I have drunk my death in your eyes,
and now my thirst is sated.
The shadows are as yellow
As bloom as the grey
As dark as the meadow
As gloom as the wave
As light as the crow
Through drunken haze
And as white as the terror
When put to the chase
The sounds are as silent
As whispering as the trees
As loud as the tired
As quiet as the screams
As wailing as the leaf
Through highpitched ear’s screech
And as quiet as still
When the end meets the leech
The tastes are as bleak
As dull as the fruit
As sour as leaf
As honeyed as soot
As tangy as the peak
As sharp as the root
And so is the blade
I am no brute
The stenches are as honey
As sweet as the hay
As bland as the berry
As foul as the bay
As sour as dairy
Through the incense, heavy
And as sour as what’s underneath
When the dirt is no longer empty
The forest is harp
As metal as twigs
As hard as carp
As soft as sticks
Yet under my feet, sharp
And as such is my overwhelming belief
He - ‘ it ‘ won’t be missed, in the depths of a scarp
Light vanishes upon his leaving
with the final grip of dusk--
the perfume of asters wisping softly
and I am by myself again...
alone into the restless clang
from winds booming ;
a melody which makes noises
louder than my roars--
and within luster of stars,
I long for lusty music
those whispers of craving hummed
where smoke flares of red summer days--
my man slowly slithering
lifting from brewed flames.
his sun over a raging river
propelling layers of dusky groans
and peaking drips of sweet sweat :
alienated, the cloud spills a thousand
secrets of co- owned trespasses.
How morning spills tantric samba notes --
aromatic robusta beans stinging
my damp eyelids ...my fingers
love- drunk on desire this mouth
sipping coffee dark, stark black
that not a tincture eases this heart.
flowing
showing
too soft
take off
musings
fusing
suppress
the rest
quick write
all night
complete
and neat
published
book wish
_Scene: Kitchen, hunger and blame_
Wood creaked under his weight.
Lid lifted.
Nothing.
Disappointed as if unexpected.
"Your days are numbered," he snarled like a gorilla,
And threw metal to the floor.
The sound ate the small room,
While he had nothing for his own belly.
"Should I inform you when I've eaten?"
"Yes," she said.
He called her lazy.
She called it truth.
Silence settled like sleet.
Two people - one sober, one drunk.
Two people - one pot, zero food.
moon drunk cleric
let them fall by your hand
their design esoteric
they will make their last stand
as the dim from what's new
falls over their heads
and they lie under you
they will wish they were dead
do not hesitate
daughter of peace
carve blood in blank slate
your control musn't cease
moon drunk cleric
do not falter, my child
do not say that you'll spare it
leave your wound, be reviled
He held his hand on the key,
Paralyzed in motion.
Teeth gritted,
Eyes wild,
And arms trembling.
He slammed his hands on the wheel,
Whomp,
Whomp,
Whomp.
And cursed himself when his fit was over.
How could he, He thought,
They could be out there.
“I will not” he said softly,
And retracted his key from the starter.
“I will never leave this garage!” he declared,
“That’ll show em”.
“My car had been hit once, and never again”.
Rain whipped by,
And the wipers tasked with maintaining sight struggled to keep up.
Despite the wiper’s determination though,
the driver needed not look,
As in his inebriation his control would merely worsen with sight.
The wheels upon which he rode turned quickly,
yet slid along the unstable gravel.
And as the driver lost consciousness,
The road gave way just in time to spite his drunkenness.
First the headlight cracked,
Then the metal upon which the car was supported bent and split.
And finally, the separation between the derelict and his storm gave way:
As the window shattered beyond recognition.
Now,
Rested upon an old willow,
The manifestation of all inadequacies lay;
A young man,
who failed to drive the car upon which fate destined him,
Met his end -
in introduction to the monsters of his irresolution.
I think I had a bit too much. To drink last night.
I thought I saw my ex. Eating my apple pie.
Did he sneak in. Through my open window?
Or does he still have a key. To my front door?
I caught you, I think. Now what are you going to do?
Caught you red-handed. I wondered why my baking
Was going missing...Or was it all a dream?
Behold Max the Drunk!
He likes to steal my whiskey
when my back is turned.
Winner 1st Place: Cat Senryu, JCB Brul (Sponsor), 5/14/26
He can't sleep without alcohol.
What else can you expect from an old alcoholic but boasting!?
Staggering left and right and burning incense.
Vodka goes down smooth
cat mistakes it for water
both of us are drunk
I was 468 miles away,
thinkin’, “Baby, would ya catch me on the next one?”
The hairs on her arm would stick up
and she’d think to herself:
Ain’t no way he’s still thinkin’ ’bout me.
Well, listen, honey,
I know I’m a ramblin’, self-centered little prick,
but I gotta be honest—
I shoulda been the one to marry you.
Weeks pass and I forget
the smell of you,
the texture of your lips
and what they did to my soul…
but that’s not what I’m tryin’ to say.
My fiancée is in the other room,
likely entertainin’ a funner guy
who’d offer the moon.
I kill a pint of whiskey,
pass out,
and here I am, dreamin’ of you.
Morning comes, my head throbs,
but my heart hurts worse.
468 miles away,
yet moments ago we danced on the floor.
I kiss my ole lady, one eye open,
guardin’ my throat.
The light peck she gives lets me know
I’m not guilty
for clingin’ to hope—
the hope of seein’ you again,
down on the bathroom floor,
wishin’ you’d come around
just a lil bit more
The Drunk Shy Small Jack-o'–lantern and the Fat Rat
The Drunk Shy Small Jack-o'–lantern woke up
in the toilet bowl
that really needed a clean up.
It smelt like a troll.
She heard a HIIIIIIIISS, and nervously looked up
at a Fat Rat slyly grinning.
She asked, ‘W-w-w-what’s u-u-up?’
The Fat Rat laughed wickedly.
Then he pressed FLUSH.
With great slush
the orange, soft, and
slashed Jack-o'–lantern went down, round and round out of sight.
In a hollow echo she said, 'Oh the fright!'
She uncomfortably spent Halloween night
stuck in the thick horizontal soil pipe Mr Dwight.
There she was stuck with a talkative spider mite!
Hello honey
I’m here to tell you
Dad is drunk again
He lost his ‘bout
An hour ago and
by gawd
He’s an animal
In every sense
goddamn
Yet I want to assure you
He is ever so thankful
You got your heart to lend
With your beautiful existence :)
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