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Travis Green Aug 2018
An immense circle of thoughts was clouding
my brain in this room of reconfigured dimensions,
the spinning ceiling fan whirling into a windmill,
the ******* floors breaking into a wave of sharpened
metaphors, the expressionless curtains filled with fear
and crashing scenery, a dark hollow surface converging
in a rhythm of insane beats, imprisoned noted drumming,
disentangled sentences, shattering subjects, compressed
conjunctions and compounds accelerating into an eternity
of uncolored existences, as I stare at the isolated sky,
swollen stars diverging in a broken pattern of faded worlds,
the breathless moon sunken in a domain of interchangeable
languages, meaningless mazes, chopped consonants,
crumbling dreams, everything shifting in a sea of diminishing
whirlpools, while I drifted into a realm of uncaged thoughts,
a crushing cycle of unbalanced worlds, dizzy and senseless
paragraphs bleeding into timeless realities.  My eyes are
plummeting and shackled in drumbeating rhetoric, lost logos,
swallowed pathos, enveloped ethos, rainless cheeks, cloaked chests,
handcuffed arms, square root hips disassembling into deferred
depictions, distilled dreams, shadowed feet hardly more than a
poetic sound, a sore scrawled letter stretched in ragged angles,
stinging, helpless horizons.  I gazed at the shattered glass on
the kitchen floor, how its cracking vibration rumbled inside
my veins, how its impossible syllables blazed my soul,
the burning air around my inner being suffocating in Saturn,
vanishing in Venus, exploding on Earth, every ****** debris
splitting in horrid labyrinths, a screaming depth hidden in
disguise.  I glanced around at the broken wall where
my drunken dad fists where imprinted, the mangled wood
hanging in drugged vowels, the rotten symmetry disappearing
in chalky chambers, roughly lined hues declining without a trace,
as I reflected on the series of events that transpired, the way I
could hear the slamming door raging inside my vessel,
enflamed flaming verbs hovering in high rhymes,
hardened adjectives, destroyed derivatives, disintegrating
equations, the way his bladed feet dragged across the floor,
every reverberating step drowning the sunken space between us,
unwritten surroundings trapped in the atmosphere, confined in a
cloud of inconsolable galaxies, the raging fire stained ***** bottle
wedged between his grubby hands, as I could smell the reeking
breath sifting out of his mouth onto my monotonous flesh,
the same ruthless flow traveling in stuttering nouns, drowning
my heart in Neptune, while I listened to his blazing bloodshot
words, You are nothing without me!  You are worthless!  
You are just a filthy *****!  I wish you would die!  The rising
diction clenched every part of my frame, the way I could breathe
in the asphalt in his tasteless lips, a dying aroma that made me feel
like I was a featureless street seeping into underground dungeons, undone, a destroyed beauty shotgunned.
Vivian Jul 2014
the death
of self, exhaled, borne upon
wafts of
air, and
I, with my self-conscious
prose and pretensions
of intellectualism,
and I, dreaded I -
there is a beauty in
ideology; even wastrelism,
being the muck of the earth and
much reviled by Proper Gentlemen,
has its allure and adherents
those disciples of Dionysus,
bacchanalia becoming banal by
sheer repetition:
*****, *****, *****, shotgunned beers, and then-
TEQUIIIILA!!
crowed at the top of their lungs,
memory expunged by
hepatic-processed organic compounds.
of course, these mannerisms are simply
beneath you, disdainfully
catalogued by keen eyes:
no, your form of forgettance
is much more forceful, much less
fanciful and romanticized:
your amnesia is
absolute,
it required nothing less than
total dedication, mortification,
death of self as you
expatiated lusts, loves,
aught but ambitions remain,
and now, you have triumphed:
you stand solitary, skyscrapers
shining for your personal
pleasure, yet you can find,
none.
James and I just like sharpening our minds
iron on iron, and tonight we brag
we have evolved past the struggle for life

then tiny drops of red
shotgunned and glittered on the deck

silence, like a stalking cop
catches us off guard, saunters up the stairs
and points at the blood mist on the floor

then more, more sprays from our heaving friend
wrenched over a stolen desk
hacking at red roots in her throat
then drawing in her breath
through the gravel in her neck
sputters in a bubbling little choke

stillness is broken by her hand, batting,
at the sticky scarlet strings ******* on her chin

