stop
The music keeps playing
So I keep dancing
The melody flows
Through my bloodstream
Theyre all so happy
I'm underground
These are my people
The room is filled with technicolors
Nitrous oxide completes the air we breathe
We can't stop
I feel the soft lips of a random stranger
In this moment I know her more than the closest person to myself
I am unstoppable
I am insane
We clap
We fall
We close our eyes
I wake up
Safe and sound
My head resting softly against my pillow
The only thing to remember the magic
Glitter plastered to my forehead
My life.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC
July 10, 2000
I woke up
after passing out
after smoking up
after coming down
from the wa-wa sound
induced by nitrous filled punch balloons
I woke up
after snorting lines of ketamine
coupled with hits of acid and ecstasy
I woke up
after seven people died
from shooting ****** into their veins
I woke up
in a folding camp chair
with a hand wrapped around
a bag of ****
stuffed in my pocket
to a booming voice
telling me I was going to jail.
and I thanked god when they put on the cuffs
that I was one of the lucky ones that woke up.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
In reclamation of a childhood-mind,
I storm my sobriety with a torrent
of half-assed joints and forgotten poets,
until all that is formed is some vital compound
that links intrinsically, possessively, autonomously,
the motion of sound.
From this I'll crack open that nitrous,
in an attempt to leave eternity bare,
within these primitive paws, sweated clutch
and insufficient air,
that filters oxygen as a reluctant fool,
some corporate machine, or human tool.
It is in reclamation I tend to my childhood-mind,
to storm my sobriety in receipt
of half-assed tragedies and rhyme,
'till all that is left is this fragmented page
of that paradise lost,
on minimum wage.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
"my identification lies in the hopeless psychedelic absurdities of ninety year old existentialists and the macabre **** trails of industrialized ghosts
Slaying scissor handed dragons of whirlwind dimensions from plain abject boredom
Smashed with broken Knuckled collisions against walls of mimetic iron and steel
as territorial **** measuring fanatics play out semiotic fantasies of heroic rigor mortis but i don't want to get political
because the cosmic play is of the ancient masters repeatedly tripping over each other
and i don't claim to know the rules if there are any
So for now i will bash my brains and hair against this black holed vacuum of being in itself
and try to remember that the uncertainty principle doesn't allow us to know position and velocity simultaneously
and that by observing the world it is irrevocably changed by the power of Schrodinger's Cat
I would tear that ******* ******* to shreds if I looked in the box
So next time around i'll mechanically saw off my arms and see if they will grow back
and burn gasoline in a shovel mesmerized by the blue flames and melted animal ecstasies connecting all to the light of infinite unknowing"
Said the dog with the bone in his mouth. I asked him
"how can you talk with food in your mouth like that? it's dreadful"
He did not reply.
I pondered his speech on the train home and filled a balloon with nitrous,
tide it off and began to punch it while holding the rubber band attached.
a man with knuckle tattoos next to me popped it with a pen
I miss my nitrous balloon
But i didn't have time to think about it because a Hottentot venus in yoga pants with that *** like bow! just walked past
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Sleep Izzz
S
Sl
Sle
Slee
Sleep
Sleep is
Falling in
Love sleep
Pretending I’m
Dead tired, Recharge
Rechargeable batteries
Little boy inside protests;
“Mommy I’m not tired I’m
Not
ZZZ
Sleep is practicing
Eternity without
God loves us
Infinitely
Sleep
ZZZ
ZZ
Z
Drugs
Caffeine, the
Enemy of Sleep
Nitrous oxide injection;
Heart rate motor revving
Wheels spinning directionally
Nowhere, driving my desk around
Curves and straightaways, skidding;
Waking the ADD child inside me
Dilated pupils and superhero
Fingers pirouetting, dancing
Across ASDF keyboards
As I translate the
Indescribably
Abstract
Ideas
Of
I
I’m Sleepy
Want to
Sleep!!
Sheep
Yawn
ZZZ
ZZ
Z
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
Captured there in orange
beneath the old street light
a cloud of breath exhaled
hangs heavy in the night.
Waiting on the 409
has never been this bleak
the fierce wind nips your ear lobe
and ice cold stings your cheek.
I watch you turn your collar up
your back against the bite
one hand on that coffee cup
the other out of sight.
Each morning
getting colder
the forecast is for snow
in fleece and wool you face the frost
and how I'll never know
I see you’re green
my blue faced friend
the green before the fall
you've never been about the perks
it's conscience above all.
The last thing on your mind just now
would be to get a Lynx
traffic is lame
road rage insane
And air pollution stinks.
Don't EVEN get you started
on the SUV
spews out nitrous oxide
and guzzles Texas tea.
Public parking,
another rare find
for what you get,
they rob you blind.
and what they miss
the vandal takes
leave you with migranes
the car alarm makes.
better for all
we all take the train
or one car per family
'stead of one car per brain.
Watching you stand there
with ice crystals forming
I despise all your stubborness
you NEED global warming!
I know you're no girly
my Ever-Ready mate
but my Duracel is waiting
and the 409 is late
I get out of my car
and approach you from the rear
my work cut out, without a doubt
the ice lymric is near
poetic license pending
I call for a herione's ending
like a frozen filet, without word or delay
I can lift you without even bending.
Once inside and thawing
you start in about the gas
I turn down the heat,
but turn up the seat
that's warming up your ****
I'm all for the planet, I tell ya
and doing whatever is best
but for mornings like these
with your jewels in deep freeze
come with and we'll heat up the Quest!
