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The Poet Is Drunk, the Pen Is Not

With this napkin as my canvas
A word picture I paint
While he drowns out his sorrows
Until he finally faints

The best works he weaves
Are when unconsciously drunk
While sober and thinking
He writes only junk

While he flirts with the barmaid
Thinking about the sword in his pants
The sword in his right hand
On this napkin words plant

When he wakes with this poem
Stuck to the side of his head
He’ll read it and conclude
He’s the genius instead

Instead of getting credit
For these words that I write
It would be more correct to say written
By Jack Daniels last night

So why are the words
Not slurred or mistyped
Because while the lush was all trashed
His pen was alright

So barmaid pour another 
For this bum who holds me
And let’s pray he uses his other hand
When he has to go pee

on writing and wordswordsrhyme

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