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Brent Kincaid Jun 2015
Buddy Buzzkill
Waits ‘til nobody’s home
Jimmies a window, sneaks in
And is free to roam.
He smokes all the dope
Drinks all the alcohol
Eats all the food
Until none is left at all.
Then he sleeps in your bed
And sneaks back out again
He comes back; hears you moan
How somebody broke in
And robbed him when he was not home.

Buddy Buzzkill
He’s a special king of louse.
He pretends to like you
Then, sleeps with your spouse.
He’ll hit you up for money
Then he’ll borrow your car.
And you lend it to him
That’s the kind of sap you are.
What is it about this guy
That makes it hard to say no?
Why does it not occur to folks
To look at him and say, “Blow!”

Buddy Buzzkill
He’s a master at telling tales
Of people he has laid
And the times he was in jail
For some ludicrous reason
That is always the fault of others.
He tell you how much you mean
And that you are like brothers
And then one morning you rise
And your stereo is gone
And so is Buddy Buzzkill
It’s time for him to move on.
Haven't we all known at least one of him? Sometimes he is a relative!
Young Soda  Jun 2014
buzzkill
Young Soda Jun 2014
eggs of plenty eggs of white
dishes stir to open cabinets
sky of gray spewing light
smiles fill the air
check once more to affirm
there is no way it's there.
coffee steaming, air like silk.
next time you start breakfast,
make sure you have some milk.
Brycical Dec 2011
A primal prima nocta scream
bursts the clouds
as I spin around spin around
I fight the urge to pound my head
against the wall
as a voice calls my name
& I feel the shame from ages ago
it echoes it echoes it echoes again
friends laughing as I fall with an empty bottle in my hand

I stand down
fall up
take a bow
But how do I how do I
how
do I
fly
away from here?

How do I
how do I
how do
I fly
away
from here
without my time piece

Headlights suddenly blind me
as I’m dancin’ in the streets
Tryin’ to flee this rhythm
this rhythm
Carelessly
derelicts speak  
to the pain I scream
& the beating the beating the beating of my heart
I just wish I could fall up to the stars…
This was dug up from perhaps..... 2 years ago? Something like that.
Infamous one Mar 2013
I'm a normal person I love to drink
When I say I don't its not to be a buzzkill because I'm not drinking. I never said I was better you make out to be that way if that's what it takes you must not have much going on with you!
I see you do shady and stupid **** but I see it that's on you. Now when I make a mistake would you please **** and not put me on the spot.
How is it my fault your partner cheated maybe if you put out or not such a shallow person you have someone.
You may have same job but going anywhere and I'm the one who's a bad influence.
You want to give *** advice with your STD I think you need to ****
Brent Kincaid Dec 2015
You are that person everyone knows
Who ******* almost constantly
About everything that ever goes
Away from how you think it should be.
You have it worked out in your head
Who should get what and when
And how much is right or wrong
And exactly what kind of men
Should have luck and who should
Suffer a miserable fate.
And which people are no good
And which race is truly great.

Why do you take such joy
In making folks around you cry?
So much so that the best thing
They hear you say is goodbye.
Why do you choose hurtful way
To get yourself some attention?
Isn’t there something you can say,
Something nice you can mention
That will make people smile
And not run so quickly away
Then stay with you a little while;
Enjoy some of the things you say?

When did all this all nastiness start?
Is it something from your childhood
Made you take pleasure breaking hearts
Every single chance you could;
And if people are having fun
Makes you jump in and stop
The frivolity and joyousness
Like some kind of buzzkill cop.
Life might change for the better
If you returned the smiles you get.
You’re a big grump now, for sure
Be nice and people will soon forget.
david badgerow May 2015
right now my browning chest is
propped up with beach sand buried in my elbows
i was dozing off underneath my shades
with the salt spray at my feet
& the seagulls swarming overhead
you asked for a story so i'll tell
you the only one i know
it's about making an exodus
& the accident of my personality:

the last time i was shot at
i was making a collect call at a pay phone to my mother
i was living out of a backpack
                                                    in a hostel
in sticky sweet new orleans
in 2008 post-katrina

after spending half a year without a friend
i decided to live what i write and become
the mythical warrior-poet or
                                                 just a sun-haired boy
fighting with the sky searching for his spirit animal
wearing old wool dress slacks cut short above
the knee i was only cargo trying to get
as lost as i possibly could

they came out of an empty socket shop window
blasting through the doorway onto
                                                            ­ the steaming street
jittery & starving roaring on the collapsing mist
but i'm no one's pigeon crouched behind a sedan deathtrap
poised to flee but with nowhere to go i can only hear
                                                            ­  my own heartbeat
                                                       ­       mother screaming on the phone
                                                           ­   hanging limp

