"slugged" poems
Sunshine,
Birdsong
And children drunk on
Lemonade
And laughter.
That Welsh picnic
Has lasted forty years
And will last forty more
In daydream
And nightmare.
The stream babbled
Over pebbles,
Fern fronds
Brushed our sun-browned shins
Till the dead sheep
Slugged us in the guts.
Bloated and bulbous,
The body dammed the stream,
Its lifeless eyes
Crawling with life.
Those pearly marbles were
A child’s looking glass into death.
The rocks we hurled at it
In reckless revulsion
Were the screams
Of violated youth,
And those empty dead sheep thuds
The dawning of our mortality.
Mar 21, 2011
Mar 21, 2011 at 3:20 AM UTC
Four Years.
Four years
of high school basketball:
has come to an abrupt halt.
You see, we'd swag into the locker room.
Pump up the tunes.
throw on the black air Jordan jump suits
and whip out the pre-game moves.
The three coaches walked in
We listened to the pre-game speech
Popped a couple altoids to "keep it fresh"
then slugged a bit of water
The warm up commenced
Lay-ups
Three on Two
Shooting
One more locker room run.
Jersy's on!
But right back on to the court
Where the fans anticipate.
Just a few more shots
Now one minute left
Time for the National Anthem.
"Gentlemen remove your hats."
Pre-game nerves suddenly sink in.
"Oh say can you see."
Thoughts about the game fill my mind.
I look at the crowd, and my loving team mates.
"And now for tonights starting line-up."
Names announced.
Team has last minute words
one. two. three. "swag" ....Tip-off!
We were so good.
So athletic.
A team with 8 returning seniors
we were such ballers
Conference Champs
District Champs
But we couldn't beat them
"The best team in the state."
We weren't sad about the loss though.
We were sad that we had to leave this team.
This team that we'd been with for four years.
We loved each other more than anything.
The final moments in the locker room were bittersweet.
Tears of sadness, tears of joy
We accomplished so much, but above all
It was about the memories we made together.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:11 PM UTC
open wide
as filth falls with slugged flow
putrid lies fog our eyes
the stench clinging to nostrils
infiltrating minds
altering our reality
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 2:50 AM UTC
he's a ******** addict
he can't get off the stuff
he's got to have plenty
he's into a dose's regular cuff
tax is his drug of choice
how he loves its high
every person in the land
he bleeds absolutely dry
tax
tax
tax
our pay packets are getting slugged
harder and harder each week
with the balance of our low incomes
looking decidedly bleak
ten percent then eighteen percent
he's extracting more and more
from our stash
which we're all invariably feeling
in the gross amounts
of leftover cash
the hit is so sublime
his government cannot refrain
as he so delights in our tax revenue
coursing through his veins
tax
tax
tax
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
Crystal blue waves lapped against the shore.
The sun began to set.
Wind gently brushed through the palm trees, rustling the leaves. Tenderly shuffling the birds who rested insides its leafy embrace.
Looking down the beach I could see her standing there.
She was always there. She was always smiling.
Her eyes were closed as her hair gently blew in the wind, face lit by the dying embers of the day’s last breath.
Every moment in time was captured in her simple existence.
Every toil and pang was expressed in her sheltered eyes.
I waded through the mushy sand towards her, thinking of how it would feel to hold her close.
I pictured her turning towards me, opening her eyes, and opening her arms to embrace me.
The sand slugged between my feet.
Every step was erased by the oceans never ending grasp on the beach.
The closer I became the more I saw of her beauty.
Her brown hair seemed to hold an infinite amount of splendor, as if all of creation had taken a rest on her strands of hair.
They say that the journey is better than the destination.
Maybe they are right.
Maybe my image of her would overshadow her actual presence. Could it be that her simple existence was nothing but a shadow compared to my artistic portrait of her?
I was almost there.
The person I had waited my entire life for was a mere walks distance from where I stood.
I was not wrong, I knew that every glorious detail he had longed for was true.
As I stood there staring at my life’s desire, she turned towards me and opened her eyes.
This was it, this was the moment I had dreamt of for so long.
As our eyes met, a lump formed in my throat and tears welled up in my eyes.
She was perfect.
Inside of her eyes I could see everything.
Every single wish I had ever made was inside of those two spheres. They glistened in the orange glow of the setting sun.
Like two pools holding the one soul meant for me.
