Submissions by Gonzo69 (AnthonyHendrix)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
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SELF POEM
Published
30th May 2014 11:40pm
30th May 2014 11:40pm
Beauty
I know nothing of love,
Beauty, though, I know.
I see beauty in the night,
I see beauty in the lonely,
I see beauty in the broken,
I see beauty in the dead.
I like to see beauty wasted,
Hold on to it with all the power I
Got and experience it before it fades.
Beauty is a drug, a stripper, a skyline at
Night, or even old Poe dying all alone.
Beauty is a wish for something better.
Beauty is a gift we don't notice until after.
Beauty, though, I know.
I see beauty in the night,
I see beauty in the lonely,
I see beauty in the broken,
I see beauty in the dead.
I like to see beauty wasted,
Hold on to it with all the power I
Got and experience it before it fades.
Beauty is a drug, a stripper, a skyline at
Night, or even old Poe dying all alone.
Beauty is a wish for something better.
Beauty is a gift we don't notice until after.
1420 reads
20 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
29th May 2014 8:13pm
29th May 2014 8:13pm
The Morning
The sun rises and things feel alright.
Last nights comedown gone and
Today's first high in progress.
Fresh from a dreamless sleep,
Fresh from a touch of nothing.
Music just sounds better in the morning.
Something about the sun rising makes
Me think I can take on the world, the universe.
I wish I could always feel that way. But the day is long.
You could live your life in a day if you wanted to.
I just hope I die in the morning, maybe as the sun rises.
I’d really like to feel that sense of hope right as I go.
The morning...
Last nights comedown gone and
Today's first high in progress.
Fresh from a dreamless sleep,
Fresh from a touch of nothing.
Music just sounds better in the morning.
Something about the sun rising makes
Me think I can take on the world, the universe.
I wish I could always feel that way. But the day is long.
You could live your life in a day if you wanted to.
I just hope I die in the morning, maybe as the sun rises.
I’d really like to feel that sense of hope right as I go.
The morning...
975 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Apr 2014 2:05am
28th Apr 2014 2:05am
Five For The Ice Cream Man
I saw this little boy waiting at the
Corner of the street saying aloud,
“My mom told me he would be here,
She gave me five for the ice cream man."
It was 8:30 at night. It’s known on my
Street that his parents smoke crack.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
I told him the ice cream man wasn't
Coming. “He is, I know he is” he said.
I just looked away knowing it was too late.
After a deep breath and last drag off my cig,
I headed back into my house depressed.
That damn kid doesn't even know it yet.
The fucking ice...
Corner of the street saying aloud,
“My mom told me he would be here,
She gave me five for the ice cream man."
It was 8:30 at night. It’s known on my
Street that his parents smoke crack.
“What are you looking at?” he asked.
I told him the ice cream man wasn't
Coming. “He is, I know he is” he said.
I just looked away knowing it was too late.
After a deep breath and last drag off my cig,
I headed back into my house depressed.
That damn kid doesn't even know it yet.
The fucking ice...
782 reads
10 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Apr 2014 10:12am
23rd Apr 2014 10:12am
A Life Like This
Six inch lines with Dad--
Good conversations had.
We get closer to death while
Getting closer to each other.
The world may see this as
Abuse but we call it bonding.
This is the life I’ve learned to live--
Fights, drugs, sex, pleasure, and
Adrenaline. I learned the legs of wine
When I was twelve and how to seduce a
Stripper before eighteen. My soul turned
Black and I can't change that. All I can
Do is live the only way I know how to--
Hard, fast, trippy, dark, epic, and romantic.
I tiptoe on the edge of life and death and...
Good conversations had.
We get closer to death while
Getting closer to each other.
The world may see this as
Abuse but we call it bonding.
This is the life I’ve learned to live--
Fights, drugs, sex, pleasure, and
Adrenaline. I learned the legs of wine
When I was twelve and how to seduce a
Stripper before eighteen. My soul turned
Black and I can't change that. All I can
Do is live the only way I know how to--
Hard, fast, trippy, dark, epic, and romantic.
I tiptoe on the edge of life and death and...
764 reads
4 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
14th Mar 2014 4:29am
14th Mar 2014 4:29am
The Junkie Philosopher
The junkie philosopher dwelled in
Smoke filled rooms in bad hotels and
Shit bars in broke down sides of town.
His clothes were always ripped and
His arms always showed tracks.
His words were always slurred and
His mind was always tormented.
I found him near dead in an alley at
Night coughing blood into a dirty rag and
Clutching a pile of notebooks to his chest.
“Just another starving artist” I thought,
But as I got closer, he gave me this stare.
I knew that stare. I had that stare.
He begged me to show his writings...
Smoke filled rooms in bad hotels and
Shit bars in broke down sides of town.
His clothes were always ripped and
His arms always showed tracks.
His words were always slurred and
His mind was always tormented.
I found him near dead in an alley at
Night coughing blood into a dirty rag and
Clutching a pile of notebooks to his chest.
“Just another starving artist” I thought,
But as I got closer, he gave me this stare.
I knew that stare. I had that stare.
He begged me to show his writings...
