Archive for the Debbie Kirk Category

The Bitch is Talking by Debbie Kirk

Posted in Debbie Kirk with tags on July 8, 2010 by Scot

Lately, I’ve been struggling with my own

I spend time wondering if the
Or absence
Of a chromosome
Can make me think
That I’m entitled to Ben and Jerry’s at 3 in the morning
And I’m too high to drive
Don’t you love me?

People often describe me as “blunt”
Which is just a less ugly way to say bitch

Where most people avoid confrontations
At all costs
I seek them out
As I love to look into hell
And exorcise one more demon

I push the envelope
My luck
And my partner into an early

And my fucking temper
Addicted to Rageamahol
Waking up
Praying for a fight

And then when I’m riding on the bus
I remember it’s only in my head

I never felt comfortable wearing a dress
Every since puberty when my whiskey breathe
Helped himself

Yet people also see something feminine in me
That I don’t see

My own mockingbird
Singing black and blue

And I’d prefer to just be called
Or invisible

But the sun is sitting on my balcony now
Offering one last look

But in this real world
The sun wouldn’t hang ‘round me
I’m pretty sure this all started
From looking into the sun anyway….

Combat boots were made for walking by Debbie Kirk

Posted in Debbie Kirk on June 12, 2009 by Scot

I have always said
Keep a secret from him
Keep just one thing,
For yourself

When I noticed
That my secrets
Were piling up
I realized I am the kind of girl
Who will forever have
Far too many secrets

And that I also don’t have to try
As hard as I think I do
To keep them away from me in the first place

Cause I’m such a dirty girl

I’ve never traced my genealogy
But I’ve noticed that sometimes
I blend in
With the dusty,
Walked all over
Used wooden floors.

pink hair

5 bucks on Micheline…by Debbie Kirk

Posted in Debbie Kirk on March 20, 2009 by Scot


I’m glad you can still taste me on your lips…
Can still smell my pussy on your fingers.

but I was in New Orleans with Jack Micheline
he had some paintings
and I had a boom swagger boom
laying down some lines
that resembled webs

and we got a bet goin’
to see who the real hustler is
And, I’m feeling lucky….

So, could you use your fucking hands
and let me go back to sleep?