"rotgut" poems
I want to be a **** up
Hooked on every drug
Drunk every night
A wasted life
******* anyone
Willing to make me ***
I want to be a leader
Of the unhealthy
Lifestyle
There's a ****
To my madness
Needle in my vein
Powdered nose
Think I'm going insane?
I want to be a leader
Of the unhealthy
Lifestyle
One night stands
Behind garbage bins
**** faced drunk
Passed out
****** on
Pool of *****
Pass the rotgut
I need another shot
I want to be a leader
Of the unhealthy
Lifestyle
"*No one ever said I want to be a ****** when I grow up*"
Well I did
I do...
***Sleep it off in the gutter
You ************
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 8:12 PM UTC
terror is a friend
a close one
the kind of friend
kind enough to warm me
away from the things
that might **** me
like places where people
are real people
not rotgut drunks
stuck in the mud
like me
the real people are the nightmare
without them
i wouldn't see what i don't have
or can't have
or shouldn't have
but the terror keeps me safe
drink up it says
then maybe the real people
might get blurry
and look more like me
then i can pretend
that i am them
that is what the terror
can abide
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 5:35 PM UTC
i sent a postcard
from a deserted train car
but you threw it away and
wept over the way i wrote your name--
the last time you saw me
i was wearing a pink carnation
in a pin-striped suit
but i traded it on a cold night
nearly three years ago
for a swig of rotgut wine
and a
*****
postcard.
--now i'm waiting for you
to turn into a paper bird
and burn
into
me.
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 8:03 PM UTC
There's an emptiness inside of me
That I've been doing my best to avoid
Words used to fill the hollow spot
As deeply as the humans I once knew
But slowly they all slipped out
And left a bottomless well
That burns like rotgut whiskey and ulcers
There's an emptiness inside of me
That I choose to ignore
I take my mind off of it with small adventures,
Afternoon beers,
Late night cocktails,
Early morning ****** Mary's
And whatever semblance of interaction I can procure.
There's an emptiness inside of me
That I've been trying to ignore
But it has grown vicious teeth
And jagged talons
It tears me apart from the inside out
But you'll never see it on my face
Or hear it in my voice
There's an emptiness inside of me
That I've done what I can to ignore
But the emptiness inside of me is mine
And I'll walk with it to Death's door.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 10:33 PM UTC
Rain, ride down the river
and pass me by.
I'm gone out to deliver
my rotgut rye.
There's children at the rope swing
this first of June.
Up in the church, they're hoping
he'll finish soon.
Rain, keep right on goin',
and should you see
them solemn faces showin',
kiss them for me.
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 8:16 AM UTC
I met me a gypsy somewhere South of Poughkeepsie, and this hobo from Hoboken offered me his creased hand in a token of friendship.
We travelled out West in Box cars,made some dollars selling jam jars,slept under lilac trees and drank rotgut from the river bars.
Down in Kentucky we got lucky with diamonds,drew a full hand at poker,smoked Cuban cigars,spent more than money in bars and blew the whole *** on showgirls.
Then hobo got sick and he died awful quick,it was the pox and the rotgut that took him,but hell we had fun.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 7:01 AM UTC
Once he was my constant companion,
I loved the way he soothed my soul,
took all my troubles away
& we played continuously,
frolicked hand-in-hand
throughout many a long night.
But the mornings always hurt,
I'd wobble and stare at the bloodshot eyes
staring back at me in my cracked ***** mirror,
my parched throat usually speechless,
until I finally
sang his swan song.
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:50 AM UTC
Desperate times for desperate men
then relaxation time with a cup of tea,a
glass of wine or if it's handy a
snifter or two of the finest brandy but
I have drunk electric soup,scooped it up,
swallowed it down,plugged into the main
and become one of the totally insane.
In the shallow end you defend against the night,
paddle if you will with can,
just call me the rotgut man.
When it's all a state of mind it looks so easy to unwind,
it's not.
The rot sets in as the sun rides out and the twilight shouts my name.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 2:06 PM UTC
I like the way my hands look like in the light of a fire,
I think.
It could be the drugs, or the drinking
Or sleep I haven't been sleeping,
But every year,
When winter has gone, and spring stands defiantly ahead,
I am reminded of this,
I like my hands,
In the light of fire,
With a good bit of dirt on them,
And a jug of rotgut wine in them.
I like the way my hands look in the light of a fire.
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 12:49 AM UTC
Feeling that feel good
it felt good to give a new pound coin
to an old beggar,
but then I didn't feel so good,
what if
he bought drugs with it?
or
what if
it was spent on drink?
then I felt better
how many drugs could a pound buy?
and how much alcohol?
unless it was that lightning cider krap
and even then a quid wouldn't get rid
of the thirst in a gnat
so I felt the feel good until,
what if,
he choked on his cheap rotgut
overdosed on a shot
put
that in perspective
would the feel good factor
factor in my defence?
I don't feel so good now.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 1:54 PM UTC
No one gets the credit
that they're due
not me nor you
it's a fukin zoo out there
I think Bernardo Soares
shares my view on this,
you can kiss goodbye to the
how, where and why
and get used to the
red line through
everything that you do
a fukin zoo.
No one told me when
the World turned upside down
I was so busy spinning
my frown was still a frown
and thus it was,
and now I have a shotgun
and
rotgut for my friend
the end will come
and it
will come for you
it's all the same
in the fukin zoo.
Withdraw your labour
fuel the fires?
it
all tires me out.
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 2:36 PM UTC
I've chugged bottles of the finest wine,
guzzled gallons of rotgut whiskey,
smoked bowlfuls of ethereal herbs,
& swallowed lots of strange pills
& I'm sorry if I hurt you,
it was never my intent.