1006 reads
4 Comments
STORY POEM
Published
24th Feb 2014 7:55am
24th Feb 2014 7:55am
The After Party
Last call at the club was done and
He found himself snowblind on a
Couch at an after party tapping his
Toes to the sound of fast house music.
Then she walked in, her nose--itchy red,
And her body--blurred by smoke silhouettes.
She wore a skimpy black dress that night.
She wore high heels and had tattoos crawling
All over her. She had black hair and green eyes
Too deep for any man not to fall into them.
And he did. Fast. Potent as a bump, the
Sight of her shocked him out of his daze--
Off...
He found himself snowblind on a
Couch at an after party tapping his
Toes to the sound of fast house music.
Then she walked in, her nose--itchy red,
And her body--blurred by smoke silhouettes.
She wore a skimpy black dress that night.
She wore high heels and had tattoos crawling
All over her. She had black hair and green eyes
Too deep for any man not to fall into them.
And he did. Fast. Potent as a bump, the
Sight of her shocked him out of his daze--
Off...
799 reads
7 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
17th Feb 2014 5:17am
17th Feb 2014 5:17am
Blow on the Dash
As my Dad and I stumbled
Out of the neighborhood bar,
I saw a little bag in his hand--
Images of eight balls all over it.
I could see the tempting white inside.
I wanted it more than I wanted love.
I wanted it more than a functional family.
After a few minutes of searching,
We found his haunting black truck.
I told him, “Break it out, I know you got it.”
“Get in the fucking truck man” he responded.
We got in and...
Out of the neighborhood bar,
I saw a little bag in his hand--
Images of eight balls all over it.
I could see the tempting white inside.
I wanted it more than I wanted love.
I wanted it more than a functional family.
After a few minutes of searching,
We found his haunting black truck.
I told him, “Break it out, I know you got it.”
“Get in the fucking truck man” he responded.
We got in and...
1085 reads
10 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
14th Feb 2014 2:54pm
14th Feb 2014 2:54pm
The Young Poet
The young poet sits in his dim lit room
Drinking cheap wine and wondering.
He knows it could all just be bullshit
But oh how he wants to believe himself.
He takes another sip and sparks a cig
Then you start to hear the clicks.
Suddenly there’s music in the air.
He can no longer feel his room around him.
We see walls. He sees anything. He is free.
Losing track of his typing, he only has to think.
His fingers now move with his thoughts.
Clocks spin and his attention is never broken.
Then it ends and he sits depressed at the foot of his bed...
Drinking cheap wine and wondering.
He knows it could all just be bullshit
But oh how he wants to believe himself.
He takes another sip and sparks a cig
Then you start to hear the clicks.
Suddenly there’s music in the air.
He can no longer feel his room around him.
We see walls. He sees anything. He is free.
Losing track of his typing, he only has to think.
His fingers now move with his thoughts.
Clocks spin and his attention is never broken.
Then it ends and he sits depressed at the foot of his bed...
720 reads
8 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
14th Feb 2014 2:18pm
14th Feb 2014 2:18pm
Death At The Door
Death knocks at the door
Waiting for me to answer.
Tap, Tap, Tap, I hear it and pretend
Not to know what waits for me.
I hide in my smoke filled room bunkered
Down behind a wall of empty bottles.
The Tap turns to a haunting Knock
And my heart starts to beat faster.
I turn the music up to drown out
The sound of the Knocking but I cant,
The Knock is turning into a Rumble.
I look up over the bottles and see the
Door shaking and starting to break--
Dark red light pulsating through the cracks. ...
Waiting for me to answer.
Tap, Tap, Tap, I hear it and pretend
Not to know what waits for me.
I hide in my smoke filled room bunkered
Down behind a wall of empty bottles.
The Tap turns to a haunting Knock
And my heart starts to beat faster.
I turn the music up to drown out
The sound of the Knocking but I cant,
The Knock is turning into a Rumble.
I look up over the bottles and see the
Door shaking and starting to break--
Dark red light pulsating through the cracks. ...
816 reads
8 Comments
DRUGS POEM
Published
12th Feb 2014 4:15pm
12th Feb 2014 4:15pm
The Young Junkie
The young junkie lies in a dark room
Satisfied by his perfectly crafted high.
He believes he will always feel this way.
He looks over at his girlfriend sleeping next to him
And thinks about the troubled life she has lived,
About how much better she could do then him.
She wakes up and gazes into his eyes.
He sees nothing left and moves on.
“More?” He asks her. “Yes” she says.
He blacks out the blinds with dirty blankets
And pulls out the syringes and burnt spoons.
She shoots him up and says she loves him.
Then the high is...
Satisfied by his perfectly crafted high.
He believes he will always feel this way.
He looks over at his girlfriend sleeping next to him
And thinks about the troubled life she has lived,
About how much better she could do then him.
She wakes up and gazes into his eyes.
He sees nothing left and moves on.
“More?” He asks her. “Yes” she says.
He blacks out the blinds with dirty blankets
And pulls out the syringes and burnt spoons.
She shoots him up and says she loves him.
Then the high is...
867 reads
6 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by Gonzo69 (AnthonyHendrix)
