"quaaludes" poems
Sugar nightmares haunt children
Nancy harlequins cane them
Oh, child of mine
your life you did,
away,
sign.
Force fed familiarity with already branded emotions,
irregular realities and clouded surreal formalities,
so very many humans’ form dichotomies
out of our shared mute gray;
spinning constant self-important prose.
So very many humans share so much,
so little,
not often
doing little to soften
all of their emotional blows
trying hard to strike enigmatic pose.
Oh, child of mine
the heart of utilitarian method
has receded in incredulous fashion
followed by authoritarian apologies;
the majority is not icecream people
spreading simple good thought,
but generations fraught
with trivial conformist ideologies.
We are all hiding our seams
with creative masks
and self created tasks.
Oh, child of mine
your prescription reality is revealing itself as Atlantis,
sinking and shuddering into Quaaludes
with frightening psychotic interludes.
Emotions paint
stained lurid faces,
dancing with
ludes effecting movement,
nudes of swaying and repose.
You arose deeming so much rightfully yours
waltzing through seemingly already opened doors.
Holy curb their anti-Christ
Consider your aging soul
Oh, child of mine
Belief of awareness in action
understand the probability of dissatisfaction,
Stop!
treating the moment as a bleak bridge to the next inaction.
Eventually ponderous thoughts form
resembling an orrery,
an incessantly philippic story
orchestrates your oleaginous personality.
Oh, child of mine
Youth flees and your mind
takes once again to the seas,
a vexing penumbra of perception.
Bathos permeates the fathoms of an obstreperous life
and if you still care,
lament that this meaningless congeries
of moments
inspires only delusion,
no disillusionment.
Eventually a lilting threnody
leading 'tween burning pews of proposed serenity
and the following bumping callithump
will firmly stamp you into black infinity.
Oh, child of mine
You've used the switch
too much
too often
coupled with lofty scoffing
giving the innocent up as offering
to the
mechanical engine
of organic creation.
Sep 1, 2010
Sep 1, 2010 at 11:05 AM UTC
boy may move
make moves
the coast sways blue
ghostly grey quaaludes
gasp and gather and get gone
see gulls
see “get out of dodge” a la roget
sunburnt skin Rośe
aloe
vera ****
saint white
more saint than yves laurent
freighter; only witness
speak now
or hold your peace
see “forever” a la webster
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
The summer before
her chest hollowed out,
ribs bowing around vacuums,
her lungs ballooning new geometries.
The summer seas invaded body cavities,
feral and chemically sweet.
Her body became a gondola
ferrying pale, diminutive hopes
across the wide strait of your pelvis.
Oceans shifted gingerly,
unborn into the intimate dark
of throats, heart chambers,
marshes between thighs.
She drew the shores around her close, paranoid.
When they got to her
she’d filled her mouth deep
with different types of char: love, anorexia, Quaaludes.
Marrow coagulated and stopped ebbing
with the orbit of the moon.
Her heart smelled like day-old fish.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 11:18 PM UTC
*THIS IS PART OF EDNA's "randyhornbag" EROTICA SERIES
(and a learned one too!)*
*****
dildas
dildat
dildamus
dildatis
dildant
the latin class held its breath
the teacher must be a ****
or just spaced out on quaaludes
and then Miss explained
"dildare is the verb "to have fun
by yourself" and remember girls
it takes the accusative case
as in "ave sandra, vulvam tuam hodie dildam"+
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 1:50 PM UTC
mother was a saint
father her punching bag
sisters were all called *****
when they came home
and failed the ***** check my mother
gave them, mother did nothing wrong
she ruled with brick hard pork chops
and circles of us kids
screaming , a belt in her hand,
who stole my chocolate bar?
No wonder dad had other things to do,
referee in basketball and hockey
an ump in baseball,
a head linesman in football
a devoted Boy Scout mentor,
he mentored so many young men,
but was not there for me.
I grew up not knowing how to tie a knot or survive,
I was lucky mom favored me.
I guess because in that circle of five kids,
me being the youngest , before school age,
to stop the terror I said I had stolen that candy bar.
She was a smart saint, asked me what kind was it?
I failed and was dismissed from the circle of terror.
I went to my room the rest of my days at home
trying to balance the sanity from the insane and withdrew.
I bounced ***** off the wall. Made up fantasy baseball players.
Had all their statistics scribbled in notebooks
year after year, always my name was there and I was better than Babe Ruth. Somehow , I was smart enough to get the hell out of there.
I got out earlier with mescaline mushrooms *** lsd Quaaludes
alcohol young girls. But, I got out fully when I left to join the Air Force.
I look back and state all this for the purpose of saying it was
all my fault, not mom's or dad's, mine. I was weak.
It took me years and years to figure it out get strong find my voice
consider my mom as a saint again
and my dad as a martyr!
