I have some blood in my alcohol stream

[todski28]

A new bar thread to pour out those one night stands
as lady slings the booze
the honey in her throat a crooning siren

or simply a place to curl up in a corner
and nurse your morose thoughts
until they’re ripe with the promise of rain

or if you’re the happy drunk that likes to spin in circles
arms wide screaming weeeeeee at the sky
all are welcome

the doorman’s quite the push over these days

(I wanted somewhere to get blind drunk
spill things all over the floor and not risk being thrown out
for abusing words)

 

[29wordsforsnow]

Martinis mixed by Marina, when
Martina mixed up the Marinade
Martino mixed with the Martian Matriarch

While you might think it's alcohol induced nonsense, a quick scan reveals the real motivation behind it...

XXX

 

[butters]

pour me somethin' long and cold
enough to fill me toe to brow
to chill the burning blood that growls
in turbulent tides that crowd my veins

itsa hot out there


hmn

pour me somethin' long and cold
enough to fill me, brow to toes,
to chill the growling blood—it burns
in turbulent tides that crowd my veins

 

[todski28]

“We are the champions my friends
and we’ll keep on fighting till the end”

I lip sink in this pub/church
where the adults prey to fire water
and insight a wish for sentiment
where then men have the excuse they need
to cry
or throw up
or for five seconds be something other than
the patriarch saints of the gutter
leaning into the power ballad

I eat my chicken chips with the gusto
of a 6year old child thinking it’s Christmas
I crack open my 50cent bingo ticket and win $2
lucky, lucky, lucky I think
go and order a coke from Marty the bar keep
with my new found winnings
gambling comes early and cheap
as the allure for more settles into the bones
like cheap whiskey

my Father stands amidst the chaos
and hum-drum
he’s not the biggest man there by far
but they pay him a deference reserved
for those deemed too crazy to slight

as the bottom of my coke began to drew near
the heat in the room kicked up a notch
publicans gotta keep you drinking
I think adult thoughts as sweat beads my brow
and a chill springs unbidden to my spine
the atmosphere shifted
slightly
as two new men entered the room

my fathers hackles raised
as if a horn had blown and he
was a dog of war with a Pavlovian response
I could see the shift in his spine
the way he seemed to swell
his soul emanating dark thoughts
his will for violence leaking out
the heat was oppressive now

I wonder if it was the heating
or the devil himself
residing right there
In a man
who two seconds prior
to the door opening
was laughing
a full bodied rich sound
infectious with mirth
dripping warmth and sincerity

Later when the ambulance arrived
I was the leaning post
for my father to make it to the car
a contusion swelling from his left
eye
puncture wounds as if from a dog
dripping blood onto my hand
and the other two
they were inside
fear frozen on the first ones face
as the weight of a slate pool table
crushed the air from his lungs
the other a mass of glass shards
and slash wounds as he lay eyes closed
body convulsing in a fit
of piss and wish I hadn’t come here
stench

And for some reason my father
was chuckling as if he’d just remembered
some joke
some flight of fancy that amused him
how’d you like the show boy?
No one gets the best of you dad

 

[Enchantment_of_Nyx]

Frighteningly real.

 

[todski28]

Frighteningly real.

Hopefully with an edit it reads a bit cleaner spelling mistakes and what not, too much haste to write not enough time to write it properly

 

[todski28]

pour me somethin' long and cold
enough to fill me toe to brow
to chill the burning blood that growls
in turbulent tides that crowd my veins

itsa hot out there


hmn

pour me somethin' long and cold
enough to fill me, brow to toes,
to chill the growling blood—it burns
in turbulent tides that crowd my veins

I’ll have what she’s having....

Sounds delicious anyway

 

[Piscator]

Frighteningly real.

and really frightening

 

[butters]

electricity oscillates
runs rampant as if alcohol is a super conductor
and we're the circuits linking it together
arcing from one to the next
until we vibrate the same frequency
the same harmony
tuned to her voice

we the silent rabble
await the next note
to play
we try to fill the empty ambiguities
that dance a moment before heading toward the
next high
the tune's amplified
at hundreds of metres a second
a crashing wave of awestruck lightning
sparks a note within the collective

goose bumps raise on work hardened flesh
muscles torn and tensed through hours
of back breaking labour
ease as the inebriation
hits another layer

men don't feel anything the world whispers

but I feel
the cold glass in my hand
its liquid cool and refreshing
a layer of sanity added as I pour in a dose
of anaesthetic

terra-firma beneath the layers of rubber
and steel capped toes grounding me
as I helplessly sway

the bar holds me
my forearms indented with mahogany
the pain a dull nothing
as I float on the strained cry of her

finally the wet of my eyes
as all those things I don't feel
leak out

and in a hushed breath
we are the silence

freakin wonderful writing, all of it

especially liked the final 3 strophes

so rewarding to read you

 

