vrijdag 29 juni 2012

booze it up

it is the weekend,
for many man a time to drink.
so here are a few drunken drinking poems. Enjoy:

Whiskey drinking man:

Lines up a bottle, a glass and some ice.
Going to drink away his sins and vice.
He remembers when he was younger.
Living at home, always feeling hunger.
A poorness that drove him to crime.
He's done some stuff, he's done some time.
He once stood up all his friends.
Has been to every end.
He has seen every bottom.
Now he starts drinking with every depressing Autumn.


When we've fallen:

When we've fallen.
We smile, we shrug,
We spent our buck, oblivious.
We learn, we fail
We tread upon depressions trail.
Always vicious.
We run, we crawl.
We hate it all
And then we fall.
(cheers mate!)

now hoist your buddy back on his chair and listen to

The Jazzman:

In rooms full of smoke and calming tunes.
Full of people who are broke and people with fortunes.
There's a saxophone player, with bloodshot eyes.
A hash blunt slayer, a cloud knight.

Losing his gold has drove him to the blues.
His clothes are worth a beer here and he has broken sad shoes.
with the largest soul a man could find.
he began to awake our drunken minds.

:: Allen Crown ::

vrijdag 15 juni 2012

good music always inspires me

International night of pure insomnia:

it drips out of the machine into this big glass pot.
a cup of insomnia.
we prefer to drink it hot.

we boot up our life partner and stare at her screen.
it feeds us information.
I consume it together with the caffeine.

social media that prevents me from missing out.
where you write in caps,
when in reality you'd shout.

all by myself yet not alone.
as we drink this coffee.
connected online every hour like a sleepless drone.

dinsdag 12 juni 2012

WAKE UP!


Chirping birds and a singing frog,
in a swamp devoured by the fog.
The mushrooms spread their poisonous spores,
as ghosts recite their gloomy lores.
Among this sadness sits a man,
who every day comes back again.
Wasting his days until the last,
Drowning in the melancholy of his past.

maandag 11 juni 2012

no knowledge for a purpose.

Tell me, tell me, tell me now.
I want to know,
I'll beg, I'll bow.
just tell me now.

don't ask me why,
don't ask me how.
there is no reason,
just tell me now.

I want to know.
I want to learn.
without this knowledge I'll surely burn.
just tell me now, it is my turn.

I won't abuse,
I'll never use.
just teach me what you know.
for purposes unknown to you,
I desperately need it so.

I don't ussually write love poems

Tickle me silly.
hug me to death.
sing out loud and steal my breath.

this goddess of mine,
this muze I don't deserve.
not in my imagination but here on earth.

whenever you can,
know I have your back.
stare at the moon and I'll be staring back.




vrijdag 8 juni 2012

could you care? for our planet?

down by the lake is a patch of grass.
there where my friend and I gather and smoke hash.

down by the lake is a giant oak tree.
it's shadow shields us from the sun, so we can see.

drinking our rum in the fragile grass.
waiting for the dusk, surrounded by our trash.

down by the lake there's a broken piece of land.
where the decay of vegetation has run out of hand.

as we sit there on this hard and unforgiving ground,
we mourn our past ways, not making a single sound.

as we regret how we treated our home base.
we collect our trash and leave no trace.

maandag 4 juni 2012

dinner on the grave of my old man: A christmas story


A time of glee a time of hope
Filled with stars and snowy slopes
The birth of Christ a godly heir
And joy and laughter everywhere…


But in my heart it feels so cold
My Christmas isn’t as foretold
Another wound in mother’s chest
And alcohol on fathers breathe
Again December with this prick
Yes Christmas it can suck my dick

And maybe I won’t feel alone
If celebrated on my own
No father I am not your slave
I’ll recreate it on your grave
And turn it back as it was in old
To a Christmas as once was foretold