Liquored Poems | Examples

Pareidolia

It was all about a grim,
Foggy, smoggy, old Thursday night
In Hithergreen,
London’s belching south,
Below Europe’s icy, dark trees and
In the silence of grieving mornings . . .
Bulbous clouds bleeding with strained oomph
Would stir the ingravescence of patented ills.
The trains always come railing!
Railing loud and silly
Like heathen bandits with no shame.
But before such mornings,
A half-distilled liquored, low-brewed
Evening caused me tears
When I chopped onions.
A spruced up harlot was coming to dinner
By the way!
Oh, yes, from London’s bleached Soho,
Venue for awesome sex.
I may have forgotten to tell you, brother,
But through the insistence on cutting further deep,
There it stood!
Ilse Koch!
An old character!
She piled up arms against ashen flesh,
Fomenting tears to rain down on the faces of many.
And with each stare,
I asked for permission to be laconic
Just to preserve the dews
Of the heated stove near the chimney of an
Age-battered window of a grey, frazzled winter night.

Leone's Special

Cacophony of liquored lips
             would underscore the room
That cafe bar that I recall
                     an adolescent’s doom

Yet not of age to then partake  
                          of alcohol’s delight
For pizza, I remember well
                   indulgence of the night 

My friend and I would wait inside
                         for carry-out to go
We’d sneak a look at follied fun
           at things we’d come to know

And while we sat as patient boys
                     piano banged the eve
A white haired gal of eighty three
             would play until we’d leave

She’d ragtime with a mighty blow
                her keyboard full of cheer
We’d see her timely reach around 
                  to grab her stein of beer

Then off with pizza undertow
                       Leone’s special taste
To watch the  TV “Monster Fest”
                   with not a bite to waste

The Third Party At A Party For Two

Imagination nude
liquored and lacquered lips
ember-breathing phoenix
..lighter fluid magic
when let loose near a flame..
combustible thigh-highs
when moonshine-high is nigh—
the moon she bathes in dreams

I have you both in hand
my tongue slick and sleek seeks
to taste the fruits of fields
intoxicated snake
oh! my lust a slither
a quiver serpentine
squeeze innocence with sins
revive the withered vine

anthurium’s shield leaf
your phallic sword unsheathed
exotic frolic fire
in heart-shaped bloom I burn
fire-water-pulse untamed
grabbed by the mane restrained
—unrestrained dreams unleashed

tequila genie free
sassy-frassy lassie
a parasol in pink
frilly and unfolded
beholder beholden
to climb aboard and fly
feminine flamingo
through shaken sky uncorked—
liquid-libido rains
as thirst and thunder reigns
just drop the reins and ride
bridal sweet  bridle free
yah barefoot and bareback
yes! drain the bottle dry

free way ticket three way
trifecta perfecta
primal energies spoon
la belle ‘Bianca’ blanc—
wine-skinned mademoiselle

My Drunken Lover

I fell in love with a Drunken Poet
When with light My Grail He fills
Lyrical Creativity intercourse with pen and paper spill
With Rhymes and reasons salutations 
Filled so full, Colorful My imagination
Drunken poetry obliteration 
He drinks sooo much, his touch Intoxicating 
Slurry words with breath of sweet Rum
Penetrating and Pouring light until I succumb 
He woos with words and stirs Me up 
I have gotten addicted to his Liqueur syrup
Transporting my mind to Celestial Bliss
Overflowing with every Drunken Kiss
Drunk in Love, my heart Enshrined 
Top shelf Libation pours, He wants me to Shine
He slurred" let go baby, I'm yours, You're mine"
I got sooo drunk, couldn't hold My liquor 
Fondled My Pen, vomit on paper
He slurred, " Go on baby, it's best for your liver"
Now my  speech is liquored sweet ingredients to my potion
Drunken poetry creative recreation.


Shout out to Elliott Bowe>>>creator of drunken poetry.

L For Lovers

Legendary lovers lay low,
Lurking longingly like lorikeets,
Languishing beneath a clump of larches,
Lena flirting with Leander
Lunching on lotus flowers,
Lost bearings to all.
Liquored up into a dual lullaby
Listening to a lay from Lake Lethe,
Eyes lit in lambent love.
Luck lifted their luminousness. 

Greek Lord livid at their love
Lashed lightning 
And locked them both out
Love flickered into oblivion. 

Placed 1

11 December 2020
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper

Winston Churchill

Liquored up, Churchill liked to converse.
Talking politics, Winston would curse:
“All democracy’s trash!
We don’t act: we rehash.
But the other ‘arrangements' are worse."

Words

Writings my love, and so are you.
I need both, yet most of all you.
My emotions, I . . . can keep hid.
Since I’ve known you, that’s all I did.
    Now lost you are and blank I am.
    So, to be sure you won’t know them.
    When I’m liquored or when I’m me.
    Apathetic, I shall always be.
I do not know what else to write.
For no more words I see in sight.