[todski28]

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XltvfXeN5KY

I feel a sin coming on
a lipstick stained glass
shattered on the floor
an evening full of curves that you need to cling to the
Jesus bar to get around
sweet temptation burns with
the discordant notes of a guitar strung
tight
I can see it written in invisible ink
a swirl of calligraphy that has my name
swooped in the buzz of champagne-night
every wrong that tasted so right on my tongue
there's a flavour I can only blame on you
it's trickled from the tipple of
tequila in my glass
it's gentle bead runs down my chin

the lights fade to black
I pray to God to hold me back
but the smoky flavour always brings me
a dull ache
a tremor
a pulse racer

you
and the way you burn all the way down
in this one stop sordid night
I feel a sin coming on
virtue slipping the way your halo did
I try to remember who led who on
and find in my mind it was a mutual decision
to grab each other
and plough headlong off this fucking cliff

brick dust under my finger nails
as we slam into the wall
your teeth sharp
sliding through my resolve
the way your panties tore beneath my fingers

all I wanted was a couple drinks
now the room is scattered in glass and sin
you shattered me
in soft collisions and
whispered entreaties
that turned into full throated screams
you gripped me with passion
alight in my groin and you stay with me
a permanent scar

I need another drink

 

[butters]

out the ballpark, tods

 

[todski28]

out the ballpark, tods

Pistol Annie’s I feel a sin coming on inspired this piece, and for what it’s worth that first line when she sings it just damn near kills you, especially if you’ve got good head phones in,

And before this year country music was no my thing!
I was listening to this as I wrote it, took three times through to get it finished, maybe try listening when you read see if it makes it any better


https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XltvfXeN5KY

 

[Lyricalli]

out the ballpark, tods

I very much agree with this.

Pistol Annie’s I feel a sin coming on inspired this piece, and for what it’s worth that first line when she sings it just damn near kills you, especially if you’ve got good head phones in,

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=XltvfXeN5KY

And with this. There are different types of country music, and that's some of the good stuff, so I approve heartily. I like where it took you.

 

[UnderYourSpell]

It's hot dammit,
almost too hot for those
sweaty embraces
that leave us breathless
with desire.
Love oozing from every pore,
as a finger tip traces
a line from nape to nipples
waiting erect and wanting
and as your lips find
these tempting morsels,
I whisper "Please, my darling".
again I'm begging " Please."

 

[todski28]

It's hot dammit,
almost too hot for those
sweaty embraces
that leave us breathless
with desire.
Love oozing from every pore,
as a finger tip traces
a line from nape to nipples
waiting erect and wanting
and as your lips find
these tempting morsels,
I whisper "Please, my darling".
again I'm begging " Please."

I'll drink to that

 

[todski28]

The sweet taste of kerosene
and the draw of a hand rolled
cigarette
cold comforts of sad music
on the dancing machine
curl around my loss and try to nurse it
the way a mother clings to her stillborn

wishing there was a way to take it back
to undo the harsh reality
and the lit match
but
burning bridges and crying over corpses
is a family tradition
another slug of the bottle because
I crushed the glass to feel it’s shards
slide into my hand
so I could hold its puckered flesh to the reader of palms
ask if my future has as much blood on it
as my past

now

even alcohols burn doesn’t have the same kick
desolate wastelands are the new rage
a holiday destination for the broken
because addiction tastes like the litany of lovers
I no longer covet
the bottle only lets me down when it’s empty
and I only let it down when I’m not drinking
it’s a relationship forged on easy
where all goals align
there’s no looking for a sign of betrayal
or loss
or the threat of negotiating when and where you can
see your kids

the only thing that matters is the shape of her
the flavour of her
and how she lets me silence
the droning monotone of responsibility
barking it’s demands in the screeching tones of
a jilted lover a nagging wife and a total bitch
whose only goal is to beat you down
with the emotional shackles of your
fucking male privilege

and if it wasn’t the easy way out
I’d take these shards of glass
and run my pain out
all over the floor
lie in it’s warmth
and wait to drift off to sleep
but that would be a waste of alcohol

 

[Piscator]

Powerful, sad and scary. Makes me glad I've never tasted kerosene.

