Tag Archives: Abandonment

DEMETRIA by Jeffrey Littrell

 

I’m an expendable product of the Prozac Nation

fighting depression through self-medication

you might look at me with utter disdain

but you’ve not walked my path, you can’t feel my pain

 

she is a beauty of Greek descent

with dark eyes that are heaven sent

she walks into rooms with a sexy swagger

and a come-hither stare that cuts like a dagger

 

I can’t alter the past and not sure I’d want to

she is long gone and my friends left are few

alone in a storm, tears masked by the rain

southbound to Hell on this runaway train

 

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NO CLOSURE by Jeffrey Littrell

 

like a man without a country

or a vessel lost at sea

I’m an outcast who is exiled,

a forgotten memory

 

I’m a musician with no instrument

a sun without a sky

I’m an unachieving, bi-polar, trainwreck of a guy

 

I’m a wild Appaloosa,

crazed and chomping at the bit

I’m a junkie with no drug of choice

who lacks the will to quit

 

I’m a pulpit that displays no cross

I’m a bullet with no gun

I have no sense of closure,

as my journey’s just begun

 

I’m a cosmic astral traveller

on a course from star to star

I’m the introverted loser

left alone at the end of the bar

 

 


LOSING BROOKE by Jeffrey Littrell

 

so now, I’ve given up on you

I never thought that day would come

I was the one who had your back

how could I have been so dumb ?

 

one should stand behind the outcast

and wish for nothing in return

but the only thing I got from you

was a painful lesson learned

 

I, the fool, believed your lies

as you’d deftly genuflect

you lost your freedom, then your kids

you lost your self-respect

 

( so conniving while you conjugate

so trifling as you manipulate

with half-assed lies you fabricate

through the destruction, you now navigate )

 

I realize now with cold resolve

the person that you are

just a fuck-up waiting to happen

alone at the end of the bar

 

so when you cross the finish line

on your road to self-destruction

when the drugs have all but crippled you

so that you can barely function

when all is lost

and you are on the bottom once again

this time, you will not hear from me

you can find another friend

 

 


DAMAGED by Jeffrey Littrell

she can’t even meet their stare
from too many nights of helpless despair
broken, yet expected to please
in filthy rooms, down on her knees

the ends of her sanity frayed
the last of her blind faith betrayed
she’s damaged beyond all repair
lost in the misery, unable to care

she has no sense of direction
with a clouded perspective, it’s one more injection
nodding out on the bathroom floor
a walking ghost, a helpless whore


FROM BLACK TO BLUE by Jeffrey Littrell

she’s half a world away from me
we’re separated by the sea
but linked in common love of art and rhyme

though she can’t meet my gaze
she knows how to turn a phrase
perhaps another place, another time

it brought about a smile
if only for awhile
before me was her visage in my dreams

in spirit and in heart
when two are far apart
it’s not so many miles as it seems

a drizzle falls down from the sky
the moon is ominous, hung high
I wonder, is she looking at it, too ?

the loneliness surrounds
as bitter tears stream down
the night begins to turn from black to blue


Du Noir Au Bleu par Jeffrey Littrell

elle est un bout du monde loin de moi
nous sommes séparés par la mer
mais lié à l’amour commun de l’art et de la rime

si elle ne peut pas rencontrer mon regard
elle sait comment transformer une phrase
peut-être un autre endroit, une autre fois

il a provoqué un sourire
si seulement pour un certain temps
devant moi était son visage dans mes rêves

dans l’esprit et dans le cœur
quand deux sont éloignés
ce n’est pas tant de miles comme il semble

un filet tombe du ciel
la lune est de mauvais augure, pendu haut
Je me demande, est-ce qu’elle cherche à lui aussi?

la solitude entoure
larmes amères coulent
la nuit commence à tourner du noir au bleu


remission, Rejection, RELAPSE by Jeffrey Littrell

 

left to bleed out

ignored and dismissed

like trash set out on the street

 

it is a world

for the confident, the beautiful

the stout of character

not the plain or disfigured

not the weak, crippled outcasts

 

hemorrhaging

coughing up anguish

with black bits of emotional bile

 

breaking down

still further down

with frailty as evident

as hair-line cracks

on a sparrow’s egg


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