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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
For thoose of you who may not know.
Just call me gonzo I write the absurd for life is insane and sometimes
it takes a madman to speak the truth so very clear.
I write for the broken vacant faces that have lost all hope.
To the dreamer who's well is slowley running dry from everyone
telling him to stop wasting his time.
I write like a endless highway fueled by whiskey and wild women
every adventure leads to pain but life is pain and i love in spite of it.
I thirst for every unseen mile the desert my brother it's people dwell
in the spirt of the west the opium parlors and brothels spirt still linger.
I write with a hint of danger and a promise of disaster.
Im a blues player whos trying to out run the devil.
Im a outlaw riding to cross the border a woman looking to the
empty range for my return.
I write because I breath in a world were the creative air has gone
stale.
The bottle sits apon table and I welcome any strangers company
I just rather that stranger be a warm woman instead of a
unfriendly amigo who is a little jelouse.
Write to be more than just part of the highways landscape.
Some may call me crude crazy insane some even vulgar and
liar and thief.
But aside from thoose compliments.
No matter what you may call me.
Dont ever forget to just call me gonzo.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
Darkness is my life that apears in
light.
Has it come to just another fix.
The smile does conceal my losing fight.
The music the screams within.
The lies eat away at the man I can no
longer stand.
Hollow is thy heart.
Crimson stains all that is never held in
hand.
It started a game now it's a curse.
In darkness I speak to you
all I could never say.
The man once known to you.
Has all but faded away.
And as I slip into adictions abyss.
Candle lit memories were taken
with the breeze.
That killed that romantic glow.
As the stranger who exists in the form
once you did love.
Twist's into a form you cannot understand.
I ask out of love for you to forget.
The monster that haunts this form.
In memories true love we will forever know.
The emptyness of of this life.
And the once splendid candle lights glow.
In truth we die.
As we live.
So must we cry.
Not every every question has a answer my friends.
Gonzo.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
I looked at the room broken bottles blood fragments of clothes.
maybe a tooth from somebody not fast are to drunk to get outta the way of a conversation
turned bad.
The juke box had almost made it threw but it just had to
play that one song that caused it to become a target
for a flying cue ball.
And I herd someone speaking to the toilet I thought maybe
I wasnt that hungry after all.
As to what caused the riot slash the human tornado of fun I cannot say
But in my opinion that jukebox had it coming always playing the wrong songs at the right
time no one likes a smartass.
And that drag queen could sure throw a mean left hook.
While looking fierce and lip sinking to madonna at the same time that my friends take true
talent .
Seems as though the register had went on vacation but they
left the wild turkey and pretzels thank god happy hour was almost apon us.
And theres nothing worse than telling a proffesional drinker as myself
theres no snacks it's like tellinga kid theres no santa claus.
And that big fat guy in the red suit with his little dwarfs
were really just some of momies friends.
I always wondred why santa was so into getting the crap beat outta him
by a woman in a latex outfit calling herself mistress Claus.
Yes coffee always made things better mixed with some of my personal corn whiskey yeah
grandpa may went insane and herd voices from drinking the stuff but at least he always had
someone to talk to.
As I looked at the chaos that was my headquarters memories came to me in a flood the
booth were I met my first wife.
that same booth were i caught her with my best friend and worst enemy and santa i swear
he gets around.
So much for online dating dam you napster.
I should just stick with street walkers and circus people.
And I think after my tweenty first DUI
that it was good i never had a license to start with.
cause i really hate losing anything.
It's a shame about my mind.
So really other than this little get togather turned riot turned
love in turned back to brawl turned into
big kid slumber party.
It was after the jukebox had to put in it's two cents
that it all turned to .
For nothing kills the mood worse than a bad song
at the right time.
Love always Dr Gonzo
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
Apon are arrival once at times seemed questionable
We were greated by none.
Hawaii had spoiled us to all other airport experiences
Were else could a half hunover yet slighty buzzed madman
stumble from a plane to encounter a beautiful woman in a grass skirt
and cocunut bra once even now made me thirst for for a pina collada.
But in in canada there was nothing to greet us there but cold
As we stumbbled around dressed like soon to be doomed criminals awaitting trial.
Cananda its slogan should have been.
Welcome to Cannada it's really dam cold.
But we knew where to find warmth in this enviroment.
Or for that matter any enviroment.
For we were drunks or as i liked to think of it consistant drinkers
And on are journey into this land of freezing weather maple syrup
and ice hockey.
We had one true goal.
we had come to drink Cannada dry.
No bar would go untouched No bottle would not know are name.
we would hit on many women.
Score with a few and say we had slept with many.
I was a religeous man and i needed to get in touch with with the spirts
The spirts of Canadian mist Jim beam And my old stand by spirt Gin
It was a bold mission for which we had set forth.
Are livers were alredy beaten to almost a pulp but
we still somehow walked and functioned in disquise of
semi normal human beings but nothing was further from the truth
we were writters once ment we were professional crazy people
On a mission to depleet this icey land of its alcohol
an drink canada dry
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
No Matter The Floor You Pass Out On
I awake as any other madman slash poet.
Apon the floor naked pizza box for pillow a members only jacket for a blanket.
yes the libary sure has changed over the years.
less and less people were reading buggets were cut meaning
libraryies were under staffed and rarely did anyone dare venture into
the stacks and thank good for that. Cause being i preffered free sleeping
it was probaly for the best.
but no matter the the floor you pass out on most all fine
american men wake up with are god given birth rite.