I really liked your sequence of cold c's in the first verse, which set the tone of the piece as does the omission of the cliched 'child "after stillborn.

cigarette
cold comforts of sad music
on the dancing machine
curl around my loss and try to nurse it
the way a mother clings to her stillborn

 

[todski28]

Powerful, sad and scary. Makes me glad I've never tasted kerosene.

I really liked your sequence of cold c's in the first verse, which set the tone of the piece as does the omission of the cliched 'child "after stillborn.

edited out the word child, agreed with your assessment, was trying to make it have the sound undertone of a ticking clock, but I don't know how well it works.

thanks for the comment

 

[todski28]

Sunset sinks into the wet ocean
a globe of fire flickering out
its last rays bright but offering no warmth

drinks glide down my throat
in an abundance of ice
the cold comfort of fermented
sanity
a light buzz as the sun cuts through
the glint of waves
sand crunching beneath my toes
as I sit beside the esky
reflecting
a choppy sea of things I should have said
regrets tight around my throat
a noose
a slow burn
that has seen the world turn
a new way to measure things that are gone
I should have followed you
kicked down your door
and held you
your fist hammering into my chest
let you wallow in your own self sacrifice
the feeling of thuds against my skin
an attempt at atonement

but what would I know
I'm a simple creature that likes
easy metaphors and soft thighs
nothing hard
like conversation
or self reflection that isn't broken
by an undulating surface
a mirrors too harsh for me
it's cruel reflection too much
so I drink
and I smoke
and wait for the whisper of your voice
to cut into my flesh
as if it's wind blown sand

 

[todski28]

I taste the hypocrisy in the burn of spirits
as your fingers trickle down my shirt front

I swallow my drink and revel in the flavour
of power in this dynamic
as if I’m clay in your palms

the fact that I could crush your larynx with minimal effort
is as hilariously inconsequential as the fact that my wedding ring
is a promise made to another woman
it’s weight cutting into my finger
my children’s smiling faces are nothing
as your glossy lips
brush the stubble of my cheek

here I stand five drinks in
on a ledge

Reject this woman in the wrong way
and she could easily destroy me
give in to the promise her eyes are making
and blow up my entire life

And so I chuckle at my maleness
at my power and privilege
at my strength and size
and it all means fuck all
if the wrong woman sets her sights on me

but I guess these thoughts are nothing more than
misogyny
I should shut up
drink my drink like a good boy
and take my destruction
like a man

 

[todski28]

I’ve found my revelry in the medicated
state of mind
swill problems around
in man made ice
pour my life into millimetres of glass
stare at the ceiling and wonder if god knows
I’m not really bulletproof
but the buzz in my brain says
checkmate mother fucker

a slur of words
measures the fading
altitude of my ability to measure heights

should I believe in the morality of grey areas
and nuanced reasons
or should I tear it down in a fire of my own
cognitive dissonance
let the thoughts fight to the death on a
chess board that doesn't think
in black and white squares

I wonder if the guy three stools down
would be amused at my existential
problem solving when all I want to do is
fuck the barmaid
to forget for a moment that I am nothing more
than a hairless ape
that’s drunk
and thinks it’s smarter than it really is

smirking at the unread library effect
wondering how explicit it is in my own self deception
nothing more than an arm chair philosopher
with a concrete pillow
and the sluicing of gutter runoff as my musings

at least the beers cold
and it’s effect is warm
so I don’t have to shiver when I confront
the things I’m trying to drown...

I wonder how that guys teeth will feel
as the impact rattles up my wrist
into my elbow
and recoils in my shoulder
dark thoughts
leap unbidden
the way the spray of blood would
skitter across the bar top
as I shatter a silent evening
of morose toasting
as we sit slumped shoulders
glazed eyes starring at fake wood
with a background of hollow retching

I love you the way dark things demand to be loved
in silence
in a swirl of depravity
that tastes like sepia
as if the necessity for darkness
is less than a design flaw
but a bright flame that
sparks up gasoline

I toast a toast to
the shadows
that swirl behind your eyes
pour what’s left of me into
a plastic cup
and await the inevitable
——————————————————

Imbibing The Medicated State Of Mind

Should I believe in the morality of grey areas
and nuanced reasons, or should I
tear it down in a fire of my own
cognitive dissonance?
let thoughts fight to the death on a
chess board that doesn't think
in black and white squares.

