"spirts" poems
Must be slightly crazy and have the marbles to fill the spot of
a semi sobber madman called Gonzo.
Must be good at starting **** and keeping people laughing.
Most be mildly atractive and really good looking
with the lights off with a buzz.
Must be willing to comment on poems and say cheers.
must be able to pass out behind a bar and write misspelled gems on bar napkins
And most of all to be the one to make people forget
there problems for awhile and share the spirts of wild turkey
can you replace Gonzo?
If your crazy enough to try
Then step right up and reply.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 8:19 PM UTC
Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover yet slighty buzzed madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.
But in in canada there was nothing to greet us there but cold
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.
Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada it's really ******* cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers
And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.
No bar would untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.
I was a religeous man and i need to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist Jim beam And my old stand by spirt Gin
It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but
we still somehow still walked and functioned in disquise of
semi normal human beings but nothing was further from the truth
we were writters was ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry
Oct 18, 2009
Oct 18, 2009 at 12:34 PM UTC
The darkness can embrace the page a silk sheet of verbal perfection .
Empty streets and bars cast shadows that cling in mind like some ship long sailed from port.
Why must they see the end and never fight it's truth ?
We find so little compassion a snow storms emotion has left this summer night
vacant as the motels sign.
Drift for a second with me and i'll show you nothing but flawed perfection in return.
Cats in the garbage winos hold court in the parks distant to the .
The child never should know.
Poets speak in smoke filled rooms of nothing more than a broken souls frustration and second
avenue's false shine a glass charm and a freakshow diamond the ***** a true friend in
times all to often I need.
Whats your sport the streetwalker asks me in such a pure jaded sense.
wash me pilot hands are clean but thoughts seem to stain walls of the union mission
I love its true sense of decay .
Jack are you still on the road or just lost in big Sur?
Bob can they ever decode the message or just set free in the paint you cast as words?
Poets fools profits and second street saints I feel comfort in madness for
sanity's annoying plea just takes up my time.
Are we nothing more than junkies?
Slave to page and the veiw's no matter how blind they may be.
A drunkard , A clown, And a welcome stranger in many a lost souls view.
Charles I can understand your humor in the utter sense of ***** it all and the crued beauthy i reconize so very well.
And a whiskey laced brother kindred spirts seem to go better with southern bourban to
wash it all down.
Now sweetheart im not saying im any good but im always a goodtime.
We have to be ******** to be anything at all.
They all knew as so do I.
Heros gone were never heros at all.
Im the last of my kind hundred proof deadly with a **** eating grin.
Only through others eyes are we truely seen .
So I ask how's your view?
Admire many only to realize your lost in ego's storm.
Few understand and even less care.
Im always here till im truley gone.
Stay crazy friends and remember it's not to be admired.
For heros always must fall.
A breeze in the summers burning heat like many others.
I'll only leave a soon to be taken vacant seat.
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 3:24 PM UTC
From behind the bar I recall what led me here.
Not to see people fight over spots on a board.
But to bring them togather as friends.
Not drive them apart as enimies.
To see the glass stay full.
And the spirts to bring cheer.
Jokes hold truth.
As the jester I know pain.
Smells of perfume and smoke beautiful eye's
and that invisable desire.
We dance in hope of capturing life.
To embrace in darkness.
The page can never capture the passion
of two lovers spark.
From behind the bar I see life
for more than what others belive it is.
Jokes comfort as the flirt kisses the ego.
Napkins written with numbers passed encounters
promised.
Some never to know the light of day.
Hungover friends gather whiskey laced
plessures with a tinge of regret.
But life is one play my friends that no
single act shall we froget.
The drink sit's neat apon the bar.
You can see blindley for years.
And never know who people truley are.
Drinks as people dont last long.
They gleam the same under neon light.
So friends always mix them strong.
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 12:58 PM UTC
O lady of soft and light i love you as our hands and spirts join in thanksgiving and our lips sing praise for these sacred moments of time perhaps it can be said that this love is more than that of wide eyed children standing before a room full of presents or with unending tickets to Disneyland as Vips.Upon your mind i long to beat out a soft and tender rhytm of passion like African warrriors did on ancient drums .
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
Not unlike needed caresses or gentle kisses,
the morning sun did bathe my upturned
face in needed glow of restorative warmth.
An encouraging respite after weeks of clouds
and cold rain to lift my flagging spirts,
supported and enhanced by the celebratory
songs of a plethora of birds, all this perhaps
the shining moments of glory in my entire
self isolated day.
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 4:46 PM UTC
A mind without a soul or body is a bold step for mankind,
a heart without a beat is neat untill you cant see nor feel your feet,
Im a nuisance who writes and types senseless lyrics to confuse the spirts also I never feel regrets unless there about my countless debts,
Never mind im out of time, not alot of words in this world that can rhyme, I hope you can see what I saw when I wrote this poem because your probably pondering to yourselfs I think I know him.
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
Cold and heat combine.
Temperatures are a gaze we lose our mind.
Currents of the ocean predict.
A pattern for me and you something we can not forget.
Weather is used as a weapon.
Not only by nature but second guessing.
How can this be, you would ask?
Something more you can give us, something we could grasp.
We are all in for a rude awakening.
Electricity is all that they would be faking.
Plants and animals cease to exist.
The kind of anger that makes me pound my fist.
This is the only weapon they can use.
To feed our guilt to fill this ruse.
Being human and united is the only way we can be.
In the future maybe then you will see.
Oct 8, 2018
Oct 8, 2018 at 11:18 AM UTC
I Know In The Cold Front When The Snow Comes,
No Coat It Will Be So Cold, I Won’t Hold No Gun,
Earth Is My Paranormal Curse, I’m So Done,
Inside Is So Dark, I Don’t Know Sun,
I Bleed For Valerie,
The Rose I’m Holding Is Darker Than Black,
Memories That May Never Be,
In My Dreams Contact,
I’m Further Than Where Feathers Sing,
Beyond That,
I Crave Company,
Who Really Loves You,
Who Really Loves We,
All Ghost But Me,
Physical Form,
Aint The Norm,
Spirts Swarm,
I Feel Like I Never Had Dreams Only Demons Before,
I Feel Creepiness Creeping In My Core,
Stronger Than Ever Before,
I Cant Ignore,
I Feel Like , A Still Night,
Grave Yard Tomb Side, With A Huge Size Steel Knife,
Sliced Deep Through My Check And My Wind Pipe,
I Crave Life,
The Woman Of My Dreams I Need, I See White,
Than Feel Black,
I’m So Alone So If I Slice My Throat, Idk If I Should Feel Bad,
When I Really Need A Coat,
Nobody Shows,
So If Tonight’s The Show,
Where I Watch My Life Go,
The Clock Is Frozen,
My Box Is Stone,
Grave Yards Are All I Think About,
I Think To Deep,
Who Can See What I Perceive,
Nobody So Don’t Plead Me To Think It Out,
Holy Water In The Sink Is Down,
And When I Drink It,
I’m Smoke And Howl,
Ashes, Fallen Like Dead Skin,
I’m A Not Here,
My Head Spins,
Dimensions That Are Neglected,
Is Where My Heads Been,
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 6:09 PM UTC
what has this world come to?
hating each other just by the way we look
criticizing our appearances
judging the way our body look
basing our judgment by what other people think
what has this world come to?
killing each other’s spirts out of love and hate
drowning our sorrows by the bottle
slowly killing ourself by grief
what has this world come?
what happened to love your neighbor as yourself?
what happened to showing kindness through the darkness?
what happened to us?
what has this world come to?
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 1:21 PM UTC
Lay my head on a pillow of sentimental dreams.
Clouded vision, misguided moments.
Nostalgic memories, dispensed endorphinemachine.
Grudges held in high regards,
counterparts the spectrum of emotions experienced.
Token gestures of b r o k e n spirts,
r u g g e d features gold lies within it.
Within movements the snowflake melts in foreign temperatures.
History repeats itself,
things will never be the same again.
A beautiful eulogy,
an anthology of my soul.
Let it speak on the page in a delicate manner.
Channel my essence and bottle my compassion.
Make it happen.
Label it love.
Experience my being in your sensory safe house.
Whisper sweet nothings until they sweep me of my feet.
Hone in on my reason with the precision of multicoloured laser beams.
Lie to my in the format of lullabies.
Blow up my heart, let me be your doormat.
Actively break me, erupt and explode.
Eradicate your thoughts, erase what you were told.
Hang me out to dry -
let the crease decieve you.
Let me take over,
but don't let me defeat you.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
The streets frozen in temperature my soul soaked in bourbon as I drift a drunk looking simply to get home and crash out simply to do
it all over again.
The music is the silence only footsteps keep me company and no other need be my shadow .
Spirts of fire are often dulled together sweetheart I will be just fine I said in my exit from the bar .
The streetlights and that Christmas tinged on full display I drift past stores closed as vacant in windows view as my thoughts as the bums
try not freeze upon the benches I know this existence in sadness and think **** thank to hell it's not me.
Simply move on two ghost's haunted the same and no need to explain the rest,
It's here I am home in these empty streets here I grasp it all .
Maybe it's a drunkards melancholy thought a romancing of the page to fulfill the emptiness in me .
I know this night like any other sometimes when the mix of ***** and ******** hits me just right
I truly understand the man that once was me .
Goodnight my friends.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:59 AM UTC
Its the small things that go unnoticed
And the strong people that are left without credit
Not like they'd accept it
These people - they get it
Get that people need kindness to get by
Understand that not everyone can keep their spirts high
These people are the ones who do the most
They are the ones in the background
The ones who do the little things
Small compliments spoken to a nobody
Because if they didn't say it
No one else would
Genuine smiles passed to those
Who might not otherwise see one
Let alone have one themselves
Everyday super hero's
Use no swords, no bows and no arrows
But they are fighters
Fighters of depression
Starters of succession
Because they can't stand to see society send any more people to heaven
These people are heros
Because putting a stranger before yourself is heroic
and to be an every day hero
is no mere miracle
Because these people make life bearable
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 12:47 PM UTC
Baddie brains blown out hick-up pick up picky pick up lines hirried stubbling drained from the gum. Yes tis gum from the stuomuch that you swallowed for month because I just loved the way you ***** *** I'm sick.
I puked.
I puked?
I started runnning the walts of Conan the quenched dominator beefing with minny mouse for spanking mickey. He sipps mickeys just so you know I'm holy dust, sike. I wish I washed my mouth month before I ate the groomed flappy fingered fizzathered lips of Haley Jade. I wish I had a ****** **** Nut after nut and after this nut another nut and a nut a then the knux cause she got the **** crumbling runs rinse me in Faygo cause these Jugglalos have hair I love to get the stow in jars from a far, because I farted. Beanie I ******* farting who started this ******** fricken flame flare Jack Keoroac couldn't spit enough spirts to-at-alley trickling pink pavement funds that freed Zepplin.
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
we were to like two ships on the open sea we drifted into each other's path the horizon grew bright, the sea calmed . my search for life had ended with you. when we came to meet your eyes met mine we sailed on the crest of the waves. the sun was warm, our spirts high, and the wind whispered in our ears.but like winds that blow in all directions we found ourselves on diferant courses. and with each turn of world we'll meet, to shar a moment of life.
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 11:34 PM UTC
AN UNHINGED MELODY
In the clouds above
I see no silver lining
There is no moon
And no stars are shining
It is such a dread
Feeling forsaken
Night after night
My dreams are taken
By the spirts that posses me
And the demons unbounded
Thoughts that swirl
The feelings unfounded
I tell the story
Of all that is hidden
All that is known is
All that's forbidden
M. N. R.
05 JANUARY 2019
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 2:38 PM UTC
Dead
Cold Spirts,
Hiding,
Under My
Bed
Feel it, Hear it
Calling for,
ME
It sounds Like
My
Mom, She
Wants
Me to Go,
NO, I
Can't
I scream in
fear,
Daddy, Help!
Where is
She
Here with me
NO
She's Not
And
If So, What's
Under
My
Bed
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Autumn is on the wind, the spirts
Of the sky have flown south, for
Winters breath has begun to bite. In
The cool damp air I can smell them,
The dying leaves, breezing ever
So gently past my feet, blown by
The reaping wind in rote. Yet,
Not one weeps for their passing.
It is only I who weeps for I know
The secret they keep hidden,
Cinched in amber and lurid hues.
I watch them as drift and sway,
Tumbling over one another to
their final resting place to die
forgotten. Each falling leaf,
A grain of sand, a second, hour,
Another moment closer to the
Cessation of our existence
The fleeing multitudes to
Many to hold on to.
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 1:53 PM UTC
The Colors of purple, blue, green, and violet appear as the sun lowers in the distant horizon.
A big ball of energy and of light..... The Earth Spins
The sun exposes itself, to other parts of this beautiful planet, in which to warm them.
The moon is seen "simply" as "Magically "
appearing in the background.
"It must be my turn, once again, to shine and to light the night-time Earth." (The Moon says to himself).
The grounds cool.....
People return from work to be with their loved ones.
They relax with one another to enjoy some much needed free time and such "simpler moments of splendor."
I am starting to wish to be like the sun.
