Shaken, Not Stirred October 1, 2008
Posted by essaytch in Bad Poetry, Essaytch.Tags: drinking, drugs, flu, fuzzy, sex, sick, stress, work
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Twirling, spinning, dizzy
in the clouds of daytime drugs.
Hazy, fuzzy, stuffed
full of cottony soft padding.
Mind slipping, heart dipping
head shimmers with the heat of cold fever.
If my body could but recover,
my mind relax from the after-effects
of this hard-hitting stress-fest…
The world would right itself again,
and the wobble would even out, straight and narrow.
But maybe with a little…twist.
-Essaytch
Fuckin’ Cherry… September 4, 2008
Posted by essaytch in Bad Poetry.Tags: angst, book club, Cherry, drugs, growing up, hippies, Mary Karr, memoirs, prose, reading, trippin', writing
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Cherry bombs.
Memoirs of a young-life hippie queen.
Swimming pools, neighborhood crushes,
Poet fiend, too smart for her own good.
Cherry bombs.
Lost friendships and pre-teen angst.
Artist mother, dead-beat dad
Big-bosomed sister—good for you.
Cherry bombs.
Tripping in a haze of pretty much everything.
Descriptive detail after detail after mind-numbing detail
Ad nauseum, ad infinitum—I guess you had to be there.
But no thanks, Mary Karr.
Your Cherry….bombed.
-Essaytch
