When we drink, we drink
Fill ar cups to the brink
Every man a universe
That is how we think.
Every man a universe
And all your wondrous reasoning
Digging out small truths
Days and unfinished years
Shifting in times and lives unseen
Outside
Ar music mystic divine
Trees and stones
Clouds of smoke
Flowing wine.
The whole world a desert
Rattle snakes rolling
Small birds hiding in shades
Strange people dwelling
Wrapped up in coats and skins and worldly worries
Lurching in cloudy existence.
To see with certainty
To see with certainty in this sub-atomic haze
Drunken visions stolen by sleep
Televisions still running
Cities burning neath ar feet
Boiling with heat of a thousand explosions
A thousand broken gas tanks
And chambers
A thousand beating hearts
Sorrows and hope
Red wine blood vessels and veins
And teary eyes and hairs tangled and mangled inside.
Come bearers of light and hope
Join ar explosion Red and Green
In cars and rooms and places unseen
Cast off woes and mournful retreat
And undone smiles
In caves hidden neath Strange dust
Forgotten earth
Twenty years past
Bones of dead wars and dead men.
Sadness embraces everything
Hot winds moving through the city
Spraying the walls
Changing the faces
Of men and women and old homes
Broken asylums
People and days
Rewritten
Recycled
Remixed grey.
We’re riding on high frequencies
The sounds that make the noise subside
Bouncing off the city walls
Wicked waves of laughter and lies
Torn flesh on distant sidewalks.
When mornings helpless tired
Lost the threads that got me through the night
Music carry me away to worlds of sleep
And visions of smoother domains
The day’s images escaping like smoke
Falling into pits of dreamy unconsciousness
Fleeting pictures
Faces of ghostly eras
Hazy recollections of broken sentiments scattered
Slumping on couches
Childhood beds.
It all boils down to the morning sun
Lights seeping through dark eyes.
The days closing in
Writing abstract
Living abstract
Remembering the suns of a hundred summers
Sipping in the cool
Riding afternoon breeze
Dreams entangled in wild hair
Drowning in pools of wine and green
Transparent mornings and skies
Enchanted heavenly clouds of grey
The sky’s dreams fading away
Fading away.
Days rusting in old junkyards
Shifting helplessly
Rolling in this great odyssey of days
And strange years captured in upheaval
Stirring still in spaces confined
The great prison city
Watching imagined horizons
Painted in minds
In evening sky clouds great above the sea.
The longest days cast away
Another foul year coming to pass
Writ in red fear
A thousand odd eras lost
In morning twilight twist
Mist rushing away
Dreams seeping through fabrics of walls
Escaping like fast fading notes of songs.
In cold winter nights
Remembering summer sun
Afternoon rhythms never ending.
It’s about time now to abandon
Old visions and old dreams
Unfolding in crazy silence
Dark curtains closing in
Finally ready
To welcome us to ar long awaited sleep.
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
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Oh. This is a nice little poem that you have going on here.
At first when I was reading this I thought that it was going to be about guys and bars because you were titled When we drink and it was talking about guys. But then as I was reading I could see that it sounded more like you were talking about a whole city of people and I thought that was interesting. You did a good job of expressing yourself here.
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I think this will be a good practice for outline making for me (there are so many ideas of conciousness within the write). Writing such a long write is quite tiring but still you made it. At first when I see the "ar" I thought it was a typo error but as I read throughout your right I noticed it was meant, ummh a unique way of writing...
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I enjoy stream of consciousness stuff..
and this has some excellent imagery and movement going on. But for my tastes, it is mired in the length..and not quite compelling enough to hold my passion for that long a piece.. -
Excellent
Great poem! I don't drink anymore, but I share the memories. A toast to you my friend! ~Peace~Gary
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It's a very lengthy rant but not without some interesting parts and a measure of truth. One question - you used the word ar as in the closing line "To welcome us to ar long awaited sleep" I wonder if you mean "our". It took stamina and determination to create this poem I applaud your effort. Felize Viaje (Spanish for happy trails)
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Thanks man ! You see i wrote this poem at a very strange time in my life. Nowadays my rants are even lengthier and more determined. As for the "ar" in question, it does mean "our" at the time i was trying to give the poem a Keroucian feel as in his reference to Poems as Pomes, a more organic way of spelling words. Felize Viaje back at you, i'm hoping to start my travels myself !
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What better thng to do when drinking then to let the words pour from the soul. Somehow, the alcokol just opens the muse and let's it flow. Well Done! Keep up the great work!
♥
~TE~
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Hehe
Funny thing is that most of the poem was written as reminisence over drunk times
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Really beautiful piece. You may be drinking something different than the rest of us, real absinth? I dunno. I've done my share of drinking and writing, with mixed results. So maybe you're not literally talking about alcohol, but creative juices. Either way well written and interesting.
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You're right, I was drinking something special but like u said it's not about the alcohol its about the whole era, a whole lifestyle, a whole community. Thanks for your valuable insights. I couldn't help noticing that you're a Genearation X guy, what kinda groups did u grow up with ?? Smashing Pumpkins are my personal favorites !! What's yours ??? ROCK ON !!
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This is long, but really cool. It sort of flows to the rhythm of pouring and drinking, pouring and drinking...
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hehe
I guess that's a way of seeing it
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