In the City of Downey, where I was born,
my mom gave me options, and I was torn.
She said, "Here are your choices. Listen kid -
we can go to Giza to see the great pyramid,
or maybe you want to see the Great Wall,
or the Sistine Chapel or the Taj Mahal -
but wait, look out the window. It's getting dark.
We just have time for Rio San Gabriel Park.
There's a lion drinking fountain where you can drink.
How about that son? What do you think?"
So, we got in the car, drove two minutes to see
The Big Yellow Lion Fountain of RSG.
I'll tell you friends, that's as good as it gets,
and to this day, I've had no regrets.
I gaze into a world of gleam,
Where I am missing from the dream.
"I am the watcher of the scene."
In a flash, knowing I am me,
I wake with a shiver, sudden and free.
Drenched in sweat from head to toe,
I am alive. "Phew," I softly go.
Is it a dream dreaming a dream's deep art?
Or is the dream waking my sleeping heart?
Once more, I drift into a dream.
"I am the watcher of the scene."
A rhythm mixed with beauty's grace,
Your touch that makes my spirit race.
Hand in hand, you and I,
Through grassy woods we wander by.
"Walking toward the self-same dream, side by side."
Then, I wake up wide.
Awakening with an empty mind,
I drink ice water left behind.
"While drinking that cold, icy cup of gray,
You swallow the dream without a way."
DRINKING PROBLEM
I might have a drinking problem
Even Though I am not a Hobbling Goblin
Which might be Bewildering
No, it’s not alcohol
Even in the halls
Where there are bouncing balls
But caffeine regardless of steam
Although I am not bursting at the seams
My beverages usually have caffeine
Especially at the trickling stream
Do I really have a drinking problem?
Feeling very sick
All alone with your bottle
It is a death wish
Tell me, what are you drinking,
I would tell you who you are, yes,
Tea or chamomile,
Some pink bergamot,
A coffee always iced,
Who will drink bourbon,
If Cécilia leaves him, OR Marie,
Who will drink cognac?
Tell me, what are you drinking,
Jurançon or hot chocolate,
Monbazillac to sleep again,
Some Caipirinha to dream of Gaelle,
I’ll tell you who you are. Oh yes.
14
Tell me, what are you drinking,
Champagne on Sundays,
Bergamot tea, or milk
Or sweet carrot juice,
I’ll tell you who you are.
Summer can be deadly,
It’s better to quench your thirst,
On the beach of Malibu,
Tell me, what are you drinking,
A banana milk shake,
in Damascus or Portland,
An iced tea with lemon,
I’d offer you another drink.
The plumber man fell asleep
with ash on his lips, losing
track of his cerebral train
John Boy with his stained new teeth
and guns of oil on his stone hands
Paining tires, chainsaws, the
garage ceiling
seasoning the turning of a leaf
John Boy's hounds piss on the porch
warping wood with smoke and sulfur
Is shooting blind since the judge took
his gun from his holster
John Boy stopped drinking a little too late
his brain full of holes, just like
a tree trunk to a woodpecker's peck
As he drunkenly recants the psalm
'I get no respect!'
Fun
Aspects
Survival,
"Good riddance" said,
Divorce Court Barbie,
Diversity Mattel,
Plastic fantasies couple,
Parked him in husband day care bar,
Should have party, no more ball and chain,
Don't need spaceship, navel gazing on brooms.
I raise my glass against the creeping night,
And laugh at shadows clawing at my flame;
Let death come slow or fast-I hold my light.
For what is life if lived without a claim
To fire, music, madness, reckless cheer?
A sober world is sober than it's shame
So let the cautious tremble, clutching fear;
I'll dance where fear runs red as mortal blood,
And drown the ticking silence in jeer.
Let saints preach duty, labour, sweat, and mud-
Their sermons wilt beneath the club's loud roar;
I choose the storm,the glitter and the flood.
Though bones may crack and lungs may breathe no more,
My name will rise from every emptied cup-
A toast to nights that burned my spirits raw.
