Posts Tagged ‘alone’

lonely-alone-with-Jesus

Six year old boy stands alone in undercover area
Icicles, icicles all fall down
Bully redhead older kid makes fun
Glaciers advance, cold pain, social freeze-out
Girls laugh and point
Staying alone
Being alone
Aching with sorrow
He hides behind the steel girder
Making blades from woodchips
Wondering what it is like to have a friend
Thoughts like mushrooms in rotting flesh
Wondering why the other kids don’t like him
Plotting to pretend to be sick tomorrow

 

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winona-fasinfrankvintagecom

I remember you skin on skin
That time when I took you from behind
And you said ‘fuck harder’
But now you’re gone
Moved on
And I am alone
And soaked in memories
From the wank bank
I am still eternally grateful
To you
For my most successful relationship
Which wasn’t really that successful
As I was taking too many drugs
And running amuck

Lesbians

Posted: March 31, 2017 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
lesbians

I don’t know why I spend so much time looking at lesbian porn

It is a sad and lonely pastime

I suspect they’re probably just gay for pay

Is it because I can’t imagine myself in the scenario

Or just because I don’t like looking at cocks

I knew a woman

Like a mirror image

Who liked looking at gay male porn

I’m sure that lesbians are 20 percent cooler than straight people

Just because they don’t need men

And they’ve always seemed really cool to me

Let’s face it men suck ass

I hate myself for being a man

I hate myself for being lonely

I hate myself for being fat

I hate myself for being over forty and not young and funky

I am a sad individual

I am going to die alone

 

 

 

purple

Henry ran out of whisky and switched to weed

An ounce bought from a slightly dodgy fellow poet

Henry’s mate, Captain Conehead, came over for a smoke

“Choppety Choppety Captain Conehead” said Henry

Captain Conehead chopped up a couple of buds with some white ox

Stinky buds, purple nurple, the ultimate high in the sky

 

Henry packed his pipe, lit and inhaled

A warm fuzzy numbness descended on his brain

Everything was funkier, more interesting, more amazing

He put on the Beatles and started to sink into his chair

This is a most excellent day Captain Conehead he said

For all Henry’s paranoia and raving insanity was resolved with a few cones

And for once, he didn’t feel alone

 

seven

 

Morning time four am
Seven rows of teeth
Want a black void
Black as boots
Black as the death of a child

Evening time six pm
Seven bloodshot eyes in fur
Want total totalitarianism
Blood on the streets
And blood in the mouth

Morning time five am
Seven horns of brass
Want a valley full of bones
Slowly reducing to dust
And symbolising the future for all

Evening Time eleven pm
Seven wan but wonderful women
Swoon into the arms of a stereotypical man
Entwine lips in a profound kiss
And know that they are loved

Morning time five am
Seven sexy succubuses
Want to suck out my chi sexually
But the moment of sexual release
Will be worth death

Evening time eight pm
Seven diamond encrusted celebrities
Want so much to be alone
But are stalked by paparazzi and publicists
Until they OD on adoration

Morning time seven am
Seven lonely cleaners
Want to be delivered from their suffering
Earn barely enough to pay the rent
And dream of wealth and education

most-beatiful-women-08

The bush eats a woman and a maggot full of blood
Dead beaten body murdered for love
Eyes on the pus and the crack of the bone
Never will, ever will be so alone

Dead to the world and dead to all thought
Dead to the oceans of pain that she felt
Now she is empty but also free
Nothing but a vapour on the menacing sea

The bush eats a woman and a maggot full of blood
Ready for, ready for, horny for love
Dead broken bodies on a moribund street
Pain for salvation so slutty you must eat

Heads shaped so holy to scrape against God
Harridan half-steps in search of being odd
Half eaten monsters lurk inside your brain
It can never, it can never, it can never be the same

Sylvia, Anne, rot with me now
So the body tells the body it is dying somehow
Rape me in the moonlight with penetrating bone
No I’ve never, no I’ve never felt so alone

insanity (1)

So deranged and kind of strange
So hard to try to rearrange
Bent and twisted out of place
Always I am off my face
When I’m aching in the wind
The bind that twists the bind that cuts
I’ve never felt quite so alive
Until I saw your midnight smile
Maybe we can wait a while
Now you’re gone from dropping pills
You cut yourself off from all who knew you
Never woke from sleep
And died alone
While I try to rearrange
The vampires that bend my brain
Into some sort of order
Take stock of my paranoia
Call my very indulgent employer
Stare out into infinite space
I will never know my place
Like you in death I am alone
I think I’ll have another cone

dthomas

The mask and myth of the man contain magic
As the old man fades and consciousness burns
The mask and myth of the man contain magic
No ghost within- no homunculus pulling levers

The mask is impervious to sanity and shame
Embraces drunken hours and stolen kisses
With wild red-lipped wanton women in seedy bars and clubs
The mark of the man is the power of myth

The myth of the man leaves the old man lost inside
Alone and hollow like a broken bulb
The old man rots, the old man dies
While myth and mask grow stronger outside

The mask and myth of the man contain magic
The myth is debauchery, decadence and power
Wine and wild women and punk rock enthusiasm
The mask and myth of the man contain madness

So long worn the mask cannot be moved
The mask and myth of the man contain madness
The man now the mask has nothing inside
Personality blended with extravagant creation
The myth and the man have nothing to hide

burrendah

Burrendah Primary School in the outer suburb of Willetton in Perth
New plants- short stubby bushes and asbestos clad buildings still in primary colours
Kids in maroon uniforms- swarms of little boys and girls

The little blonde boy stands alone in the withering wind in the undercover area
The Fremantle doctor has come in again
Pole straight he stares into the cold steel pylon, hiding behind it from the other children
Willing the school day to end

Oh infinite aching solitude
Oh twisted random mind
Churning full of white noise
No other children talk to him
Except the bully who pushes him over so he scrapes his knee on the bitumen

When he gets home he is happy
Immersed in the rich private world of his toys
His parents never know how he suffers
Like John of the Cross in a box

madonna

I long to roam the loam with wild women
And pursue them with my hooligan heart radiating passion
To envision each midnight maiden as an individual creation of a love-struck God
To dance with them through vast swaying fields of budding marijuana
To cuddle away my loneliness in their sensuous embrace
Vibrating the nerves that wire to my skull
With electric joy and cacophonous compassion
O women so near and yet so distant
Behind a glass wall of indifference
I spend myself to entertain your choice
To spin a flattering love with potent poems
Is all I dream to end my time alone