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 3:53 PM UTC
The 21st century love,
equates a list of lust,
a games of hearts,
the legends of *****
The 21st century love,
is a poisoned arrow,
It sets cupids on fire,
the heat of unrequited love.
The 21st century love,
puts the women in a sack,
It ***** and pounds to dust,
the lost remnants of trust.
The 21st century love,
puts the men on a pedestal,
A rotations of repentant cycles,
the ride to the very end of the pit.
The 21st century love,
is not a salvation that hits the crowds,
It has slowed and slugged us down,
to see the sand blown ****** haze.
The 21st century love,
has an impersonal high of lies,
a hay of burnt passion that fades,
an illusionary bewitched dedication.
The 21st century love,
a reaction to survive in a new world,
give the body and preserve the heart,
Keep your mind and enclose the soul.
The 21st century love,
it's a jungle of reservations,
an ace of diversity and availability,
guard your all littles ones.
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 5:26 AM UTC
I woke this morning
With no hangover
After the 10 beers last night
I made a *** of hot black coffee
Slugged it down
Listened to the local jazz AM
While enjoying the absence of the sun
The cold grey clouds
are better company
I read a few shorts by Hem
And a couple pages of Dos
I got off the mattress
And threw a few jab and hook
Combinations toward the window
I got dressed
Walked past the picture of Fante
On my wall
Then I ****
In the community bathroom
Of my roominghouse
I thought about
What a man is
Should be
Probably not this
But definitely not
My father
And I was far from that
I tried my best to be
Far from all of that
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 11:19 AM UTC
My friends,
They’re lifeless stubs,
Jutting from the ground
I can’t recall how they looked
How they sounded
As the breeze
Touched their long arms
Making them rustle and creak
I stand alone
In an area of vast emptiness
My friends, murdered before me
Chopped, slugged, and pulled down
And I am Regretfully
The only one left standing
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 8:17 PM UTC
Drugged
Druggggedd
Drugg gg eedd
Intoxicated
Mind has faded
Little pills
Not for thrills
Sleepy time
I wish to find
Lost my mind
D r u g g e d
D r u g g e d d d
Dreams will come
Once im numb
Fast asleep
Not a peep
Locked in my head
Should be in bed
Melatonin kicking in
Dreamland will win
Always words in my brain
Starting to question how sane
or what it even means..
D R U G G E D
slugged
thoughts of mush
words just gush
Brain is melting down
Surrounded by no sound
Eyelids are losing
Bodys refusing
Sleepy time is here
Dream without fear
....
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
*Morning sun kissing on my forehead
Struggling to open my slugged eyes
Crows informing the arrival of guests
Says grandmother to mother
Keep ready one excess glass of rice
Flavour of steamed rice flour with layers of coconut
And chickpea curry with potatoes
Garnished with fresh curry leaves
Entering the gateway of my nose
Motivating me to jump from my bed
Ending the battle with my toothbrush
Came running forthright to the dining table
Lento my hands reaching the plate served hot
Unanticipatedly that terror voice from aft
Stop it ! Go take your bath !
It was my grandmother glowing fresh
With sandalwood paste on her forehead
Like Goddess Kali standing in front of me with a knife !*
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 12:21 AM UTC
Crouching in tendrils of bright green grass
Two caterpillars set out on a daunting task
Hearts filled with hope to taste the fruit
Which had rendered so many full and moot
They slugged their way out beneath the sun
And laughed and talked of all they'd done
Distracted they never saw the bird coming
It swooped down much too close and sent them running
Once they were sure the bird was lost
They argued their plan and what it could cost
They were both still afraid the bird would come back
And this time that bird would precisely attack
But they knew in their hearts that they came so far
They couldn't turn back on their wishing star
So they hauled for the tree which was just in sight
When the bird swooped in and with all it's might
Bit a chunk from both caterpillars **** end
And with a mighty resurrection of power would send
Both caterpillars catapulting to the tree
Where both could feast and drink fruit mead
In a drunken stupor honey glazed thoughts soar
The caterpillars lost in slumber would snore
And in their sleep their body's tore
To be rebuilt with fine allure
They stretched out their legs, wings unfolded as well
Both stared in awe at the beauty, love spell
They leapt in the air and tested their wings
And rose to the sky to cheerfully sing
Two soaring butterflies dancing with the wind
They looked at each other and victoriously grinned
They had beat the bird and ate all their fruit
And may never had if they left that route
Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 10:48 PM UTC
I’ve been roped and doped
Also been ***** and taped.
I’ve been slugged and drugged
I was bugged, then I shrugged.