I ask alcohol what she thinks...
I sit
Find revelry in
swilling problems around
manmade ice while
pouring my life into millimetres of glass.
The buzz in my brain says
“checkmate mother fucker,”
then, “look up,“
I stare at the ceiling and wonder if god knows
I’m not really bulletproof.
I wonder if the guy three stools down
would be impressed at my existential
problem solving.
I wonder If setting the night on fire
is better than this ache...

The reality is I just want to
fuck the barmaid,
forget that I’m nothing more
than a drunk,
a hairless ape
with an inflated sense of wisdom...

A slur of words
measures the fading
altitude of my ability to measure heights.
At least the beer is cold.
Its effect warm
so I don’t shiver when I confront
things I failed to drown.

Murky memories
interpose on my current reality
they dart up unbidden,
the way the spray of blood would
skitter across the bar top.
(I’ve seen it all before, maybe want to see it again)

I wonder how that guys teeth will feel
as the impact rattles up my wrist,
into my elbow, recoils in my shoulder
as I shatter a silent evening
of morose toasting.

A thought stays my hand,
once again springing from places unbidden,
the hidden things only revealed
when we douse the scrambled thoughts
in something to make them less concrete.
It curls itself around my violent hand
steadies the shaking,
a blue iris and tears that
trickle out

I love you the way dark things demand to be loved:
in silence,
in a swirl of depravity
that tastes like sepia.
As if the necessity for darkness
is less a design flaw
but more a flame that
sparks gasoline.

I toast the shadows
that writhe behind your eyes,
pour what’s left of me into
a plastic cup
and await the inevitable.

 

[todski28]

you aren’t writing for anyone but your ghosts

an exorcism is best performed
with voodoo enchantments
blades and blood
dripping down crucified palms

if only it were easy
to tear out black
but light creates shade
and I can’t bare the thought
of forever bright
so I bite my tongue
till it bleeds
write a litany of things
I wish I could say to the fractured parts
of my shattered bones and find
it’s far easier to drown
the sound of sorrow in a glass
than to try and piece it back together

a jigsaw puzzle cut out
with blunt blades and an alcoholics
trembling pain

I try to align
the left and right
with a centre that’s nothing
but holes
find that another drink is better company
than those things that haunt me still

 

[todski28]

The raucous pub goers drill down into
my molars with their guttural braying

I find It’s hard to digest a point
when decibels of blades hack through fake wood
the way we churn through a liars nest of news
about unrest seeded in
timbres of pearl clutching
before swine

I wonder how presidential
the guy running the subway underpass would be
when he doesn’t have time to
play political games mired in
politically correct double think
and triple speak
mired in a tirade
of hyper observance to
partisanship
a theatre of the macabre
displaying the machinations
of the intelligencia
whose only goal
is to produce
stupid ideas that offer
mealy mouthed tributes
to the starving

they say the truth will set you free
but we’re all chained in
fake wood
being cut by liars
postulating behind
an outstretched palm
and plastic smiles
trying to stop us from
thinking free

My point being..:. I forget
pour me another drink
I shout out
forcing myself to be heard over the din
causing a case of indigestion

 

[todski28]

Destiny is scrawled into the ochre
stained pine
cheap wood rolled in glitter
to try and cover how fake it all is
promises that disappear
an exhalation of tobacco and bad voodoo

somehow the breath in
burns twice as bad
cold fresh air
watching crows circle

trying to decide if I can look this life in the eyes
every bad decision is scribed in my bones
etched in deep as arthritis
whiskey shots take the edge off

her arms curl around me
a soft promise of momentary
forget
of something more than this life
that seems to be dealing junk cards
and no win situations

every lie tastes like bile
and doubles its interest each
bite

 

[todski28]

I’ve drunk the flavour
of my own monsters
can feel their piquant burn
deep in my liver
where it’s cold fire

I pause to ponder the precarious
thresholds we walk upon
as if those steady foot falls are
the grounding that tether us to
earth

I’ve lost track of the time I’ve needed
to buy back the trust I burnt
the lies sometimes felt more real than
the timber door frame I bang my head against
in the frustration of words that
won’t fall from my lips
choking me on their delicious insanity

I whisper words at the sky
as if prayers are answered like falling rain
rather than a way to
speak the whole truth to someone
that listens but whose judgement is existential
as if we are the monster we seek to run from
when up is down

and

I love you

can tear your heart apart
the way drinks sink deep into you liver
and burn there in all their toxic glory

happiness is as glossy as the pages
of all those fake smiling faces
preaching their pseudo lifestyles
as if we’re all made from the same
plastic mould

when I know some of us are cobbled together
from ghosts and smoke
as if Frankenstein’s monster
was merely a template