deepundergroundpoetry.com
grenade
Chrysta Bell… ever heard her sing?
she wraps velvet ribbons, rippled waves, around a skinned
branch; I figure she lights it with a kiss that would burn my
lips. elder delta gods named it a torch song.
tall. cut like a glass figurine. hair the color of mocha leaves
on a rainy night. eyes that drip right outa their sockets, you
could lick those milky streams & poison yourself.
some broken-hearted desperado dropped quarters in the
juke & punched her number. she beat out a dreamy ballad
with the tiny silver hammers of her vocal chords, & before
the bugle solo, I was sunk deep in her vinyl irony.
I keep two shot glasses in front of me, one for my midnight
angel, on the lacy napkin that she likes. she always shows
up on nights like this, dances slow with me; keeps me up
late in my dirty thoughts.
…the nights were good when I held her, but the days were
full of trying: trying to hold down a job, trying to keep us
outa the gutter. she wanted a hero, I guess, like the battle
weary vet who goes belly down on the grenade to save his
buddies. I could never be that guy.
she walked a hard line with me till her love couldn’t hold up
under the weight of her tears, so I let her go. & her glass
never needs a refill.
so I drink & let the Doll on the box break my heart in her
remarkable dark. it’s the music of the night, the music of
the rain, & if it ain’t lonely enough,
I can pour my blues right outa the bottle…
(Artist unknown)
Published 8th Apr 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 16
reading list entries 1
comments 12
reads 1596
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
8th Apr 2016 1:27am
A sad tale that is oft repeated day in and day out
as the love connection more often than not disconnects.
Tears. Anger. Curses. Love! Ain't it grand?
as the love connection more often than not disconnects.
Tears. Anger. Curses. Love! Ain't it grand?
Anonymous
8th Apr 2016 1:51am
My movie of the week Sir John and loving this...
"she beat out a dreamy ballad
with the tiny silver hammers of her vocal chords, & before
the bugle solo, I was sunk deep in her vinyl irony."
With love always - Taryn xoxo
"she beat out a dreamy ballad
with the tiny silver hammers of her vocal chords, & before
the bugle solo, I was sunk deep in her vinyl irony."
With love always - Taryn xoxo
Anonymous
- Edited 18th Feb 2023 2:45am
8th Apr 2016 6:32am
<< post removed >>
8th Apr 2016 6:15pm
It always ends in tragedy when we expect someone to change for us.
Even Love can't hold up under that burden. Beautifully done, John.
Even Love can't hold up under that burden. Beautifully done, John.
9th Apr 2016 4:17am
I remember how it hurt. The permanent void inside our hearts.
Another great poem full of emotions. Cheers John.
Another great poem full of emotions. Cheers John.
9th Apr 2016 12:56pm
"so I drink & let the Doll on the box break my heart in her
remarkable dark. it’s the music of the night, the music of
the rain, & if it ain’t lonely enough,
I can pour my blues right outa the bottle… "
When I read your poems, sir, it always feels to me like a rainy night, watching from my glass window blue men, maybe in fedoras, and dark women, all with their smokes, noir, soothing me but lighting a fire, lonely with a small smile, leaving me blue while blood red around the edges. Beautiful as always. :)
remarkable dark. it’s the music of the night, the music of
the rain, & if it ain’t lonely enough,
I can pour my blues right outa the bottle… "
When I read your poems, sir, it always feels to me like a rainy night, watching from my glass window blue men, maybe in fedoras, and dark women, all with their smokes, noir, soothing me but lighting a fire, lonely with a small smile, leaving me blue while blood red around the edges. Beautiful as always. :)
9th Apr 2016 7:00pm
Ever hear Martha Davis sing? "He Hit Me, and It Felt Like A Kiss"? I'll have to check out Chrystal Bell. I've got a thing for torch singers. Meanwhile, a truly fine write.
9th Apr 2016 11:19pm
'on the box break my heart in her
remarkable dark.'
Something so unlike you in this but it is far from unpleasant. Affectionate, even, enduring for certain.
remarkable dark.'
Something so unlike you in this but it is far from unpleasant. Affectionate, even, enduring for certain.
9th Apr 2016 11:31pm
"…the nights were good when I held her, but the days were
full of trying: trying to hold down a job, trying to keep us
outa the gutter. she wanted a hero, I guess, like the battle
weary vet who goes belly down on the grenade to save his
buddies. I could never be that guy."
Poignant
full of trying: trying to hold down a job, trying to keep us
outa the gutter. she wanted a hero, I guess, like the battle
weary vet who goes belly down on the grenade to save his
buddies. I could never be that guy."
Poignant
11th Apr 2016 8:12am
"tall. cut like a glass figurine. hair the color of mocha leaves
on a rainy night. eyes that drip right outa their sockets, you
could lick those milky streams & poison yourself."
Holy holy holy good words, and everything else of this poem. Good write!
on a rainy night. eyes that drip right outa their sockets, you
could lick those milky streams & poison yourself."
Holy holy holy good words, and everything else of this poem. Good write!
14th Apr 2016 11:31pm
Love this amazing ink..
"she walked a hard line with me till her love couldn’t hold up
under the weight of her tears," that line just lingers..Well Done Sir!!!
"she walked a hard line with me till her love couldn’t hold up
under the weight of her tears," that line just lingers..Well Done Sir!!!
17th Apr 2016 2:19am
I can pour my blues right outta
the bottle.. . heavy stuff my
cherished.
You make us morn moments
hun.. .
-Howlings
the bottle.. . heavy stuff my
cherished.
You make us morn moments
hun.. .
-Howlings
