Long Bacardi Poems
Long Bacardi Poems. Below are the most popular long Bacardi by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bacardi poems by poem length and keyword.
She walks in to the disco
Feeling pretty hot
Glances from the others
Tell her that she’s not.
Killer heels do just that
Lips a cupid bow
Drops her Prada handbag
Wrinkles start to show.
Downs a quick Bacardi
Drinking makes her bold
Confidence is growing
Away from her cuckold.
Geezers in the corner
Laugh into their pints
Quick one round the back
Better than a fight.
Twenty each, bet is on,
First one out the door
Get another round in
Won’t take long for sure.
Lads all start to cheer him
Barely heard above the beat
Sweat pours down his forehead
Glass beneath his feet.
Heads off to the ladies
Startled by harsh light
Best friend at her side
Two cougars in the night.
She looks into a mirror
Mascara down her cheeks
Wipes her eyes, full of doubt
The company she seeks.
Another bottled Breezer
The pain will go away
Think about tonight
How to make him pay.
First attempt, chat her up
Give out some on blarney
Flashy car, lots of cash,
Time spent in the Army.
Down in one, more to drink
Atmosphere is cool
Muscle flex, turns her nose
Starts to feel a fool.
Offers her a lift home
Does she want a ride
Drop off by the station
Should she keep her pride.
Love bite on the shoulder
Hopes it can’t be seen
Stomach churns with sickness
How stupid she has been.
Gets home Sunday morning
Feeling really cheap
Clock shows 4 am
Really needs to sleep.
Old man in drunken stupor
Whisky glass beside
Slithers into bed
Sleep is where she hides.
Later in the day
She’ll be chatting on the phone
Talking of the weekend
How she was not alone.
Was it really worth it
It doesn’t solve a thing
Bitter clouds descend
Floor begins to spin.
On the other side of town
Down another street
A wife is full of tears
Her husband is a cheat.
His lips kiss the tip
Of the beer bottle
Like he’s kissing the most attractive woman on earth.
But this isn’t his only lover.
His lovers are Bacardi,1800s,Hennessy,Jack Daniels,Buchanan’s
And the list goes on.
He continues being involved with his lovers,
At the huge risk of losing everything he claims to love.
He doesn’t care anymore.
How can such infidelity ruin a person.
He’s letting such lovers, drown him in his ocean of madness and desire.
His family sees a desperate alcoholic in need of help
He doesn’t see that, the man that reflects on the mirror
with eye bags and a grown out beard
Is a man living the beautiful anthem of life.
And he never wants the anthem to stop playing...
T.H
Pitching electioneering, albeit Democratic ticket...
as 2020 presidential election nearing
pleading joshing, and endearing...
The choice for commander in chief dum...
dum... dum... dum..
will winnow down, thus
political prognosticator pundits
no longer remain mum
between Donald John Trump,
whose second term win,
would find yours truly numb
versus Joseph Robinette Biden Junior
could infuse flickering
uneasiness among electorate
(quite a few skool
of hard knocks alum
including yours truly),
who attests surfing cyber seas
as seasoned beach bum
up until this moment
feeling rather glum
regarding fate of American democracy
fizzling, muckraking, and sputtering
linkedin with kickstarting,
snapchatting, and twittering
along ever so ho hum
awaiting fateful deliverance
as dueling banjos strum
meanwhile irritable bowel syndrome
nsync with nausea
bubbling, gurgling, quickening
within collective tum
no doubt alleviated chugging,
guzzling, and quaffing
countless bottles Bacardi rum.
Nothing less at stake than (an ill eagle
feebly clutching cherished symbols - regal
representing land of the free and
home of the brave
analogous to once buoyant seagull
encompassing United States)
metaphorical snooping Beagle
only finding peanuts after landing
discovery (of America) triggering extralegal
imbroglios, which courtesy...
Thank manifest destiny
wrought accursed land grab,
where survival of fittest (think militarily)
nonchalantly, insouciantly actually
quite aggressively did nab
great juicy fruited plain continental slab
...to the mountains to the prairies
to the oceans white with foam...
where indigenous people
once stood tall and proud
applying contrived accoutrements,
which implements rendered mortally to stab
invaders, hence convenient plug to jibjab,
(while sack religious lame chap
donning unisexual hijab)
whale within poetic license
to orca straight heady
i.e. think lame muck cab
bra (even garnering groan from
ghost of captain Ahab)
denouncing cheesy pun,
whereby I (Stuart Little) best remain
as caged mouse
subjected to experimentation
within bore writ Tory lab.
It came back around and said, "I know you like to party."
He gave me a red cup, a little Coke, and Bacardi.
The Devil working hard, attaching himself to my body
He's scratching and clawing.
The work of my Angel, my Angel who has fallen
Firery halo, I get weak, then I'm calling.
Bottles and weed, a black to soothe the thoughts
I am already happy, But I need to do and be with something that would keep me off my knee's
A life I choose to keep me at peace when I feel like nobody loves me
Or is it just me?
When will I become free?
Addicted to you and me
Into my own mind, some crooked thoughts, and my own body.
The spliff is killing my eyes, shutting down every inch of my body.
"But you like to party."
Disrespecting Gods body
Forgive me, Lord, but this depression is acting naughty, and I have to kill It.
But now I am addicted.
Now my whole world shifted.
On a full train with the same gifted
We especially high headed to a place where half-baked lives.
