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Alcoholic Poet's Sad PoemsAlcoholic Poet's Sad PoemsThink. Write. Drink. In that order. Everything is dark. Everything is bright. 
Articles
Falstaffian Sobriquets
2007-10-27 09:03:00 We were selling self-esteem from the back of my mountain bike. It's just that the mountain we chose was too steep. I had my cartoons all laid out. In wells of when. Or if. I would ever laugh at myself again. The sarcasm read what i had so far and decided to wait. It's funny when it hurts. Those scorpions inside our shoes acting like people do. Making the venom so appealing. Making the sting
Frugally Folding Fingernails
2007-10-26 06:28:00 If I'm different it's because everyone else is the same. Let go of the darts. The balloons will still break. No need for sex to disinfect the wound. The bacteria is bored with us. I'm a cult. As right as I can convince you that I am. Tall fences grow from zombie soil. Short skirts tease tall boots in a circus of vagina. I'm a religion. Reason enough for the lost. Popsicle penises. Warm ice More About: Folding , Fold
Pragmatic Paranoias
2007-10-25 06:48:00 On top of her sheets. A Disney cast between her thighs. Dialogue vomits from idle skin. Chunks of hours before coming up completely undigested. Some would say she's shy. Most would. And they'd be correct. Every word she speaks is a debate. Every touch is a promise. Not to make too much of something so little. She likes to think it's them, but she knows it's her. On top of the sheets. More About: Paranoias
Damp Totems
2007-10-24 06:52:00 close enough. the bulls eye of her stare ample target. for a broken trigger like us. i can make teddy bears from gun powder, but i can't stitch the wounds into bleeding less. Sex is too much of a chastity belt for me. It's all just skin melting off their faces. Dominoes on acid. Falling down in spectacular spectacles. The little bullets. Eruptions of people puncture the surface and wait to
Parable in Comestic Castes.. Like the Bloom of Dandelions
2007-10-17 07:28:00 Fucking beer always talking like it knows me. Sour eyelashes batting at balls that aren't there. Castrating the female one tit at a time. In sober annihliations. Sometimes. Often. Habits. Vaccines of sex spoil the meat inside. Nothing to eat. No supper for stray dogs. Nor the claw marks they've left on the door front. Clowns in tight pants. Not so funny. Acrobats with greasy hands. Catch the More About: Arab , Bloom , Deli , Parable , Elio
God Doesn't Want You To Have Children... Shut Up
2007-10-16 06:37:00 What's weird to me is that when people have children they don't consider the ramifications. You're not just having your own child. You're having a child for the whole world. The whole of this overcrowded stone we call home. Thirty years ago when my family came down from NY to south jersey it was a barren wasteland. Now, it's an overcrowded city. Up from under ten thousand to approaching ninety More About: Children , Shut , Shut Up
Appropriate Checkmates
2007-10-15 07:10:00 The pesticides in his semen never did kill the roaches inside her vagina. Besides. She was quite content with the infestation. Knowing she wasn't different anymore. The darkness picked. Dead flowers in her painkillers misleading death again. Dirty pantyhose on the shower rod writing poetry with each drip. Menstruating hearts wish to reproduce. Clone the happiness they know is leaving them. And More About: Prop
Playing with God
2007-10-15 06:43:00 I see God in everything, but that doesn't make it real. I see a pantheon of reasons to believe in something that can save us. From a hangnail to a dead body. Who would be crazy enough to blame people. Or expect them to fix it. Her headless barbie doll seemed to say it all as she gnawed on the heels that went with its gown. The dream house sorely lacking walls. The swimming pool that wouldn't
The Prime Directive
2007-10-14 07:16:00 Life. In orgasms too brief. Holes in the hat on her head. Driven like kittens' claws through the first layer of bruises. The word is the ladder. The touch is the fall. The heart is quicksand. Serpents. And soldiers. Design this happiness we call war. The penguin. Frets the water just long enough to conquer. The bullet fucks the chamber. Children are everywhere. Life is. Ours to belittle. With More About: Prime , Prim , Dire , Rect
Animating Funerals
2007-10-14 06:43:00 Perfect sleep that lasts for days. This body is an archive. This mind a graveyard. The dead what we live for. Children in wet pajamas in beds made of clay. Chewing the feet off their barbie dolls. Because. Because her toes are always pointed. Because her boyfriend has no penis and her car never runs out of gas. Cutting onions. As fast I can. The circus acrobatics of boredom. Empty clown shoes More About: Funeral
