I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that I am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or- could it be that you're just- "Stoned"
I laughed in the phone, said “I know,
you like to haunt me wherever I go,
you may have died and lost a lung
but continue with your sharp tongue”
My aunt is still trying to make a point,
she never liked to see me smoke a joint.
She’s always was a Budweiser beer girl,
maybe I’ll stop grass and give Bud a whirl!
It took an hour to get ready,
even to just drive around the block.
First, he would check the oil, kick the tires,
tune the radio and set the clock.
Then he’d adjust all of the mirrors,
check the wipers and wash the head light.
Not sure why he’d worry about it,
cause he could not see to drive at night.
He could not start any adventure,
and not stop at the liquor store first.
Had to grab a six of Budweiser,
he’d say, “so he did not die of thirst.”
He’d stop at the bottom of the ramp.
trying to get onto the freeway.
Then set his cruise control at forty,
his signal light flashing the whole way.
You know he could not drive fifty-five,
but stayed right there in the passing lane.
Traffic backed up for about a mile,
wave his finger at all who’d complain.
Before he could make a right-hand turn,
he had to come to a complete stop.
Drove around the lot for an hour,
while mom went into the store to shop.
I know a poet, name of Mark Heiser
Who happens to swig too much Budweiser ~
His ‘Bud’ Mark does slurp
‘Til he starts to burp ~
As his verse overflows like a geyser.
Take one demigod from the melting pot
Give it a Mega-phone (the louder the better)
Mix in a heavy dose of Fox News, make it a bit overbearing
In a separate pot,
mix 70 million evangelicals
2 or 3 million fanatics -depending on your tolerance
Season with lies and fear
Add holy water, a couple of cases of Budweiser and demigod mixture
But first clip a piece of ear and discard
sit in the sun until it boils- stirring occasionally
unique island calm
pink beaches of hawaii
water sooths my soul
spicy restaurant
warm and tasty fajitas
honeymoon delight
ice cold budweiser
hard baseball at wrigley field,
summer vacation
My horse Anheuser used to be a stud
Aging poorly, now races in the mud
When his tail goes swish
I grant him his wish
And draw him a bath of Budweiser suds
Too blind to play baseball
Too soft for football
Too slow for basketball
No future in sports at all
Those who can't do, teach
Those who can't teach, announce
He broadcast games for the White Sox and Cubs
When he wasn't out tapping a keg in a pub...
A microphone in one hand
A can of Bud in the other
Harry Caray, the fans' favorite
Every beer guzzler's brother
_______________________________________
*Budweiser Beer
Beer Sonnet
I have a bottle of German beer in the fridge
and naturally cloudy, first brewed in some small town
in Bavaria in 1624.
They didn’t make the beer clear and decided to call
the brew Dunkel (cloudy), PR, yes it existed it worked
now it is a world-famous beer.
It also cost a bit more, which never fails to attract snobs.
I opened the beer dislike the colour me, a Budweiser man
of the type brewed in the USA
A band of clouds was, obscuring the sunset it was Dunkel
a sentence not spoken but sensed even a child could get.
I drank the beer, let the tomorrow keep its secret.
Those curious carousing kitties of Company C
They keep me awake, every morning until three
They sing in meows that turn my aged blood cold
I would not care except I am mean, fat and old.
I hear them through the wall, their wailing is loud.
They caterwaul in an enormous crowd.
When they have had too much nip they get even worse
I have no place to hide, it seems like a curse
I used to be able to sleep in my bed all night long.
Because there was no wailing, no caterwauling song.
Company C moved in and everything went to heck.
My ex-husband has something to do with this, I sort of suspect.
I spy on them sometimes, through Kitty Kat Tavern’s windows.
There is a Budweiser sign in there that in neon glows.
I do not know what they are drinking but suspect it is gin.
The more they wail, the more I blame him.
Oxtail, beef ribs and 72 slice cheese
take it to Ajima
And double your money
Budweiser, Coors, and MGD,
Army says one case a day,
I used to get twenty.