Lip Bent Overly Yours

Most dastardly
Executive Majesty,
we serve at your pique pleasure
obsequiously so 

Yea, Darth Lord,
we be the surreptitious, servile ones:
Leper skin publicans, publicly hiss reviled

Tonsil rear ends torqued low 
is our mealy-mouth status quo

We’re liquored up lap dogs

Always lip bent overly yours

Tongue rolls of surfeit flattery,
buttery tones of praise gluttony piled on

Nay, Imperial Vader,
we echo only your strident, bellyaching growls
from our sphincter pie holes

Boast bastardly
King El Presidente,
and we cower at your cheek displeasure
ingratiatingly so

Our speech undignified, 
flesh market wench pride
was thirty silver pieces sold 
minus six-feet degrees below

Aye, Commander-in-Chief Bellow Nero ...
Imp patient Sanballast ground zero,
your every atomic jinn wish gets grovel granted

We bow mice-men be the fawn minion pagan pawn devotees,
submissively submitting to such spittle humiliation willingly 

Ever always lip bent overly yours

Trigger Squeeze

Jack is in love
with his main trigger squeeze
Daniel’s in love,
got bottled up 
Passion 
pressure is a light pull release
Drawing the corked trigger
puts a Happy Hour liquid cap in his heart
His precious metal baby
ain’t no gun shy lady
She gives him heated recoil satisfaction
They both got a kinetic, spherical attraction
Her quicksilver hair trigger
makes his whole body quiver
Jack’s her hot finger man,
his praising tongue never gets jammed
Daniel’s bullet affection always grows bigger,
gives her steamy hot flashes that deliver
J.D. is liquored up in love
with his main trigger squeeze
She’s a Gun-and-Barrel gal,
a metal bathing suit beauty queen
An ammo pin-up centerfold sex machine,
in a Soldier of Fortune magazine
Mr. Jack Daniel 
is so liquored up in love
with his Miss Beretta 9-mil baby
They’re richly joined to the hip,
strapped on leather to skin together
She’s a porcelain face stone killer — 
a sleek, sexy death dealer
Gives J.D., her main lover, climax shivers:
That intoxicating power ******,
when he squeezes her clicked trigger

Bucket of Bolts

This is the last poem forming a trilogy of Spenserian Sonnets written in trochee pentameter relating to the sea. The first poem is titled Mike's Bar, second poem Shanghaied, third poem Bucket Of Bolts.


Servin' me hard time on boat that's steamin',
doin' me best keepin' engines goin',
stokin' fire and me sweat greatly streamin',
dripping, I must keep the coal a throwin'.
Gotta stay the furnace face a glowin',
breakin' me back goin' somewhere so far.
Haven't seen the light of day not knowin'
time when I could see a lonesome bright star.
Why did I drink wine with Rose in Mike' Bar?
She bedeviled me with wine and sweet kiss.
Old tooth liquored me good, showing me scar.
She slips me a Micky these good eyes miss.
Leavin' bucket o' bad rusty bolts sure.
Taking me chance jumping boat when we moor.

Lumina's Light

Lumina’s Light 

Light had faded in reflection from start to finish bitter battered final end
Bright mirror’s prisms a blinding darkened prison in her luscious name

Long lost love conceived in lust and lustre looming large from liquored loins
Undone contaminated utterly unscripted used usurped unleashed by man in
Manic malice corrupted massacred monstrously moving through murky mud
Innocent inconceivably conscripted to illness indecision incisive icicles imbibed
No nascent numinous naivety just noxious narrative concealed in naked novelty
Arrived at audacious ardour converted authenticity anticipated from her axes

Life had burnt Lumina’s candle at both ends from start to finish in a never ending
Loop towards atrocity and back from awful angst to loops and loops of loneliness

Long last she searched her name for lighter meaning for Life Ubunthu Magnitude
Illustrious Namely Absolution and shone in radiant light of who she truly was

26th July 2017

Gin Mills

GIN MILLS

Battered pay phones
hung on the walls
their rings
harsh reminders.
They sat,
ageing men,
hunched
on barstools
brooding faces
glaring into
sullen evidence
of reflected disdain.
Younger men stood
milling about
regaling each other
with exaggerated misdeeds.
The old payphone’s ring
coldly calling those
who were never there.
There was no “top” shelf,
only hard whiskey
for softened men.
Bent backs,
gnarled hands,
empty eyes,
lost in a liquored
loneliness.
Draft beer,
pickled eggs,
Slim Jims,
that damn phone
forever ringing
as they watched
the seasons change
through the dirty window
of death’s waiting room.


John G. Lawless
©5/14/2017

Fruitcake

Fruit and nut  i n f u s e d , so
     flavourful and liquored.
Favorite Christmas TREAT !
        Flour, nuts, fruit combined, and
for three weeks  B R A N D Y  laced.
  Frosty cream top-    a real,
family TRADITION.

_______________
December 10, 2016


Poetry/Pleiades/Verse/Fruitcake
Copyright Protected, ID 16-856-900-0
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.

For the contest, My Merry Christmas Party
Pleiades Contest, sponsor, Andrea Dietrich

Third Place

A Peaceful Flow of Thought

To hear the sounds that laughter sends 
Soaring beyond the earthly realms 
To taste the liquored lips of death 
And breathe my last shallow breath 
For one does not know of fear 
Until the wretched curse is near 
Young and old alike will feel the cold of endless night 
Or seek respite within the song 
Of lights triumph over fog  
I seek her out in distant lands 
The young maiden of the sands 
Whose mother’s touch doth bring the tides 
And father’s breath bring forth the light 
I found her laying upon a hill 
Overlooking the temples which man had built 
And I asked her if these places of god, 
Served the purpose of truth  
She then spoke to me with eyes still shut, 
And passed on knowledge beyond human thought 
That those who die in valiant wars, 
Receive no more than gold and ore 
But men whose lives are led by the belief, 
In the holiness of every spirit, 
And the adultery of deceit 
Will forever find a home beyond this plane 
And achieve everlasting love unaltered by pain

Love the Neighbor

only trash can blow 
on the prickly pavement
no mind is 
not precious 

no flesh can blow.
a women with three
teeth and liquored breathe, 
and carrying a sleeping
bag can 
never blow

to everyone, 
here is a soul 

can they not cry?
can they not see day?

they roam the streets, with 
freedom and pain

I pour my heart,
for everyone's jeans
are stained

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