Dog Child Diamond Trust In That Order
2007-10-13 06:27:00 Cold. Obvious sex. The pantry open, but nothing's there except the mud on her dress. The traffic bubbles and roars. Sleeping bears in Lycra slippers wear the honey on their lips. Sticky hands wipe at fleshy chalkboards. Lessons' ghosts stare back her from scaly walls. Marking her thighs with amounts. Reciting names like ingredients. School again. Sour teddy bears do her homework. While she More About: Child , Trust , Order , Diamond
Tiny Boulders
2007-10-12 05:49:00 Tracing the stone. Oedipal pencils draw. Savage conclusions to a dying art. Feeble gods in chambers of lead. Sink to the depths of her stare. Like she is listening to everyone at the same time. And cannot hear the words she's said. For the first time. And the last. Derelict accusers fail their burden. Acquittal a more fitting punishment. Both for the stone she swallowed and for the lump it More About: Tiny
The Sock On Her Wrist
2007-10-11 07:23:00 Over talks in riddles. Les its sock fall down. The pasty arithmetic of purchased men. And those that are bankrupt. Drawings in the water like food coloring on the softest of your wounds. Playing the song with missing chords. Saying the prayer to gods you've given up on. We're all dealers. Doling out the future to strangers across the tables. We're all bettors. Wagering on the bluff. We've
A Goat for A Paragraph
2007-10-10 06:12:00 She names her enemies by the number of cigarettes she's smoked to defeat them. Her lovers are a bit more of a riddle. Photographs she can't develop, but swears to have taken. Bartering with strangers for the words they chewed from her lips. A pale iceberg of pantyhose melt dear to the bone. In weak crutches. In sour chokes of bubble gum she's still content to chew. If I look for answer I might
Now Taking Reservations for the Apocalypse
2007-10-09 06:30:00 It never rains here anymore. Slot machines of clouds never pay off. We're too close to the end of the world. You and I. Me and them. Strange friends I dream about when there's an army of me all trying to assassinate the original. She's uninterested. Busies herself inspecting the horns she imagines must be hidden under too much hair. Love by invitation only. Or tickets bought in advance. Like More About: Reservations , Apocalypse , Taking , Reserva
Wilfred Brimley's Times Two
2007-10-08 07:09:00 I was asking the bottle to imagine itself without me. It laughed and said I was wrong. Catch your sloppy joes in slotted spatulas. What do you expect. You want the hamburger, but not to kill the cow. You're a silly girl who doesn't know what she wants until it doesn't want her. An omelet of unbroken eggs. Enjoying being ignored. Content enough just to watch things dying. You're a poorly drawn More About: Times
Stuart Not So Little
2007-10-07 07:15:00 Little orphans of God. In bloated knapsacks. Decision just a grin. All the empty sneakers. Tongues on the carpet licking songs I'd bought long ago, but hadn't heard till now. Pimples from the face of saviors paint the mirror. Eyes like dominoes. Stand. Waiting to fall. I won't be saved that way. Surrendering everything. Isn't that what I already am? People. An economy of submission. Little More About: Stuart , Litt
The Partial Bravery of Cowards
2007-10-07 06:15:00 In a world she doesn't live in anymore. There's still weather without her. Comedy and drama. People living as though she was never there. She writes to the person she isn't anymore. Long letters on the other side of the paper she'd saved from the life she had before. Red ink slips its veins deep into the white. She remembers. In buckets of skin. Soured away from the bone. In fits of love more More About: Bravery , Cowards , Avery
The Tao of Sex
2007-10-06 07:23:00 The phone bill was so uninteresting lately. But french films always made the world smaller for her. Hot showers left running as our bathrobes are coming off. Sex is a violence of a sort. Stabbing at the gods inside their skin. Never making a wound. Drawn by this broken pencil. Drawing with it. As if I'd never loved them. Or needed to. I didn't. You know. I didn't tell the hare to lose. But I
Simon Says
2007-10-05 06:29:00 What's not to love about the process. Fig leaves stomped into the garden's floor. The pretty chaos we like to call happiness. In shoulders heavy. In the daze of weary crossing guards. The path is mapped. In pastel footprints only corpses can see. Magic funerals where dying is the prefect climax to a life barely lived. The sequence. In stormy dualities. Judges young equations. As they struggle More About: Simon