In ‘95 beer was eleven bucks a case
You’d get $25
For stacking them in Ajima’s place,
But watch out for MPs
Because If you get caught,
Its court-martials And Article 15s
JEV
I come from broken glass and tv shows.
From love filled lies and budweiser cans.
Police Lights and Shouting.
I am from broken vows.
Loving spouses, that left and didn’t come back until the next day.
I come from dead grandparents and tears.
Hospice Hours and Hospital visits.
Crosses and Blessed Oil.
I come from forced religion, the holy trinity.
Broken Promises and Grieving fathers.
Long school days with no friends, like movies without popcorn.
I come from teen pregnancy and fighting to get a degree.
I come from success and pain.
From the moment he turned adult legal,
Triple B been hot rodding to the liquor sto’e
Making them daily late night beer runs,
and popping them tops with his beefy guns
Liquid numbmification is his stupor education,
sober thinking everyday takes a vacant eyes vacation
Guzzling and grunting,
brain cells mental growth stunting
Belching and barfing,
lager laced blue-in-the-face scarfing
Triple B don’t have a problem with none of that,
he’s a certified spud, who loves sucking down suds by the sack
His grandpa affectionately calls him Beer Belly Boy,
a Budweiser lunch box was his favorite childhood toy
He don’t mind people saying his six pack is a couple cans short,
as long as he delivers the moonshine on time to the rally point port
Triple B feels he’s living the life of a NASCAR rebel,
and his best friend Bo is a rowdy, hell-raising devil
Beer Belly Boy loves his favorite American girl,
dressed in her aluminum skirt and amber pearls
Beer Belly Boy, full of joy, gon crush kiss each empty can,
‘cause his gut feeling tells him this is the measure of a man
Bring back blonde babes
with big boobs and butts,
showing bare bellies, wearing black and brown boots.
Because they get the bikers and big boys
to bring in big bucks buying bottles of
Budweiser and, blue ribbon beer,
Besides the booze and beef burgers
on buns with bacon and baked beans
for brunch while they watch and
bet on baseball games or boxing matches.as
they banter with their buddies at the bar
or in the booths and bathroom.
The jukebox plays Blondie, Blues brothers
big Bands, Bono, Bananarama, Brandi, Billy Ray Cyrus.
Benny King., Backstreet boys., Beach Boys, Billy Idol
Bobby Brown, and so much more
at Big Busty Babes Bar
Bring your best buddies with you to
Big Busty babe's bar. Down on Broadway and Bakers Boulevards
Near Buster's Barbecue and Bobby's Billiards and Bank of America.
Bonnie J Hollywood-Cutts
From the moment he turned adult legal,
Triple B been hot rodding to the liquor sto’e
Making them daily late night beer runs,
and popping them tops with his beefy guns
Liquid numbmification is his stupor education,
sober thinking everyday takes a vacant vacation
Guzzling and grunting,
brain cells mental growth stunting
Belching and barfing,
lager laced blue-in-the-face scarfing
Triple B don’t have a problem with none of that,
he’s a certified spud, who loves sucking down suds by the sack
His grandpa affectionately calls him Beer Belly Boy,
a Budweiser lunch box was his favorite childhood toy
He don’t mind people saying his six pack is a couple cans short,
as long as he delivers the moonshine on time to the rally point port
Triple B feels he’s living the life of a NASCAR rebel,
and his best friend Bo is a rowdy, hell-raising devil
Beer Belly Boy loves his favorite American girl,
dressed in her aluminum skirt and amber pearls
Beer Belly Boy, full of joy, gon crush kiss each empty can,
‘cause his gut feeling tells him this is the measure of a man
8/13/17
Occasionally cooked with a kitchen timer
Often bought and drank budweiser
Sometimes worked with an atomiser
Amid elevations that were lower or higher
Always had much more than heart
From the start
Being smart
Becoming familiar with tools, items and parts
In the light or dark
Won't always be as smooth as silk
Move on, stop with the guilt
No reason to cry over spilt milk
The scales shall balance and tilt
Keep training with or without a sword and hilt
Continuing to be invovled in structures being soundly built
Near and far from silt
As well as flowers doing well or beginning to wilt
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