It is all just another day’s work
For a silly streetwalking ****
It’s life without a single perk,
Pays less than a checkout clerk.
I keep changes of tight clothes,
Show off the body, anything goes.
Use a languid suggestive pose
No one questions, everyone knows.
Stand by a light pole and grin
Someone will quickly pull in
And ask if you’ll go for a spin
In half a hour, I’m back again.
If they seem to want to pass
Turn around and show some ***
I make sure I show some sass
And am sure to be smoking grass.
Sure I get picked up by the cops
But, this old story never stops.
It’s a tale as old as these shops.
It’s bad when the temperature drops.
Rain, sleet and snow, I’m around
Staking out my piece of ground
To see what trade can be found
Hunting for the everyday hound.
So drop by and see me any day.
I’m not like the sun, I won’t go away.
I’ll be here as you drive by to say:
“Hello, baby, want some fun today?
Apr 20, 2018
Apr 20, 2018 at 2:58 PM UTC
oceans churn the sky
dragging
latent
potent
tainted toxic
down as cold water
dense particles slugged on salt
stagger the mill up to **** on
radiance and radical upset
in gardens touched softly
in gardens washed away
in gardens a draw to clay to rock
until fissures filter feed the spring
Nov 25, 2016
Nov 25, 2016 at 8:12 AM UTC
The dark cloud found me that morning. Consumed by anxiety, I threw myself onto the sofa, pulled the blanket over my head, and closed my eyes to the world.
Oddly feeling weightless and fatigued, I meandered to the bathhouse for a shower, hoping that would help. I breathed, I argued, bargained, and prayed. At least I felt clean.
It was nearly ten O’clock when I departed my home. I strung on another late work day into my week, but I wore that string of black pearls with little guilt. I set up my workstation and completed a task before being summoned to the airport. Ben was finally coming home.
With low energy, I greeted my husband and drove back to work. We hugged and kissed and he drove off. I slugged my way back to the office feeling tired, empty, and numb.
My attempt at productivity that afternoon proved futile. I had to reset, and I knew what to do.
I grabbed my binoculars, my shades, and my tunes (but I didn’t listen to them). I let the flow of traffic set the mood.
Strolling up Main Street, I felt weightless even more, like outside of myself. I arrived at the riverside. As I stood at the water’s edge, the birds flew by and I studied them. I began my checklist as I usually do, then united myself with a familiar dirt path. Immersed in the forest, I tried to breathe my demons away, but they wouldn’t move. I continued.
On my route, I heard bird calls in the brush. I saw a large, brown fledgling begging for lunch. Its parents arrived, but to my surprise their offspring doubled them in size.
It was a baby cowbird that had been laid in its foster parents’ nest. It’s not the vireos’ fault, they only did what they knew best.
At that moment it clicked. I saw my feelings manifested in an avian play. I couldn’t let the invader win the day.
Depression is like a cowbird, I told my friend. When you feed it, it thrives and grows, killing the chicks of joy nested in your head.
Lesson learned, don’t feed the cowbird.
Jun 30, 2022
Jun 30, 2022 at 6:50 PM UTC
You,
you are an artist,
a tangible artist,
artistic in style,
artistic in temperament,
you are strung upon a knife edge,
above the deep blue sea,
and your tongue,
it rolls from day to day,
sometimes painting silver,
sometimes painting gold,
getting more profound,
as your body's getting old,
and as you're getting older,
find you're getting colder,
the world is weighing heavy,
upon your precious shoulders,
life it lost it's magic,
or at least for you it did,
as you wallow in your not wanting love scenario,
on the dark side of the moon,
that's slugged out of a bottle,
once the bottle was that of a baby,
tender, delicate, satisfying milk,
now the satisfaction bottle is brimmed with whisky,
your rose coloured spectacles became broken,
smashed to pieces on the bedroom floor,
as you sit and sob for lost love,
like the one you had before,
and why do you cry?
the whisky did it,
it made you sob as you wanted more,
whisky,
pure moonshine made you,
your mother's lovely *****
(C) Livvi
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 3:55 AM UTC
Beware the Gyac’tus!
Oh you monster, oh beast!
Found crawling over mountainsides
on such uneven feet!
Watch the way it’s hobblin’
o’er rocks and hills alike.
**** now, foulest creature! Rid that-
hobblin’ from my sight!
Gone isn’t far enough,
he stoops within my head.
No hamlet could survive like this,
let’s burn him in his bed!