It’s just Redvines, guys
we hear it, unconvinced
eyes still stuck to a splatter of stained saliva
where something confident had been spit
but dribbled like a weakness from her lips

but after she had wiped clean
the candy bleeding from her teeth
we lit and toasted a smoke to long life and to health---

if on us it depends
*may it never come again.
Anna Sep 2013
Your breathing chases ghosts away.*
I exhale shotgunned smoke
And laugh at my own words.
K G Dec 2016
I'm enveloped with-
Shotgunned lovers on the avenues
That no one gave a **** about
Kin of the lovers live on the news
Ape-**** on the hood of their cars
For balloons of views to peruse
Sirens burning in the bushes
Hearts rattling in the noose
Bonds shining like the sun
Religion is in need of roots
The concrete is stuffed too full
Because we're jumping roofs
KG
kylie formella Dec 2014
at which did you decide that i was no longer good enough?
nothing ever changed for me
something inside you has died and
i'm not even allowed inside the funeral because
nobody knew that we were lovers
how am i supposed to breathe
when your breath is still inside my lungs
from all the smoke i shotgunned
i'm your favorite scar;
your favorite sad story'
to tell your grandkids one day
"i broke a girl's heart once,
she still writes me everyday"
you can't just look at the glass
you've got to shatter it
so every one knows that you were the one that did it
nobody can ever break me again,
you do it everyday
the me who smiles is dead,
i hung her in my closet
with my father's belt.
i never gave it back to him because i never saw him again
after he said "see you soon."
just like you, you promised too.
i tried stitching us back together with
"i need you"
but you didn't even care
i have dreams where you **** me
and in my dreams,
you have the courtesy to keep pretending you love me
home is where the ghosts are
home is where the heart aches
home is where you got all your scars
home is in his chest;
it's a beating heart
and you don't know how to untangle yourself
from his nooses made of veins
let me go,
let me go to heaven
my time in hell is over with
Austin Hunt Sep 2019
Two bros converged into a fellowhood
And stoked to share their Fight Club quotes
And be two broskis, juiced they stood,
And shotgunned PBRs, long as they could,
till they were wrecked in a sweet-*** boat

Then proclaimed the bros, into the air,
“Turn on the flatscreen, let’s watch the game”,
it was Saturday so the day was theirs;
and as they sat in their folding chairs,
the smell of axe the air became

And clad in their Costas they loudly played
a song no bro’s cracked iPhone lacks.
Oh, they know their bops like they know their whey!
They smelled their teen spirits and exhaled away,
JUUL clouds of fruit flavors with swag densely packed.

There is no replacing these two guys
and their dudely jockish fashion sense.
Two bros converged as two would, and aye-
They forged the path bros travel by,
a path of bliss and ignorance.
Scar Mar 2016
Things were always happening in the dark
And behind closed doors
Or after everyone fell unconscious to the hand of drink

What I remember most is that first night in the basement
The beginning of Year One
You shotgunned a beer in the boiler room and we almost kissed

My hands on your legs felt like something I believed in
It was always all wrong
I had trouble deciphering between your face and my reflection

There are still so many nights I pushed into the space between my bed and the wall
Grace Haak Mar 2021
It all seems so business
so pleasantly polite...so black-hides-the-blue..so completely unlike you.
I close my eyes and think of it often
the alternate to the unsmiling coffin
You don’t want a poem about how great you are
You want everyone singing Green Day, with Joe on guitar
You don’t want flowers falling without a sound
You want shotgunned cans of Hamm’s thrown on the ground
You don’t want scratchy collars and palms all sweaty
You want retro Nikes and confessions of confetti
You don’t want hiccups and heartache
You want plastic forks and a Costco cake.

