It all ends here
Not there here
Where? Here
Now come over here
Give it here
Your beer, not there, here
I will stand here
Drink the beer, with you here
So, you can witness me here
Drink the beer here
And tell your friends I gulped the beer here
And without fear here
We will graduate from here
Smarter since we were here
Drinking our beer here
Getting degrees here
Not there, here
Cancer
Terror invades every atom of my being
Eyes darting aimlessly
Flickering left to right
Looking for an escape
Praying for an escape
Knowing there is no escape
Cancer
Words carry pain
Words can hurt
But it is not just a word
Its an oily black slinking entity
It’s hunger is massive
It’s appetite eternal
I stand by helpless as this unseen criminal
Steals the future we thought was promised
I watch it devour half of my heart and soul
Masticating our laughter
Guzzling our tears
I am angry
I am enraged
How dare you leave me
How dare you take him from me
By strength of will alone
I want to hold you fiercely
And refuse the afterlife its prize
You look at me
That now familiar weary sadness has settled on your face
Yet for the briefest of moments
Humor twinkles in your hazel eyes
If anybody can do it
It would be you Opie
I smile through a veil of tears
I bury my face into your ravaged chest
And sob
There was something enticing and surprising about the monster queen.
She was guzzling down drinks, laughing, she did not seem at all mean.
I could eat you alive, she told the crowd; they laughed their patootsies off.
I knew she was serious, when she eye-glared them with a mean scoff.
Ran out of there quickly, got into my car and drove swiftly away.
None of the other patrons were ever seen after that day.
That was Halloween night, 1985.
I still thank my stars that I am somehow alive.
Planet in flux…it sucks
No refuge..Scrooge rules..
Stooges subterfuge deluge..
Fossil fuel fools..
Poleaxes..then relaxes…
As the earth burns..
As it turns..on its axis..
***************
Us schmucks battling....
Puzzling...prattling clucks...
Aloof to proof....daft defiance..
Shucks the sleuth of science..
**************
Glower at their ivory tower..
Cruise ship trip fillip..
Dour baby boomer power..
******
Absurd herd..cans compliance
Uncouth trampling truth..
Nip & tucks alliance..
Mottled rucks…throttled petro bucks...
Plucks for retro reliance..
*******
Muzzling…weasel hatchets meddling...
Diesel guzzling trucks..
Saluting high falutin polluting
Pander to propaganda pedaling..
Ratchets up our dander…
Open the ruddy window!
Have a bloody gander!
grimy gremlins gathered in a gloomy glade
giggling guzzling grapeade they’d greedily made
with gadgets gone wild
and gizmos defiled
they gambled on games with tricks they’d displayed
If this tumbling stream be nameless,
I might as well hazard a descriptive guess.
Ripple River might do,
there are none here
to deny my footloose thoughts.
Submerged river rocks guide
a sun guzzling water
through a wooded way.
I'm not good at identifying tree's,
how they shape themselves
means more to me.
How old can a little creek be?
How to measure the ever changing?
If I return to this place by dawn or evening light
the name of this stream might alter yet again,
the way the light swims
renames our memories of it.
I prefer pictorial names
for all those innate features of a place,
the pleasure of naming prospects and vistas
gets to be a sacramental act,
a way of saying:
"Hey, I see you."
Tuesday lasses
we all have classes
get up and go
there’s no time to waste
join the flow
there’s no reason to wait
everyone’s hustling
coffee guzzling
bus shuttling
paper shuffling
syllabus assessing
apple-watch checking
there’s a fall-like feeling
making things more appealing
file off of the bus
and join the crush
trudging up science hill
thru the doors up the stairs
climbing in pairs,
in class, at last,
setup and relax.
