Penny Lane is dead
They all said
Took her out back
Gave the Aussie a shovel attack
Later shots were heard
Witnessed only by the nocturnal birds
Observing the murder go down
After bullets made the deadly sound
Companions who party
Should be a little more smarty
Since someone could drug the cupcakes
Served by the friendly fake
When she was baked
But true love
Watching from above
Saw the couple
Facing trouble
Working together
Fighting the hatred weather
Brought Penny Lane back
Who suffered a shovel attack
Now alive
Penny Lane grabbed the cycle wings ride
Big girls they did sing
Knowing one thing
They evened the score
Winning the war
Despite wearing facial gore
Penny Lane next time you meet
Enjoy the celebration sweets
With a true mate
A holiday worthy date
Especially when you both defend
Not needing any blokey men
_Scene: John comes home drunk, midnight_
Car door slammed at 11:58.
Keys sang like broken bells.
Heavy feet dragged the dust in,
Almost slumping.
"The night rider is back,"
Sonia said to the empty room.
He knocked anyway.
"You reek of alcohol," she told the dark.
"You never listen to advice."
His hand lifted.
Her eyes did not drop. Still.
"I won't back down, John."
The bulb buzzed between them.
Let me drown in this bottle
Poverty, loneliness, uncertainty
Let it flood my empty soul
With the bitterness of this sweet liquor
To throw myself into that deep sea
Of promiscuity with bravery and courage
Not to die starving for bread on this journey
Perhaps this way I'll find that sublime happiness
My certificates don't even sustain a sip
For they have no warm backing due to the rain
Rain that flooded my skills and dreams
Reducing them to banknotes worth more than the diploma
[...]
Why can't I stay dry ? I ask my power on high . Why can't I stay dry ? No rainbows in my sky . Why can't I stay dry ? I don't want to go high . Why can't I stay dry ? No matter how hard I try . Why can't I stay dry ? I just want to die . Why can't I stay dry ?
I’m tired of this dance.
The pretending.
The quiet nods that make it seem like everything is fine.
You drink.
You lie.
And I clean up after you, again.
What hurts more is that I’ve learned how to live with it.
You’ll go dry for a few days, maybe a week.
You’ll hold me like you remember who I am.
You’ll say you’re sorry with soft hands and glassy eyes.
For a moment, I get the version of you I miss.
But he never stays.
The other you returns.
Sharp.
Careless.
Everything becomes my fault.
The dishes pile up.
The beer cans get shoved under seats and behind toolboxes.
I ask how much you had tonight.
You pause.
Like you’re testing me.
Measuring what you can get away with.
You lie.
And I let myself believe you.
Because it’s easier than the truth.
And just like that,
we start over.
I woke up and felt dead.
Nothing new, but I’m spurred on by tonight’s events,
A chance to drink and party with friends.
I didn’t understand my lecture and the tutorial went over my head,
But it’s fine, it’ll be drunkenly forgotten by the time I’m in bed.
Mondays are tough, I’m not rewarded refuge from the noise,
I’m left yearning for the next night out with the boys.
When I won’t stress about uni,
When I no longer hate the way I look,
The scars disappear as if the alcohol took- all the that pushes me over,
All the restless torments and stupid insecurities,
But they’ll be back, and worse, as soon as I’m sober.
The floodgates reopen and the water floods my mind,
Accompanied by headaches and nausea entwined,
Now it’s worse than ever because all that I can think,
Is when an earth can I next drink.
Coffee is a reasonable substitute
for spirit possession.
Surely your heart will tremble,
open the gateway
for earthquakes to exist
within the fault lines
of your fingers —
but at least your pants will be piss free
when the officer asks you
to dance along the straight line.
And when he asks, “are you nervous?”
you’ll respond in the affirmative.
Explain how since 1996
you’ve been waiting for the day
an asteroid directly impacts your car
as you sip espresso
heading southbound on the I-10,
on your way to work.
And you won’t have to explain to your coworker
why your pants are missing,
ass in the air,
bad decisions spilled
on the fresh mopped floor —
dreading the ride in,
knowing he knows
you’d never compete
with his fresh ironed shirt.
This morning I chose slow drip,
because life moves fast enough.
You weren’t of true interest because we haven’t truly met,
My commitment regarding my parents, and my devotion towards success.
You then seemed to pique my interest when my anxiety got the best,
Although sadly this seemed to spiral into emotions and regress.
What would be claimed my best years would no longer take off as a success,
Instead, they’d be the catalyst to my life’s sad and emotional depress.
I now walk amongst the others whose choices they deeply regret,
I’m a shell of the person I once was, that society will soon forget.
Sometimes the mastermind
Sometimes the butcher
Alcohol.
Sometimes the genius
Sometimes the imbecile
Alcohol.
Sometimes the blanket
Sometimes the suffocation
Alcohol.
