JOHNNY COLT » Poetry

johnnycolt — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 12:45:45 +0000

BIKINI CONTEST

- Children – naughty children – women non the less…..
- Everyone one of them
- Yes curves
- Yes of age
- Yes still trying to please and fresh to put on a show…..
- nothing compelling @ it, except for the ass on one of those brown girls -
- Oh there are curves
The base in me responds, of course !
I am a man
No apology
- in contrast —– a needed apology for the camera phone frat boy Front row fodder

- The sports bar
-A distant planet
-A strange breed
-The dwelling of inactive
-a temple of spectators
-Men in baseball hat vernacular
Urge titans in tights
-only the language of well worn bar wood speaks to me
-bacardi and coke at this bar she says thrusting bartender tits in my face…. Her spell is feeble – I get neither
- I sit
- I type
- I wonder why
- Always why
-Once you have a real women
You don’t go back …
-Not to the girls
-The booze
-Or the bar
- no,no – for me I am Content to feel the warmth of well worn bar wood and soak up the advantage of
distance
pardon typos
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johnnycolt — Mon, 05 Apr 2010 08:14:02 +0000

BIKINI CONTEST

johnnycolt — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 14:47:26 +0000

Waiting room -

Do u squeeze your lemonade ?
Yea -
Do u have a big container -
Oh yea -
Ok ok do you use fresh water -
Oh yea that makes it that much better -
Oh yea baby -

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johnnycolt — Fri, 12 Mar 2010 11:19:42 +0000

Heavy and just a bit to the left-
The nebula of her hair -
My nest -
Drops of dew -
Moist with love -
Body temperature rain -
gently slide – eventually fall

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the SQUID

johnnycolt — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 03:20:32 +0000

Begins the transcluescent march/
floor of the depth continues to me/
The liquidy pulse
Of jungian sea/
tempature numb
forest of water/
Aqua zombie
In monotone beat/
Growing in size
undulating key/
music begins black
And blacker soon it shall be/
floating and floating in this feel nothing sea

the BROWN STONE fox

johnnycolt — Sun, 22 Nov 2009 21:30:48 +0000

brandon busch

admin — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 04:13:54 +0000

A Died in the wool
Son of a bitch
Soft and real like
A baseball bat full of nails to the heart
Brandon busch
A giant of a man in a poets body

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Fury # 1

admin — Sun, 15 Nov 2009 01:05:51 +0000

Oh the fury/
seductive yes,
But just know, she is no muse…….
This siren is a smash and grab criminal /
This bitch is aggravated assault
On all 5 counts /
She is a leg less cunt/ overpriced coffee/
second hand smoke/
A finger in the eye/
big huge blue balls on a dead winter night/
Across town traffic/
My insides burn like petrol flames on the sea

Hello to the count down

johnnycolt — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 17:39:53 +0000

The smells/Odor Offensive at the very least Creepy into soul at worst/Near fatal exhalations whisper from every room down the forever hallway of surgery lung and heart/ Reward to risk no where in site/ just the currency of overpriced life/ One more day /One more breath /One more catheter /One more blip on the monitor //////No more dignity/ No more innocence /No wonder like a child/ No protection/ Time turns to a cold lover /Say hello to the countdown

The MUTUAL THROB

admin — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 20:34:34 +0000

Two weeping eyes Drained down to the numb – The TV. Is stuck on reruns – Pen to paper my mind flashes The sky/what I need is A list of weapons to penetrate my prescribed bubble wrap coffin – Cut me/ Fight me/ bite me / Penetrate me/ I penetrate you……….. Anything to let me know I am not walking this earth as a ghost – Slap me/ Fuck me/ Scar me/ Stain me/ Put a barrel in my mouth and trigger me away from a life as undead –
Elegantly I bind you and precious you hang from my christmas tree/ Perhaps one of us chokes the other so hard we can see the veins pounding through our paper thin skins, our hearts rocket to mirror the mutual throb – - ENOUGH For gods sakes pull one of my teeth NOW/QUick before I put down this pen – coat hangers are on the stove, come over and we can kindly burn some clarity into each other and blow away the fog