Forks n’ brands, fires too,
pierce heavy evening air.
Storm straight, we do, his wretched mount
to find him sleeping bare.
Be gone, oh Gyac'tus!
I howl atop its shape
A whimper leaks from his lips ‘fore
I carve across its nape.
Fear no more! Fear is dead!
Echoes proudly out the cave,
thus we flounder up the mountain,
thought victors, found us slaves.
But the mount is unkind,
spilling forks in twos, threes,
soon a crowd becomes a party,
a party ‘comes a leash,
‘til the fire burning
on the crest stands alone,
yet the only thought I think,
thunk of wine slugged at home.
Drunken dreams expose me
the vengeful mount beneath,
my careless kneecap crumbling
like cornbread at my feast.
Tumble down the mountain
rolling head, feet n’ all
'til sprawling on the ground beside
the spoils of my war.
Glimpsing 'cross its body
held down by shorter heft
I find myself an iron cast
fast ‘round his shorter left.
Donning the clever craft,
my fate turns a corner!
I crawl, on such uneven feet,
homeward in a fervor.
Triumphant from the hills,
hunger tempting Bacchus,
my hobblin’ culls an awful tune,
Beware the Gyac'tus!
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
Forsaken
Old age should burn like a flame of light
rage, rage against the dying of the night
Dark Angel take an walk down the deep woods
of the old wise men of long ago words that
once touched souls that caresses at ones heart
because their words had been long forsaken
their life had been shaken
good men had been long lost in Darkness of
their own lust of a dapper heart of swaying
of what was right in God's eye's
their frail deeds might have danced in a garden
of green but no longer
rage, rage against the dying of the light they
cry out in the night for Dark Angel they cry
holding heart's by a knife
wild men they become caught and slugged
they grieved in winter cold why Dark Angel had
taken over their darken souls
made them in to slaves
that hide in caves near death but death never came
Prayer had now been long forgotten
rage, rage against the dying of the light Dark Angel
takes on a new Rage squeezing out faith
weeping is all you will hear in the lost woods of the
winter cries of the lost and found
the slaves of Dark Angel.
Poetic Judy Emery © 1982
The Queen of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC
O yeah throw ya hands
In the air
And wave em like
Ya just don't care yeah
Check the pedigree
Its so lovely
Got haters and foes
Below me show me
Love or else get sedated like drugs
With yo body slugged circling in the drain
Causin drain
I'm nasty from neat
I'm Mystic transform
Like Mystique
Styles unique and who can compete
Against the Texas elite
Never been a novice
Always an elite flows in repeat
Got ya soaked up in ya
Seat
Cuz of the way I floss
On the beat
Ya bound to sweat an ultimate threat poetic terrorist
Ain't no justic once I ****** the rhyme crime
Throwing dimes
On pennies that means I'm nine
Steps ahead of you only a few
Could hang with my crew
Straight out the Houston zoo
Choke emcees til they cold blue
Bringing back the old
Out with the new
Skool big cable jewels .and adidas jumpsuits
Ready to serve you like a court sentence
They can't be serious must be delirious I turn furious
Got critics curious
As george as ya engorge
My plate of lyrics hard for ya to clear it
Once I steer it
In ya direction souls stiff as an ********
Make way for the rhyme interjection
Always keep my Smith n Wesson
Just incase death once ya
To learn a lesson send the blessin'
To the sky high so why try
My third eye never seen a t
Sty
We take whole pies **** a slice
Like my shortys ice out wildn out
Htown ***** know what I'm talkin bout
Make hits like ya in a boxing bout
One round with me is like eternity
Krino in me Pac in me Biggie in me
O yea I rap like any far from a guinea
Pig spligs wigs like digs from oil rigs
Puff my e cig so I can get with
The styles that's hard to comprehend I flow like the wind
Come through any entrance
Uh so ya know I'm in try again
Only get served like the rest of em
Uh and that's how we do it
Htown holding crown
Beating suckas by the pound man hold up
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 10:36 PM UTC
Boys will be Boys
Boys will chase those twirl skirts
Better Pull Yours Down
Before they rip you to the concrete mattress
Boys have no self control
Being but mindless humans of ill decency
Boys will spew with slugged catcalls and woos
But your skirt wasn't modest was it?
Boys have no self control
Better you know that now
Rather than when they excuse themselves from all their actions
-I'm Sorry We Can't Control (Own-up to) It
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 10:03 PM UTC