The best of the energy,
Good vibes and fun times,
From balling to shot calling,
As I should say from rags to riches,
Sipping monsters in Bugatti,
With pretty girls asking do they smoke,
Don’t smash my vibe,
On the beach with Bacardi,
Eating and acting gnarly,
Big diamonds living that lavish lifestyle.
That’s where I want to be.
Luton Airport
People, passengers, everyone going somewhere, somewhere else
I love seeing them; there are so many nationals. Hmm. A half hour ago, I shopped
A white Bacardi, and beside me, I heard Polish words. I looked there
A very likable par. A young Polish woman and a man. I asked them.
(They shopped at the self-service checkout)
Are you Polish? “Yes.” They answered. Nice to meet you, I said. I am a Hungarian
I told them. We talked a bit. Not too much time. They were friendly. Polish and Hungarian
They are brothers and sisters. They are on a different line. I just think. I am still sitting here
So many people walking in front of me, I am sitting on a bench, and the pubs are full here
In this airport. Always
Good to see these people here. How many nations are there? I don’t know. I don’t know
Someone is going to the Parish, someone to Bucharest, Someone to Warsaw, Someone to Krakow. And to so many places, cities, and countries. They're just flies, from my mind
I saw all of them—many faces, souls, characters. My heart is in pain. I can’t see them anymore
Have a Good Journey!!
God Bless You!
All the Best!
All to You
Love You!
As A Poet, The Importance Of Truth
I wrote all that sunny day and all night
About love, life, also humanity
Not every day was sunny and bright
Nor do I lie to appease my vanity
This wicked and deadly world eats its own
As midnight oozes into break of day
I try my best not to be hard as stone
And wake at dawn to fight the morbid gray
That seething darkness that tries to sneak in
And those sad little blues that fight to come
I face this dark world with truth and a grin
On occasion I drink Bacardi rum
I was a farm boy, my morals are fine
I reserve Sunday for church to attend
I walk straight, truth is my favorite line
Truth is, I never abandon my friends.
I wrote all that sunny day and all night
About love, life, also humanity
Not every day was sunny and bright
Nor do I lie to appease my vanity.
Robert J. Lindley, 20 VERSE SONNET
NOV 7TH, 1971
I just went to my work's Christmas party
I got drunk on some rum with Bacardi
Told my boss, to go get lost
Said, "I'm the boss, Applesauce"
Then, she fired me for being a smarty
Christmas Limerick
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
12/15/2021
I just went to my work's Christmas party
I got drunk on some rum with Bacardi
Told my boss, to go get lost
Said, "I'm the boss, Applesauce"
Then, she fired me for being a smarty
I went home, told my wife, I retired
She said, "don't lie...I know you were fired"
Said, Applesauce...I'm the boss
Never tell me...to get lost
Now go back- 'cause you've just been rehired
I have the holiday blues,
I have to choose
Should I stay or should I go,
Can't afford to loose
This crazy holiday blues
Have me ordering new shoes
Researching the travel news
Craving for some sea breeze
Dreaming of laying in the hot sun
Drinking Bacardi and Rum
Listening to Soca and it's drum
Got to make that income so when I travel
I will be welcome
His lips kiss the tip
Of the beer bottle
Like he’s kissing the most attractive woman on earth.
But this isn’t his only lover.
His lovers are Bacardi,1800s,Hennessy,Jack Daniels,Buchanan’s
And the list goes on.
He continues being involved with his lovers,
At the huge risk of losing everything he claims to love.
He doesn’t care anymore.
How can such infidelity ruin a person.
He’s letting such lovers, drown him in his ocean of madness and desire.
His family sees a desperate alcoholic in need of help
He doesn’t see that, the man that reflects on the mirror
with eye bags and a grown out beard
Is a man living the beautiful anthem of life.
And he never wants the anthem to stop playing...
T.H
Location: My oldest daughter’s house
Date: 2008 - 7 months after her death
Age: 59 years old, feeling more like 80
Event: Traditional Christmas Eve party
Emotional status: It was finally sinking in...
and so it was that:
Like most we wandered and wavered
and fell for the Devil's wily ways
But not on that night...
On that night all sins were forgiven
Curses dissolved into blessings
Tension melted in the glow of good will
Evil evaporated in the light of truth
Death succumbed to life...