That which after a trip to the restroom like
that early morning madness that was christmas pressent openning
was over way to fast and was kinda disapointing.
Floors werent the best beds in the world in fact they
sucked altogather but drinking and common sense dont even
belong in the same room togather.
Portsmouth Va was a strange world indeed a place where upscale colided with skidrow.
Me I preffer the company of a outdoor sleeper to that of a
spoiled spoon fed yuppie turd.
the art school cranked out angst ridden buble people by the second.
They walked the street soaking in the pain of life.
there heads stuck so far up there asses I always felt compeled to trip them as they walked
by.
acting as though they were outsiders yerning to be mainstream
they'd rape there mothers on a mtv reality show as dad cried in the background.
Just for a taste of stardom.
True talent who needs that?
but no matter the floor you pass out on one
thing was clear.
In a world were you could have a bus load
of kids and get paid for it.
fame wasnt such a rare thing anymore.
The floor I passed out on was cold and cruel but surrounded
voices from the past.
the floor these hollow reallity show bottom feeders
passed out on. Had to besoft as there heads.
Otherwise there brains would splatter across the floor.
And some TV exect would have a brainstorm to have a show
were washed up celebrities would have a contest.
To see who could bore us the most with there sob story
Yes friends id rather have a pizza box for a pillow
than a reality show pillbox for a brain.
and the truth effectsus all form no matter
which floor so you do choose to pass out on.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
The bar is empty except for me and some old memories.
The smoke flows to the celling as I sit underneath the neon sign.
recalling old friends and new regrets.
Miles behind me yet only a thought away.
I recall the feel of the embrace.
The tortured soul that guided this broken soul to this
empty place.
Theres a two drink minimum and i nurse the forth.
As the whiskey burns taking me back to my southern roots.
far from these cold nothern nights and snow covred streets.
Far from her warm welcome arms and and soft gentle ways.
Emptyness and drinks dont always mix well.
Motels and dirty mirrors often dont reflect where you are.
As time slowley does pass.
Confessions to a tired bartender.
Who long since has outgrown the two drink minimum of this
frozen empty bar.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
In many travels across this melting pot of a country I have found that every small town has
it's own cast of characters every group has the asshole who cant handle
booze.
The party girl who gets crying and wishes she could start all over again.
And the one to busy living this life to give a crap about what you think or how your
feeling.
After a couple of weeks it gets to anyone the sense of not belonging.
the constant movement it eats away at you like rot gut whiskey.
Once even though in agony you so joyfully keep pouring down your throat.
And the conversations become the same are we but playing a game
saying whatever it takes to get what we want.
But what is it we truley want?
Comfort of a warm body by are side the feeling of flesh apon flesh.
It has to be more than just sex but out here I belive its to feel
what its like to benormal and for one moment pretend you wont be
walking out that door to chase sun once agian.
Living like a pirate apon the land.
Not matter her body's warmth when you leave you never havea chance to
know the bad or the reallity of people.
thats why im forever a tourist.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2010
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
The page laughing at me the canvas cold and blank.
Winter filled room in the middle of june.
Why had my heart run a ground on such jagged shores.
Now I scavage for remains of my soul.
ragged I wonder would anyone remember me apon my return.
Would she stand smile apon face and regret in heart.
The page stayed empty for a reason.
They were all gone the great titles along with there writers.
Me the fool brave or foolish enough to attempt the
impossible with little to show for it.
A broken relationship and some bad tattos in
some weird places.
To be stuck down in a hollow .
Is fine with suplies lowand the truth a sober mind brings
time was ticking the false deadline was apon me.
And like a kid trying to cram in every answer on a school test.
I was stuggling waitting for the teacher to say times up.
Hands shaking from the need throat dry and a headache
that would last for a week.
Why had it always come to this isolation.
Maybe it was the roads way of calling me back.
Like a lover calling me back to bed.
To entangle untill the mornings light.
Yet just like a passionet affair the struggle for the title
kept me trapped to this place for nights on end.
You cant grasp what is never yours its
like trying to see that sweet southern breeze.
Everytime you find one with which your heart agree's
You find the titles taken.
life and love will always bring you to your knees.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
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Dr Robert Gonzo Poem
from this barstool i have sat waitting for some moment
of insiperation to come to me
But the only thing that that comes to me is
a bartender with another drink.
And in empty reflection lost in a jukebox's song
played by a lonley heart shooting pool.
I cant recall where the spark went.
maybe it fell to floor like the ash from a cigarette.
the page waits at home like a wife waitting in worry as her husban is off doing God knows
what so worried only wishing he'd return.
And when he does the fear fades and the anger kicks in.
The bottle doesnt hold a key but it does know me well.
I kiss it's fiery lips and cant resist it's charm.
so I sit with it passing hours in a dance that will end in
nothing but another wasted night and a bitter morning taken
out apon my mind.
In a swirl of hungover thoughts id leave half written pages.
To soon find themselves collecting with my ever growing arsenal of
drunken rants.
All ending bitter and cold.
But when the whiskey hits I'll make such great plans
that will never be.
I'll write that epic that will keep in the minds
other writers.
And in the warm arms of women who wanna love a
trainwreck just to say they've known what it's like.
Whiskey wishes are like sparks from a much larger fire.
the sparks fly off into the midnight sky.
only to fade befor are very eye.
Copyright © Dr Robert Gonzo | Year Posted 2009
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