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a tale of rum and hanging hats
mould_jesus

so i'll get a 1-5 of rum for me.
 1
a twelve of smirnoff ice for you,
 2
and we'll sit under an overpass
 3
somewhere in nowhere town,
 4
u.s.a. and drink the night away.
 5
 
 
i'll salt my hand just to lick it off
 6
and slam. down my throat like
 7
400 degree melted butter,
 8
it's a smooth burn.
 9
smooth as the silk sheets that
 10
i'll have you under. because
 11
out of state is the best place to
 12
detach strings. and believe me,
 13
i'll cut those strings with
 14
a machete. hard hack through
 15
strands of reality while the
 16
rest of the world spins around
 17
us. we never were, but somehow will
 18
be.
 19
 
 
intricately intertwined inside
 20
intoxicant inebriety. i'll coil
 21
my tongue around your insecurity
 22
and lap up a false sense of
 23
hope, just to spit it back out
 24
and drink it all again. i need you
 25
like a moose needs a hat rack.
 26

11 May 06

Rated 10 (8.3) by 1 users.
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Comments:

i like this.
 — gonewrong

come on. i want more than that.

get into this shit, have some fun with it.
 — mould_jesus

the alliteration in L20 and L21 seems rather out of place, and nohting against you or the poem, but im relaly tired of reading "alcohol laced" writings, there seems to be a string of them about these days
 — activism87

can't blame me for it.

it's kind of my life. that's just what i do. i drink.
 — mould_jesus

Gordon. You need to write about something else. In terms of the alcohol laced writing like that guy above mentioned, you've come as far as you can go. This is tight, tjhe emotion is fine, the understatement is fine, too.

I am not sure that you can go any further with anything directly involving alcohol anymore.
 — wendz

hey m_j

After a few reads, I see you've got some really excellent stuff in here, kind of bukowski. It's a bit cluttered up by some overblown 'poetic moments', but you can pull those out. Let's take a walk through this:

so i'll get a 1-5 of rum for me.  1
a twelve of smirnoff ice for you,  2
and we'll sit under an overpass  3
somewhere in nowhere town,  4
u.s.a. and drink the night away.  5

This whole strophe is telling - but it doesn't have to be: there's a peek here and there of concrete. I like how you start solid and start to drown in more and more detachment and end on something wild...exactly like getting wasted.

i'll salt my hand just to lick it off  6
and slam. down my throat like  7
400 degree melted butter,  8
it's a smooth burn.  

salt my hand - didn't know you did this with rum, too. I'm a tequila gal myself. But rum is definitely a smoother burn. Great simile there.


9
smooth as the silk sheets that  10
i'll have you under. because  11
out of state is the best place to  12
detach strings. and believe me,  13
i'll cut those strings with  14
a machete.

These lines are strong - I don't like smooth as the silk, only because that's a really tired image. "out of state is the best place to detach strings" -- very very nice.

hard hack through  15
strands of reality while the  16
rest of the world spins around  17
us. we never were, but somehow will  18
be.  19

Here you lecture a bit and spin off away from your good core drinking metaphor. I'm not crazy about these lines.

intricately intertwined inside  20
intoxicant inebriety. i'll coil  21
my tongue around your insecurity  22
and lap up a false sense of  23
hope, just to spit it back out  24
and drink it all again. i need you  25
like a moose needs a hat rack.  26

Good finish. I don't care for "false sense of hope" -- getting into that overtly poetic and telly area again.

So, if here's my take, not as a rewrite, but by way of illustration:


It's a fifth of rum for me, a case
of smirnoff ice for you
under the cut of no place
in particular.

With a lash at the salt on my hand
I'll slam the smooth heat
of melted butter and burn,

in the rip of spent sheets
I'll have you tangled under;
because out-of-state
is the best place to slash strings.

Machete them cold and clean
while the rest of the world burns
in my throat, where we never were
and somehow will be


intricately entwined inside  
toxic inebriety. My tongue will coil
around your insecurity
and lap up fraudulent hope;
just to spit out its blades
so I can slurp it all down again.
I need you
like a moose needs a hat rack.
 — ka

that comment is better than the poem itself.
 — mould_jesus

Alliteration runs wild L20 21 and interferes with a well observed poem.
 — larrylark

i agree but those lines don't bother me that much.
very nice work.
: )
 — fractalcore

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