Blotto Poems - Poems about Blotto

Bottle shops are grottos, I, too, could go blotto, But that is so not me, Your catty comments are for free, I remain, always chirpy!...

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Night goes wrong gone by gone Eleven sharpened by bell tolls Last wipes failed in scrambled line Shake the grip till bleached Squeezing of faith blows a worship dirt Night closes sins by wrong summon Twelve pointed by curved hands Silence gasped with dark lullaby Trivium lied about lines and curves Engaged big rhetoric wrapping logic Night designated as a place curse No more clock...

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The reindeer and Santa proceed at a canter On a sleigh made of magical wood They’ve gone to fill shelves with gifts made by elves For all the kids that have been good At home in the grotto, the elves are all blotto They found where the whisky was hid Then looked for some brandy to drink themselves bandy And that’s just...

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You're really not drunk if you can lie on the floor “Without holding on” good for a couple of beers more Till your mind goes blotto Your name you forgot-o Promise to stop drinking, gonna start tomorrow...

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There once was a lass from Toronto Loved being ridden like a bucking bronco Enjoyed a rough ride “Ride 'em cowboy” she cried Till her senses they became totally blotto © Jack Ellison 2015...

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Drains so sleepy. Dreams so smelly. Waking in the kitchen face-down on the telly......

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