The Pitfalls of Democracy
2007-10-04 06:31:00 I was trying to explain to him. Skin is just perspective. How many drinks have you had? I asked. He answered, but I wasn't listening. It sounded too much like rehearsal. And underwear hitting the floor after selling too much to too many people. How many drinks have you had? I repeated the question. He didn't answer. Not out loud. It's an ugly tradition. This contest of sickness. Like we're More About: Democracy , Falls
Undoing the Stitches
2007-10-03 06:41:00 You say what you're thinking in bits of dodgeball. Hit or be hit. Lapses of reason hardly momentary. The turbulent quack of empty rooms as they tumble in on the eyes watching them. Toddlers in soft shoes still fumbling with the prospect of freedom. Utterly unaware of how virulently dependence will seek its revenge. Little fairy tales tick off the dosages we've used. Huffing on the dick of the More About: Doing , Stitch
Sketching Aloud
2007-10-02 06:50:00 Talking to the ladders. In spits of paint as we reach for the ceiling with dirty brushes. No more mirrors overhead. No more rivers overlooking the ruthless saviors in our pants. We're undone. Woken up from dreams we'll never finish. Tangled in the sails of this sinking boat. Aching arms reaching for the naked spots above us. Arguing with the staircase. In torn sails. The democratic More About: Sketching , Etch
Lonely
2007-10-01 07:24:00 In the remainders. Weak diaphragms sputter out the moments in sour ballads more irony than truth. Could we separate them. The equation. In the distance between traffic lights. The chirp of lazy brakes. For miles we can't recall. Gowns off the rack wear our dubious proms. In dances we never shared. Songs as strange then as they are now. You're my savior. And my Satan. You're the cacophony that More About: Lonely
There Enough
2007-09-30 06:10:00 There was a girl with skin made of glass. Anyone could see inside it. Anyone at all. The light would shine through forming a prism inside her. Colors she couldn't name. Her clothes wearing her. In placid marathons. People. Like black under her skin. Turning her into a mirror. Nothing to see except what is there. With heavy eyes weighted in the seduction. The thump of winter in a fading sun.
Forever Maybe
2007-09-29 07:32:00 We had enormous amounts of faith. In everything we were able to prove. There are times allotted for being yourself. Until then just try to be patient. Each call is answered in the order it's received. We'll crack like paint does when it dries too fast. Making what was ugly, uglier yet. The truth in single servings. The world squeezed out in fast food condiment packets. Onto to stale bread. More About: Forever
Houses of Straw
2007-09-28 06:58:00 Arrows on her face. Libelous lips. Poor janitors soft in the mess. Don't sleep. Don't try to name those children. Tiny anchors keeping huge ships in dock. By the whisper of dead demons. By the funnel in conversation. The toil of dead things with limbs still quite erect. We were always there. Stupid tigers hunting without their stripes. Lazy abortions letting the child be born. In proud More About: Houses
Jupiter
2007-09-28 06:50:00 Sex is a souvenir. The eel was looking quite dapper in his vagina tuxedo. A mucous bow tie knotted perfectly under his collar. Inscribed like tiny scars into every word he tried to say. His tongue made of molasses. His eyes spilled into his head at auction. No bids. Following the lotteries in her head. The junkyard is where she found her prettiest dress. Stone pantyhose. Lopsided heels. More About: Jupiter
Dead Canaries
2007-09-26 06:52:00 Some would say I never change. I guess I don't in any way that can be counted. The tear in the paper bag. Your lunch trailing behind you in mayonaisse shadows. How do you change that? Why even try to . The spoiled footprints are easiest to find when lost. Close your eyes and listen for the smell of sadness. Wrtie the word as if someone's listening. And hope that no one is. Of course it's More About: Dead
Homogenized Heavens
More articles from this author:2007-09-25 06:31:00 We were buying our salad one leaf at a time. Painting the lettuce the colors of dead animals. Imagining time travel in one kiss increments. Small prescriptions of salvation in doses expensive enough to swallow. In orange bottles with our names printed on them. Like there is a plan. Even if it's only the one we've made. I was listening to the song wondering whatever happened to turning left 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
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