Our nation’s reputation is already scuffed
The chunter as another punter got duffed
Generation.. blunter advice have rebuffed
Latest sensation of vice Root not chuffed
Spice not once but thrice & chests puffed
No VIP pass in the splice should be stuffed
ECB still choosing Key as yet again fluffed
Are accusing Rob the knob’s gob we huffed
Stokes an a*se blokes boozing not snuffed
Trite this sh*te will be alright they bluffed
A farce losing Brydon Carse as got cuffed
Sixty years since i saw him
But he suddenly came to mind
A quiet sense of humour
Of the mischievous kind
A pleasant disposition
Except when crossed
Then very soon to remind
Who was in fact the boss.
An unlikely friendship because
We were years and ranks apart
But somehow i could never
Take the Army thing to heart
A square pegged soldier
Never quite fitting in
Leading this charmed life
Of undiscovered sin.
Always respectful of rank
When together on base
Down in the pub at night
Near equals face to face.
I, of course left
He carried on
I only found out
Long after he was gone
He achieved senior rank
Became very well respected
I suppose on reflection
Only what was expected.
I wonder if he ever remembered
His disrespectful boozing mate
And how we both reassumed rank
As we passed the barracks gate
For sixty years he sang and
Everyone knew his voice.
Then he had to retire,
But it wasn’t his choice.
He loved his singing lifestyle
As well as his boozing.
But it caught up with him and
He told Barbara, “I'm loosing.”
The only thing we can
Depend on is death.
But no one knows when
They’ll take that last breath.
And I don’t want loosing
To be part of my fate.
I want to know I’ll enter
That pearly white gate!
I don’t know if Old Blue Eyes
Sings up in heaven today.
I do know that Jesus
Has shown me the way.
And if he’s there too,
Then we’ll sing together.
It won’t be loosing if we sing
Praises forever and ever!
Oh, how I remember my teenage years,
smoking pot and drinking beers
My friends and I built forts in the forest
We'd see who could skip a stone the farthest
on the lake, where we'd fish all day, till dark
Boozing up- keg bash parties; in the park
No wonder why I've had an urge for wine
Seems back then I've crossed the line
I've made sandcastles out of puddy mud
But they've been washed out from the cruddy flood
I should have known that my spiked blood
Come 'eth from wine- or too much, bud
Oh, how I remember my teenage years
As I sit and think with tired tears
I've gained control of my life by quitting booze
For so much did I have to lose
I gave up on beer, and I kicked the pot
And I thank the lord for the things I've got
No wonder why I've been misunderstood
My teenage years were not so good
When I'm cruising down the street,
I'm not boozing while I eat!
I don't waste my time on luck,
I put my faith in my truck!
Thru sleet and snowy weather,
Our thirty years together,
Outlasted all the others,
All my truck driving Brothers!
But nothing could be finer,
Parked near a local diner,
Than a truck driving Sister...
That's a "Truck Driver" Mister!
You think you’re riding high, so high falutin’:
the fact is, you’re the dumbest ox in town.
There’s no-one as unfunny as a clown:
reforming is a thing, but you’re just looting.
Repudiating allies while you’re rooting
for enemies will never earn the crown
you crave: and, in advance of sitting down,
you showed your hand. You gave the game to Putin.
Stupidity does not deserve excusing.
It takes a man to take his share of blame,
a thing you’ll never do. You have no shame.
Your hand-picked team are taking drugs and boozing,
already reconciled inside to losing,
because (like you) they ever knew the game.
Everyone enjoying
Beers moving
Wines moving
Forks jazzing with plates
Music in the air
Dancing all over
Eating to the fullest
Boozing beers
Slow music in air
That is party time.
