I wake up
in the
darkness
and walk
outside.
I check
my e-mail
and her
Instagram:
there is
a new
photo
of her,
soft
and pure.
I sit
down
and light
a Pall Mall.
Birds
fly over
my head;
the sky
is dark
and grey.
I think
about
how there
is nothing
left
for me.
I think
about
her eyes,
green,
wild
and alive.
A light
rain
begins
to fall.
I mash
my cigarette
into
an ashtray
and walk
back inside.
Poetry about the drinking life, punk rock, recovery, heartbreak and loss. Thank you for visiting. You can reach me at nuggetsvolume1@gmx.com. If you like what you see, and would like to help me out with a donation, please go to https://www.gofundme.com/help-a-struggling-poet
Friday, June 1, 2018
Thursday, May 10, 2018
Quail Bell
One of my poems, "Name", has just been published in the newest edition of Quail Bell magazine. You can view it here:
http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/the-unreal/poem-name-by-rj-zeman
http://www.quailbellmagazine.com/the-unreal/poem-name-by-rj-zeman
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Tuesday Nights
I sit
in the backyard,
drinking
a bottle
of Popov vodka.
I light
a cigarette
and think
about her.
I wonder
if she's out
at a new bar,
with a new
boyfriend,
drinking pitchers
of cheap beer.
I pour
another drink.
My mind gets
good
and numb.
I light
a Pall Mall
and lean back.
I sit there
until
the sun
comes up;
then I watch
the people
go off
to work.
I climb
into bed,
still drunk,
her face
dancing in front
of me
like some
insane ghost.
I fall asleep,
alone.
in the backyard,
drinking
a bottle
of Popov vodka.
I light
a cigarette
and think
about her.
I wonder
if she's out
at a new bar,
with a new
boyfriend,
drinking pitchers
of cheap beer.
I pour
another drink.
My mind gets
good
and numb.
I light
a Pall Mall
and lean back.
I sit there
until
the sun
comes up;
then I watch
the people
go off
to work.
I climb
into bed,
still drunk,
her face
dancing in front
of me
like some
insane ghost.
I fall asleep,
alone.
Thursday, February 1, 2018
Pif Magazine
One of my poems, "Phone Call", was published in the latest edition of Pif Magazine. You can view it here: http://www.pifmagazine.com/2018/02/phone-call/
Hexed
Your father
had it;
your grandfather
had it;
his father
did, too:
drinking cold beer
out at
the bar
until 3 a.m.
You wake up
with a hangover
and wonder
how you
got home.
Mark E. Smith
had it,
so did
Bukowski.
And the alcohol
flows and flows
into
your stomach
and your mind
races
like a locomotive
heading down
the track.
You order
another beer
and begin to talk
to a
beautiful woman.
Nothing
comes out of
your mouth
but mumbled
gibberish.
You go home,
sleep it off
and wake up
with a dull pain
in your head.
You reach
for a cigarette.
You try to
comprehend
how this all
even began,
but you'll do it
again tonight,
and again
the night after that,
into infinity,
forever and ever,
amen.
had it;
your grandfather
had it;
his father
did, too:
drinking cold beer
out at
the bar
until 3 a.m.
You wake up
with a hangover
and wonder
how you
got home.
Mark E. Smith
had it,
so did
Bukowski.
And the alcohol
flows and flows
into
your stomach
and your mind
races
like a locomotive
heading down
the track.
You order
another beer
and begin to talk
to a
beautiful woman.
Nothing
comes out of
your mouth
but mumbled
gibberish.
You go home,
sleep it off
and wake up
with a dull pain
in your head.
You reach
for a cigarette.
You try to
comprehend
how this all
even began,
but you'll do it
again tonight,
and again
the night after that,
into infinity,
forever and ever,
amen.
Monday, January 15, 2018
Scarlet Leaf Review
Three of my poems ("The Back", "The Fellowship" and "Art") are in this month's edition of Scarlet Leaf Review. Scroll down the page to see me:
https://www.scarletleafreview.com/poems15
Sunday, January 14, 2018
Oddball Magazine
My poem, "Vacant Seats", was published in Oddball Magazine this month. You can view it here: https://oddballmagazine.com/2018/01/03/poem-by-r-j-zeman/
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