Best Guzzling Poems
I've sailed across many mystic seas
while hazy moonlight washed over me.
I watched glittering stars shine till dawn,
then closed wearied eyes and stifled a yawn.
By shadowed lantern light I have written verses
about flying fish and Charybdis' guzzling curses;
of humpback whales that breach crested waves
then plunge the ocean's depth to watery graves
My mended sails still flutter in whistling winds,
and as sunset glows on a horizon of sequins,
upon the vastness of the seas, I will ere remain.
A simpler life there, I am sure to ascertain
Once there was dingo, rabidly mad as he could be
who thought he was a Bruce of a man by how he spoke
But no man would call him their 'mate,' for you see...
he was a mongrel dog who pretended to be a bloke
The dingo who called himself 'Keefer,' was all talk-no bite
got caught chasing a galah (chicken) for want of a feast.
But ol' Keef got clawed by the rooster night after night
He was a drongo (fool) who thought he was a beast.
"Crikey!" I heard real men screaming from inside a bar
when they laughed at Keef wearing daks (male trousers)
He tucked his tail and ran from feathering with hot tar
"Get out, ya Hoon (hooligan)! We scorn rabble-rousers!
Keef was a loud mouth when he was blotto (inebriated)
Downing snag (sausages) and guzzling frothy (beer).
Tried to mate with a sheila (girl) but he'd been castrated.
Fair dinkum (that's true). He was neutered last year.
Some say he likes wearing female clothes, they swear.
He's such a hostile dingo, telling them to 'Rack OFF!'
But there's pictures of him in knickers (ladie's underwear).
and some of him before his little stub was sawed off.
I guess sometimes he gets to feeling clucky (maternal)
cuz he uses phrases like 'mother this and mother that.'
Looks like he'll end up some place heated and infernal
Dingo Keef's punishment for hurling all those brickbats.
A rabid dingo, that fool proved to be a fizzer (fizzled out)
His rants and threats to beat guys up were just a joke,
who was well-known as a bogan (hick) and a social lout
who accepted the truth. Ol' Keefer is now socially 'woke.'
Last I heard of him, he'd taken up with a mate called, Roo.
Another misfit creature roaming around in the outback
He played for hours each night, blowing into his digeridoo
because he couldn't stand Keef's braggin' and talkin' smack.
Roo felt relieved when the dingo, kinky Keefer disappeared
The one who'd been called 'the blunder from down under.
He'd mumbled for days about Milton Creek and Roo feared
that dingbat dingo would try to tear that town asunder.
This morning I am glued to my TV,
for something has happened in DC!
I’m scratching my head.
Am I dreaming still in bed?
They are PRAISING the President on NBC!
I turn to CNN. It's all the same again!
From ear to ear Don Lemon wears a grin,
“...the President’s magnanimous...
a genius without animus...
In the next election he’s sure to win!"
WHAT?
Surely MSNBC will say something keen.
“The first lady should grace a magazine,”
says Chris Matthews all atingle,
“did you know she’s bilingual?”
The unobjective fawning is obscene!
Schumer and Pelosi toasting with champagne,
are heading Trump's re-election campaign!
The POTUS’s tweets
called, "poetry--like Keats"…
Has the planet gone completely insane?
At FOX News everyone is crying.
They’re shaking their fists and Oh-why-ing.
Hannity’s guzzling booze,
While Tucker sings the blues.
I wonder if pigs have started flying!
Something very strange has happened in DC!
And I am still glued to my TV,
uncertain if I woke
or if it’s all a joke…
The President simply switched from “R” to “D”!
January 31, 2019
Mary Jane aka ganja, grass, marijuana and a host of other names.
