W.B. Mad

W.B. Mad Poems

W.B. Mad Biography

Growing older everyday. Hating and loving life at the same time. Writing all the time on benches, on buses, in church, in classes, at dinner, in hotels, at pools, in the park, in the movie theater, everywhere. Dad suffers from chronic pancriatitus and is out of work and on disability while Mom works to feed brothers. W.B. Mad suffers from Chronic Depression from which often much of his work his inspired by focusing on dark themes and the underbelly of life.)

The Best Poem Of W.B. Mad

Shot Glass Happy Endings

Found in the undertow of broken hearts and broken felling's.
Confused and lost I staggered around like the town drunk.
Thought I'd found my shining star till the hearts came crashing down.
I swore my heart had been broken.
I swore I would fill out my appropriate last words on the back side of a grey and tattered note.
But I'm still here.
The leaves still blow humbly about me.
But everything I see is still a reminder of those lost days.
I scream and scream to the shadowless sun.
But whats the point no one can hear me.
In a week, month, or a year.
I'm sure I'll be standing on that distant horizon off on my own.
Unsure of all the loose promises and future endeavors.
I picture a new me.
A new place.
A new time.
Lost in those beer bottles, whiskey shots, and hollow cigarettes.
Smoke rings and beer soaked bar tables.
Humble poems scribbled on old napkin pages.
Back to the car.
Off to another town.
Today is over and tomorrow is ahead.
No more tears.
I'm still here.

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