Posts Tagged ‘women’

Next Day

Posted: October 12, 2017 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

valium_tablet__i2006e0134_disp

Piggelie on valium and weed was a very happy Piggelie

Oh the schemes he’d weave and the phosphorescent day-glo phantasms that lurked in his brain box

He felt capable of anything as all anxiety had gone

He felt more human and less tired from the wretched night before where no sleep was possible

He felt he could have a loving relationship with a human female well, for an instant

He felt this would not be possible until he lost 30 kg

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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

americanrestoration

I wish I was a real man

Like those guys on American Restoration

I wish I was more Nick Cave and less Clive Palmer

I wish I could drink all night and throw up in the morning like Bukowski

But I’m not a badass

I’m not alpha

I lack the social skills to pick up women in a bar

I lack the drive to dominate and subjugate

I have a feeling I lack testosterone

Can men and women really be friends?

Just because you want to fuck someone

Doesn’t mean you don’t respect them

In fact you probably respect them more through idealisation

Imagining them on a pedestal

Beautiful unobtainable woman

Forever in my mind

I’d be happy with the friendzone

Just to spend some time in your orbit

Gorgeous bodacious babe

 

velvets

 

When I was in a band

We thought we were going to be famous

And snort cocaine out of groupies’ butt cracks

Get married to some hot models

Or maybe Winona Ryder

And take an amount of drugs that would scare the shit out of Keith Richards

We had a go at doing the drugs

One time we even got paid in Morphine

And pretended to be Lou Reed

Many times I was kicked out of my own gigs

Drunk off my head and acting like a lunatic

So I didn’t have much luck with the women

‘Cos I was too fat and weird

We always did well with the bizarre guys with dreadlocks at the back of the bar

‘Who would love our silly pot songs

And ridiculous attempts to channel Iggy Pop

When the band broke up

‘Cos the other members started breeding

I was sad

Curtin_T.L._Robertson_Library

Campus is quiet as I walk through this time of year
Still an assortment of unobtainable, and unbelievably beautiful young women
To flash a glance and then look away
So I don’t freak them out with my desperate eyes
Lots of dodgy sculptures that cost the Uni a lot of money
Grass but not enough trees
Various concrete and brick monstrosities to walk around
My heart is heavy and death is not far away
Like I’m hanging from a cliff
I pass the library and head up the path through the amphitheatre
Turn the corner then I’m at the OT building
Pushing my troubles into recesses of my mind,
I head into work

party

Will you be there?
I will be there with my many friends
I will get drunk and stoned and run a humungous muck
I will hit on all the single women and attempt to be interesting
And some woman may find me interesting
Come on, it has happened before
Occasionally
There will be some cool bands there churning out distorted indie goodness
It will rock like a hit of cocaine
In an intimate vein

Will you be there?
It is likely that someone will choke on their own vomit
Which is a nasty way to go but better than choking on someone else’s
There will be rivers of alcohol and forests of weed
Tobacco and pot smoke will be thick as the conversation
People will exhibit joy and fascination
With each other and with the moments of togetherness
Which grow into an ecstatic peak through group synergy
Then subside into nothingness as everyone goes home to their hangovers

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

lana-del-rey-ultraviolence-single-release

Looking at some slightly risqué pictures of Lana Del Rey while listening to her wonderfully melancholy music
I am overwhelmed with sadness old as time
So far away
The ultimate unobtainable woman
Projecting sophisticated sensuality
Oozing essence of fuck
And the most depressing truth of all
Is that it seems that all women are as unobtainable as Lana Del Rey to me

 

lonelyperson
Fuck this shit
I like women
Women don’t like me
It’s a conundrum
A paradox
Who the fuck wants to fuck a middle-aged fat bastard
Who the fuck wants to cuddle up to someone sweaty, bloated and pointless
How much longer will I self-destruct:
For love
For the sake of pain
For madness
For joy
For kicks
For blitzkrieg insanity
For lack of a good woman

I like women
Women don’t like me
I am:
Too fat
Too lonely
Too desperate
Too maudlin
Too pathetic
Too weird
Too stoned
Too drunk
So I have another beer
And I have another cigarette
I have another cone
Occasionally I have a shot
And exude infinite soul-longing for silent death-bliss
Which will come on like a shot of smack and euthanize my emptiness
And set me free to roam the realm of Spirits
With angel’s wings

Crazy with a straitjacket in a Psychiatric

I wonder what it would be like to have a wife
I wonder this a lot until the meme eats into my brain and repeats continuously
What would it be like
What would it be like
To have someone to listen to my bullshit
And tell me that everything will be okay when I’m depressed
Someone to tell me that she loves me when it seems like rabid wookies are at the door
When the schizophrenics gibber and the bipolars polarize
When the autistics discuss their interests and the learning disabled drool
She would be there for me
When the dominant males preen and the poets dream
When the vicious harridans howl and the posers pontificate
She would be there for me
Every person needs a companion
Say the cold fingers of genetic fate around my throat
My soul screams for unity in togetherness
My soul howls for love

If I had a wife
I would insert the words ‘my wife’ into myriad sentences
Like women always insert the words ‘my boyfriend’ or ‘my husband’ when they’re talking to me
Just so I think they’re taken whether they’re single or not and I don’t have a chance in hell
I’d say things like
My wife has a stomach ache
and
My wife loves to eat peaches
or
My wife is a divine angel of pure light and her breasts smell like strawberries
or
My wife gave me a most excellent blow-job this morning and now the whole universe sparkles with possibilities

Somewhere between divine and human
Loved forever no matter how much this crazy world longs for the abyss
She will be my soul mate and my partner in crime
My dearest confidante and my gorgeous honey-darling
My antithesis and my synthesis
I wonder if she’s out there now
Locked up in some kafkaesque insane asylum tied down on a stretcher, overdosing on anti-psychotics
I might channel Sean Connery’s James Bond and go and rescue her
If only I knew where she was
Or if she even exists