So
I woke up this morning
and there was nothing
to be afraid
of
I blinked
and squeezed a
few tears from
my stupid eyes
a few lies
fell out of
my mind
and I flicked on
the radio
glaring at me
and blaring noise
for the first time
in years
I made some toast
the way I
like it
and licked
peanut butter
right off the knife
as usual
and smiled
The coffee
and I had
a little fight
which wound up
in chocolate milk
and breakfast
I gulped down
my pill
read a boring
newspaper
and left
my book
on the
table
I saw
a bluebird
eating its soul
and trying to sing
at the same time
which resulted in
vomit on my lawn
I threw on
my pointless jacket
and threw away
everything that
might remind me
of yesterdays
blue sweat
open heart
and sores
I may have
thought of you
the wet dew
under my skin
or maybe
I only shiver
because it's cold.
Author notes
Written July 25th, 2005
In a list
A contest entry
- buk & thee by onerios13.
1300 points, ended August 11, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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I saw
a bluebird
eating its soul
and trying to sing
at the same time
which resulted in
vomit on my lawn
This stanza reminded me of why I love buk so much. The entire piece was just fantastic, with great insight and movement that showcased what a master he was at conveying everything in such normal and natural way.
All I can say is, this definitely did him justice.
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Thank you.
Barbie. Xx
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well done
and good luck in the contest.
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Thank you.
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Nah, I'm not actually sure what the French for fucking is, which is a shame. Thanks, I feel quite honoured. Barbie. Xx
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wow, fucking amazing. pardon my french.......is fucking french? I know they fuck everything, snails, olympic bids (woohoo) but is the word french? I loved that, people tell me my stuff is good but this is the kind of thing i long to write, but i cant :-9 fuck i cant even do a :-( right
Edited on Jul 27, 3:06 p.m. because 'i put the dick in dickshunary'. -
Heh, a bit of both depending on my mood. Thanks.
Barbie. Xx
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My, my, 'my' Barbie, you are such a powerhouse of emotion. You leave me breathless with your passion. I have this theory you are actually and axe murderer, being polite. Perhaps you are a gentle soul pretending to be an axe murderer. (I don't know - but boy 'girl' you have it) - Thank you.
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Thanks. I was in a foul mood earlier but started reading Bukowski and it numbed the pain a little. Barbie. Xx
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Love the last stanza. Great write, Barbie.
xoxo jen
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