The walls are made with dollar bills
They're paper thin and made for thrills
Drifting at sea without wind at my sails
I'm boozing on ales and lamenting the ails
And there might be a storm brewing
But I'm focused on what I'm doing
And if there is a garden in the sky
I'm chasing it hoping it's not a lie
But sometimes when you leave it all behind
Sometimes it's nice to reminisce and rewind
And I don't know where the frothing sea leads
But I know I fight for my creed and I still bleed
All I know is if everything ended today
At least I could say I did it my way
Building a lifetime of skills
In a fake world made of dollar bills
And morals are equally paper thin
Set it on fire just to burn for the sin
I may be a lonely drifter at sea
But at least I'm finally free
Foggy monday
Mourning sunday
Saturday blackout
Death by boozing Friday bruiser
Thursdays web of mid-week loser
Wednesday filled with pills and shots
Drink it up with Tuesdays lot
Foggy Monday finds its calling
In a sweaty sot on the ground, crawling
He watched her leave that autumn day
Yet he seemed to not know why
His boozing should have given it away
All he heard next were echoes of her goodbye
Years later he thought of that moment
Now he wished she had not left
A moment that replayed to his discontent
He felt loss, emotionally bereft
He became a prisoner of lost love
Trapped behind the hands of time
A moment he often thought of
Still hearing the echoes of her goodbye chime
9-1-2021
I strolled through the local cemetery the other day
And here are some epitaphs I observed along the way:
Cletus O'Toole lies herein
Too much boozing done him in!
Here lies a gambler molding in his crypt
Odds are he was shot by a chump he had gyped!
His spouse spotted him leaving a house of ill repute
In short order she done him in during a heated dispute!
Clyde raced down the mountain and failed to swerve
Meeting his doom on an S-shaped curve!
His plea to the judge was ruled to be moot
He was sentenced to hang for fencing some loot!
Buckaroo Bob was throwed from his horse
And was buried with his boots on as a matter of course!
The town ruffian was our late friend Keith
He met his match and was interred sans his teeth!
Pilot Pete's final radio message was, "Oh! Shoot!"
Seems he forgot to don his parachute!
Farrier Fred was a premier cobbler as a general rule
Alas, he was kicked in the head by an unruly mule!
Butcher Bruce was expert at wielding his knife
But in a fatal spat he was out-wielded by his wife!
POTD 24 June 2021
Walking like a dead man
on down the boulevard,
once life seemed so easy
when did it get so hard.
Trying to earn a living,
out to make a buck.
Hoping to keep the roof on,
I just ran out of luck.
Turned into a tavern
I passed along the way,
me and Jose Cuervo
we drank away the day.
As the bottle emptied
my problems all got worse,
out of work will kill you
but boozing is a curse.
The new roof for my shelter
is over near the ridge,
please drop by if you're around
the Holston River Bridge.
Loss, like love, is a state of being
It can’t be explained , it has no meaning
It will fill your world, excluding the rest
It will last for ever, it can’t be suppressed.
But if you have loss you’ve also had love
That is the miracle sent from above
For life, without either, is shallow indeed
Their lack creates a soul in need.
So carry on living, loving and losing
Carry on working, laughing and boozing
Life’s too short to mourn and despair
While love and loss are everywhere.
ALLITERATION ON MY PERSONAL LINES©
Accolades for an accountable and artistic "alien".
Although, adversaries aspire to amplify my Achilles' heel,
Boring born brainless bold bastards
Bombard bonafide boys buddies,
Breathing bad breath after boozing &
Breaking-out a belligerent brawl,
Conforming to congruous conflict, forcefully coming like a comet.
Daring desperate diabolical dare devil,
Determined to destroy the destiny of a dazzling Daystar.
Henceforth, this epigram enunciates in words my endowments & engulf every equivocal expressions...
Fallacious statements breeds fiasco fantastically,
Ferociously making me fastidious about my fiendish friends.
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©2009
Jumbled jewels all glisten
Ready for a stint imprisoned
Stuck in setting glory losing
Witness to debauchery and boozing
Bound in filth a nugget found
Pasture yields a bounty fast
Cut and polished set for sale
No justice, lost from purity
The innocence of one destroyed
Full dishonor breeds contempt
All for glaring wicked posture
Marked for life, no one exempt
Folly fires to polarize
Collared painful revelry
No return to sanitize
Bedecked the dead in jewelry
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