Staying light to those I meet and traveling to warm, others, who come across my way.
Enjoying the same moments as They have learned to enjoy.
I used to be like the moon.
I used to wait for great things to happen.
Shining, only in one direction at one person and even moments,short livex..... wishing to enjoy or see them for any true extended periods..
Only limited times and "safe feeling-spirts."
I had never been warm, energetic, nor "light-filled"
As the darkness made me "The man in the moon..."
A smile on my face...No open eyes nor senses.
Staying my own distance...
in which to protect my heart from damages.
It was me who needed to have the sun remind me of such..As I have been sunburned.
however,
the light and heat (of the friendly rays) warmed me up and gave me a more adequate light....
in which for my eyes to see.
Now, I feel more like him, "Mr. Sun."
I wish to keep warm, bright, moving, energy-filled and free.
Fueling the world around me, with more energy, and keeping the joy , of such, in my heart to stay.
Open eyed, more wiser, clearer minded, and a now happier soul..
A greater form of the one
(who was once unwilling to change to a brighter and a "newer" me..)
A brighter person,now, for the world to discover.....
I shall remain mentored an inspired by "Mr.Sun."
Like hum, as the night sets in,unafraid.....
As I rise and I set.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
Magic Soldier
Locked up like a criminal
A recluse
A lone straggler
I treat life as an auction. Yes, I’m a Haggler.
I am bankrupt inside
I am a magic man
See me thick skinned
Here is a broken man,,,
Strong enough to make his stand.
Hiding my broken heart with this stubborn pride.
Losing my family
Blamed for other’s financial and heart destruction..
Respect is a luxury
Life is a school. A learning institution
I hardly taste this Caviar
I try and out run my history.
I have traveled with my baggage quite far
A damaged good
Inside and out
Beaten, ***** and emotionally controlled
Another travel to the glamorous neighborhoods.
Those in which I see the inhabitance gawk and
Point in their polished homes.. shocked at this visitor and feeling
“April Fools” Tricked and trolled..
I rose up like the Joker
I’m the crazy man “who just sits there to pout.”
Giving up the future
Half way to an elderly ward
He gets through the thick scenes
In his strength.. spirts used in bouts..
Words cut a man to his bone..
Stitch my heart with sutures
“Make due and mend.”
I am brave and sane
Even though it hurts to see others as one
and I am all alone..
Even when I was stuck in a corner
Drugged in a mental ward.
I look out a window. Tears hitting the pane.
I became the spokesman for strength
Take my words, my hand, and Human value
I refuse to stay
I am far from what these images of my shell appear to you.
Alone without his plan and potential forefilled
Even the Pandemic couldn’t **** me
I manage a miracle and provide some skills
That set my pain free
Even on the wrong chemically induced life path
I dried up and learned
The right ways to be a friend
A rogue soldier
Strength like a tank’s armor..
Dreaming and fighting for the life
In which he has always yearned.
I shall never let myself end this life
Even though moments of hurt cut me like a knife..
without gaining what I deserve
After losing the battle
I’m winning the war
See him stand tall
A tall man matched with challenges
That never to his soul..do they rattle
Steady and viable
Due your worst
As I can fight and dance to this “rock and roll”
Now, see him smile..as his feeling heart
Through his chest..it Starts to burst.
Apr 4, 2021
Apr 4, 2021 at 1:50 AM UTC
Isolation
living from the land
on a prayer
winter so dark and wet
seals canter the mountainous waters
sheep cowering before the wind
ships torn apart by jagged stone
eyes peering through the salt stained windows
whilst oats are being ground
bubbling gruel over the fire
oily wool being teased
thick yarn being worked
a bedevilled figure appears on a doorstep
a wreck survivor shivers in soaked skin
they bring him in before a fire
tweeds for the sea angel
exhaustion and gruel draw him to sleep
he will live and reap
the months pass by
sustained by a meagre thrift
Gaelic songs of old
reviving those long gone
stories so bold
simple games to hold
hammer out the rock
lower a body
reanoint and cover with honed rock
one more enters the island of Hirta
lifted out of the hole by an ancestor and one not surviving a wreck
transcend the drift wood hall
eternal summer celebrations for all
dancing and talking in a common spiel
watching over their offspring of Kilda zeal
storms are abating and spring thrusts in
wavering candles lights the verse
crinkled hands are opened in praise
closed eyes against the cold
warms hearts now engaged
thanks, and a prayer
are given to Hirta spirts and creators alike
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 6:55 AM UTC