Poetry Blogs (drink)

I've known many stairs

Rising to strange places

Where joy roams free

A blur of female faces

Stairs can feel unreal

From drink and hurry

Chasing hot rump in a

Scented hectic flurry

Drink risks a frisson

Tumbling down stairs

Scrambles your wits

Impedes your affairs

Some boast a bend

Others climb straight

Either route is urgent

Desire will n...

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Those Low Down Bottle Blues

The day the clock struck thirteen

We took it as a sign

That the world might be in peril

So we all broke out the wine

But it probably was nothing

Just a poor miscounted chime

An end to our sobriety

And not the end of time

The night the stars rearranged themselves

In a moonlit sky

We all dived for the whisky bottle

And some of...

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When you get drunk or tipsy,

The world all seems so great.

Even though it may be so, 

You cannot stand up straight.

It makes you feel invulnerable,

And that nothing will ever harm you.

As this drink that you now have

Has relaxed and has calmed you.

And when you are in this lovely state

Reactions often are slowed down

And you may say things you wouldn't sober

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Happiness, in hands for you.

If you decided, not to be sad.

As a cup of water, to drink.

To clean your thoughts, to be glad.

Sadness, does not need to broach.

It always knocks, worried heart.

But Happiness, with a golden coach.

Asks, to ride happiness cart.

The Brain is yours, “to make use”.

Positively, think of your own.

Feel your value, never abuse.

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It's moist, in either of the sides
Some surpass the water and some would happily drown.
as for me, I prefer to drink up.

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One day I'll meet you In that place!!

I don't take drugs

I tried a couple times

So I can tell you what it feels like

I don't drink

Probably all the sips I've ever had

Could amount to 2 glasses of white wine and those sambuca shots when I was 17yrs old!

I love dancing

I don't seem to do it much 

But I love moving 

That I do everyday with Yoga

I love fashion and...

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There was a woman named Jane,
Who never liked to see it rain.
So she listened to the song umbrella,
So she could dance with a nice fit fella.
All work and no play is grim,
So she goes to turkey for a little swim.

Off she goes for all inclusive,
Whilst she looks at all the exclusives.
Keep the drinks coming, it’s all paid for,
Whilst Jane settles down on the sea shore.
Cheers cock she l...

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The lights are dim,

The band plays loud,

The audience are the usual crowd.

There's John and Jim against the bar,

Commenting on the lead guitar.

Leanne sits with her best mate Sam,

Shouting over the music, how she loves her man.

Her man, Brad, is at another table,

Flirting with a lass named Mable.

Then Wobbly Bob staggers over the floor,

Empty glass in his hand as he o...

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Digital Clock Blues

the pulsing dots on my digital clock
are slightly out of sync
with my thumping heart and spinning head
I’m so drunk I can’t think

I see your face like neon taste
it makes me want for home
my hair’s a mess my clothes un-pressed
Oh Christ! I need a comb

my love’s shot down in rainbow ruin
I’ve played the game and lost
now the drinking’s stopped me thinking
and I...

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Been there

Done it

Eaten it

Drunk it

Almost drowned in it

Nearly died

Praised it

Cursed it

Dodged it

Traversed it

Just you name it

I’ll have tried

Smoked it

Snorted it

Been traumatised by it

Reduced to tears by it

Laughed and cried

Run it

Walked it

Chased it

Caught it

Wished I hadn’t bothered s...

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BACK O' PUB

We went into the pub's beer garden to see the illegal vodka factory run by Eastern Europeans.                                                                                                                                        

We dance madly around their lorry and sing, "Give us a drink! We're parched like the Gobi Desert. Don't you know, we drank the pub dry? Vodka...

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Roses are dead,

they smell like Le Pew.

But they still smell sweet

compared to you.

Roses are dead,

now you feel blue.

So take a shot neat,

and uncork the screw.

Roses are dead,

our hopes are too.

You were a cheat,

but I was too.

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what crisis?

nowadays they have to pinch the ends

of their cigarettes before they cross the threshold

no longer allowed to herd the crumbling swarms

of ash across the gingham veldt

outside the window, on the pavement,  lies a bible

and the radio declares their readiness is high

seems like a good night to let the smokers

in and warm around a last ember...

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https://haydenwritesthings.wordpress.com/2013/04/01/tungsten-poem/

I hope everyone is doing well! I haven't been around much - just moved into a new place and got a new job, I should be around more often soon!

Tungsten

Swaying like a bus
in mid-town traffic
I topple the streets,
fade the pavements
under feet that feel
like cliffs collapsing
into puddles, a thousand
fos...

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'

I may not be

your cup of tea

but I am your

bottle of rum --

most definitely...

so ease up that grip:

Stop strangling my neck.   

Let My liquid conflagration

scorch your lying condescension 

again and again and again.... without fail.   

If you but remember to be true  

to what lurks deep within you

I will assail your do...

Read more …

My stress and anxiety continues.

It’s living in this crap dying town,

that I’m sure of.

I’d rather be in West Berlin writing poetry,

engaged to a Fraulein.

Soaking up European history.

Instead I’m here: Oldham.

Thorn in the side of the North.

You want a cool place,

go to Manny.

Nowhere is like Manchester.

Catch a gig or shag a bir...

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Here’s another draft, no pun on pint-pulling intended. Oh – also, while I’m here, I might as well tell you all I’ve passed my Masters! Haven't been here for some time - hope everyone is doing well...

Couple Stragglers

She’s all kick,
twisting in her leopard prints
like she’s seen some
new meat near the bar,
meanwhile I’m saying
‘cool it Jane, he’s not
a smooth-mover, h...

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BACK O' PUB

We went into the pub's beer garden to see the illegal vodka factory run by Eastern Europeans.                                                                                                                                        

We dance madly around their lorry and sing, "Give us a drink! We're parched like the Gobi Desert. Don't you know, we drank the pub dry?...

Read and leave comments (0)

Once-upon-a-time, a barman worshipped the Sun.

Worked nights so didn’t see much of it

but in his head he’d got stories of

the Fire God supreme,

Blaze Lord,

vanquishing monsters who'd eat out your dreams.

He called the Sun ‘Hero’,

believed it had six pairs of arms,

giant wings of flame

and the handsomest nose in the galaxy.

Made moons blush

and g...

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