I'm cooked out, and I want out.
Please tell me where my escape is
This is all killing me, and nobody knows it.
I might overdose
~I'M Addicted
In upstate N.Y., off lake Ontario.
Haunting my dreams, this memory.
Here's the scenario
A cold mild breeze blows
on this Saturday in mid October.
Nine friends decide on the town carnival
Drunk, high, far from sober.
Every town had a carnival
in the October month.
We'd try for every one of them,
young men out on the hunt.
Moderate sized carnivals
containing the different towns,
all types of people came.
You had your jocks, thugs, and me..
The class clown...
All nine friends stylishly dressed
for the upcoming fun.
We pile into a Monte' Carlo,
passing the bottle of Bacardi rum.
We drive down Cetenary road
on the southeast side of town.
Our driver gains reckless speeds,
not thinking of our safety.
He comes to a screeching halt
at the intersection of Cetenary and Lake
He seemed to be excited
about the right turn he was about to make
Hard he presses the gas pedal,
the tires begin to spin
The rear starts radically fishtailing
the nightmare now begins.
First storming to the right
a voice screams out
"OH S#%T"
He jerks the wheel, now left.
We're now heading for a ditch.
At that moment all went black,
screams turned into whispers.
When my consciousness regained
what I saw sent spinal shivers.
Broken, blood stained glass,
seven bodies laying limp.
Skull fragments on the steering wheel,
I couldn't come to grip.
Nine friends set out intoxicated
This late October day
Taken by ambulance for treatment
And an overnight, extended stay
Jared Pickett........:JP]
Craving took over
Twisted her neck like a soda cap
The woods were silent
All you heard was the snap
Dragged her body
Through the remains of the party
She was a lonely girl
Drank herself numb with Bacardi
She confessed to suicidal thoughts
As I slid my hand up her thigh
Her shy smile invited me in
Waking up thoughts I couldn’t deny
Pressed her up against the tree
With her throat in my hand
Felt her pulse under my fingers
The thoughts I could no longer stand
To see everything inside
That lies underneath her skin
Bones, intestines
The tongue behind her grin
Tied her limbs
To that old wooden gate
Behind it is a shed
I helped build when I was eight
It houses my possessions
Ribs of animals, jars of human remains
A bloodstained shirt from a hitchhiker
I think Steven was his name
Decorated the grass
With her intestines and fingertips
Created a stream of her blood
That started from her lips
With acid
I separated her flesh from bones
Put it into garbage bags
Hid it in the basement of my home
In the shed is a piece of her
In a jar locked away
I can still hear it beating
Whenever the craving wants to play
Old Havana it's been a long, time,
since I felt your love.
Your warm oceans, and island breeze,
Is never enough.
You soothe my soul with your calming seas,
and your soft raindrops, make me
feel at ease.
I can see Mr Hemingway sipping on Rum.
Writing away, till the morning sun.
There are fiestas and tourist
in the market square.
Old Havana, Please take me there.
The Cuban people always so
kind.
On this little island, time left behind.
Antique cars from a different past.
Old Havana, when you were your
best.
There is Spanish cooking in the
air.
The smell of fried plantains, and
Chorizo everywhere.
Senora will you have this dance
with me?
Cuban rhythms we enjoy, dancing in
the streets.
Her eyes are dark and her skin so tanned,
I wish this moment to never end.
The blue ocean beckons us for a swim,
savoring these waves, serenely rolling in.
A glass of Bacardi rum to ease my mind,
wishing to savor this moment, for a long
long time.
Listening to a Salsa Cuban Band
by the ocean.
While watching the sunset sinking and
touching our inner emotions.
Old Havana , please welcome me.
It is you my love, I've waited so long
to see..
Luton Airport
People, passengers, everyone going somewhere, somewhere else
I love seeing them; there are so many nationals. Hmm. A half hour ago, I shopped
A white Bacardi, and beside me, I heard Polish words. I looked there
A very likable par. A young Polish woman and a man. I asked them.
(They shopped at the self-service checkout)
Are you Polish? “Yes.” They answered. Nice to meet you, I said. I am a Hungarian
I told them. We talked a bit. Not too much time. They were friendly. Polish and Hungarian
They are brothers and sisters. They are on a different line. I just think. I am still sitting here
So many people walking in front of me, I am sitting on a bench, and the pubs are full here
In this airport. Always
Good to see these people here. How many nations are there? I don’t know. I don’t know
Someone is going to the Parish, someone to Bucharest, Someone to Warsaw, Someone to Krakow. And to so many places, cities, and countries. They're just flies, from my mind
I saw all of them—many faces, souls, characters. My heart is in pain. I can’t see them anymore
Have a Good Journey!!
God Bless You!
All the Best!
All to You
Love You!
Me and my wife are on a cruise ship,
Enjoying the Caribbean sun.
We are relaxing on our deck chairs,
With a cold bacardi rum.
We are getting a lovely tan,
Cruising in the sun.
The reggae music from the band,
Everybody having fun.
There is a nice sea breeze in the air,
As we are cruising by.
The sea reflecting beautifully,
The Caribbean sky.
The atmosphere on the ship
Is like a banquet in the sun,
With all the gorgeous food to eat
yum, yum, yum, yum, yum.
You cannot remove the memories
Of that holiday in the sun,
For the time we had on the ship
Was so wonderful and fun.