Hugging our sons and our daughters
gently scolding wayward grandchildren
sipping on Eggnog spiked with Bacardi
slapping old friends on the back
bragging and telling tall tales
laughing hysterically at our lies
On that night there were no missing pieces
On that night the wounded world was healed
On that night, on that one blissful night
it all made sense...
Submitted for: Kelly’s ‘Christmas Past, Present or Future’ contest
Heart 1
Of all ones
What is this?
Higher tone
Semi-pitch
DJ jumpin
For all you dream
Don’t try
It came back around and said, "I know you like to party."
He gave me a red cup, a little Coke, and Bacardi.
The Devil working hard, attaching himself to my body
He's scratching and clawing.
The work of my Angel, my Angel who has fallen
Firery halo, I get weak, then I'm calling.
Bottles and weed, a black to soothe the thoughts
I am already happy, But I need to do and be with something that would keep me off my knee's
A life I choose to keep me at peace when I feel like nobody loves me
Or is it just me?
When will I become free?
Addicted to you and me
Into my own mind, some crooked thoughts, and my own body.
The spliff is killing my eyes, shutting down every inch of my body.
"But you like to party."
Disrespecting Gods body
Forgive me, Lord, but this depression is acting naughty, and I have to kill It.
But now I am addicted.
Now my whole world shifted.
On a full train with the same gifted
We especially high headed to a place where half-baked lives.
I'm cooked out, and I want out.
Please tell me where my escape is
This is all killing me, and nobody knows it.
I might overdose
~I'M Addicted
Me and my wife are on a cruise ship,
Enjoying the Caribbean sun.
We are relaxing on our deck chairs,
With a cold bacardi rum.
We are getting a lovely tan,
Cruising in the sun.
The reggae music from the band,
Everybody having fun.
There is a nice sea breeze in the air,
As we are cruising by.
The sea reflecting beautifully,
The Caribbean sky.
The atmosphere on the ship
Is like a banquet in the sun,
With all the gorgeous food to eat
yum, yum, yum, yum, yum.
You cannot remove the memories
Of that holiday in the sun,
For the time we had on the ship
Was so wonderful and fun.
An artistic aurA
Resides in a jaR
I smell BacardI
Eager to tastE
Satisfying sudS
______________________
* An acrostic on both ends.
Inspired by Danielle White's
Acrostic Astrology contest.
Ill at ease
Bacardi and coke,sipping,
Ripping a pal
She smokes a cigar
Feels out of sorts
Full of retorts.
But under the front]
She bears the brunt
She wants to be home.
Her man, so decent
Works hard
So recent.
Reached an understanding
To be non-demanding
Reached a peak
Decided to speak
Discuss the issues
Spare the tissues
It's good, not bad
No more jack-the-lad
He's the sun
He's the one.
Suddenly she knows
In the midst of the show
That she's loved...she feels
That her life is real.
She is a wife
She has a real life
She remembers the times
The nursery rhthmes.
Mama Mia's a blast
But see what will last
It's good to remember, good to dance
But life is real
Life is still a romance.
They used to flock here
Of a Sunday
For worship and prayer
Lost in a world
Of private contemplation
Now they come
For that first Sunday pint
Praying for an end
To splitting headaches
And that endless ennui
The wafer and chalice,
God's own flesh and blood
Have given way
To Bacardi breezers
And two for one burger deals
No need for a collection plate
To pay the poor priest's bills
The greedy owners rub their hands
As cash flows into the tills
A couple of miles away
Young couples arrive
For a peek around
St Michael's showroom flats
The baptismal font
Of property awaits
If they stump up the cash
And take a leap of faith
Mortgage advisers
Wait in the wings
With chequebooks open
Ready to earn their corn
For this is modern Britain
Born of Thatcher's greed
And moneylenders in the temple
No longer brings scorn
You sipped away
while my nephew
was growing in your belly
Bacardi bottles emptying
and he's not even a month
I shutter to think
how this innocent
face will turn out
Born a premature baby
into a weed house
I don't know whether
to keep my mouth shut
or if I should call child services
If they took him away would
you finally become sober
and be a real mother?
A baby born so small
a few breaths shy of normal
I pray everyday that, that liquor
you drunk wasn't harmful
Fresh from the incubator
you went out to a club
asking random men for dubs
and all I can do is shake my head
and pray that some how
some way
my nephew
escapes this insanity
unscathed
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