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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
The only time I prayed or the first I can remember are the ones from bathrooms. Snorting lines of coke off the back of a toilet praying that no one caught me. Or in the bathroom at my mother's losing my mind from all the LSD I've eaten praying I don't stay like that. Or in the bathroom where I use to cook meth praying that I didn't blow the place up. Praying in my brothers bathroom because I think my heart is going to explode. Praying in the bathroom of the courthouse downtown that the judge wouldn't throw me away for life. Praying in the bathroom of a hotel in Florida because the guys corvette I stole is pounding on the door. Praying in the bathroom at Baton Rouge general that my baby wouldn't be deformed.
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
Like the seed of a tree being planted my drunken father planted his. Interwoven with the x and y chromosomes was a predisposition and Miller high life. Wacthing his seedling grow was not enough for him to keep his own life. At the age of 3 the twisted and moss covered tree of his life died. It provided the soil for my soul to grow away from the Son. My dead limbs never tended to by my father and ignored by my mother. I was growing the tree of my fathers dreams. Exciding and shattering his expectations at the age of 15. I was branching out to any light whether black or artificial. My leaves growing , touching and tainting the branches of twisted and moss covered trees just like me.
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
I remember dreading the sunrise. It meant I could no longer hide my appearance or the things I've done the night before. Trying to find a dark safe place like a roch when the light is turned on. My dark secretive life no longer hidden by the pale moon light. My skinny frame and blood shot eyes now on display for the world to see. The wreckage I've caused now seen by the puffy waking faces. My dilated pupils not ready for the soul reviling light in the heavens. The chirping birds warning homeowners of the proweler in the vicinity. The moon light provided enough light to navigate the dark roads of my life. The night fog blending well with the haze of my mind. The dew covered grass washing my blood stained hands as I crawled recklessly through life. The bug bites scaring my empty soul threw the night. The bread like trails of growing mushrooms leading me to the devils gingerbread house. The meth being cooked in his cauldron to ensnare my dark and soulless life.
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
They are piled up from the two packs of ciggeretts trying to calm the nerves I've spent all my money on to act the way I'm trying to combat. They are in a huge pile at every house I visit from burning the evidence that would get me 20 to life. They are evident in everyone's faces from the bridges I've burnt before new ones could be built. They where held in a shaking hand to put on a can so the crack wouldn't melt through the holes I put in the can with the tab. They where the remains of my best friends house that the police used as evidence to prove we where cooking meth. They where what my clothes where reduced to from nodding out with a cigarette in my mouth from the handful of xanax I ate. It was what was left of beloved relatives from the funerals I didn't attend ...... It is what my new life has risin from
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
The bathroom of this trailer house on stilts was the only place i wanted to be. it was where all the dope was made. It didnt have beautiful people or velvet ropes. But if you where in it you where a VIP. Standing outside you had to look up at this tiny bathroom window. Hoping and praying i got in before the smoke started to roll out from the window. Like any VIP room there where certain requirements for getting in. Dress code was black ,so that you couldnt be seen by the camera hanging right next to the stairs, or from the feds watching in the woods. Price at the door was a minimum of 1 box of pseudoephedrine hydrochloride. You where also to behave a certain way while in the VIP. No loud talking. you must be willing to extinguish any fire that might start at a moments notice. hold the bag of fuel just right so not to spill the dope. Or add liquid fire to the bottle of pickling salt and not spill a drop, because they call it liquid fire for a reason. Must be able to bag the leftover guts from the lithium batteries quickly because the whole neighborhood can smell it the instant its opened. Must be calming to cook and friends but not to calming where he passes out with a bomb in his hand. Must be able to start a huge fire to destroy the "Bones" without leaving whats called as an egg of ammonia nitrate. you must be willing to hide in the shower with rolling bottle of fuel when concerned loved ones knock on the door. must be willing to repeat until your life comes to an end.
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
When i see you will i recognize the face I've only seen in pictures? Will you be happy to see me. Is disappointment going to be written on your face because of the life i've lived? Will the hand I've looked to hold my whole life be open to receive mine? Will you be mad for me putting a get well balloon on your tombstone? I was making light of the situation because i couldn't process what really has happened. Will you call me by my name or will i finally be able to answer when i hear a man call out "son"? Will you be with Aunt Fay because I know i could find y'all with her laugh that fills up any room. where you there all the times i talked to that brass plate on top of that granite pouring my heart and liquor out to you? Will there be a sorry in your opening sentence to me? Would you hug me and tell me your glad to see me?Would you tell me you thought of me everyday while we where separated and that i wasnt alone? Will you still be drinking when I see you again?
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
Smoking crack in a house in an unfamiliar neighborhood with unfamiliar faces. The fear pouring out of my pours like the piss on the couch I'm sitting in coming from the numerous dogs and cats in this abandon house. Trapped like a mouse in a cage I'm stuck in this house for fear of leaving and missing the next hit. Why cant i leave this house...the doors are missing and all the windows are open.Is it because of my hopes and dreams I'm blowing out towards heaven in clouds of white smoke? Or the smell of human waste in the toilet that cant be flushed. Why am i trapped in this house? The rice crispy sound on the end of this glass tube and the alluring aroma that i never knew i needed. Angry words coming from out of mouths that thunder off the walls of the empty rooms that hold nothing but me. Veins bulging from his head and neck like the roots of a cypress tree. Dogs barking in the background sending waring signals to all my numb senses. Why am i trapped in this house? The taste of char boy and ashes is the only thing i taste and feel. Trying to chase this elusive dragon that has led me to this strange house in another dimension. The dripping from the kitchen sink into the pile of dirty dishes is driving me insane. I'm not supposed to be here. I need to leave this place. Clicking my ruby red slippers isn't working. What rabbit hole have i gone down. Where was the wrong turn made. How do i get out of here? Please someone help me and show me the way to get out of this hell hole where in my bed i now lay.
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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Nathaniel Gardner Poem
Covered mirrors where a sign of unease in my house. I would cover them so I didn't have to see the skull with eyes looking back at me. Or to keep the lost souls from entering my house from other world's. Even the mirrors In my lap where covered with something to ease the pain of seeing myself in one. Facing myself In the mirror has always been the hardest thing for me to do. I couldn't even hold eye contact with the man in the mirror. I'd shy away from my own judgemental glare as I looked upon the shell of a man in the mirror. Do you love or even like what you see in your mirror? It was always easier for me to just cover them up with a sheet or not to even give the face of the body I see in it a second glance. Maybe if I drew a smile on it I could see what I would look like when I smiled. Why do the dull lifeless eyes in it pierce me so deep? Why don't I even recognize the person looking back at me? Seems like yesterday I was a teen getting ready for a party in it and now it's some strange man with a raging addiction looking back at me. Is this how everyone else sees me. Is what I see in line with everyone else's perception of me? Why would I ever uncover my mirror if every time I look in it it's another scar or character defect staring back at me. Why can't everyone just see me like I see me in my covered mirror.
Copyright © Nathaniel Gardner | Year Posted 2015
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