Sometimes the spark
Sometimes the wildfire
Alcohol.
Sometimes the dibber
Sometimes the uprooter
Alcohol.
Sometimes the jamboree
Sometimes the funeral
Alcohol.
It was never the first
Never the warmth.
It was the last
And the end was explosive.
You almost knew what you were doing
You were in my bar
The way they had to you blind
Then keep you out of mind
That was who I was
Eyelids tell the x rated story to blank friends and hires
The only thing we have now is common ground whether we admit that or not
I wasn't alone there in my vomit yet the sooner they could feel it, the pulse had to wait for my name and its jester like curse
One day I held on to the drink
Your pale with hell to share in the next drunk circle jerk yet I wish the
Very well in parrelel to you
That a fume will sit for you and hear the darkest bell of turnarounds
I know where you were
The spelling of first
I know where you were
nobody pours the first drink
planning to smash a face
or throw a chair through a window
or say the one sentence
that burns down a marriage
they pour it because the day was heavy
because the mirror asked too many questions
because silence felt like a jail cell
alcohol isn’t courage
it’s a solvent
it loosens the screws
that kept the monster bolted to the floor
some men turn soft
crying over dogs they kicked years ago
some men turn poetic
talking about God and jazz and women who left
and some—
some discover there was a fist
waiting behind their ribs
all along
violence doesn’t arrive drunk
it was already renting a room
alcohol just hands it the key
the punch comes faster
than the thought
the apology comes later
if it comes at all
bars are full of mysteries
but this one’s simple:
booze doesn’t invent the devil
it just lets him talk louder
and when the lights come on
and the blood dries
everyone says the same thing—
“I didn’t know I was like that.”
yeah.
nobody ever does.
I raise my glass against the creeping night,
And laugh at shadows clawing at my flame;
Let death come slow or fast-I hold my light.
For what is life if lived without a claim
To fire, music, madness, reckless cheer?
A sober world is sober than it's shame
So let the cautious tremble, clutching fear;
I'll dance where fear runs red as mortal blood,
And drown the ticking silence in jeer.
Let saints preach duty, labour, sweat, and mud-
Their sermons wilt beneath the club's loud roar;
I choose the storm,the glitter and the flood.
Though bones may crack and lungs may breathe no more,
My name will rise from every emptied cup-
A toast to nights that burned my spirits raw.
And when the final reckoning adds up,
Let death itself bow down before my spree;
I lived unchained, and never once looked up
Most drink for the after effects and others for the taste
Some tend to over enjoy it then do something debased
It seems to be the invited guest at every get together
The myth seems to be that alcohol makes it better
Then you have those who try to flood out their problems
Hoping to find the solution at the bottom of the bottle
It may be true that this poison tends to numb you
Not long enough to ease the pain you've been through
Which is the reason why some people remain that way
You find them unstable and drunk day after day
Alcohol has a way to wash away our insecurities
Men would say it makes an ugly woman pretty
This awesome liquid seems to blur our vision
Makes us express words we never would mention
It also puts us in these horrible situations
Someone's accused of rape or life is taken
Every group of friends need that designated driver
Because of one fool who thinks his tolerance is higher
What was the real reason alcohol was made
Is it to help the real person inside of us fade
You have some that choose not to drink at all
Is it for the right reasons we're drinking alcohol?
it starts
when you’re too small to reach the light switch—
the yelling,
the slaps that come out of nowhere,
the way you learn early
that silence is safer than truth.
they tell you
“be strong,”
“be good,”
“sit still,”
while their own hands tremble from last night’s bourbon.
you grow up watching hypocrisy
wear a necktie.
school’s no better—
they call it “discipline,”
but it’s just another kind of cage.
they make you memorize names of kings
while your own father forgets yours.
they grade you on obedience
and call it learning.
by the time you’re grown,
you’ve learned that nobody listens
unless you’re perfect—
and perfection’s a currency
you never had.
so you find a drink,
a pill,
a something
that doesn’t grade you,
doesn’t shout,
just hums quietly in your bloodstream
and says,
“you’re alright for now.”
we don’t turn to the bottle
or the needle
because we love destruction—
we turn to them
because they’re the only things
that don’t lie.
they let you rest,
for a few hours,
in a world
that stopped being gentle
a long damn time ago.
You once shaded lovers and sparrows.
your branches combed the morning mist-
a cathedral of green where children sang,
and the sun broke bread with your leaves,
O patient giant,with roots like prayer,
you watched seasons kneel before you.
The rain leaned close to whisper secrets,
the moon hung her lamp from your crown.
But two fools came with saws and laughter-
their hands empty of reverence or song.
They did not hear the sap cry out,
nor the small bird scream from its broken home.
O murderers of shade and silence,
what did you gain from such noise?
The world grew smaller when you fell,
and even the wind forgot its music.
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