its a coffee brand in sweden anyway. so dont get confused by it.


Columbine coffee

Small people wandering outside my tiny urine-stained window.
A gang rape of a child, i should bother i guess, hiding
between the lines of a newspaper magazine, why i
believe, i doesnt really know, well maybe i need too.

Another political gangbang on a shabby motel, another
massacre at innocent iraqi inn, covered in skin bleach.
this smells like political blitzkrieg i know, well forgive
and forget works everytime, because well some just
never learn to think straight as my mother told me years
ago.

but i'm just sitting here gettin confused over things which
doesnt matter, well or, i dont know, well i dont know much.
i sit here sipping my cup of columbine coffee
with a spoon of the cyanide queen. well it helps
me forget tomorrow, comes with the news...

Well, has been busy studying my odour for years now
i think, but i never guessed, dreams we're to be crushed
well, i believe i need a pencillin treatment for this rabid
infection inside my thoughts, i got bitten by ideological
thoughts, just another overdose of reality i guess but i
stll feel the blood taste inside my mouth well just a
mark of my disease. my daily dosage a overdose...

cant you please send me a flavour of pain,
insane white powder bite me if i feel alone.

but well everytime i end up with jesus in my hand, another
cup of Columbine Classic, more milk please, yea i always
feel weak, a weird odour of urine has crawled up the stairs
and now fills the atmosphere of the room, somebody been
using skin bleach in the apartment below, i smell the fear.
but well, i cant remember where i live sometimes, nobody
is a genius like you razorblade queen,have no other solution.
to distill my soul.

wondering why nobody wanted to be that young gentleman
raping you on the first date in the hallway of your mothers house
but that's not my business, to be curious i leave to others with less
to live for... forget and regret.

come over here and save me from this moon of tranquility,
everything is an void inside my heart, now before its too late my
dear new-wave female christ as you i dont live forever and never
will slip into holy smoke, or get rescued by heroin heroes, or
stars of the sky, as i breathe out a little piece everytime i take
a breathe to survive,inject me with your poison... Eve... inject me
with your morphine... venom angel....

Even if i dont smoke
i will try to do my best.

Well as always i end up here drinking cups of caffeine, drowning
in Columbine Coffe, open every day from monday to friday, it's
tasteless and watery but well it's my only string attached to the
world. it doesnt matter anymore i'm used and i guess i will survive.

as all the flies revolves around the beast the bullet got released
they lay their eggs inside of me, so they can eat me alive someday
all those thoughts, well i'm just another horny teenager crippling
this sphere with my very existance, the lost children...

holy dirty mind, make me clean, tremor christ, the circus is in town
more skin bleach, i feel unclean, i think i tastes bad, she said so.
maybe i'm shallow but i never been capable of seeing your inside
well now i dont give a damn anymore, give me another cup of
columbine coffee, to numb my everlasting headache i need it so
my thoughts fly away again, european mayhem..

sitting here drinking a cup of Columbine Coffee and cyanide pills
to have something to nibble at in the meantime, it helps me forget
yesterday was just another day, where heroes get forgotten, and
theifs get golden statues, well, its time to go home now, you had
enought, they said, for a coin you get tomorrow, even if the water
get ceased and the bears still is awake, but i just feel stupid anyway
anyhow but i guess its in my genes to feel anxiety over things i
never heard of, but well i never just dont know, anyway.

sitting here drinking my cup of cyanide and columbine coffee
when i'm done i will walk home again..




Poetry by asshole
Read 485 times
Written on 2007-02-27 at 00:50

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Inked.
i usually can't stand poetry that has some kind of general political underlying theme, because it's usually pretentious bullshit and the writer has no idea what the hell they're talking about.

however, this time as a reader it is i who has no idea what the hell is going on and the political pieces are not an attempt at being alternative and ironic, and i have no idea what anything is but i like it, i really do. something about the repetition of lines and coffee and a general attitude of mindfuckery has left me very concerned about myself. i feel as though i need to go right the ills of the world, but unfortunately i am entirely too lazy. i think i need to reread this. my brain hurts.
2007-02-27



Hi Asshole!lol I was totally drawn to the name! Story of my life. Grinning at you. Love the title, and I must admit, I too have taken up the perky coffee habit of late and it's so addictive. Really enjoyed the read, the first two lines totally draw the reader in. you could increase the size of the 'I' and there is a rare typo in there somewhere but the reading was a pleasure. I especially liked these lines,

chuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedchuffedz!! oops! not those. they were my son's last copy and paste, but I am leaving them, as they are so appropriate.

These lines, made me laugh out loud!!lol

Even if i dont smoke
i will try to do my best.

So ironic to the core Asshole....by the way, we call them Arseholes in Shakespeare country....

Thanks for sharing this, so nice after such a rainy day. Pea soup weather in Cornwall.

Welcome to the bay of poetic tranquility....well mostly!

Unless anyone upsets moi!lol

Smiling at you,

Tai
2007-02-27