I'm just hell bent on
******** things up,
it's always been my way,
but I will always love you
when you don't love me,
promise.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
When nothing's as good as anything
there's no point in us knowing everything
not when something is
bound to appear.
I have faith that good fortune will find me
before the rotgut I drink totally blinds me.
Saturday and the Saturday smell,
fresh and inviting
I shall dip my toes in
the weekend,
but it's windy and the wind's always greedy
it sees me as in need so it feeds me
with fingers of ice
which is not very nice,
but I go where the wind tends to lead me.
Christmas and Santa's hit the sherry
it's no wonder he always looks merry
his elves help themselves off the
bargain ***** shelves
because
some things are as good as anything.
Dec 8, 2018
Dec 8, 2018 at 2:39 AM UTC
dressed to mask this scowl
painted it bubblegum pink
poured my three finger shot
of 100 proof rotgut to drink,
no ice for a chaser required
as all my inhibitions shrink
naughtiness envelopes me
willpower slips off the brink
my sights set, the target you,
you shall be mine with a wink
in the armor that you sport
feel me slide passed a *****
craving the heat of naked flesh
races pulse, stimulation in sync
resistance is futile, ***** the rules
time to feel with no time to think
Jan 21, 2019
Jan 21, 2019 at 2:41 PM UTC
An elegant finesse
& O what love they share,
it's so very complex
like a fine wine.
And with the grittiness
of rotgut whiskey
& his wanton demeanor,
he loves tender-moment kisses
swallowing her petals
& absolutely
craves her
beautiful simplicity
she exudes.
Jun 21, 2014
Jun 21, 2014 at 6:49 AM UTC
A trip to rotgut
I rode my horse in to a town called Rotgut
As I rode up the main street I looked at the old saloon.
The doors was closed to traffic for some odd reason it wasn't noon.
I notice at the front of the sheriff's office a hang mans plank.
For today, they were hanging billy boy Taylor.
Rotgut was a mean town hanging was a weekly thing. But today there would be no.
For my guns would blaze to save a man in rotgut.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
They sea me without.
I carry a raven upon my shoulder,
A sundial on my back.
The hat I wear is made of ash;
Sunlight is what I lack.
I drag my feet behind me on sandy beaches.
The ball and chain my ankle bracelet bling.
‘If only…’ is a wish, a fantasy; it’s incomplete.
I never made it big.
There is a line of memories behind me in the sand;
It shows the places I have seen.
It is my reason;
The reason I understand;
The reason I understand why you do not understand me.
It curves around, beyond the boulders
And on through rows of palm trees.
This dream I have, I have always carried;
It has always been with me.
I leave my burdens at the door,
But desire is a flame that still burns eternal.
It lights up my face, when I see her face,
But inside I remain forever nocturnal.
I walk in foreign footsteps,
No guide or friend in tow.
I cross the sea of peace, love and empathy forever,
Alone in my sinking boat.
I carry only what I need to make it to the end of the sea.
The cannon ball attached to my feet,
Is expanding more than I would like it to be.
It grows with each passing full moon,
The only time I can be seen.
I hide behind a smile sometimes,
Before it rows away from me.
I have a conversation, with a man who sells only ale;
His face is full of redness and joy!
My face is always pale.
I take a sip of this rotgut and begin to waste away from the inside.
I sometimes hear a hearty tune and sing!
While all the time,
Inside, I die…
The noise is intoxicating;
The words they speak are so enchanting.
Sooner or later it becomes closing time
And I am left walking away from the dancing.
The maiden’s flutter their eyes,
I haven’t shaved in several weeks.
My life is worn away by the sun, my clothes torn asunder.
They flirt and kiss me on the cheek
But there is no more thunder.
They ask if I would like to join them,
On their midnight adventure.
I have no words, I promise to return,
But they never get a real answer.
They cannot readily see the hole in my soul;
Oh what a charmed life I live.
I try to laugh, so tip my hat…
…a pirate’s life for me.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 3:18 AM UTC
Waiting somewhere in the wings are things we
never talk about,
walk out on,
things that don't sit comfortably,
helplessly but not hopelessly we
move along the lines of life where fate or
indeed, fates wife can comfort us,
we look to futures not yet set but
can't see them,
yet we look ahead.
Blue eyes turn red,
was it something that someone said?
someone in the wings being fed your
own ammunition?
And over,
over yonder hills after
twenty seven thousand pills and countless
shots of rotgut gin and years of counting
mounting minutes or the treading of the mill,
there's still someone waiting in the wings
or something someone never brings,
and somewhere I never talk about
I keep on walking out.
Mar 16, 2015
Mar 16, 2015 at 4:54 AM UTC
In order to feel that,
one must eschew dog
in favour of cat food,
install a ski lift,
give short change and
shorter shrift,
paint palindromes
torch light garden gnomes
take out pay day loans
and skip town.
It surely follows on that
when the day has gone
the night appears,
and owls eyes scan the
fields for mice.
I have nine lives
used up one
and twice I've nearly split
from number two,
it's the catgut or rotgut
or the garden hut for me
where no one sees the
madness in my eyes,
there's only reflected light
in these cats eyes
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
I've been to that place.
The place of the unknown,
where I've been so ripped,
I can't remember a thing.
And pondering what got me there,
I haven't a clue.
Was it pain.
Was it joy.
It certainly wasn't the taste
of rotgut whiskey.
That liquid burns your throat
& makes your face contort
to forget things.
And who would want
to forget happiness?
But it did.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 2:39 AM UTC