Submissions by CruelHandedWriter (Panama Judas)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
SELF POEM
Published
14th Jul 2014 3:04pm
14th Jul 2014 3:04pm
Eminem with a beard
182 reads
6 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
3rd Jun 2014 5:14pm
3rd Jun 2014 5:14pm
Check up, sir?
I'm sat in a strange room
waiting for the landlord to take the rent;
to let the idea set in concrete.
I'm on my own.
I'm three days drunk.
I'm just putting on a suit
so I can go out and make it four.
Try my luck with the ladies
even though they'll catch
the sadness in my eyes
and they'll want the hell away from me.
Oh to have a hand to hold.
Still, it doesn't matter.
Not much of it does.
It will be back to work
and staring at the ceiling soon enough,
but in the meantime
let's drag a little chaos around.
waiting for the landlord to take the rent;
to let the idea set in concrete.
I'm on my own.
I'm three days drunk.
I'm just putting on a suit
so I can go out and make it four.
Try my luck with the ladies
even though they'll catch
the sadness in my eyes
and they'll want the hell away from me.
Oh to have a hand to hold.
Still, it doesn't matter.
Not much of it does.
It will be back to work
and staring at the ceiling soon enough,
but in the meantime
let's drag a little chaos around.
100 reads
4 Comments
NON-FICTION PROSE
Published
13th May 2014 8:29am
13th May 2014 8:29am
Not so much a love letter
I can’t remember the last time 07:30 filled me with the urgency to write; it’s easy to imagine that this is a first. The cup of coffee next to me pleads for a cigarette, but I question its intentions. It will leave me sluggish; almost drugged at this hour in which I need my mind. Yet, I think I already know that I am giving in to it. Coffee and cigarettes, and my weakness to romanticism…
It’s 07:47 now and the smoke takes to my nose whilst I type with both hands. I can curl in to a ball - my knees tucked in to my chest- and face the ceiling whilst I execute fifteen pull-ups. Sarah is...
It’s 07:47 now and the smoke takes to my nose whilst I type with both hands. I can curl in to a ball - my knees tucked in to my chest- and face the ceiling whilst I execute fifteen pull-ups. Sarah is...
131 reads
4 Comments
LOVE POEM
Published
27th Apr 2014 1:27pm
27th Apr 2014 1:27pm
For want of a better word
Take all of my poems,
past, present and future.
Take my words
and how I string them together
to put a smile on your face
or worry in your heart.
Take this physique
that I have built.
Take these ideas
that I form,
the books I've read,
the music I've heard
the love I've made.
Take it all.
You could take it all,
if you'd only give me
your peace.
past, present and future.
Take my words
and how I string them together
to put a smile on your face
or worry in your heart.
Take this physique
that I have built.
Take these ideas
that I form,
the books I've read,
the music I've heard
the love I've made.
Take it all.
You could take it all,
if you'd only give me
your peace.
190 reads
7 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
30th Mar 2014 9:30pm
30th Mar 2014 9:30pm
1hr 27mins @ 190 degrees, but don't forget the potatoes
I thought I'd stop by
in between the assignment
-deadline tomorrow morning-
the first chapter of another novel
I won't finish,
cooking dinner,
running a bath,
mowing a senile woman's lawn,
feeling tired.
I can't remember the last time
my eyes burnt like this.
It was probably the last time
I spent the previous night drinking hard,
staring some big black rude cunt into submission,
cursing the woman I'm supposed to love
and then sleeping on the sofa.
My alarm is set for 06:00.
another day on the site
lifting the...
in between the assignment
-deadline tomorrow morning-
the first chapter of another novel
I won't finish,
cooking dinner,
running a bath,
mowing a senile woman's lawn,
feeling tired.
I can't remember the last time
my eyes burnt like this.
It was probably the last time
I spent the previous night drinking hard,
staring some big black rude cunt into submission,
cursing the woman I'm supposed to love
and then sleeping on the sofa.
My alarm is set for 06:00.
another day on the site
lifting the...
126 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Feb 2014 7:51pm
18th Feb 2014 7:51pm
Something about copyright
Take them all,
scratch your name
across the bottom
and post them.
Take my rejection slips.
I am busy.
I am busy
watching the young girls
take up running.
They pass me in their lycra
and I want to reach out,
I want to tell them
how they knot my stomach.
I want to tell them
how shallow I can be.
I am busy
increasing the weight I push
away from me,
watching the girls
in their lycra
watching me.
I want to reach out
to them.
I went to tell them
that I am just a beast.
They will...
scratch your name
across the bottom
and post them.
Take my rejection slips.
I am busy.
I am busy
watching the young girls
take up running.
They pass me in their lycra
and I want to reach out,
I want to tell them
how they knot my stomach.
I want to tell them
how shallow I can be.
I am busy
increasing the weight I push
away from me,
watching the girls
in their lycra
watching me.
I want to reach out
to them.
I went to tell them
that I am just a beast.
They will...
193 reads
6 Comments
OBSERVATIONAL POEM
Published
1st Feb 2014 11:10pm
1st Feb 2014 11:10pm
The Essay
Those bastards have demanded
3,000 words on a person centred approach
to counselling.
I've bashed out four times more than that
in short stories
whilst trying to write the damn thing.
Truth be told
I just don't see the point
in having my topic decided for me.
I thrive in freedom
and as a result
a stranger has experienced
what it is to let go.
Someone not so strange
has watched the world happen.
I was almost ready for someone
that none of us know
watch an old man stare out of the window
of a crowded bus
whilst...
3,000 words on a person centred approach
to counselling.