I open my binder
and hand in the assignment
the guy beside me can’t find it.
and the TA moves on
the guy’s upset and I get it
he’s frantic and grim
I pretend I’m not watching him
as he ransacks his rucksack
too late, they’re taking roll
carelessness takes its toll
He plucks a pear from the tree and tosses it my way. Hands fumble, but nails sink into flesh to maintain a solid grip. He doesn't see me slip. Examine the freshness of the fruit before sinking teeth through skin. Open the lid. A woven picnic basket with delights inside. Turkey and tomato sandwiches, crusts removed. Freshly baked blueberry scones and sour apple jam. Camembert and olives stuffed with pimento. Put the pear aside. Less interesting now than it used to be. He plucks another. Not for me. And joins me on the maroon checkered blanket. Popping olive after olive down his gullet. The unthinkable. Guzzling brine like some sort of animal. A subtle frown, equal parts disdain, and disgust. Nothing more can be discussed, as he continues to chug. Slip into a smile. Unthinkable, but thought of. Stuffed with poison and pimento. Chugs, then chokes. Trying to spit out the pit, begging. I bid him goodbye.
Here's what makes me sad, and I find it puzzling :-(
How alcohol can ruin a day, but they go on guzzling!
From green to white to green
What a crazy mixed up scene
The weatherman's all confused
Methinks he's into the booze
If he starts a-guzzling gin
Most likely I'll be joining him
Of all my years here on earth
This kinda stuff is really the worst
So bring on the ice and snow
I'm Canadian as you know
As long as things go as planned
Hiccups I can now and then stand
But this year the weather gods
Are surely not doing their jobs!
A slack jawed drunk
thugs his way toward
a down-town bar and grill.
Red lights over sizzling steaks
add flames to his eyes.
Cincinnati on a Sunday morning
trashes its streets
cold winds scatter empty plastic cups,
cigarette butts, sick spills
and the ash of incinerated dinoursours.
Once there were rattle snakes,
now high-rise
mark their once tunneled territory.
The drunk can't find the door
to the bar
he pisses himself
grins through a window
at the beer guzzling diners.
Happy hour
drags itself
through the night,
the Sabbath has to be swept up
made to walk sober,
resurrected.
Bandicoot's bounce over my dead lead head.
Grim the outlook,
I am the grimness in my own storybook.
Moods are my mannerism's.
Gooey nose - a stonking flu
got me
now I mimic a monkey
with my bullhorn blowing.
When will the sun rise my eyes?
Blighted by sniffles, I dizzy and sway
to the 'Drug Mart', there to gag and goggle;
at so many meds for a bunged-up head.
Handfuls of hope
back to the laze-upon floozy chair
guzzling pills a popping.
Later, write this,
mayhap get pissed on some bitter brew.
Bandicoot's snoring.
A little peckish.
Here a glimmer
there it is, the shiny light,
feeling svelte in a sky bright blue.
Sniffing better, sleep later.
It Ended With A Kiss
Marie, an oldie who'd never been kissed
Longed for the feeling of kissing on lips
One day she went selling kisses for free
Men were put off for Marie was gummy
She'd lost her teeth guzzling too many sweets
Then had regretted indulging in treats.
Suddenly a cool, handsome guy passed by
The oldie gave him a wink from her eye
He knew what she wanted and came up trumps
Gave her a kiss and found Marie stunk
He was disgusted and said she should pay
She paid happily as he'd made her day.
The dear sweet Marie has since passed away
This is what her epitaph has to say
"Here lies a woman merrily at rest
Her last day on earth was simply the best
That day she’d known the magic of a kiss
Twas worth every penny of fifty quid."
14th May 2022
If wishes were kisses life would be bliss,
everyone would be blessed with lucky lips.
Quote - Poet’s own
~A Night at the Pub~
Benny burped British beer.
Betty, his beatiful beau, could not bear it!
Betty, burped a huge bubble back at Benny.
Beer burps, for the beloved's face are far more than bad,not worth a penny
Benny continued beside his beau, guzzling the luscious foam.
Better drive your beautiful Benz home, leaving burping, beaus alone!
4/21/2021
After rounding up some cattle
I headed to the saloon
To have a drink or two
And hear a bawdy tune
Cowpokes were gambling
And guzzling up their beer
The women were upstairs
Their bosoms amply filled
Waiting to give us all a thrill
After a couple shots of whiskey
A poker game I did seek
Hoping I'd soon be on a winning streak
My luck was going good and
The cowpokes I was beating
Until big Jim accused me of cheating
A fight broke out and turned into a brawl
Big Jim got hit, and took a mighty fall
When it was all over I was still standing tall....
The cattle would be rounded up tomorrow once again
And I would be right there, ridin' on the plains
1-26-2021
Cowboy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
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