6 feet from sobriety
perhaps, bitches
when the sun
has risen
6 feet
from our
sobriety &the
bottle
of
whiskey
has been emptied
into
the “essential“
of norm …
like i said,
perhaps
until then,
where the fuck
is my mask?
Archive for the ‘Stuff’ Category
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: April 21, 2020 in Fiction, Musing, Poetry, Prose, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
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1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: April 15, 2020 in Fiction, Musing, Poetry, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
a man and his pizza
you visit again
6 feet apart
from my balcony
to yours
bitching again
about the pandemic
about how you need
genuine and emotional
physical contact,
bars
to pick up women in,
friends
to take road trips
and head trips with,
places
to lounge, drink coffee
and plug`in to
and how
you`re liable
to cut off your own arm
just to hear
yourself scream;
your cell pings
dominos pizza is sitting
outside your door
you light up
with giddiness
‘cause even you realized
that things
weren’t really that bad
so long as
no one fucks
with pizza
1 Flash – Yash Seyedbagheri
Posted: April 8, 2020 in Fiction, Flash, Musing, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
Choosing Nicknames
My name’s Nicholas Romanov. I give myself the nickname, “tsar.” I print it on cards for my piano school. Nicholas “Tsar” Romanov, Instructor.
Pupils question me. Who gave you that right? Nicknames are earned, they proclaim with righteousness. Nicknames are predicated on allergies. Tics. Quirks.
I tell them people ought to assign their own nicknames. It’s demeaning to have others label on an arbitrary basis. They used to nickname me freak and nerd because I preferred Tchaikovsky over pogs.
I print up more cards, TSAR emblazoned in largest letters.
I lose business, stand firm. I dispense more cards.
I’m a tsar.
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: April 8, 2020 in Fiction, Poetry, Prose, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
river Lily
your
whiskey drinking
is handless,
he said
ripping my panties
off
my hips,
it`s like a river
that doesn`t
flow
straight
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: March 30, 2020 in Poetry, Prose, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
one death at a time
i have
onion breath
and
a scar
that says
`wake the dead`.
no more
street vending
hot dogs,
or parkour`ing
around the world
in search of laughter,
in search of love,
when i see my world
diminishing
every hour,
one death at a time.
tell me
how do i tell
my unborn child
that i`m not ready
to die
yet?
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: March 27, 2020 in Poetry, Prose, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
an Observation
i wish
i could tell you
that everything
is going to be
alright, babe,
he said
through an inhale
of
vigilant smoke
we were sitting
on a furloughed
porch stoop
on a thursday morning
dragging
on cigarettes, watching
our shallow graves
wade
in timeless
waters
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: March 24, 2020 in Musing, Poetry, Stuff, Uncategorized, UpdateTags: BoySlut Magazine
regret&sometimes loathing
he wasn`t much
for my emotions, `cause
he`d spew insults like
`your poetry
is a prison
with your verses
on death row`
and
`your insecurities
are like
temporary flowers
wilting
in white padded rooms
with black curtains
and no windows`
personally, i think
he just missed
partying with strippers
named barbie
and quoting bukowski
to his cat
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: February 24, 2020 in Musing, Poetry, Stuff, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
misses Saturday night
she closed the gap
on their
relationship
at the bottom of a bourbon glass
with a 6 pack of
blue ribbon Pabst
and
a toothbrush
once belonging
to johnny cash
1 Poem – Devlin De La Chapa
Posted: February 10, 2020 in Poetry, Stuff, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine
a thing of Hollywood
i stopped wearing
deodorant.
stopped
shaving my pits,
my crotch,
my legs.
hoping to fall
on brad pitt`s lap.
a free
& unconventional
thing
of macabre
beauty.
John D. Robinson
Posted: November 13, 2017 in Poetry, Stuff, UncategorizedTags: BoySlut Magazine, John D. Robinson
MAKING THINGS HAPPEN
‘I stabbed someone in the face
when I was 15 over a bad drug
deal: a few years in youth
custody then into the big-boys
prison and I don’t won’t to
go back to that hell, no sir,
I’m trying to make things
happen in a good way for me’
he said never making eye-
contact: he shifted nervously
on his feet and looked in
every direction:
‘Listen, I’ve got to go and
meet someone but it was
good to see you’ he said
and moved off into the
bust streets: I watched him
weave through the people,
hoping the man would be
there but he’d have a back-
up plan to score, he was an
old-hand and had his 19th
birthday last week.