Serenity is yours to gain
being led in dance to fairyland
swing waltz with Mary Jane
Sapped by undue stress and strain
tango’s for two yet ‘lone you stand
serenity is yours to gain
When music sounds an odd refrain
discordant noise in every strand
swing waltz with Mary Jane
One-step, two-step to higher plane
wild rumba to a one-man band
serenity is yours to gain
Cha-cha and spruce your addled brain
Skunk, Lebanese, most every brand
swing waltz with Mary Jane
When life is sucked dry vein-by-vein
reborn yourself with spliff in hand
serenity is yours to gain
swing waltz with Mary Jane
***********************************
A SPECIAL VILLANELLE TO ALL GANJA-GUZZLING OL' GEEZERS
12/12/19
"Struggling"
I've been struggling
Doing things that are puzzling
It's rather troubling
How much liquor I've been guzzling
Shiiiit
I admit
I'm not proud at all
I got a problem with alcohol
It'll be my downfall
If I don't fix it
Instead of always getting twisted
On my end, there's been a lot of resistance
It's been hard, and I know that I'll miss it
But I want to follow through on my wishes
And get after serious riches
All the while, taking care of business
With god as my witness
Up until the very last minutes
And at the finish
I don't need anybody's forgiveness
Just got to make the best of my existence
Another relapse, because I always got to get my fixes
On the walls upside down triple sixes
Pictures of provocative b**** es
Blowing kisses
And a tank with fishes
As well as a few glow in the dark crucifixes
Life's tough, yet sometimes it isn't
Good riddance
Once again I've done did it
I'm starting to get suspicious
Of much more than the superstitious
I've been ambitious
Yet still oh so vicious
Sorry, can't relate, I'm not very religious
And that's just one difference
Use to be a jock and a nerd
Nowadays I burn so much herb
I've been feeling disturbed
Because there's been so much I learned
Yet the problems always return
When you're at your lowest or feeling superb
On my back the weight of an anvil
Been trying to leave it at the landfill
But keep ending up at a standstill
Damn girl,
You really gave me feelings of ecstasy
Turns out it wasn't always meant to be
You'd best believe
Working my ass off, to barely earn ends meet
Only to struggle on through the next week
Makes me feel like a ****ing dead beat
Life continues testing me
Getting the best of me, but I can't let it be
I'm ready to achieve
An outcome that turns out successfully
Living rather recklessly
Been at odds and making some enemies
Doing things that'll shorten longevity
And life expectancy
Having strange tendencies
And certain dependencies
Which could very well be the death of me
'Round about eight o'clock each evening the massive iron gates are closed.
The moon's mellow glow shines upon spectral scenes that are now exposed!
Phantoms that by day lie peacefully in their graves now freely roam,
Reliving mortal dramas when the earthly stage was their home!
I've never witnessed such things but I've heard from reliable sources,
That nigh midnight a spectral hearse travels about drawn by ebon horses!
Six ghostly pallbearers march behind the hearse chanting a mournful dirge,
As they escort the macabre procession and at a gloomy crpyt converge!
A specter desperado is seen dodging 'mongst the moss-covered stones,
Chased by a sheriff, his moldy funereal shroud flapping about his bones!
"Crazy Bob" Womack who discovered gold up around Cripple Creek,
Sits on his stone guzzling booze and gazing wistfully t'ward Pikes Peak!
Pat Brady, Roy Rogers' old sidekick, races about in his jeep, "Nellybelle!"
Rebel soldiers scramble from their graves and loose a fearsome Rebel Yell!
A gorgeous young wraith clad in white wafts to and fro seeking her lover,
Adding to this eerie scene, perched in ancient oaks, owls hoot and hover!
Ghostly apparitions peer from windows of the haunted chapel on the grounds.
Grinning skeletons rise from musty tombs rattling about making their rounds!
Helen Hunt Jackson, author of "Romana" resides here in her special nook.
She leans against her stone observing all, perhaps researching another book!
images pour erratically
falling on eyelashes
tears fueling my pen
always the sadness
finds me waiting
wrenching emotion
twisting my heart
in a vice grip
can't stop the images
from driving me insane
raped and murdered eyes
pleading for children
drowned beneath
adult oppression
and addiction
it's the emptiness
that I write
a cursed
social consciousness
that blinds
I don't write love
for it lies
can't find happiness
to send to my pen
for it lays behind
my eyes
a tired whore
spent and overused
with too much hype
can't even pen security
never found that either
under blankets or kisses
not even in hardened urges
that deflate just as quickly
conveying only want and need
no I write of sadness
I return there
a drunk to cheap wine
guzzling my addiction
with lust
it holds me safe
for it is familiar
I live it
I see it
it knows my name
and I know its
we are intimate
sadness and I
a couple
twisted together
in some grotesque
sexual position
culiminating in ******
with my depressed pen
Do you like to party
Drink Tequila and Bacardi
Shouting lyrics to songs
Guzzling beer from bongs
Do you like to dance
Pelvic thrusting at every chance
Giving girls your card
That says Napoleon Bonaparte
Do you like grassy lands
Holding on with both your hands
Praying for your drunken soul
As the Earth spins out of control
Do you like to drive
Going fifty-three in a thirty-five
Telling cops you can’t be arrested
Because you might be dyslexic
Do you like to call home
Collect on your new cell phone
Begging for a second chance
Because Bubba has no pants
Do you like to party
Drink Tequila and Bacardi
Giving your keys to friends
Because karma has no end
Do you?