Sep 13, 2013
Sep 13, 2013 at 1:54 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall, HSG
[email protected]
Macbeth, Doctor Zhivago, Captain Call, Yevgeny Yevtushenko, Allen Ginsberg, and Rod McKuen Visit the Dentist but Have to Wait for Beowulf's Root Canal
In gratitude for all the wonderful dentists, hygienists, and
technicians who keep us chewing!
Macbeth Visits the Dentist
Is this a drill which I see before me
The whirring drill outstretched to my teeth
O happiest gas! Come let me clutch thee!
Before my body I throw my dental shield
Dr. Zhivago Visits the Dentist
Poor dental hygiene is for crowds of mediocrities
Only individuals seek dentistry
And they shun those who tolerate bad teeth
How many things in the world deserve our loyalty?
A dentist whose papers are in order
Captain Call Visits the Dentist
Call saw that the dentist was looking at him
The nitrous oxide drained out of him
Leaving him feeling tired
“I hate a bad tooth. I won’t tolerate it.”
Yevgeny Yevtushenko Visits the Dentist
For a tooth to come out
Some of the pain must be devoted to Stalin
Soviet dentistry demanded happy endings
I knew I could floss and brush better than Mayakovsky
Bella’s teeth were second only to those of Akhmatova
Only I could make Babi Yar all about me and my teeth
When I saw a dentist in Zima Junction
I saw the truth of the Revolution in her little mirror
Allen Ginsberg Visits the Dentist
I saw the best teeth of my generation destroyed by sugared sodas and a failure to brush and floss
dragging themselves through the medical complex at dawn looking for a fix
thinning-hair old hipsters burning for relief from aching jaws at the healing hands of dedicated professionals among their shining instruments
dedicated professionals who did not drop out of the University of Arkansas and never saw Mohammedan angels among the rooftops
Rod McKuen Visits the Dentist
I am like a molar; I have chewed alone
Gnawed a hundred hamburgers
Never found a bone
Still and all I’m toothy
Reason is you see
Once in a while along the way
Dentists have been good to me.
Jul 13, 2024
Jul 13, 2024 at 11:23 AM UTC
Jolted awake,
Is that banging
in my ears
inside my head,
or out?
It's at the door,
banging so hard
and fast.
I stride through
the darkness
to my sister's room.
A hand on her
shoulder and
her name.
It does not
wake
her.
Panic builds and
the banging,
it's inside and out.
She won't
wake
up, please.
Empty
Nitrous Oxide
and spirit bottles
litter my
sight.
Please, wake
up.
Please, before
our door
caves
in.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC
a cloud of smoke fills the air in a patio filled with laughter
friends circle round as we being to **** the dark green grass
fire rise up as he inhales the smoke from the long glass stem
he holds it in until his lungs collapse
then spews it from his mouth like a dragon breathing fire
a long pause fills the air until his lips form a grin
and we knew that his experience would being
he screams out laughter like a hyena breathing nitrous oxide
his eyes shift back and forth as he barley holds himself
he stops with total control
**** he says
I could feel all eyes staring me down as I look down at this magic bottle
a bottle that will send me past reality
that will push the envelope of my mind's customary perception
and show me things that I couldn't even dream of
far past my imagination
I inhale
my vision shook
and my fingers twisted
I began to sink into chair that I sat in
I could feel waves
waves coursing thought my entire body
and I felt jiggly like jello
I burst into the sky
flying through the inner tubes that hung their motionlessly
I felt the scratches of rubber
and still heard the laughter of children
but they were no where to be found
some how I ended up in my chair
still sitting there
with a river of drool hanging from my gaping jaw
the sky began to sway back and forth
like waves in the ocean
I reached for the sky saying I want to swim in the ocean
the harder I tried the more it pulled me away
until the ocean disappeared
and I was left sitting there
next to my friend saying
pass me the pipe
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 12:59 AM UTC
An admiration for abolition.
Close quarters conversation, and demolition.
Obstructive outbursts, constructive concerts,
and outraged rebellious rallies.
They preach round words, and mastered mortality catalysts,
soaked like dish towels.
Pen and paper,
barbed double edged razor wire,
and sharp teeth.
Hand tapered fine meats; an electrified man- reviver.
Perplexed attire,
liquor bottles and glass houses.
Insane models, fake **** in skin blouses.
Weaved baskets of silver trash,
and packed ground ashes.
The masses, pained by stained caskets,
and back lashes.
Oblivion shoves, and the brain passes.
The sadness.
Fertilized territories,
and athletes with vein madness.
Getting laid, and LED light brigades,
November no-shave, and long hair with viking braids.
Homeless, with no car and bike less.
Filling lungs up with nitrous.
Instantly flightless,
and magazines full of white ****** spiteness.
An officers flashlight kiss.
Nervousness, and ****** lips.
Love confusion, brought on by a ****** fist.
Lucrative ways to hang and sway.
Dangle from the chain of a rich gang banger,
as he fades to grey.
Rude assumptions, and high heeled country bumpkins.
Cracking the asphalt with their steel toes thumping.
What a great place to be.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Where the skylights meet the highway
Where the rubber meets the road
Hell in my rearview mirror
And my mind on overload
Can’t outrun the ticking clock
Or distance myself from destiny
Spun out in the middle of my life
By the reckless heart inside of me
Drag myself from under this wreckage
Can’t say I feel no pain
Only a matter of moments I’ll be
In another hit and run again
Speeding cars they never stop
Just because you forfeit the race
Clear the track and they go round again
A faster car to take your place
This blur of life makes me slam my breaks
I was never built for speed
Cut the nitrous and the adrenaline
There’s something more that I need
Calling out over the roar of the engines
Shut the door and throw out the key
Walk away from this race to nowhere
There’s a better path that waits for me
TL Boehm
02/15/14
Mar 5, 2016
Mar 5, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC