We Dont Die YoungTurn the lights down low. Let me leave this place from the comfort of my own bed at seventy, quick. Sometimes I actually think I’ll be around to see the world die. That would be my luck, as it was my grandmother’s. The quality of life fades, but the heart and mind remain strong. I don’t wish to die, I just want to leave the station before the suffering begins, but we don’t die young.We Dont Die Young by Jaybird101
My blood line speaks for itself. The latest to prove that fact is my father, a hard noised, whiskey drinking wild man. He rode his Heritage to the end of life and back again. Now, his roar has become a groan, but he’s still kicking near eighty. Most his friends are gone now, but their memory still lingers and he has his family.
If this doesn’t sound so bad, that’s because it isn’t, at least not yet. When your existence becomes agony and pain from bones that don’t work, lungs that struggle to breathe, or bowels that won’t move I’d rather take
Age of RealizationToo many have fallen, trying to go my way. In the wake of such an epiphany, I soon realize I am the single greatest common denominator, the link of dissention. I am the train wreck, the bad decision, the bad direction. This is my shit show, so when we stumble and fall I manage to hold on while others slip into the fog.Age of Realization by Jaybird101
It’s sad to think those who have been lost, actually loved me. Why else would anyone follow me to oblivion? And so I must slow my roll, change my flow. Spend more time at home, clean and sober. This was my awaking, my age of realization, a time when truth became clear and screamed at me for change.
Now, I sleep better these days. I step lighter, freer, with more clarity and a clean conscience. I don’t wallow in misery or discontent or fret over things I can’t change. One doesn’t have to fix as much when one isn’t breaking as much.
I guess it doesn’t matter how I found my way to the place before. All that matters is that I found my way
Last Nights RunThere’s money in a stackLast Nights Run by Jaybird101
and a pistol on the floor.
A tattooed hand
dangling just above.
Whiskey bottles scattered
from last night’s run;
a dance with the devil
in the main event.
The ashtrays full
of cigarette butts.
Smoke still lingers
in the air.
The light bulb flickers
to its last breath.
with impending dread.
The dis-hearted sleep
while sirens wail,
up the street
and across the hill.
A crash through the door
and that’s the end.
It’s hard being poor
in Houston, Texas.
hands.There's a small tear at the corner of my index.hands. by 91816119
It's shaped like a ragged mountain pass made
of flights and failures.
There's a tiny bite along the curve of my ring.
If you could kiss it better, I know you
would be too repulsed.
There's a piece missing from my forgotten middle.
I wrapped it up and kept it from myself,
but I found it again.
There's an empty hollowness in the smallest place.
I never touch it, but it cannot stop
weeping for its siblings.
casual blasphemyfor the past four yearscasual blasphemy by intricately-ordinary
I’ve been in love with a boy
who’s too busy loving life to notice
I exist. I don’t think he’s ever seen me
past his tunnel vision living--
I’m in love with a boy who
wears black gauges and swears
he’s a deist who’s fed up with
the backwards-fucked system
that governs our lives; he talks to me
about the symbolic importance
of hunger and need and rebellion
and isolationism and death as
Orwell and Golding must have written it,
and, god, I just want to crack open
my ribs so he can see the literary
starvation destroying me, the not-quite
metaphoric devastation of my liver and
paper cuts scarring my heart. I want
him to talk to me about the reasons
we ought to avoid college
and capitalism and commitment and explain
to me what this all really means.
[I want to be so unflinchingly honest
with you that it will be as natural
and sinful as all the others
before, just without the glare
of bare skin and self-hate. I want to tell you
I’m a middle aged white boy with a past, present, and god willing a future. I’ve lived hard and fast most my life and now it seems I’m slowing. I work for a living and play on the weekends. I enjoy Nascar, Bourbon, and BBQ and I love to grill. I also love to write and I love music. I’m no musician, but I am an enthusiast. My genres include punk rock, Rip Hop, and Reggae music and I don’t do much without them. I enjoy tattoos, back yard parties with friends, and just having a good time in general. I try not to cause problems for anyone and I hate drama. Basically I just want to take care of my responsibilities, my kids, and have a good time along the way. I guess you could say I’m a fairly simple guy.
As for writing, my interest began in late 2008-early 2009 because I never really cared much for shrinks or head doctors. Since then I like to think I’ve grown as a writer, but like most things we embark on I know I will forever be a student of literature. Now, I would love to categorize my writing style for you, throw out words like fixed form and free verse, but I gave that up almost immediately. Instead, I just call it life poetry and tag it as spoken-word leaving the rest up to you. I sincerely hope you enjoy what you find here.
Current Residence: Texas
I think for me, it’s the time away from work,
those holiday projects to keep busy,
the look on my sons face when the tree goes up
and when the presents come out.
It’s the annual New Year’s Eve party
and my son’s fourteenth birthday.
It’s the bonfires and BBQs
and not having to wake to an alarm.
It’s the one time a year
that doesn’t feel like chaos.
So if I don’t see you before 2015
have a Very Merry Christmas
and a Happy New Year.