But instead
I’m left with red-hot
blurry stinging
Perfect gray
Sad sky ringing
A gaping hole in the dug-up dirt
Filled with mounds of rock-hard hurt.
They see a nice young man
in a green striped tie
Gone too soon,
who knows why
It’s tragic
but their world keeps turning
They sympathize
but their eyes stop burning.

They don’t see a little brother open the doors
of your Jack and Jill
because his Jack has gone and left a chill.
So he can fall asleep,
he turns on the bedside light,
pretends you’re up reading
and everything is right.
You and World War II guns
always late into the night.
idk
things undone
cannot be undone
lack of effort
cannot be undone
you cannot change anything that you truly feel
increase or decrease the intensity
or alter the way that it will lead you
and feigning heartfelt change
thru something u could easily erase
its defeating to tell the truth
is it worse than what u already do
idk
but its safely packaged
in all the passive relapses
that remind you of what you may have been sent here to do
if i never called u anything
would u still have said those things
or was it just easier to hide behind them
and pretend we werent suffering
and live unhappily
forever and after
shotgunned by the fear
of blame or a connection
to these halflife disappearances
508
things undone
cannot be undone
lack of effort
cannot be undone
you cannot change anything that you truly feel
increase or decrease the intensity
or alter the way that it will lead you
and feigning heartfelt change
thru something u could easily erase
its defeating to tell the truth
is it worse than what u already do
idk
but its safely packaged
in all the passive relapses
that remind you of what you may have been sent here to do
if i never called u anything
would u still have said those things
or was it just easier to hide behind them
and pretend we werent suffering
and live unhappily
forever and after
shotgunned by the fear
of blame or a connection
to these halflife disappearances
lilyloon Sep 2019
it is at the window after many
hours where i feel peach clay
peel dropping from my cheeks onto
my mandarin string shirt
i am a fruit on a peach fuzz fish
hook dangled over a
gingerbread city of grape
mauve autos and bandaid box tram cars
circling the ring like
vultures, like pirates, like
all of us with a love of
treasure. the rain hurls
itself into the canals but my
window is dry for whatever reason
and i cannot sleep so early
the lights of the goings-goings-
goings are ice sculpture stars
frozen mid-death mid-catharsis
in an eternal reaching-out, an eternal
going-going-going and i
hang above the gingerbread
city, ripe, flaky,
clay from my cheek
shotgunned by the rain
into the water below
Travis Green Aug 2019
I was hurt beyond measure, beaten, bruised,
shut down, sinking beyond mountainous
stones, closed chambers, saw-slashed syllables,
whip-smashed vowels, dry rotten, abandoned,
sashed up, floating on dank shores, ax slapped,
crashing below burned hallways.  My heart was
shifting in unstable positions, squeaky baseboards
and blackboards, screeching sounds folding
and unfolding around my broken soul as I stared
around the empty bedroom seeking serenity
from this lost love lingering inside my cells.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t falling
in love with you, your dark passionate eyes
reaching deep into the layers of my labyrinth,
thick lips filled with incandescent rhythms,
widening in my sight, sparking my horizon
as I longed to embrace your landscape.
soft bones of freedom and hope traveling
within your wild nature, seamless treasures
revolving in the air, wavy hair everything
I wanted and more, wonderful arms a stream
of poetry, a dancing mix drumming through
the cracks of my creation, awakening my universe,
your rapping soundtrack of romance headlining
the cityscape, shining like flashing stoplights,
like crystal china.  And as I paced back and forth
around the shadowy space, the green-walls
starting to close in on me, all rusted and ragged,
hardened, splintered commas snapping away
from subjects, damaged verbs and run-on
sentences, my shrunken shoulders trapped
in hollow holes, dying, dim, slim,
shattered stems encompassing my limbs,
sour vowels burning in my mouth,
squashed maggots and bedbugs dissolving
down my throat, spoiled milk clouding
my windpipe, huge cockroaches crawling
all over my flesh as I took in the gratifying
touch.  I was losing my mind, shotgunned,
stunned, uncolored depictions stealing
away my serenity, jagged letters scrawled
in sharp swords across my blackened belly,
stained mirrors facing me in every direction,
my bladed hands lashing at every stained image,
feeling the fire flames from each cracked glass,
sizzling slopes, crazed hallucinations, dazed places,
raw-scorched galaxies, my crippled fingers
bleeding in saddened songs, smoked, undone,
unready, diminishing beneath slippery creeks
as I wondered why love could hurt so **** bad,
why when every time I thought I had found the one,
it was just another mugshot melody shattering
my system.
Travis Green Jun 2019
I was living in alternate
worlds, bruised, confused,
brutal beats clashing against
one another as I tried to cover
my ears to block out the chilled
rhythms reverberating in slated
nations, salt-blazed alliteration,
scarlet-smoked mazes, asphalt
alleyways, rain spattering upon
my face while I cried in the
moonlight.  And I could feel
the endless fights and threats
breaking me down piece by piece,
the days when I just wanted
to die, stab myself in the heart
and feel a slow, painful death,
bringing my body to a freezing
point – a raging shot, a falling
bomb, shotgunned, unsound.
Travis Green Sep 2019
Hazel harmonies tightened to the core,
disappearing into rocking rumbles
and drums, the earth’s existence beating
and tapping, crashing and smashing
the boulevard into blackened depictions.
shattered sounds filling the landscape,
stunned, shotgunned, sputtering syllables
floating in crimson oceans, bleeding love
lingering around tremendous tree trunks,
******* muscles screaming in high pitched
sounds, drowning in drunken depths.
ripped skin sizzling, smoked, choked, cutthroat,
ribs hovering in crimson creations, flamed
forearms, stinging shoulders over bitten lips,
cheeks chilled to the touch.  Hardened hollows
sparked with damaging rhythms, blasting
torpedoes and tsunamis, spinning Hennessy
bottles wrecking the scene.
Travis Green May 2022
I want a hot strapping ****
Like you in my life
To marvel at your strong and hypnotic features
Your sheer high-spirited verve
Your ever-increasing endearing peerlessness

