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"shitbricks" poems
Ten minutes after I had barfed nine nuances of green and eight hues of pathetic in a pretty steady stream I found a girl whimpering in the shades of a column My drunken self coughed and adjusted to being solemn 'cause I knew her long ago and offered her comfort and perceived it went well but what did it not distort? dry cheeks and thank you's I continued whatever and she played her game for a boy who gave her the blues should be the victim of her clever bedside revenge in vain he cared two shitbricks 'bout her roundabout her self-inflicted humiliation was complete he hunts the insecure to hear his boyz applaud now she had vengefully given herself to Pete I realized her dignity was a blood stain on a sheet and all that was just a laughing matter to Pete it disappeared with the rumbling of his washing machine but to my eyes; that spot will never appear clean I did not have the authority to put that psycho-casanova behind bars but Ink-Eye gave him the prison treatment, in an alley, under the stars ..... pause. (WHO'S INK-EYE?) *Before I morphed into the niagara falls of puke, this man with a tattooed teardrop was handed my money by my intoxicated hands in order to set things straight the old way. All I dug up from my wallet was three dimes and some pastilles. Minty. "It'll do".* Last night I sat at the highway diner. All chairs were stacked but mine. On my plate lied a charlatan's tooth wrapped in white tissue paper, as if I had pickpocketted it from his gums. The lousy transistor radio scrambled Tom Waits' "Midnight Lullaby" as the waitress did dishes in the ***** kitchen, and I saw my lone silhouette in the panorama 'show' window illuminated by the worn out neon signs on the diner's facade. I needed to go home.
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Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
JGolem
No. 3#
Ten minutes after I had barfed nine nuances of green and eight hues of pathetic in a pretty steady stream I found a girl whimpering in the shades of a column My drunken self coughed and adjusted to being solemn 'cause I knew her long ago and offered her comfort and perceived it went well but what did it not distort? dry cheeks and thank you's I continued whatever and she played her game for a boy who gave her the blues should be the victim of her clever bedside revenge in vain he cared two shitbricks 'bout her roundabout her self-inflicted humiliation was complete he hunts the insecure to hear his boyz applaud now she had vengefully given herself to Pete I realized her dignity was a blood stain on a sheet and all that was just a laughing matter to Pete it disappeared with the rumbling of his washing machine but to my eyes; that spot will never appear clean I did not have the authority to put that psycho-casanova behind bars but Ink-Eye gave him the prison treatment, in an alley, under the stars ..... pause. (WHO'S INK-EYE?) *Before I morphed into the niagara falls of puke, this man with a tattooed teardrop was handed my money by my intoxicated hands in order to set things straight the old way. All I dug up from my wallet was three dimes and some pastilles. Minty. "It'll do".* Last night I sat at the highway diner. All chairs were stacked but mine. On my plate lied a charlatan's tooth wrapped in white tissue paper, as if I had pickpocketted it from his gums. The lousy transistor radio scrambled Tom Waits' "Midnight Lullaby" as the waitress did dishes in the ***** kitchen, and I saw my lone silhouette in the panorama 'show' window illuminated by the worn out neon signs on the diner's facade. I needed to go home.
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