Submissions by absinthe
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction Admirer of form.
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
30th Aug 2020 2:45am
30th Aug 2020 2:45am
Bit The Art Trick All
But
the fool
was a drunk
pissing on the
red carpet
the fool
was a drunk
pissing on the
red carpet
#vanity
211 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Aug 2020 1:30am
28th Aug 2020 1:30am
The Broken Mirror
Treatment for narcissistic personality disorder centers around talk therapy.
Request an Appointment at Mayo Clinic.
Request an Appointment at Mayo Clinic.
#loneliness
#mythology
#acceptance
221 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
28th Aug 2020 1:11am
28th Aug 2020 1:11am
Give Me A Little Smile
When
shadows don't
always correspond
to their objects.
shadows don't
always correspond
to their objects.
#memories
#learning
#healing
238 reads
3 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Aug 2020 5:58am
27th Aug 2020 5:58am
So Journ
Coque try
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5)
Abilify
Re lapse
Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5)
Abilify
Re lapse
#redemption
219 reads
1 Comment
EROTIC POEM
Published
27th Aug 2020 3:47am
27th Aug 2020 3:47am
Cure for Love
I
thought
I
Had
an orgasm.
thought
I
Had
an orgasm.
#anger
#dark
#shame #apathy
#shame #apathy
248 reads
1 Comment
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
26th Aug 2020 2:05am
26th Aug 2020 2:05am
Norm
I
don't know how
normal people
survive.
don't know how
normal people
survive.
#depression
#PTSD
#apathy
414 reads
3 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
25th Apr 2020 4:29pm
25th Apr 2020 4:29pm
Closed Loop
When I arrived at Liza's backyard, the pig was already slaughtered. All fiesta events cancelled, I considered it feasible and sensible to buy the live pig, butcher it, take what we need and give the rest away. The setting is a little closed loop backyard farm. Taro, banana, cassava, are all growing wild, sparse under an extended dry season. These serve as food for the fatteners. In turn, the fatteners provide dense, nutritious meat for the village. Despite the masks and social distancing, it was like fiesta. People shared meat, cooked and ate. Liza has 5 children and 2 families living in her...
#inequality
252 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
12th Oct 2019 3:32am
12th Oct 2019 3:32am
When Man Discovered Fire
It was nighttime. The darkness would hide what Denela was about to do. She brought the bucket outside and dumped its contents into a corner of the yard. There were several plastic containers from soft drinks, empty foil and plastic sachets from shampoo, vinegar and soy sauce, sardine and corned beef tins, plastic bags and paper. She squatted in the dark and in a few seconds, a small burst of light. There was no wind, so the light was unwavering and it grew bigger and bigger. The contents of the bucket burned. Black smoke billowed out of it. She quickly walked away, back into the house and...
#nature
300 reads
1 Comment
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st May 2019 1:12pm
1st May 2019 1:12pm
Happy Happy
That’s what they called it, happy happy, the alcoholic interludes
Tainted with nicotine delights, the pseudo-fiesta fares foraged from
The Gardens of Others, cooked over fires burning from sinful woods
Stolen – no – taken, from the old woman who died of a weak lung
Because they poisoned the country air with their happy happy.
They had lights that ran from the roof to the ground, like the rats
That infested the debris from their food and vomit, yet the decor
Was impressive, garish without pretense of poverty, tasteless ersatz
Of glittering plastic...
Tainted with nicotine delights, the pseudo-fiesta fares foraged from
The Gardens of Others, cooked over fires burning from sinful woods
Stolen – no – taken, from the old woman who died of a weak lung
Because they poisoned the country air with their happy happy.
They had lights that ran from the roof to the ground, like the rats
That infested the debris from their food and vomit, yet the decor
Was impressive, garish without pretense of poverty, tasteless ersatz
Of glittering plastic...
#consumerism
418 reads
5 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Jul 2018 2:37am
19th Jul 2018 2:37am
Acts of Fashion
There would not be a few who could remember that elderly woman
Squatted at the door of her house, reciting the litany of evils
That was coming to the village, it was poetry, it was tradition, no one
Rebukes it yet no one shuts the window view to the glowing thrills
Of the progressive life, the many indestructible objects of our desires.
So we took the crone’s litany and we made art, we took photos of our
Selves making art, and we invented a lavish carnival we called Culture,
Conference, Festival, where our symposium papers are the sites of power ...
Squatted at the door of her house, reciting the litany of evils
That was coming to the village, it was poetry, it was tradition, no one
Rebukes it yet no one shuts the window view to the glowing thrills
Of the progressive life, the many indestructible objects of our desires.
So we took the crone’s litany and we made art, we took photos of our
Selves making art, and we invented a lavish carnival we called Culture,
Conference, Festival, where our symposium papers are the sites of power ...
#apocalypse
427 reads
2 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
16th Jul 2018 6:03am
16th Jul 2018 6:03am
An Introduction to the Short Poem
I am hunted and there is time to write a poem about it, here in the refuge
Of a forest thick with the calls of birds telling me there are too many of my
Enemies and too few of my kind still alive; might I be saved by the deluge
In the distance or the gun in my hand? For my legs are tired and they sigh
With the sway of bamboo in the wind, and the lights are hurting my eyes.
So I stop and between drawing my breaths and the bullets that pierce them
I think of the sea gypsy who sold me the faux pearls that decorate my ears
Whose name was Jilby, who was...
Of a forest thick with the calls of birds telling me there are too many of my
Enemies and too few of my kind still alive; might I be saved by the deluge
In the distance or the gun in my hand? For my legs are tired and they sigh
With the sway of bamboo in the wind, and the lights are hurting my eyes.
So I stop and between drawing my breaths and the bullets that pierce them
I think of the sea gypsy who sold me the faux pearls that decorate my ears
Whose name was Jilby, who was...
#despair
379 reads
1 Comment
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
15th Jul 2018 10:24am
15th Jul 2018 10:24am
Absent Without Pay
Sorry, I was distracted by the windfall of hog plums and did not realise the time
Spent on, wasted on, the observance of the beautiful shape of spots on my lover’s
Face; so now I am full of fruit and grace, antihelmithic and adoration, both supine
And upright, depending on where you are coming from; never mind, whatevs,
I am here, aren’t I, and nobody died while I was away, congratulations, my dears!
Spent on, wasted on, the observance of the beautiful shape of spots on my lover’s
Face; so now I am full of fruit and grace, antihelmithic and adoration, both supine
And upright, depending on where you are coming from; never mind, whatevs,
I am here, aren’t I, and nobody died while I was away, congratulations, my dears!
#redemption
395 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by absinthe