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 10:19 PM UTC
Who's love has fallen
As she begged me to promise,
never to hurt her
never to leave her
and to always love her
It was our first love, yet we were both very young
The first time she touch me
The first time I touched her
The first time we made love
We both trembled with excitement
Something so different, so new
A new feeling for both of us
Constantly battling who loved who more
Listening to nothing on the phone for hours daily
With few words spoken, but just to hear each other breath for hours
Was more then enough, with no one wanting to hang up
Scribbling I love you's, initials and our names
on every school book and folder
She was always telling their friends how much I love her
While I tell the boys and act cool and say she only wants me
Yet no one knows about our young passionate love
As we cruise the lake pontchartrain in my muscle car
with my group of friends, each with a girl in hand following
As we go to school dances
Running the streets during Mardi Gras
Partying in the Big Easy
Barn fires parting on the Mississippi river
As we work on our cars daily
the girls are always there
So much teenage clean fun
**** we did it all!
And we were good at it
Quaaludes, *** and beer
How grown up we felt
Now those times are gone
Yet still very vivid memories
As we grew older we drifted apart
Many, many years later
I sometimes try to find her
Sometimes I do
Sometime I don't
When I do, we reminisce
Her married with kids still in the same neighborhood
Me still single with a great career traveling the world
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 7:55 PM UTC
dropped to your knees in front of me
so drunk you could barely see
and your blind eyes cried
as you told me I'd
be your final chance to be set free
so
cloaked in ***** and a couple Quaaludes as I told you all my thoughts one night
and my shaky plans and my shaking hands seemed more fragile that I thought they might
running up my street with our fleet young feet when you took my hand in yours
and with certainty I could finally see what my God had made my hands for
(CHORUS)
clutching a bottle
empty hearts at full throttle
flying blindfolded down a rollercoaster of love
I've got you by my side, but I'm not sure you're enough
all my friends are gone as I write this song, and I'm not sure they'll be back
they got frightened, got mad, got sick , got sad, didn't want to see me crack
but you stood by me, though I couldn't see if it was because you cared
or because you, too, were alone and so getting out made you too scared
thought I'd gotten away until you found me today
thought I'd gotten away until you found me today
(CHORUS x2)
so I lie by you
and I hold you tight
every night feels like
it's our final night
so I die by you
hope that you die too
in the end my poison's
what I found in you
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 2:45 PM UTC
I carry freight
interstate
eight
hauling gear.
I fear
noting
nothingness hoarded
the nights on my road.
Carrying a load out in
Fresno,
ok
all of this works if you know
Fresno
and I've seen things here
things that made me fear.
I've seen nothingness in the eyes of a lady, the queen of the maybe and maybe that should have been it, but **** happens and we have to deal with it.
There is
more to the ramblings of gamblers or ex drinkers who foam at the mouth for a beer,
and I've been here
sold my soul for a handful of quaaludes
in a back room with some dudes
I can't even remember.
But I remember the fear when the nothingness lit on my shoulder and you carry yourself even though you get older and the road out to Fresno is the same as the last road which was 4,000 years long,
So it seemed
And Lucy who never knew diamonds at all
only the rough hands of bad men in the crack dens of Harlem
until nothingness steamed in and screamed like a Stuka and you think to yourself
Jeez I am one crazy ******
but you're still on the right side of
Interstate eight,
carrying fear like you carry the freight
hoping that no one will see you .
Apr 20, 2016
Apr 20, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
weekend
saturday after
wilin last night
designer shirt
computer chair
808s
tired eyes
wise cracks about quaaludes
this ******* thinks
he's Kinsey
or something
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 7:28 PM UTC
There was a time,
a time when I drank
gallons of cheap whiskey,
swallowed lots of quaaludes
to drown my sickening
thoughts of you,
you getting it on
with my school mates.
And I survived the abyss on my own.
because you sure didn't help
putting me there.
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 8:21 AM UTC
for her birthday I bought her
a lawn chair
for my bitthday
she chucked my guitar
out the window.
she bought ad space
on a dating site
proclaiming I'm a cheating
*****
so I poured hot coffee
on my head and walked into
traffic high on quaaludes.
I woke up strapped to a gurney
with this **** nurse in
a
rubber nixon mask
******* spilling out
of her candy stripe
she was installing this
metal cockroach in the
side of my skull.
my first thought was a little Steve Ignorant in the middle of a conceptual framework for the same time to get the best of all the time to go to a few days I have a lot of
my second thought was 'that's
not proper medical attire'
my third thought was
OH MY GOD I'M NOT SURE IF I CAN BE ONLY ONE MILLION YEARS AGO AND IN THE GREATEST BAND OF ALL THE GREATEST HITS FROM YOUR PRIVILEGE TO WORSHIP WHAT IS SHE DOING TO MY HEAD
but it came out like a stifled
squeak.
then I passed back out for a few. I dreamt
someone bent over me, 69 style,
******* on me
while simultaneously ********
all over my chin neck and chest
it smelled like the jungles
of a dead planet
I couldnt move anything but my head.
and in the corner there was a fat man eating raw chicken and staring
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
I left myself for a brief good few hours
Whether it was the mescaline, or the quaaludes
All I know is my now wife, smelled as tropical beaches and
Fresh picked flower's.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 5:42 AM UTC
They got pills now that take the place of words
So I'm thinking poetry should give it
Over, being unreliable at
Best and dangerous used as intended.
No quaaludes anymore so that rules out
Ballads, but with serotonin juicers
We could all of us be Rod McKuen.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 10:42 PM UTC