Weddings used to be solemn.
Reverent.
No one spoke as they entered the church.
It was like a funeral only less flowers.
Super respectful air of silence.
Solemn occasion.
We took it seriously.
Even the children entered quietly.
If there was a peep, people looked.
The rites were serious.
The priest or minister walked up and we could not hear their shoes.
Beautiful music was played.
Groom and best man walked up first.
No grinning or talking.
We watched in silence.
Bridesmaids walked up a certain way.
Flower girl laid down petals in silence.
Ring bearer dropped the rings and no one laughed.
Reverent.
A solemn occasion
When the song came on, we all stood for the bride.
No one stands for the bride now.
Bride and groom are pulled in on a sleigh with their children
Wedding held in a pub. Everyone laughing, guzzling beer.
Minister got his license sending in two crackerjack box tops and five dollars.
If he is not funny enough, some guests leave.
Mountain oysters are on the bar.
Yucka Yucka. Marriage is over in three months.
The freeways are packed,
Long faces, fatigue, stress
Where are you going?
Like rats in a maze,
Guzzling gas, polluting air
What is so important?
Cell phones and laptops,
Purity of quiet lost
Mankind advances?
Time to look
Look closely
at the backward
forward thinking me
Consumed
by my own consumption
Hybrid driving wanabe
Thinking I'm thinking of others
when it's all about me
Big house
with some solar panels
Seventy two inch plazma TV
with over Two Hundred Channels
All the latest gadgets and owners manuals
On earth day I feel good
because I light some candles
Sure I recycle
trying my best
Yet in the end I don't consume any less
Attracted to labels
I like my "Three Leaves" and "Guess"
I have the right lingo
and know how to dress
You'll see me riding my bike
just about every where I go
Five grand of carbon fibre
all part of the show
I expound on the enviroment
so you will know what I know
I talk about gardening but I don't own a hoe
It's all about the illusion
I like the idea of green
drinking ethical coffee at the bean scene
I like the attention
all the conversations
I use inuendo and insinuations
Yet travel on a big
fuel guzzling plane
to fabulous
soon to be spoiled
destinations!
Rage Against The 12 Kings
On icy thrones, they sit on high,
And pull the strings of average men.
Their governing, silent, ruthless,
As potent and lethal as venom.
They pull strings of mere mortals,
Presidents, Premiers,Dictators,
Tugging these chosen with vindictive force,
Assuring the subjugation is understood.
What can we do,powerless,stricken,unheard,
As the 12 Kings rule from up high?
Behind the ash of burning cities,
With shields of concealment and ruse.
Creators of demons, that exist only in fear,
Liars, twisted minds pocked with deceit,
Money guzzling, shape shifters all,
As they spin their yarns of terror.
I rage against the self crowned dozen.
I long for the judgement that ends their treason.
I cry for humanity that drifts with Dante's souls
In the winds of purgatory below icy thrones.
Brenda Atry
5/23/2011
Colonoscopies aren't all that tough
though ONE is one MORE than enough!
And besides all the sh&t,
here's the worst part of it:
Guzzling liters of salty gross stuff!
NOTE: Truly the drinking a gallon of the "drink" the night before was the only hard part. And THIS thanksgiving, I am very grateful that the results of my test were PERFECT!!!
I am addicted to raspberry tea
I prefer it to a fine French Chablis
If alcohol it contained
I'd stagger about half-brained
Guzzling gallons to gratify me
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 2 in Francine Robert's "Pick a Beverage, any Beverage" Contest - Oct 2011
A stitch in time saves nine
But a stitch in your side ain't fine
Hurts like hell
Bad words you expell
Bend over in pain while guzzling wine
© Jack Ellison 2015