& my own feet beating a new path on gravel through a strange city
when the windows grew lighter &
i slowly emerged from invisibility
in a world sprung new not defined yet
shrouded in what i only assume was
                                                             ­   special magic

for a while i was scared to sleep alone at night sometimes
i heard downer & buzzkill other nights that i cried
                                                           ­                          beneath the ivories
& i thought i'd die alone if i had to
but i was too young
to be that cynical

now i'm rising like a big owl out of a meadow
finding good new ways to fall apart as lightning
blooms on the horizon & clouds gather unnaturally
into pale blue ribbons & dance in a pinkish sky
& the sunset burns the treeline down
                                                                ­no one else can fix me now
                                                             ­   no one believes in me
but i believe in myself more than ever
the only person i've ever really loved is my mother
& she says i can't make a name for myself writing poetry
but i'm immortal among these words like stars
being blown in plumes of dust across a night sky
i'm looking for a new better place to dive in from
so if you've got a certain star in mind or a secret
cliff-space combination treebranch hangout take me
there or whisper it to me while we're already high
& hugging don't kiss me unless it's hard & in a precious place
because i'm feeling invincible again instead of invisible &
i really really really cannot wait for someone to try &
                                                                ­                             ******* stop me
Empire  Sep 2019
Jealous
Empire Sep 2019
I'm angry
maybe furious
painfully jealous
because I can clearly see


I have been left out

time and time again


I see you all
I hear your stories
you all have fun
enjoy each other's company
drinking, dancing

but me?
I'm at home
doing nothing
pretending I didn't want to join
because I'm good
I wouldn't want to indulge a bit
I wouldn't want to be invited
of course not

what's wrong with me?
what is it that makes you all assume
that I don't want in on the fun?

I'M LONELY

Even just some company would be nice
but it would seem
I'm unwanted
I'm undesirable
I'm a buzzkill

I'm useful,
but c'mon

you know you don't want me around
will you all just say it?
because clearly something about me
sends off some sort of signal
that I ought to be left out
forgotten

do you even realize how often i'm forgotten???

P   E             R     S     I      S       T         E       N         T
C       O        N        S       I    S      T   E   N         T

and you know what?
I'm jealous
I'm angry
I'm upset
because EVERYONE forgets me
I'm just not memorable
I'm not fun to be around

WELL YOU KNOW WHAT
IF YOU WERE PARALYZED BY ANXIETY
IF YOU WERE CONSTANTLY DEPRESSED
IF YOU WANTED TO TEAR YOURSELF APART
IF YOU HAD PEOPLE PLAY WITH YOUR MIND
IF YOU FELT ANY MISTAKE DEMOLISHED YOUR WORTH
IF YOU WONDERED IF YOU OUGHT TO JUST DIE

you wouldn't be much fun either


but at least someone might care about you
I think I'd like to cry...
It hurts to be forgotten,
Excluded...
Maia Vasconez Mar 2019
For some of us it was Valentine’s,
for some of us it was the first day of lent.

So what are you going to give up?
She was sulking on the couch,
he was doing coke in my living room,
and there were strangers in my home,    
I’d let them in.
I was just sipping lime and gin.
They wrecked my house,
and I let them.

I said, I’m serious
what are you going to give up?
And we went around the circle,
one by one:
I told him to
stop doing coke,
I told her to
stop dating older men.
They both said no,
they tell me to stop being a buzzkill.

The room swelled. We moved downstairs
and she was
dancing on a pole,
and he was talking business
with people I didn’t know.
And I was taking shots of ***** then
because
I wanted to feel like
a swing set.

I was swaying and
he was holding me upright
and he was
placing his jacket on my shoulders,
I have always been the coldest.

His arms cinched around my waist
and he was like a life vest.
And for a moment
I was above water,
or at least not drowning.

On the counter,
there were wilting roses and
chocolate covered strawberries.
In the mirror the word LOVE
spelled out EVOL.
There was pink on all the walls,
a bowl of candy hearts that said,
I don’t know how to be sweet
I don’t know how to be soft

He was playing with my hands
and tracing circles in my palms
and I was letting him.
I was getting drunk,
and he was begging me to
take another shot, and to
take another shot, and to
take another shot,
to break my will.

He found a way into my bed,
he asked if he could stay
and I don’t know why I let him in.
He was not special and
I was not that drunk anymore.

It was lent and I was
going to give it up,
give it all away,
give in.

It was lent and
I was going to
give up.

— The End —