Tag Archives: alcohol

Strike Anywhere


Woo! Yesterday I got to a thousand hits on the ol’ blog! Only a month into the thing. Man, that’s cool. Is that good, for a blog? I feel good about it.

And the things I don’t feel good about today? Fuck ’em, who needs that bullshit.
So in the spirit of “fuck ’em, who needs that bullshit”, I present a poem. It’s about the end of the world as we know it, I guess. I actually kind of hope we as humans take ourselves out- it’s kind of our turn, since we’ve toasted so many other species on purpose (and who knows how many by accident). A love song to “mere anarchy” being “loosed upon the world”, I suppose. (Yay, Yeats)

Of Kerosene and Phosphorous,

or,

Strike Anywhere

All it takes is a flick
The mix of certain chemicals
But the result can be so
Destructively beautiful.

Sometimes I wish others were as
Carelessly cautious as I am,
Striking matches on curbs
To light a sly cigarette, and
Firmly stomping stray embers-
Just in case.

What freedom, to let go;
To dance while the world
Burns around us like Nero;
To help it along with a splash
Of gasoline, ethanol or kerosene.

Let us drink to the end of the world!
Let go of inhibitions, and do
Do exactly what we feel is real
Live and love before out of time
Strike Anywhere and everywhere.

Pour a dram out for the dead
Grab your shot-glasses and matchbooks
For yesterday ceased to exist
And tomorrow isn’t coming to save us.

© Bridget Noonan, 2010, 2011.

And to continue this trend of recommending music to people, I suggest giving the album¬†Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan a listen. That is, if you haven’t already; I think it’s been out for like thirty-five years, at least.

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fake it ’til you make it


I just realized that I hadn’t posted anything in days. Thought I’d fix that. Kinda sorta fucked-up tired right now, but the poem is supposed to look like that, with the lack of caps and such. I think I was going for some post-modern lack-of-form. I remain unsatisfied, but I’ll do… something to it, later. Whatever. Tired. Poem.

fake it ’til you make it

i’ll fake it and fake
until i make it all make
some sort of sense

maybe there’s a god and
maybe the end of the road is
just as unattainable

the booze and the drugs
the lies and the stiff hugs
are no way to fix it

so i’ll fake it and fake
a smile a laugh a tear
just don’t touch me

you’ll shatter me i’ll break
into a dozen half-told truths or
a green glass bottle

the best way to confidence
is to fake it and fake it until
there is no doubt

i’m faking it until
i make it

© Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2011.

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August 20


August 20

the atmosphere is oppressive
weighing the world down
with clouds of words
synonyms for pity

tornado warning for the area
but the sky is
a perfect shade of purple
just enough green-grey
to make things
that much more interesting

a cloud wraps around my arm
dragging down my sleeve
while beer cries
drink me drink deep
and whiskey
sings a drunken lullaby

that oppressive atmosphere
lifts a sodden arm
jubilation jubilation
take comfort in a friend
of a friend or a stranger
not as though the world is empty

as I fall asleep on a couch
the rain tap-dances
on my consciousness and
a closed window
the storm will pass so
light may come again

hailstorms hurricanes blizzards
a whirligig of creatures in the night
hold onto your umbrellas friends
it’s a rough night for the wicked.

©¬†Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2011.

Wrote this a while back, as you may have noticed from the year listed. Headache is kicking my ass. I took some crap for it, which worked for a little while. Not even a dark quiet cool place has helped. If an ice pack and more ibuprofen doesn’t help, I’m out of ideas.

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