I've bashed out four times more than that
in short stories
whilst trying to write the damn thing.
Truth be told
I just don't see the point
in having my topic decided for me.
I thrive in freedom
and as a result
a stranger has experienced
what it is to let go.
Someone not so strange
has watched the world happen.
I was almost ready for someone
that none of us know
watch an old man stare out of the window
of a crowded bus
whilst...
112 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
1st Feb 2014 10:36pm
1st Feb 2014 10:36pm
Heartburn
All I have is my gym headphones
giving me just enough to block somethings out,
but in reality I'd rather be with Dylan or Zandt.
It feels odd trying to put something together
with this muscle mass.
I'd be better off with my hood pulled over my head
pacing the pavements
feeling my heart race.
Instead, the ashtray is smoking
and the empty cans are looking
more like a party as I go on.
This is bullshit,
and I apologise if you see it the same way.
Prose is where the man grows.
This is just a trap.
A staggering display of...
giving me just enough to block somethings out,
but in reality I'd rather be with Dylan or Zandt.
It feels odd trying to put something together
with this muscle mass.
I'd be better off with my hood pulled over my head
pacing the pavements
feeling my heart race.
Instead, the ashtray is smoking
and the empty cans are looking
more like a party as I go on.
This is bullshit,
and I apologise if you see it the same way.
Prose is where the man grows.
This is just a trap.
A staggering display of...
101 reads
2 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
23rd Jan 2014 9:51pm
23rd Jan 2014 9:51pm
These Microwave meals are making me hungry for something
These microwave meals,
of which i need to eat two
in order to feal fed,
are testing my patience
along with today's show
today's poetry
and today.
The dry rice that tastes
like its been sat next to a few hundred
over friendly baked beans
makes me think of how sad
I've seen women become
at the dawn of their menstrual cycle.
The slithers of pepper
that feel like plastic
at the back of the throat
make me think of young lust
when I surprised them
with how far they wanted to go
when they didn't think to keep...
of which i need to eat two
in order to feal fed,
are testing my patience
along with today's show
today's poetry
and today.
The dry rice that tastes
like its been sat next to a few hundred
over friendly baked beans
makes me think of how sad
I've seen women become
at the dawn of their menstrual cycle.
The slithers of pepper
that feel like plastic
at the back of the throat
make me think of young lust
when I surprised them
with how far they wanted to go
when they didn't think to keep...
189 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
6th Jan 2014 9:28am
6th Jan 2014 9:28am
Maybe it's just...
The Jehovah's witness
offered me a magazine this morning
I mouthed the words 'fuck' and 'off'
heard him mutter something over Bob Dylan
and kept on walking.
I was busy thinking about
how easy it would be
to just go.
I've woken up on one of those.
Nothing is right.
The job
The wife
The house
It's not me today.
I got in to work
and read a note left by the boss
it reminded me again
that I want to go somewhere and cry
but I don't cry anymore.
All that compassion I had
feels like a lie.
I looked at them all this...
offered me a magazine this morning
I mouthed the words 'fuck' and 'off'
heard him mutter something over Bob Dylan
and kept on walking.
I was busy thinking about
how easy it would be
to just go.
I've woken up on one of those.
Nothing is right.
The job
The wife
The house
It's not me today.
I got in to work
and read a note left by the boss
it reminded me again
that I want to go somewhere and cry
but I don't cry anymore.
All that compassion I had
feels like a lie.
I looked at them all this...
143 reads
4 Comments
SELF POEM
Published
18th Dec 2013 4:09pm
18th Dec 2013 4:09pm
Give 'something' a go
We were just talking.
Granted... he's a proffessional talker,
so it's not a case of rattling on about nothing.
We tie things together
make knots where they need to be made
and untie all the rest.
You know what I'm getting at
if you've been there?
Well, in the midst of the flow
my head got hot
and the world went out of focus.
pretty strange,
almost as strange
as being lost for words for ten minutes:
A mumbling fool
lost in the unknown.
Our little chat came to an end
and I walked down the road ...
Granted... he's a proffessional talker,
so it's not a case of rattling on about nothing.
We tie things together
make knots where they need to be made
and untie all the rest.
You know what I'm getting at
if you've been there?
Well, in the midst of the flow
my head got hot
and the world went out of focus.
pretty strange,
almost as strange
as being lost for words for ten minutes:
A mumbling fool
lost in the unknown.
Our little chat came to an end
and I walked down the road ...
161 reads
5 Comments
UPBEAT POEM
Published
7th Dec 2013 8:12pm
7th Dec 2013 8:12pm
Throw down the gloves
Just thought I'd drop in,
whilst there's not enough to do
to warrant not going at it.
Been an interesting month.
Almost an epiphany, but not quite;
still a few too many questions.
I've taken my gloves off.
I can't find any joy in hitting another,
nor do I want the challenge
of learning to dehumanise them right now.
I don't consider it a waste;
there's always someone who will
be willing to dehumanise themselves.
That's when you have to be ready,
anything else is brutality.
Far from cruel,
and without urgency.
That...
whilst there's not enough to do
to warrant not going at it.
Been an interesting month.
Almost an epiphany, but not quite;
still a few too many questions.
I've taken my gloves off.
I can't find any joy in hitting another,
nor do I want the challenge
of learning to dehumanise them right now.
I don't consider it a waste;
there's always someone who will
be willing to dehumanise themselves.
That's when you have to be ready,
anything else is brutality.
Far from cruel,
and without urgency.
That...
133 reads
4 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by CruelHandedWriter (Panama Judas)