Tag Archives: henry rollins

Bukowski

I called him “Bukowski”, because he wrote with the same disdain as the poet, and succumbed to all the same vices. He loved to drink, He loved to smoke, and he loved women, one in particular, me. He wrote often. … Continue reading

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Bittersweet Symphony

Last night, I was the girl in glasses, alone at a bar, with a book, which basically made me, a sitting duck. I knew this, but I had gone to hear my friend play his guitar, and I was going … Continue reading

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Fast Love

I should probably put the pen down, because I might make a mess, but there’s a few things here, I want to confess. I just dyed my hair, because I thought I saw a random grey, I bought new jeans … Continue reading

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More Than Words

I tried to make the piano scream last night. I struck the keys so hard, that I could feel my fingers bruising more and more, with each passing measure. In that moment, I don’t think I cared if they broke, … Continue reading

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Enjoy the Silence

It’s Sunday night, and I only write poems on Fridays. This is a problem, because, there is a poem stuck inside, and though it’s near the surface, the next five days, are going to feel, like an eternity in hell, … Continue reading

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Fly Me to the Moon

Gray colored hair, a striped pocket shirt, Gap jeans with white Rockports, and yellow pound cake for dessert. It’s been 8 years since you passed, forever an unfathomable loss, your heart had failed, and silenced your voice. You’re going to … Continue reading

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Pictures of You

And it’s Friday night, And i’m driving around, And “that song” came on, And suddenly it’s 2004 again, And he was going to be a rock star, And he played bass until his fingers bled, And his band became family, … Continue reading

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More Than Words

You fell asleep, and I could feel the poem forming in my brain, the words trying to find their place, but I didn’t grab my notebook, I didn’t want to wake you, so I tried to stay awake, because I … Continue reading

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Dunkin Do-Nots

Sitting in Dunkin, with coffee and a book, when a 30-something guy approaches, says, “He likes how I look”. I smile, say thank you, attempt to return to my page, but am ambushed with questions, from a guy who should … Continue reading

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Shake It Off

I’d like to pay homage, to the following men, those I wish, to never see again. The one who flirted with the waitress, the one who may have been racist, the one in love with his ex, the one who … Continue reading

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