Your machoness is uncontrollable and poetical
Your slick smoking divineness is insane
I get wild on your flaming untameable framework
I am exceedingly shotgunned

Sexually impure and lustful thoughts
Roam through my inner world
I want you to devour my entirety
Preserve my luscious and wondrous treasures
In the concealed doors of your core
Nellie 55 Nov 2020
Wake up with a drink
Breakfast with a drink
Shotgunned another drink
My daily logger
This is America so don't bother
I'm in the field ready for deer meat
Got my drink
Hitting up the trail all year
About ready to grab a cold beer
We wear orange and have our trucks
We don't mess around
I've got my logger
I've got my truck but before I stay out for hours I'm a shoot a double shooter
Travis Green Jun 2020
**** here we go again,
another black man’s life taken so easily
so brutally by egotistical police,
stripped of his pride and divine design,
stripped of his life and sight,
his insight that could’ve empowered lives,
bombarded, discarded, targeted
by his own skin tone, blown off course,
divorced by opposing forces, misconceived
enemies, sheer destruction obstructing the black
man from taking a stand, from running the race
to embrace the sweet escape, to evolve and fight
the cause, to utilize logic to divide compromised laws,
******* with the black man’s persona, turning them
into savages, blackened beasts, meaningless sheep
and weaklings wretched and dispelled, locked away
in cells, utterly failed, shotgunned, and demolished.

— The End —