And when the final reckoning adds up,
Let death itself bow down before my spree;
I lived unchained, and never once looked up
Most drink for the after effects and others for the taste
Some tend to over enjoy it then do something debased
It seems to be the invited guest at every get together
The myth seems to be that alcohol makes it better
Then you have those who try to flood out their problems
Hoping to find the solution at the bottom of the bottle
It may be true that this poison tends to numb you
Not long enough to ease the pain you've been through
Which is the reason why some people remain that way
You find them unstable and drunk day after day
Alcohol has a way to wash away our insecurities
Men would say it makes an ugly woman pretty
This awesome liquid seems to blur our vision
Makes us express words we never would mention
It also puts us in these horrible situations
Someone's accused of rape or life is taken
Every group of friends need that designated driver
Because of one fool who thinks his tolerance is higher
What was the real reason alcohol was made
Is it to help the real person inside of us fade
You have some that choose not to drink at all
Is it for the right reasons we're drinking alcohol?
I'm thinking there's many
a drinking toast
'Cheers!' 'Cin cin!' '¡Salud!'
'Sláinte!' 'Prost!'
'Here's looking at you!'
or 'Mud in your eye!'
'To health wealth and happiness!'
in Japan it's 'Kanpai'
Hebrew 'L'chaim!' Chinese 'Ganbei!'
Russia 'Na Zdorovie!' Scandinavia 'Skål!'
and 'E ola!' in Hawaii
but was it a member
of the gay persuasion
who first let slip
before a sip slurp or sup
twixt cup and lip
the suggestion 'Bottoms up!'
Vodka smiles up
from a glass.
Paint me in a garden chair
with nothing in it,
but the swing of white trousers.
Where are my friends,
my wife,
children, grandchildren?
A fat creamy dog licks my toes.
All who ever claimed to know of me
are right here
on the rim of this glass
as the ice slowly melts –
some cling to a slice of lime
that can no longer support them.
The day lengthens,
a shadow returns,
peddling pantomimes
I watch behind heavily curtained lids,
recollect nothing, remember everything,
until a calling moon chimes out.
The dawn will arrive with a dew
as fresh as tears.
About to procrastinate
am putting it off
setting it aside
it's never too late
it can wait
as
now is the hour
no time
like the present
nothing important
I can't circumvent
didn't wind the clock
gave my watch away
don't need to know
what week it is
nor hour of the day
nowhere I have to be
no one's expecting me
from this moment on
no long hard climb
just eating drinking wining dining
I'm living on island time
I was not always this clever, this funny, this incredibly smart
But it is two a.m. somewhere, and I am hilarious; it is my art.
Weirdly, I was not in any way exciting before I got to this bar.
But now I am unbelievably witty, ask my buddy, his name is Gar.
Aren’t I witty, Gar? Aren’t I pretty? Aren’t I fabulously humorous tonight?
He thinks so, believe me, though he cannot sit upright.
I am getting younger every second, my face is clearing up too.
Hilarity is my middle name; now where is my stupid shoe?
But wait, honey, aren’t I funny? The bartender is closing down the bar.
Whiskey is improving my looks. Now where’s my stupid car?
When I think about you drinking alcohol,
I start to feel disgust.
Your absent-mindedness
makes all my feelings feel so just.
When you took alcohol from random men
and excused it—
it caused me distrust.
Seeing you wasted that time
really messed up all of my brain.
It makes me relive those moments—
and all I feel is pain.
When you got a ride from a man I don’t know,
it gave me disdain.
I want to be trusting,
but all that’s stuck inside my head.
I try to communicate,
and you argue what’s been said.
Now I’m not so comfortable
when you go drink at other places.
I’ve tried to speak it clearly,
but you don’t see the problem that it faces.
You’ve got you looking available,
and people trip over their laces.
You get so wasted
that you don’t know what you’re doing.
When you go out without me,
I’m scared you’ll do something unapproving.
You hang out with a bad influence—
and it leaves me disapproving.
I love you so much,
but it makes me feel disregarded.
It makes me so worried—
and my feelings are unguarded.
neon flickers pink,
cherry blossoms broken glass——
I drank the false moon.
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